Everybody Loves Large Chests - Exterminatus

"Everybody Loves Large Chests" by
"Exterminatus"
Last updated: 2018-03-01 09:07
Synopsis:
Volume one now available on Amazon! Featuring lots of editorial

love and a more enjoyable reading experience!
Large chests are said to encompass all manner of hopes and dreams. Men covet them.
Women envy them. But one fact holds true - everyone wants to get their hands on some
big ones.
The same holds true for one intrepid adventurer - a strapping young lad by the name of
Himmel. Armed with his grandfather’s trusty longsword and the dream of being the
strongest, he sets out on the journey of a lifetime! It is sure to be a long and dangerous
road, fraught with danger! And it all starts with a simple test - reach Level 5 in the
dungeon called the ‘newbie zone’ and earn the right to become a full-fledged adventurer!
However, such things get hopelessly derailed when his adolescent mind beholds an
exposed chest for the first time. A fateful meeting that would inevitably lead his life in a
direction he never even dreamed of!
This fiction is written, maintained and owned by Neven Iliev. It is also a participant of the
WriTEr's pledge.
(1) Prologue
A young man, closer to a boy than an adult, wandered down the dark tunnel. His boots scraped against
the damp stone floor, echoing slightly throughout the passage. The lantern he was holding did its best to
illuminate the cave-like walls, his shadow dancing ominously behind him. He had spent the better part
of two hours in these tunnels, the so called Green Zone of the Litigar Dungeon Complex. So far he’d
been lucky. With only a few bats and giant rats as his opponents, he was steadily on his way to Level 5!
Just a little more and I can graduate from this ‘newbie area’ and move onto bigger and better things!
He picked up the pace after psyching himself up. The mere thought of leaving this gloomy place and
finishing his dull quest was all the motivation he needed right now. Breaking into a light jog, he went
deeper and deeper into the winding maze-like cave system.
Left, then right, then right, then left again - wait, or was that a triple right?
The young man named Himmel stopped at a three-way intersection and looked around. It didn’t take
him long to realize he had gotten completely lost. He shone his lantern’s light down the left tunnel, then
the right one.
Yep. No idea. Oh well, this is why they tell us to carry Portal Keys! I’m sure it will work out!
The small rune-inscribed stone would whisk him away to safety in an instant should the need arise.
Although the usefulness of such a thing could not be understated, the complacency and carelessness it
taught young adventurers was less than useful.
Continuing down the right-hand path, the young boy noticed a change in his surroundings. The uneven
floor suddenly became flat. Although it was still bare rock, it felt like walking on polished marble rather
than inside a cave. Peering into the darkness, he noticed something clearly out of place. Something
brown and strangely rectangular.
A chest! Lucky!
A simple wooden box with no lock. The dungeon randomly spewed these out, sometimes containing
useful items and gear that could be a veritable jackpot for an enterprising young adventurer. Not this one
though - the wooden chests in this dungeon offered the lowest grade of loot. Most of them contained
bottom-tier potions or maybe moldy bread. The best he could hope to get out of this would be an Iron
Ring that provided a negligible bonus to a random stat.
Still, a newbie could not afford to pass up pennies on the ground. The adventurer approached the chest
with a small spring in his step. He opened it with both arms and peered at it expectantly. However, what
awaited him inside was neither a potion nor a piece of inedible bread. It was something much more
impressive than that!
Several sets of dagger-like teeth and a giant red tongue became visible as the monster pretending to be a
chest revealed its true nature. The fleshy tongue coiled around the young adventurer’s waist and dragged
him into the gaping maw before he could react. He was then unceremoniously eaten in three big bites.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a level 2 Mimic! All attributes +2.
(2) Death Comes In Many Forms 1
After enjoying its first meal, the Mimic let out a small burp and went back to pretending to be a treasure
chest. It had spent the first five days of its life in this very spot, patiently waiting for a chance. Having
fulfilled its purpose, it simply continued to sit there, slowly digesting its victim.
Mimics were very good at pretending to be chests. Sight alone was insufficient to determine if this
monster was the genuine article or not. After all, it looked exactly like a wooden box that was 80
centimeters long, 35 centimeters tall and 40 centimeters on its side. It’s ‘skin’ was a light oak-like faux-
wood, with imitation steel reinforcing its corners and a half-cylinder lid that served as its upper jaw.
However, it could not keep calm like before. Although sightless, it could still perceive everything in a 10
meter radius around it through magic. And what it ‘saw’ left the simple monster with an odd sense of
dissatisfaction. Its flat resting place was now a mess.
The ripped up clothing, discarded sword, still-lit lantern and several puddles of blood were a problem.
Some part of it realized it would be bad to leave things as they were. Several dozens of small, insect-like
legs sprouted sideways from its bottom and lifted it a few centimeters off the ground. It then opened its
mouth and let its huge red tongue fall out of it. It spent the next several minutes scuttling around the
place, determined to erase any and all evidence that someone had died there.
The blood was lapped up and the scraps of fabric simply stuck to the wet tongue. The fleshy tendril-like
organ coiled itself around the lantern before swallowing it whole. When it attempted to pick up the iron
sword in the same way, the Mimic tightened its tongue a little too much around the blade and cut itself.
“HISSSS!”
It let out a hiss at the unexpected jolt of pain and reflexively let go of the sword. Several drops of sticky
yellow blood dripped onto the floor.
You suffered a shallow cut. HP -4.
Another strange window popped up into its consciousness. Although it somehow understood the words,
it simply lacked the brain capacity to process their meaning. Not that it had any intention of doing so
right now. The sword was still a problem that needed to be dealt with.
It approached the inanimate weapon warily, carefully observing it. It was a completely normal iron
sword - completely mundane and entirely unmagical in every way conceivable. As expected of a
beginner’s equipment. Not that a Level 2 monster had any idea what it actually was.
The Mimic recalled the way its breakfast had struggled a little while ago. The adventurer was holding
onto the strange object without hurting himself. His fingers were wrapped around it, much like how the
Mimic attempted to do. The only difference was that the Mimic had grabbed the pointy end by mistake.
Realizing its blunder, the monster warily stretched out its tongue again. However, the fleshy organ was a
bit too thick to properly grip onto the short handle. The creature briefly considered this fact before
simply warping its wide tongue into a more tentacle-like shape. Mimics were, technically speaking, a
species of shapeshifter. Granted, they were not as good at it as other monsters. Something like warping
their tongue or sprouting small legs to move around was the extent of their ability.
Now that its tongue was in the proper shape, the animated chest wrapped it around the handle of the
sword. It picked it up safely and held it above itself. Its numerous legs moved in unison, rocking the
chest-like body left and right like it was doing a little triumphant dance!
The Intelligence (INT) Attribute has been created through a special action. INT +1.
Another mysterious window. It completely ruined the mood, causing the Mimic to stop its little
celebration. Still, it now vaguely understood the thing it was holding onto was a weapon. It moved it
around by using its tongue in lieu of an arm. Brimming with curiosity, it swung the sword downwards
into the floor.
*CLANNNNG*
The blade slammed into the stone floor, letting out a clear bell-like sound that echoed through the cave.
There was a tiny crack in the floor, which didn’t escape the Mimic’s notice.
“Hm? Did you hear that?”
The distant voice made the Mimic freeze. It had gotten carried away with its new toy and attracted
attention.
“Yeah, I definitely heard something. Come on, let’s go check it out!”
Another voice followed. Although it didn’t understand the words, the Mimic clearly recognized they
were moving closer to its location. It quickly retreated back to its spot and sat down. However, there was
a serious problem - it was still holding the sword with its tongue! It had serious doubts whether it should
try to eat it and there was nothing around that could be used as a hiding place. Not sure of how much
time it had, the Mimic did the only thing its tiny mind could think of.
***
Two sets of footsteps approached from one of the tunnels. The Mimic followed its instincts and stood
perfectly still, lying in wait. A man and a woman entered its perception range. The blond man was
holding a sword and a lantern, wearing similar clothes to to the monster’s first victim. The brown-haired
woman wore a plain white robe and held a wooden staff with one hand.
“Oh! A chest!” the man exclaimed.
He approached the Mimic with a rather carefree gait.
“Hold on Ron! It could be a trap!” the woman grabbed onto her companion’s collar while warning him
of danger.
“A trap? Come on, Gloria! It’s a box! What’s the worst that could happen?!”
“The rumors said something about Mimics appearing in this dungeon recently. Monsters that look like
chests! You can’t be careless!”
“Wait, this place is supposed to have only bats and rats, right? How come there’s Mimics all of a
sudden?!”
“I don’t know, but shouldn’t we be careful? Our lives are on the line you know!”
Gloria’s green eyes darted between her brother and the chest. While new types of monsters appearing in
a dungeon was not unheard of, it was still quite rare. The cause of such changes was unconfirmed,
although the likely culprit was the appearance of a new Dungeon Master.
“Alright, sis. Tell you what. Your big brother’s going to stab the big mean box just to be sure, okay?”
Ron reassuringly patted Gloria’s head.
“Mmwu! Don’t patronize me like that! We’re not kids anymore!”
“Fine, fine! I was just kidding, sheesh…”

The Mimic had no idea what was going on right now. Its new prey had shown up and stood idly by
instead of going straight for the ‘prize’ like the first one. It heard the voices and saw the faces, but
understanding what these people were saying and doing was impossible.
Then the slightly plumper one started approaching again. However, this time something was off. The
man was holding a sword - something the Mimic already recognized as dangerous. And this sword was
not hanging idly by the adventurer’s side, but was held squarely in front. The Mimic instinctively
understood that its prey had grown suspicious. And suspicion was a shapeshifter’s worst enemy.
Ron approached closer and closer. Once he got into striking distance of the chest, he slowly lifted his
sword arm up in preparation to slash at the wooden box. Worst case scenario, he blunts the blade a bit.
Best case scenario he avoids a deadly trap. Even if a fight broke out, he was confident his swordplay
could handle the weaklings in this cave.
The Mimic, on the other hand, had extremely limited knowledge of swordfighting. It knew exactly two
things about the subject - ‘the point bit hurts’ and ‘swinging it downward can break rocks.’ Both of
those tidbits made it realize just what was about to happen. It felt cornered. And like any cornered beast,
it lashed out.
Just as Ron was about to perform an overhead strike, the wooden chest before him sprang open! And
amidst the rows of serrated white teeth and the undulating fleshy tongue, there was a flash of something
shiny, followed by a piercing pain in his abdomen.
“Urk! UGAAAH!” he screamed at the top of his lungs! The Mimic had stabbed him clear through the
stomach!
The Mimic was a monster that survived on deception. It instinctively knew leaving evidence behind was
bad, that it had to appear as unassuming and unspoiled as possible. But eating this weapon was
dangerous, possibly lethal. So with nowhere else to put it, the monster ended up hiding it in its mouth
cavity while gripping onto the handle with the tip of its tongue.
And now, those trustworthy instincts caused it to lash out and land a devastating blow on its
unsuspecting victim.
The Strength (STR) Attribute has been created through a special action. STR +1.
The Wisdom (WIS) Attribute has been created through a special action. WIS +1.
Proficiency level increased. Sword Mastery is now Level 1. STR +2. DEX +2.
“Ron!” shouted Gloria “Hold on!”
She gripped the wooden staff with a determined expression. She mumbled something under her breath
for a second. Her hands glowed with a soft light as she completed her incantation.
“Quick Heal!”
After uttering the command word, the soft light shot out towards her brother, enveloping him. However,
it was not enough. Even if a low-leveled Priestess like her could not mend that sort of injury with one
cast, she could still buy time to get off another Quick Heal.
“KAH! KOFF!” Ron sputtered out blood. He felt reinvigorated by his sister’s healing magic. It restored
a sizable chunk of his rapidly depleting vitality. He used that bit of strength to swing his sword arm
downward, but couldn’t put any real power behind the blow. With just gravity to assist it, his sword
simply bounced off the Mimic’s solid teeth with a small clanking sound.
You suffered a minor scratch. HP -1.
Having been attacked, the Mimic broke out of the stupor it had been in. It knew about swords now. The
knowledge that flooded into it from the Skill was almost too much for its tiny mind to bear, so it took a
while for the monster to adapt to it.
“Quick Heal!” came a shout from the side.
Its enemy had regained a bit of strength again and was about to attempt another strike. However, the
Mimic already had him in checkmate. It pulled on the sword with a bit of dexterity and - instead of
sliding it out of its fleshy sheath, it dragged its victim into the Mimic’s waiting maw.
*CRUNCH*
“NOOOO! ROOON!” shrieked Gloria, her voice echoing in every direction of the dark passage.
*CRUNCH MUNCH*
Her dearest older brother, that goofy but reliable guy was now being eaten right in front of her. Blood
and guts gushed out all over the place as his thrashing feet went limp completely.
“YOU! YOUUUU!” she screamed. She was outraged. That much was obvious. However, she was a
newbie Priestess. Her offensive magic was practically non-existent. If her opponent was a demon or one
of the undead, then she might be able to do something. Against this particular monster though, she was
helpless. Not that her mind could process that right now.
“I’LL KILL YOU! PIECE OF SHIT!”
She was too busy screaming in grief and anger to do anything else.
The Mimic stopped chewing once it made sure its prey was good and dead. It spit the mangled up corpse
back out and readied its sword. The tiny legs at the bottom reappeared and it scuttled quickly towards
the shrieking woman.
“Ah… AAAAH!”
It was over. Gloria had realized her folly entirely too late. She stared in abject horror as the mass of teeth
and flesh in front of it swung a bloodied weapon around. She somehow mustered enough strength to turn
around and run away, but was too slow. The Mimic pierced through her chest from behind.
“GUAHH! BLERG! No! NO! I don’t- Please- Argh!”
She struggled weakly, desperately begging for salvation. Such a thing wouldn’t come though. All that
awaited her was despair and a large number of sharp teeth.
*CRUNCH*
Level up!
Level up!
Sword Mastery is now Level 2. STR +2. DEX +2.
There it was again, that weird window. And now that the Mimic finally had its Intelligence (INT) and
Wisdom (WIS) reach 5, it was finally able to understand. The window was telling the monster it had
grown stronger.
*CRUNCH MUNCH MUNCH*
That was the extent of this revelation though. Objectively speaking, this individual was already a genius
when compared to your average Mimic, but in the end, that didn’t amount to much. Even now it was
way too busy eating up the remains of its latest victims to care about such things.
After swallowing up the woman, licking up any spillage on the floor and crushing her wooden staff in its
teeth, it went back to the mangled male corpse and repeated the process.
A few minutes later, the grizzly scene was completely erased. All that could be seen in that oddly flat
section of the dungeon tunnel was a simple wooden chest with the tip of an iron blade poking out from
behind it.
The giant rat’s head was mercilessly splattered against the rocky ground. Bits of its brain and skull flew
everywhere, staining the floors and walls of the ‘Green Zone’ tunnel. Bogon grimaced at the pointless
mess he had just made. Lifting his left foot, he shook it a few times in a futile attempt to shake off the
filth, but to no avail. He gave up and settled for scraping off the remains of the former rat from the sole
of his armored boot.
He sighed dejectedly. Even if he could kill the monsters here by simply stepping on them, they were still
a nuisance. After all, no matter how weak an opponent was, washing off the blood and guts from his
metal greaves still took the same amount of time and effort. The same could be said for the rest of his
full-plate steel armor, but at least the small creatures in this weak dungeon were only tall enough to stain
his lower half.
The short, muscular dwarf turned his head towards his human companion.
“Look Val, Ah’m tellin’ ye this job’s a waste of our time!” he complained for the upteempth time.
“You’re free to fuck off at any time, Bogon. You’re the one that insisted on following me here,” she
retorted. The black-haired black-eyed woman was too busy inspecting the remains of five giant rats
around them to pay attention to his whining. “Besides,” she continued, “it’s not a waste if I can find the
cause of all these disappearances.”
“I’ll give ye the cause! Bloody greenhorns dunno what teh fook they’re doin’ in here! They get full a’
themselves and end up in some rat’s belleh!”
“It’s not that simple. The mayor said they’ve lost more people in here in the last two months than they
have in the last two years combined,” she answered back without averting her gaze. “Something must’ve
snuck in here. Something besides the sudden influx of Mimics. If I find it, it’ll do wonders for my- Ah, I
mean, I want to do my part in helping the newbies grow!”
Her eyes shone dangerously for a second before she tried to change her words. Bogon sighed again. That
woman’s eccentricities were always grinding his gears. If she wasn’t a promising spellcaster he never
would’ve even bothered with her.
But she was. And he needed her help for his next quest. He had hoped to dissuade her at first, but that
hope was now rapidly deteriorating. After all, he just saw her true intentions shine through her facade.
She obviously took this as more than a simple job.
Bogan suspected she was hiding something ever since they teamed up two weeks ago. He also had a
pretty good idea what that ‘something’ was - the musclebound dwarf was sharper than he looked.
However, he also knew better than to poke his nose into this strange woman’s personal business. A
Necromancer isn’t someone you want as an enemy.
“How can ye be so sure it’s not them Mimics that showed up recently?” he offered in desperation.
“The Mimics here are young so they’re very weak,” she explained. “Their HP is only about 20 or 30.
One good hit from any offensive Job and they’ll be at death’s door. A Wizard or Rogue would probably
one-shot them with a bit of luck.”
Once word got out that Mimics have started appearing here, the various adventurer guilds took action.
They made a serious effort to educate and caution their newcomers about the new threat. After some
time, those monsters became less and less of a threat. In fact, they actually ended up being more popular
than the actual wooden chests they were trying to imitate. People these days were honestly disheartened
when the box they attacked turned out to be just regular wood. They needed to defeat monsters to raise
their Job Levels, so an easy kill was way more welcome than a scrap of worthless loot.
Most of the newbies even stopped looting the disappointing boxes entirely. A chest would disappear into
dust soon after its treasures had been pilfered, so leaving it like that was a sign to others not to waste
their time and effort on it. It was a sort of unwritten rule among them.
In fact, one such example was in this very tunnel, right next to Bogon and Valeria. A simple,
unassuming box, closer to a crate than a treasure chest stood against a wall. The rounded wooden lid had
been cracked and a long, straight dent was clearly visible on it. Someone had obviously already tested it
with an axe or sword.
Valeria, having finished her inspection, stood up and turned to her annoyed companion.
“These numbers go far beyond simple carelessness. At least 45 people have gone missing recently, most
of them reportedly seen heading towards this area. Whatever’s doing this is right here, and I’m going to
find it! I’ll be fine on my own once I get my familiars ready, so can you seriously fuck off now?”
“Haaaah. Fine Val,” said Bogon dejectedly. “Ye win. Ah’m goin’ back ter town. Hit me up once yer
done, aight?”
“Pay’s good this time, right? I’m not working for peanuts again.”
“Ye’ll find out later,” said Bogon while pulling out a Portal Key. He gripped the fist-sized stone with a
bit of force, causing it to break and crumble to white dust. The dust swirled around him for about a
second before there was a flash of blue light. The armored dwarf Warrior was whisked away back to the
Waystone outside the dungeon’s entrance, leaving behind only a puff of white smoke.
“Finally!” spat out Valeria. “What a jackass! Why’d he even come here if he was just going to
complain?! Now I can finally do what I came here to do. Heh. Hehehe! Uhehk hehkk hehk hehk!”
Now that the nuisance was gone, Valeria’s face twisted into a wide smile so crooked that it was
completely mismatched to her lovely face. She cackled maniacally with a mad look in her eye. She was
excited - she couldn’t help it. A new type of low-leveled monster was the likely perpetrator of this
disturbance. Probably something that lost its way and snuck in here looking for easy prey. Valeria could
not wait to get her hands on it.
She cackled for a solid minute before she was able to calm down. Her face quickly adapted the ‘cool and
collected’ facade she had been wearing whenever people were around. She needed to be mindful of
others. This was still a popular dungeon, so it was actually rather common to run into newbies who were
still doing their first quests. Valeria had been one of those same newbies less than a month ago, but she
stuck to a completely different part of the labyrinthine cave system. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that
she got lucky.
She straightened out the black Apprentice Robe she was wearing. It was a low-cut, short-sleeved dress-
like garment with a knee-length skirt. The edges of the skirt and the sleeves were decorated with black
frills. Black leather bootlets with slightly raised heels led into fishnet stockings that continued up her
pale legs, all the way to the lacy underwear hidden beneath her skirt.
On a whole, this outfit was entirely mismatched with its name. It didn’t look a single thing like the
chaste robes one would expect a Priest would wear. That’s because the ‘Robe’ in the item’s name simply
referred to its magic-boosting Attribute bonuses and effects, rather than the actual style of the garment.
Truthfully speaking, the only thing that set Valeria apart from the prostitutes in the nearby town was the
pointy wide-brimmed hat and the faint stench of rotting flesh.
“Status,” she chanted. A series of windows appeared at the forefront of her consciousness. She quickly
verified the information.
General Information Attributes Job Information
Valeria
Name Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress
Vortena
Species Human STR 13 MNT 43 Necromancer 16 35%
Monster
Sex Female DEX 10 FTH -68 4 98%
Tamer
Age 21 years AGI 10 CHR 34
Order of the
Guild END 33
Black Wand
178/178
HP INT 119
(+0.3/sec)
429/595
MP WIS 119
(+1.1/sec)
Skill List
Name Level Proficiency
Necromancy 5 43%
Hexcraft 4 23%
Forbidden Power 2 26%
Monster Domination 2 97%
Taboo 4 34%
Mana Affinity 3 45%
Staff Mastery 1 9%
Wand Mastery 2 30%
A Necromancer with an overall Level of 20. In a place where the average monster was lucky to reach
Level 3, she was unstoppable. Even with her pitiful physical attributes she could still easily punch
anything in here to death.
This much was natural - both Jobs and Skills would provide an Attribute boost every time they went up
in Level. Training and raising these was the best way of raising combat power, although not the only
one. It was also possible to train one’s body and/or mind to increase specific Attributes, but it was not
common practice. In the time it took for a warrior to gain STR +1 through the ‘special action’ of
physical training, he could just as easily have earned himself almost six times as much through Level
Ups. The difference in efficiency was simply incomparable.
However, anyone who looked at this Status Screen without knowing Valeria would be left scratching
their head.
To begin with, Monster Tamer was an odd choice of secondary Job for Necromancer. The latter was
famous for using waves of disposable undead, while the former revolved around painstakingly raising a
small number of powerful pet monsters. There were merits and demerits to either approach, but they
both amounted to the same thing - having something else fight your battles. Logically speaking, an
adventurer would pick a secondary Job that either synergizes with their main one or makes them more
versatile. Common sense dictated that this particular set-up was a very poor one.
The truth was that Valeria did in fact make a logical choice, albeit for very different reasons. The
Necromancer Job, while well suited to solo adventurers, also caused side-effects like negative Faith
(FTH) and a high proficiency level of Taboo. This ostracized these adventurers from most religious
societies, which meant they would end up shunned and despised by almost every single Priest, Monk
and Paladin. Even the paganistic Shamans and Druids would avoid contact with these self-proclaimed
Lords of the Dead. And something all these callings had in common was that they were healers - Jobs
that could instantly mend wounds and restore vitality through their magic. This meant that a
Necromancer never had a healer with them, which meant that the vast majority of other adventurers
avoided them on principle. After all, nobody in their right mind was willing to risk their lives on
grueling Quests without the safety net of healing magic.
In a way, a Necromancer was almost always forced down the road of solitude. But that was perfect for
them. Their desires were almost entirely selfish anyway, not to mention the questionable and unethical
rituals they would sometimes perform were bound to shock and disgust others. In a way, the
Necromancer Job was perfect for Valeria as a person. The Monster Tamer job, on the other hand, was
perfect for her secret hobby. After all, it was a simple fact that living monsters could do things that the
rotting undead were ill-equipped to handle.
“Maybe the cause is a random Cave Troll that wandered in?”
Valeria shuddered at the possibilities. Her facade was quickly breaking down again.
”Huhuehehehe! Or maybe a Werewolf!? Either one of those would be perrrrfect!”
In truth, there were several ways of being saddled with negative FTH and Taboo. To Valeria, her
Necromancer Job was an excellent way of explaining her Status to people with a high-level Appraisal
Skill. If questioned, she could simply put on a ‘can’t be helped’ sort of attitude and blow it over. In some
ways she was extremely fortunate the acts she committed did not put something truly damning on her
Status Screen. Something like, for example, a Monster Breeder Skill.
Valeria desperately needed a new toy. Her last pet, a Level 7 Gray Wolf, could not keep up with her
demands and had simply expired. It was a good ride, so his owner found it a pity when the beast’s life
ran out from all the abuse. Just remembering those long nights was enough to drive her wet.
“MMmmnn…”
She moaned softly. It had been too long since the last session. She leaned absentmindedly against a wall
and sheepishly snuck a few fingers into her damp panties. Two digits pressed against her sodden
entrance, her lower lips quivering slightly in anticipation. She was in the middle of a dark dungeon
where anyone could walk in on her. The excitement egged her on until she could no longer stand it. Her
highly immoral fantasies ran wild. And just as she was imagining being penetrated, her dreams became
reality.
Critical damage sustained. HP -145.

The overwhelming force of the blow has left you stunned for 5 seconds.
A sword had punctured through the nape of her neck. The sudden thrust had driven the blade completely
through her throat, leaving the bloodied tip poking out from underneath her chin.
You are bleeding heavily from an open wound. HP -10.
The entirely unremarkable and wholly non-magical lump of iron was pulled out of her, leaving a large
vertical slit on her bloodied neck. She collapsed like a puppet with her strings cut and fell to the floor
with a thud.
“Kuh! Kuhah! Koff!”
Valeria sputtered blood from her mouth when her head hit the ground. Her mind was still reeling from
the effects of the Stun condition, unable to comprehend what was happening.
“Keh… Ple-Kuh!” she coughed weakly, her blood splattering against the cold stone floor. She could not
even muster a scream before darkness overtook her vision.

You are no longer stunned.
You died.
Level up!
Proficiency level increased. Assassination is now Level 4. AGI +2. DEX +1. STR +1.
Proficiency level increased. Stealth is now Level 3. AGI +2. DEX +1. END +1.
“Hissyah ssah ssah ssah!”
The Mimic let out a half-hiss half-laugh as it did its traditional celebratory jig. The tiny legs moved its
rectangular body rhythmically side to side and the fleshy tendril of a tongue waved the bloody sword
around to some unheard tune. It had just managed to fell a high-level opponent in a single strike - truly
an achievement worth celebrating!
Valeria did not find the culprit behind all those disappearances. It had found her.
42 of the 45 reported missing persons were all done in by the same monster. In these last two months it
had learned how to shift its appearance to match that of an already ‘checked’ chest. Its prey would either
ignore it and move on, or get greedy and approach. In the latter case, they would be stabbed and eaten.
In the former scenario, they would be hunted down, stabbed and eaten.
This simple creature had found several devious ways to deceive and ultimately devour its victims.
Truthfully, the difference in Level meant that it could probably charge a group of 4 newbies and end
their lives with no difficulty. However, such things went against its instincts. And those had never led it
astray so far.
A few minutes ago, when two strange-looking people entered its kill zone, those instincts screamed at
the Mimic, warning it that it was no match for either one of them. The short metal one felt particularly
dangerous. So this would-be-chest did the only thing it could - it focused every fiber of its being into
cowering and hiding.
But the troublesome dwarf left all on his own. The human lingered in the area and began acting
strangely. She grew more and more distracted until she stopped and leaned against the wall, leaving the
disguised Mimic in her blind spot. Realizing its chance, the monster acted without hesitation.
It crept toward her silently. The Mimic’s Stealth Skill allowed it to suppress its presence and lessen the
sounds it made when it moved, although it drained its Mana Points (MP) unless it stood perfectly still.
The Agility (AGI) Attribute aided in this, as every point of AGI meant smoother and nimbler
movements of one’s body as a whole.
Once it had reached her defenseless back, it thrust a sword into an unarmored weak point - the back of
her neck.
Strength (STR) allowed the Mimic to carry heavier loads and enhanced melee attacks, such as sword
thrusts. Dexterity (DEX) on the other hand governed how nimbly one could handle weapons and
provided a power boost to piercing and thrusting attacks. Landing an attack on a vital point meant it
would be at least two times stronger than it normally would have been.
And last but not least, it was an attack from behind on an unsuspecting opponent. These conditions
allowed the Mimic to trigger its Assassination Skill, which overlapped with all other effects, boosting
the overall power of that single strike threefold.
The result was a devastating blow that exceeded 66% of Valeria’s HP, forcing her into the Stunned
abnormal state which robbed her of her wits. She then bled out the remainder of her HP on the ground,
without the need for a follow up attack.
Truthfully, if the Mimic had access to a better weapon, its prey would have died without ever realizing
she had been ambushed.
Feeling awfully proud of its mild accomplishment, the Mimic stopped its little dance and used its tongue
the fling the sword it had been holding into the air. The bloodied blade spun around several times before
falling down towards the monster’s open maw. A swirling dark purple portal opened up between its
dagger-like teeth. The weapon disappeared into it without making a sound. The Mimic then closed the
portal and its maw. Having lightened its load, the mimic proceeded to the next order of business.
“Shashus!” it hissed. While it sounded only vaguely like ‘Status,’ some invisible force recognized the
chant and brought up a series of windows to the forefront of the monster’s consciousness.
Mimic
Species Mimic (Lesser) STR 41 15 2%
(+)
Sex N/A DEX 44
Age 2 months AGI 34
Guild END 41
246/246 (+0.4/
HP INT 34
sec)
105/170 (+0.3/
MP WIS 36
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 4 5%
Stealth 3 0%
Storage 2 32%
Shapeshift 2 56%
Sword Mastery 4 87%
The Mimic felt elated when it saw the (+) sign visible next to the Mimic entry in the Job section. That
signified one thing - that the monster could unlock another Restricted Skill! Something like this
happened twice before. The first time was at Level 5 when it chose the Assassination Skill, which
allowed the creature to dispatch even heavily armored adventurers with ease.
The second time was when the monster became a Level 10 Mimic, at which point it chose to unlock the
Storage Skill. This gave the monster knowledge of how to open and sustain a small window into a
pocket dimension. This limited space could be used to store any and all items that were small enough to
fit through the portal. Accessing this Storage demanded the use of magic, but such a thing wasn’t quite
free. The Mimic’s Mana Points (MP) were consumed every time it withdrew or deposited an item. And
yes, this simple creature did indeed have things it wanted to keep safe.
Or rather, things it needed to keep out of sight. After all, it had to keep its lair clean and unassuming if it
was to deceive people. And while arms and armor made out of chainmail, leather or wood were no
match for its teeth, solid iron was beyond its limits. As a result, the monster’s Storage was currently
holding a collection of swords, axes, shields, helmets, greaves, bracers and other inedible equipment. It
was, essentially, using an alternate dimension as an overqualified garbage bin.
It did try to eat a sword though. Once. Such an act broke a few teeth and cut apart the insides of its maw,
causing its Health Points (HP) to decrease. And HP was a vital thing. If it hit 0, the mimic would die.
Just like the 42- no, make that 43 people it had killed. The Mimic understood its maximum HP rose
alongside its Endurance (END) and STR. If it wasn’t such an idiot, it would probably notice that its
maximum HP went up by 5 with each point of END and a further 1 for each point of STR. Similarly,
maximum MP would rise by 5 per point of INT, while END and WIS would boost automatic recovery of
HP and MP, respectively, at a rate of 0.1 HP/MP per 10 points of END/WIS.
As for the other Skills, they came about naturally. Sword Mastery was the first Skill the Mimic ever
learned, almost by accident. Stealth came about naturally as the monster put its Assassination skill to
practical use. Those two were Common Skills that any Job could learn through practice, although
whether they would be useful is another question entirely. Shapeshift, on the other hand, was something
the Mimic was born with - a Natural Skill.
And now, 5 Levels after attaining Storage, it was time for another delicious Skill. To do that, it had to
open another screen in its mind. And to do THAT it had to chant the command words. Fortunately for
the speaking-impaired monster, it seemed that intent was more important that proper pronunciation
when it came to these things.
“Shkish shish: Shishik!” it hissed again, spitting all over the place in the process. Even if it wasn’t
saying the words right, it still had to say them out loud. It had no idea why it had to do that, nor did it
particularly care. It just accepted it as the way things were and moved on with its life.
Skill List: Mimic

Unlocked Skills: Assassination, Storage
Available Skills: Natural Armor, Misdirection, Cadaver Absorption
You can unlock 1 additional Restricted Skill from this Job.
Just like the last two times, it had a few choices to pick from. And just like at Level 10, some new
options had appeared. Although it recognized which Skills were left over and which ones were new, the
monster still decided to give everything in the list a once-over. Even though its mental-boosting
Attributes had been steadily climbing, it still did not trust its own memory too much. It was also possible
that something might have changed the last time it was here. Any decisions made here seemed to be
permanent, so it was important to be prudent.
A special action has been performed. WIS +1.
It took the attribute increase as confirmation for its rather obvious deductions. After all, such leaps of
logic were truly phenomenal for a Mimic, and this one knew full well it was a dumbass. Even if
Intelligence (INT) improved its memory capacity and Wisdom (WIS) helped the creature put its limited
knowledge to use, it still had very little to begin with. Saying it didn’t have two brain cells to rub
together would not be entirely untrue.
The monster focused its barely functional mind on the first Available Skill on the list. After a few
seconds, a new window popped up into its mind.
Natural Armor
Description: Monsters are known for their tough hides that can shrug off anything and
everything.
Requirements: Level 5 Monster Job, END 10
Type: Passive
Activation Time: N/A
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Reduces all incoming damage by 1% per Level of this Skill.
Provides an additional +2 END per Level of this Skill.
This Skill was available the first two times as well. While it did look useful in a pinch, it had some
unpleasant strings attached. To Level up a Skill, the Mimic had to raise its Proficiency by putting that
Skill to practical use. And the practical use of Natural Armor obviously involved getting hit. A lot.
That was not, however, how the simplistic Mimic understood things. It simply deduced this Skill would
not help it ambush its opponents like Assassination and Sword Mastery, nor was it useful in maintaining
its cover like Stealth and Storage. So it was promptly ignored for the third time in a row. The Mimic
then moved onto the next Skill in the list.
Misdirection
Description: Allows the Assassin to create a small noise at a target location.
Requirements: Assassination, Stealth, DEX 40
Type: Active, Area
Activation Time: Instant
Cost: 50 Mana
Range: 15 Meters
Effect: Create a small noise with the purpose of attracting attention.
The MP cost, range and types of noises available all improve with each Level of this Skill.
As expected, this Skill was not available before. Just like the previous one, the Mimic failed to see how
it could be useful. In fact, wouldn’t making a noise out of nowhere put its prey on high alert? Surely
doing such a thing was going to cause more problems than solutions. It seemed to go completely against
what the Mimic was trying to do in the first place.
Hmm? Strategy? What’s that? Does it taste good?
The Mimic quickly dismissed this Skill and moved onto the next one.
Cadaver Absorption
Description: Allows the Mimic to absorb residual knowledge and power from the remains
of its prey.
Requirements: Level 15 Mimic, WIS 30, INT 30, Has devoured at least 30 of the same
Species.
Type: Active, Corpse-targeted
Activation Time: 2 seconds
Cost: 150 MP
Range: 2 Meters
Effect: A portion of the target’s Attributes, Skill Proficiency or Job Levels will be
permanently added to the Mimic’s Status. What is absorbed is random.
This Skill can fail. Success rate depends on the Level of this Skill and the strength of the
LCK Attribute.
The amount of knowledge and power absorbed increases with each Level of the Shapeshift
Skill.
The monster strained its tiny mind to comprehend the complexity of this Skill. Eventually it reached a
simple conclusion - it was a Skill that allowed the Mimic to get stronger by eating things. It liked getting
stronger and it was always eating things anyway. It certainly sounded good. At least, better than those
other two trash-tier Skills.
Having made its choice, the Mimic let out a series of hisses and gurgles that were loosely interpreted as
‘Unlock Skill: Cadaver Absorption.’ A flash of light briefly enveloped the animate wooden chest,
flooding it with the knowledge of how to use its new acquisition.
The Luck (LCK) attribute has been created through a special action. LCK +1.
Proficiency level increased. Cadaver Absorption is now Level 1. All attributes +1.
The Mimic felt a little disappointed. Only a +1. All the other Skills gave a total of +4, so why was this
one being stingy? Still, its choice had already been made. Complaining about it now would be
meaningless. Not that there was anyone around that would listen to such a complain in the first place.
Shrugging its non-existant shoulders, the Mimic turned its attention to the bloodied corpse in front of it.
These were the remains of a high-leveled adventurer, a prize that was hard to come by in these parts.
The Mimic would surely want to use Cadaver Absorbtion on this body. But while doing so immediately
might give it an immediate power boost, wouldn’t it be wiser to put it in Storage and save it for later? If
its Attributes and Shapeshift Level went up, then it would have a better chance of getting something
useful out of this rare opportunity.
It was a dilemma, one that would stump most people. Should they try to gain power now, or put it off so
they can stack the odds in their favor? While aiming for a better chance was attractive, it might still turn
out to be a colossal waste of time. Not to mention that whether they lived long enough to take advantage
of that time investement was another question entirely. It was difficult to find the right answer and every
person would have their own opinion on the matter.
Well, the one who was making this decision wasn‘t really a person.
*CHOMP CHOMP MUNCH MUNCH*
It was a simple creature that immediately made its choice. Or rather, it completely failed to realize there
was even a choice to begin with. Even if the faux-chest was significantly smarter when compared to
others of its kind, it was still a Mimic. In the grand scheme of things, it was still a moron.
*BURP*
And, being the moron that it was, it completely neglected to activate Cadaver Absorbtion beforehand.
Species Mimic (Lesser) STR 42 LCK 2 Mimic 15 2%
Sex N/A DEX 45
Age 2 months AGI 35
Guild END 42
HP 252/252 (+0.4/sec) INT 35
MP 170/170 (+0.3/sec) WIS 38
Skill List
Assassination 4 5%
Stealth 3 0%
Storage 2 32%
Shapeshift 2 56%
Cadaver Absorption 1 0%
Sword Mastery 4 87%
A rhythmic smacking noise echoed through the dungeon. It was the sound of wood being slammed
against stone. The cause of this disturbance was an idiotic box that had just realized its mistake.
The Mimic swayed furiously on its numerous tiny legs and smashed its side into the rock wall for the
upteempth time.
You have suffered minor blunt trauma. HP -2.
The familiar message had been repeating itself intermittently over the last ten minutes. The moron in
question was punishing itself for being overly eager. Just when things were getting good, it had let an
amazing chance slip away. Surely even a single one of that Necromancer’s Skills or Jobs would have
given it a tremendous power boost!
“KISHAAAAA!” it yelled and smashed itself against the wall with a bit of extra force.
Enough was enough. This behavior was getting it nowhere while wasting valuable HP. It calmed itself
down and began cleaning up the mess like usual. It didn’t bother with the numerous giant rat corpses
though - those were already crumbling to dust. Another few minutes and they will have completely
returned to the dungeon that spawned them.
After its lair had been returned to its former unsoiled glory, it scuttled back to its spot and resumed its
disguise as a ‘wounded’ wooden chest. And it waited.
Hours turned to days and days turned to weeks. The Mimic patiently stood there without moving a
single muscle. It didn’t mind though. It was pretty much born for this sort of thing. But every living
being had a limit to how long it could sit around and do absolutely nothing.
You are hungry. Automatic HP and MP recovery are now halved.
Something inside the Mimic growled. Its bottomless pit of a stomach was running on empty. The most
primal need to eat and survive clashed with the Mimic’s natural hunting instinct. Should it abide by its
Hider’s Intuition or follow the impulse to seek prey immediately. This was an important decision for this
creature. After all, it had never ventured more than a dozen or so meters from its birthplace.
Having made up what passes for its mind, it sprouted its numerous tiny legs and lifted itself off the
ground. Lunch was unlikely to come on its own, so it would go find it instead. It scuttled sideways
towards the direction most of its prey had come from. However, it paused when it reached the edge of
the unnaturally smooth and even ground found around its birthplace. It had tried to walk further once
before, only to have jagged rocks and pebbles poke and scrape its sensitive underside. It was not a
pleasant sensation. Therefore, its current mode of transportation would need to be revised.
The Mimic put its Shapeshift Skill to use. It could change the structure of its body to a certain degree,
but its species - that of Mimic (Lesser) - could not completely abandon its original box-like shape. What
it could do, however, was alter the other bits of its body. It sat on the ground and retracted its tiny limbs.
After a short while, six smooth, long, spider-like legs grew out steadily from its sides.
While it may not be able shift its body as freely as something like a Slime or Mud Elemental, it did have
a natural talent for imitating things. After all, Mimics gotta mimic. And in this situation, it was copying
the appearance of a small spider that made its nest directly above the Mimic’s resting spot. Having
literally nothing better to do over the last two weeks, the monster simply observed the tiny arachnid with
its magical perception. The way its multi-jointed legs climbed up the wall and walked along its thread
were thoroughly entertaining, so it ended up memorizing quite a few of those movements. And now
would be the time it would put that knowledge to use.
It tried to stand up on its new legs and failed miserably. The stick-like legs were too weak and too long
to lift the faux-wood body. After readjusting their thickness and length several times, it finally found the
right balance and stood upright. The spider-chest then made a few experimental steps. However, keeping
itself from falling over proved to be tricky. Having the legs come out at the sides made the monster
worryingly unsteady whenever it moved forward or backwards. It had to learn how to distribute its
weight and control its center of gravity for the first time.
Eventually it simply found it easier to change where the legs came out from. Rather than all six coming
out from its sides, it spread them out evenly. One on the left, one on the right, two in the front, two in the
back. Like this, it could move quickly and comfortably across any terrain the dungeon threw at it. It
could even get quite a bit of speed, although stopping itself without the help of a wall or the floor proved
to be a challenge.
Proficiency level increased. Shapeshift is now Level 3. AGI +1. DEX +1. END +2.
*GURURURU*
The Mimic had no time to enjoy the slight power-up. Time was ticking! Screwing up its determination,
it took its first steps into the complete unknown. Its perception had no trouble penetrating the dark, but
the range was limited. So the Mimic could only move slowly and quietly, keeping as low to the ground
as possible without scraping its sensitive bottom against the hard ground.
Ideally it would have used Stealth, but moving around under its effects rapidly drained MP. That’s not
something it was willing to do considering its stunted recovery speed.
It shuffled up and down the tunnels, passing by its fellow monsters. They were all born from the same
'womb' and thus shared a slight telepathic connection with each other. They were not hunter and prey,
but kin. So rather than get in each other’s way, the different species of monsters simply exchanged curt
greeting-like gestures as they walked past each other.
The Mimic kept searching the tunnels, actively hunting for prey. But it never found any. In fact, all this
moving around simply made things worse.
You are ravenous. Automatic HP and MP recovery are now disabled.
While waiting in ambush, Mimics enter a sort of suspended animation. This not only allowed them to
better preserve their energy and stamina, it also meant their presence was thinned out. So having a shut-
in like that suddenly move around would make it tired without question. The frustrated monster had
every right to wonder why it had to go through all this hassle just for a meal.
In reality, this sequence of events was more or less the natural order of things.
Every dungeon had something called Minimum Monster Level. This depended on the quality and
quantity of mana permeating through the air and ground. Monsters sprang forth naturally over time in
such places, birthed from seemingly thin air by the abnormally high concentrations of magical energy.
Denser mana would naturally give birth to more powerful monsters.
For example, the Black-tier dungeon known as The Staircase To Heaven was home to vicious creatures
that surpassed Level 100. The air on that mountain is so thick with mana that it was outright lethal. If
anyone or anything that was under Level 70 tried to challenge it, they would simply choke and drown as
if they were underwater.
However, that mystical substance did more than simply give birth to monsters of a certain Level. It also
sustained its ‘children,’ allowing them to ignore basic needs such as food, water or, in some extreme
cases, sleep. And these creatures would inevitably grow in strength as they repelled invaders. If they
became too powerful, then their home would no longer be able to sustain them and they would have to
either leave the dungeon or starve to death. That was what dictated the Maximum Monster Level of a
dungeon.
And this was exactly what was happening to this particular Mimic. Although it had been born as a
measly Level 1, it had grown to Level 15. The Green Zone of the Litigar Dungeon Complex had a
Maximum Monster Level of 6, meaning this particular individual had long ago outgrown its home. Its
dormant state and steady supply of blood and meat had staved off its hunger so far, but something had
changed. The meals-on-legs stopped coming entirely. And the Mimic’s exploration soon revealed the
answer as to why.
“Huck!” it cursed. Part of the dungeon was sealed off. Vertical and horizontal steel bars were welded to
create a formidable grate. It blocked off the 2-meter tall circular tunnel, cutting off any and all foot
traffic through the passage.
After Valeria’s mysterious disappearance, the nearby town simply decided to seal off the highly
dangerous area and let nature take its course. Anything that could take down a Level 20 adventurer was
clearly over the Maximum Monster Level and would just starve to death. Even something like eating its
fellow monsters wouldn’t save it - their bodies would just disappear into raw mana before they could be
digested.
Also, quarantine was ultimately cheaper than issuing a subjugation quest. So what if 20% of the Green
Zone was sealed off? The newbies could still hunt leisurely in the remainder of the maze-like dungeon.
The Mimic knew very little about such circumstances, but it recognized this mass of metal as the source
of its dilemma. Even it wasn’t dense enough to fail to realize this abnormality and the sudden lack of
prey were linked. The question was - what could it do about it? It desperately needed to get past it, so it
tried several things.
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 spit 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. If only it could eat this
obstacle, then it would be 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 steel was way out of its league. It
tossed the slightly chipped blade into the air swallowed it back up, sending it to-
Swallowed?
So far, it could just ‘swallow’ whatever 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! Since the WIS stat rose, then this was undoubtedly the ‘special action’ of
getting a brilliant idea!
It 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 2 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 that was 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. It opened its maw and put both its
lower and upper sets of teeth up against the steel rods, as if it were trying to bite it. 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 40 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 spell has backfired due to improper use. Your body suffers from the feedback.
HP -100.
Magic is 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 spells like Storage. What the Mimic unintentionally did just now was equivalent to trying
to shut a door with 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’s not like this moron actually understood the basic principles of magic. 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 its tip around a small round shield out of the pile. It then flung it with full force at the steel
bars, completely oblivious to the fact that it only had itself to blame.
The iron-reinforced wooden shield flew horizontally like a frisbee, crashing into the steel grating and
falling down 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 40 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.

Sex N/A DEX 46
Age 2 months AGI 36
Guild END 44
HP 156/256 (+0.0/sec) INT 35
MP 114/170 (+0.0/sec) WIS 39
Skill List
Assassination 4 5%
Stealth 3 0%
Storage 2 48%
Shapeshift 3 18%
Sword Mastery 4 87%
The Mimic awaited patiently for its prey. It sat there, completely 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 that 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 8
meters wide and just over 4 meters tall. It had plenty of space to let two big parties of adventurers pass
by each other without worry. However, these five were definitely different from the newbies that
frequent 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 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 rear 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 some misguided thirst for adventure, gold and glory. Many were content
with simply accepting a weekly wage for mundane hard work, 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 that 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 that the mayor ordered just so he can 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 natural.
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 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 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, completely forgetting about the dead Mimic.
The other Mimic that was following them, however, would not forget. They had just murdered his 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, 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 is 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, is there any living being that can stand idle after watching its kind
slaughtered? Probably, but it wasn’t this 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 still
take out a few of them before the rest could respond, then it would surely be able to clench victory.
It opened its mouth and spat out its long, thick tongue. This part of it was extremely dextrous 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’s 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
fulfil 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 up 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.
You have dealt a devastating blow. Target stunned for 5 seconds.
Ignoring the completely 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 down 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 besides the point.
Six long, slender legs jutted out from its undersides, completely mismatched with the main body. It’s as
if someone had glued a pig-sized spider’s legs onto the monster as a sort of prank. But 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 passes 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 that 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.
The three swords struck the guard simultaneously from all sides. The lower one cut open the man’s
thigh, dealing 25 damage to his HP. The middle blow dug into his unarmored bicep, dealing 23 damage.
The high blow bounced off the rim of his metal helmet. Although the armor deflected the worst of it, the
force of the blow still robbed 9 of his HP due to the blunt trauma. He yelled out in pain, stumbled
backwards and fell on his ass. His weapon fell out of his hands and clattered on the rocky ground. He
had 44 HP remaining and was bleeding profusely from his leg, but he was still alive.
His two comrades were already rushing to his aid, spears at the ready. They both thrust their two-meter
long weapons at the monster. It tried to back off, but was too slow. One of them stabbed it in the side,
shaving off 34 of the monster’s HP. It screamed in pain and leapt backwards to avoid further injury. The
Mimic had still not recovered from its earlier Storage mishap, so it was in a precarious position. It
currently only had about 40% of its HP remaining. It could not afford being wounded again. It had
seen the destructive power of those long pointy things earlier, but feeling it first-hand on its own body
woke it up. The monster may have bitten of more than it could chew.
It stretched out its tentacles and attempted to strike at the two men, but the difference in reach became
instantly apparent. Its sword wings came nowhere near the two guards, while their spears threatened to
skewer it at a moment’s notice. If anything, it was being being pushed back, suffering several scratches
on its tongues as a result.
The monster had clearly underestimate its opponents. And while those two were keeping it busy, the one
on the ground had already taken out a small glass flask with a blood-red liquid. The wounded guard
sprinkled half of the healing potion on his wounds and drank the rest. The Mimic recognized this pattern
- adventurers it failed to finish off would sometimes do those things and recover miraculously from their
injuries. The Mimic then had to suffer numerous wounds as it subdued its target with force.
So, to sum it up, the monster realized one simple fact. It was fucked. The two in front of it were
obviously covering for their wounded comrade. When he stood up they would undoubtedly chase down
the creature and end it. It had killed their kind, so they would unquestionably seek vengeance. After all,
that sort of thing is what more or less started this encounter in the first place.
But the Mimic had a secret weapon. A special move that could fell even that seemingly impossible wall
it encountered earlier. It made some more space between itself and its duo of opponents, drawing them a
few steps further away from the third one. It then swung one of its tendrils around and haphazardly
tossed one of its swords with all the strength it could muster.
From the monster’s perspective, it was that half-assed shield throw that toppled the steel grate. And this
time it was using an actual weapon with all its strength, so this move’s destructive power would
unquestionably rise. Well, it wasn’t wrong about that last part, but the outcome would still not be what it
expected..
The sword spun around itself a few times as it cut through the air. It missed its targets completely,
bouncing off the stone ceiling with a clang and falling harmlessly to the side. The result of the monster’s
‘Killer Move’ was that it had, essentially, disarmed itself. There was a brief moment of silence as
everyone present processed what just happened.
“Huck,” it cursed.
In some ways, the Mimic was lucky its antics were not considered to be ‘special actions’ that conferred
a loss of Attributes. Otherwise its INT and WIS would already be dropping towards 0. Possibly beyond.
Sex N/A DEX 46
Age 2 months AGI 36
Guild END 44
HP 110/262 (+0.0/sec) INT 35
MP 67/170 (+0.0/sec) WIS 39
Skill List
Assassination 4 29%
Stealth 3 11%
Storage 2 49%
Shapeshift 3 21%
Sword Mastery 4 95%

Having been disarmed by its own stupidity, the Mimic was left in an unquestionably weaker position. It
was barely able to fend off two spears with its three swords, so the idea of facing three spears with only
two blades was not a pleasant one. It made a few unsteady steps backward, unsure of what to do. Should
it run away and live to fight another day? Was that really an option? Even if it ran away, would it find
food? Would these people let it escape in the first place? Why was there a stone that looked a little bit
like a rat’s head on the ground? Come to think of it why were there no other monsters around? And why
was it suddenly asking itself these various questions in the first place? None of that pondering was
getting it any closer to not being dead.
There was still some distance between it and the guards, but they seemed wary of approaching it. They
were obviously waiting for their buddy to get back in the fight, and by the looks of things that moment
would be here soon. The Mimic needed to fight back, but to do that it needed a new weapon. Luckily,
there were two armed corpses under its feet. And the dead were extremely generous with their
belongings. It reached down its free tentacle and coiled it around one of the spears. Actually, there was
another one, so it was fine if it tried its ‘Killer Move’ again, right? That first attempt was probably a
fluke! Besides, it looked like an oversized arrow. And arrows flew really really well, something this
monster had learned with its own body when it failed to properly ambush that Ranger about a month
ago.
And so, about a second after obtaining its new acquisition, the Mimic threw it forward with all its might.
The spear, unlike the sword, was indeed a weapon that could be thrown. It cut through the air at a speed
that was hard for the human eye to track, especially in these dim conditions. But, much like the first
attempt, it missed both guards, flying between them without leaving so much as a scratch.
“HUCK!” the monster yelled.
But rather than the sound of metal uselessly hitting on stone, what was heard next was a piercing yell.
“Aaargh! Ah hahaaaaaah! AAAAH!” screamed the third living guard on the scene. His two comrades
unwittingly turned their heads around. The wounded man was still struggling to his feet when the errant
spear had managed to hit him. It impaled him squarely in the groin, just below the edge of his steel
cuirass. He was screaming and thrashing around on the ground in a pain that seemed to resonate with
every male in that tunnel.
Ignoring that seemingly random Attribute increase, the Mimic quickly lunged at the two guards. Their
attention had shifted and their hands had stopped - if there was ever a chance to turn things around, it
would be now. It dashed in between their outstretched spears and thrust both of its swords forward. The
dumbfounded guards turned their heads around just in time to get stabbed in the face.
You have dealt a Critical Strike! Target HP -78.
You have dealt a Critical Strike! Target HP -79.
It was checkmate. Or rather, it would be if there were any strategy or planning involved. It was a miracle
that the two men did not die on the spot after having the backs of their throats pierced clean through.
The Mimic promptly withdrew his blades and slashed at their faces, achieving what is colloquially
known as a ‘double kill.’ It then methodically moved in on the final guard and finished him off while he
was still writing on the ground.
“SKEEEEEEEEEEEEeeee…!”
A triumphant screech resounded through the dungeon. The Mimic was overcome with the thrill of
winning a hard battle for the first time in its life. While it did sometimes fail to ambush its prey, the
ensuing scuffle would be little more than an annoyance for the over-leveled monster. If there was ever a
time for it to express its joy of victory through the language of dance, it was now.
Although, it wasn’t skill or strategy that won the day. It was its own idiocy. The unpredictable and
erratic behavior it displayed completely caught its enemy by surprise on more than one occasion. The
creature simply had to recognize its opportunity to act and seize it. It may not be very good at thinking
things through, but the Mimic’s mind was already a steel trap when it came to taking advantage of a
moment of weakness.
Trickery? Cowardice? Honor? It knew not of such things. It knew of very few things, to be honest. Even
if it did know about such trivialities it would still ignore them since they would not fill its belly. And
filling its belly is exactly what it needed to do right now. So without further ado, it proceeded to chow
down on the five corpses in front of it.
It started with the last one to die - the one it had impaled in the groin through sheer luck. It pulled out the
spear and began eating the corpse feet-first. It bit off its legs and, after spitting out the troublesome metal
greaves, swallowed gleefully. It repeated the process with the arms and head, discarding the inedible
armor along the way. But the torso was difficult. It was still encased in that solid steel cuirass, so getting
at it was impossible. Its teeth still could not penetrate steel, after all. It left the still-armored and blood-
covered torso alone and moved onto the other corpses, focusing on their limbs and heads in a similar
fashion.
Your hunger has been sated. Automatic HP and MP recovery will return to normal.
When it was in the middle of devouring the fifth set of body parts, it finally got confirmation it was no
longer starving. It felt relief wash over it. It wasn’t sure how much it actually needed to eat before the
hunger went away completely.
Still, leaving behind those succulent torsos would be a terrible waste. While it wasn’t particularly picky
about its food, the Mimic still had preferences. It found the intestines to be the tastiest part of the human
body. The head was a close runner up. The brain felt kind of bland, but the skull made pleasurable
crunching noises when its teeth sank into it. It was simply fun to chew. The heart was third on its list just
because of how wonderfully squishy it was. The succulent rump and thigh meat were also good, but
those seemed to vary quite a bit between people. Some were stringy and tough while others were far
more tender.
The point was, two of its three favorite bits were in the torso. It really wanted to get at them, so now that
it was no longer in a rush, it set about trying to eat them.First, it retrieved the sword it had sent flying
earlier. It then approached one of the dismembered torsos and used the blade to poke and prod at the
armor. After stabbing at it from several angles, it found it could cut apart some leather straps on the side,
under where the arms used to be. When it did that, the front and back plates of the armor seemed to
come apart. The Mimic then lifted the steel plating to reveal the succulent meat and crunchy bones it
longed for. It was almost like opening up a steamed clam.
Only many times more gruesome. Within the horrible gnashing and crunching noises, there was the
barely audible sound of glass breaking and a mysterious liquid poured out and onto the monster’s
sensitive tongue.
You have used a Healing Potion. HP +40.
It tasted like cherries. Not that this monster had ever tasted cherries before. The magical liquid
dissipated and instantly closed up the Mimic’s gaping stab wound. Ironically, the one who caused that
wound was the one to supply the potion to heal it.
*SNAP SLURP BURP*
Not that the Mimic really cared. It barely even noticed what was going on with how engrossed it was in
eating its fill.
No, wasn’t this already beyond its fill? Its hunger had been sated for the moment, but it might come
back later. Or rather, wouldn’t it definitely come back eventually? Surely it would be a good idea to put
the remaining ‘body oysters’ in its Storage rather than eating them right now, right? It didn’t know how
long the corpses would keep for, but it was worth a try. Therefore, the Mimic would plan ahead for the
first time in its life and saved the remaining two bloodied torsos for later.
Well, it would have saved four of them, but it had already eaten two more by the time it made up its
mind. It was honestly a miracle it even reached the obvious conclusion it should ration its food in the
first place. So while the execution may have been less than perfect, there was still definite improvement
in its mental abilities.
Once its business in that blood-soaked tunnel was done, the Mimic relocated to the spot where its kin
had died earlier. Its corpse had already disappeared back into the flow of mana from whence it came.
The Mimic sat down on a spot nearby and entered its dormant state. It was still heavily wounded, so it
needed to wait until its automatic HP recovery restored it to good health.
Over the next ten or so minutes, the battered, splintered faux-wood that served as its outer shell slowly
grew back to its pristine state. Once its HP and MP were both completely topped off, the Mimic stood
up and resumed walking. At some point it had convinced itself that leaving this place behind was for the
best, so there was no point in delaying its departure any longer. And thanks to its connection with the
dungeon’s mana, it already knew which way the exit was.
After walking around for several minutes, it noticed the tight and claustrophobic tunnels were getting
wider and wider. It could actually feel a cold breeze coming in from what was undoubtedly the outside.
Feeling invigorated, it picked up the pace, its slender spider-like legs carrying it steadily onward. The
walls grew wider and the ceiling became taller and taller. Eventually, it could not ‘see’ anything except
the floor around it. All other surfaces were simply outside the 10-meter range of its magical perception.
This was a first for it. It was a strange sensation where it felt truly insignificant. But it still marched
onward. As long as it had its connection to the mana in the air, it would know exactly where-
You have left the Litigar Dungeon Complex.

Your connection with the dungeon has been severed.
It froze. Something immediately felt off. Wrong. For one thing, it suddenly realized it was actually lost.
Completely and totally lost. It no longer had any idea where it is, nor which way it was going. It
wandered around aimlessly, without having a single way to tell if it was going in the right direction.
After a few minutes of this, it seemed to have found its way back.
You have entered the Litigar Dungeon Complex.
Even if it returned, however, the invisible thread that made it the dungeon’s ally was now permanently
severed. It was now no longer a part of this place. It may have felt an odd desire to go back at first, but
that was rapidly changing now. To monsters in a dungeon, there were no gray areas. You were either an
enemy or an ally. And as it was right now, this Mimic was undoubtedly an enemy to this place. Now it
no longer found the thought of eating those giant rats and bats to be repulsive. It even felt like it could
easily murder its own kin without any remorse.
The monster understood the meaning behind these implications. It caught on so fast that it actually
surprised itself. Could it be that it was a genius all along? Something had changed. It could form a
coherent stream of thoughts for the first time in its life. Almost as if a fog was lifted from its mind.
The truth of the matter was that while the mana was guiding and nourishing it, it was also robbing it of
its free will. That innate compulsion to leave the dungeon? It was being chased out by the very stuff that
gave it life. The reason why it had to face a squad of armed guards instead of running away at full
strength when the odds were against it? They were ‘invaders’ that the dungeon wanted dead.
‘No wonder,’ it thought. Even though it recognized itself as an idiot, it couldn’t take any steps to rectify
that flaw. Now was different. Now, it was free. It was also scared out of its tiny mind, but it was free.
And armed with this freedom, it decided to seek out its own path in life. Maybe come back later and
show this dungeon who’s boss!
But before that, it had to leave. The range of its perception was a problem. It was like being lost at sea
with no landmarks and no compass. If the rest of the world could was normally this wide, then it needed
other ways of finding its way around the place. Thankfully, it already had a pretty good idea what to do.
It was obvious its prey did not have the same magical perception the Mimic had. Otherwise sneaking up
on people would be impossible. And through its numerous scuffles and that one battle, it learned the
importance and function of a particular pair of organs. So all it needed to do was replicate them. And it
was really good at that sort of thing.
Mimics gotta mimic. It was a fact of life.
It quickly grew an eye on the outside of its faux wood frame. It had eaten close to a hundred eyeballs,
most of them had rolled across its tongue at some point. So something like recreating an organ it was
intimately familiar with was not a big deal. Just like with the spider legs. Although it still needed to
morph and readjust the structure of the eye. After about half an hour of trying later, it succeeded.
It could see. Finally, it was capable of actual sight with its very own eye! But because it was, essentially,
a human eye, it could not see very well in this darkness. Still, it immediately proved useful when it
spotted a group of lights coming towards it. It was an adventuring party of 4 people, all wearing lit
lanterns on their waists. They were some 40-odd meters away from the Mimic. By the looks of things,
they were headed deeper into the dungeon and would walk right past it.
However, the monster felt no rush or thrill at the discovery of new prey. It no longer had to compulsively
hunt and murder people just for being in this dungeon. It just felt a cold kind of indifference one would
show to a stray animal. A tasty, blood-filled, succulent, crunchy animal with delicious guts and-
Okay, it would attack and eat them after all. But not because of some weird magical compulsion! This
time, it chose to murder those people in cold blood by its own will. It still had to fill its belly, so why
turn down free food that willingly comes to you? Actually, why even wait? Those people were dressed
almost exactly like its first 40 victims. If it could take those five armed guards, then these weaklings
would surely be no match for it!
It sprouted its spider legs, armed its trio of tongue tentacles and descended upon them like Death
incarnate. This wasn’t an instinctual drive to eat and live, nor was it the dungeon’s mind control.
It would kill because it wanted to, with no warning and for almost no reason.
Just like any other monster would.
Sex N/A DEX 48
Age 2 months AGI 36

Guild END 44
HP 264/264 (+0.4/sec) INT 35
MP 170/170 (+0.3/sec) WIS 39
Skill List
Assassination 4 29%
Stealth 3 11%
Storage 2 50%
Shapeshift 3 65%
Sword Mastery 5 2%
(8) Eat And Grow 1
The sword made a sharp sound as it fell on the neck of the last adventurer. The blade cut halfway
through the black-haired man’s neck, ending his life in an instant. His killer, a Mimic that had just found
its freedom, went about its business. Even though it had just robbed this man and three of his friends of
their lives, it did not have the capacity to care. It gave absolutely no shits about whatever it was they
were screaming about as it mercilessly reaped their souls. If anyone were to witness this, they would
undoubtedly assume only a being incapable of emotion was capable of such cold cruelty.
But that assumption would be untrue. In fact, the Mimic did feel something from this encounter. A
distinct sense of happiness, that is. This was a perfect opportunity to finally try out its latest Skill -
Cadaver Absorption. It had already wasted its first opportunity due to its own foolishness. It couldn’t use
it on those guard corpses since it lacked the MP and needed to satiate its hunger to recover it. And while
it did still carry certain bits of those men inside its Storage, there obviously was not enough of them left
to constitute a corpse.
But now, it would finally give this thing a try!
It’s first choice was the bow user. The one that tried to shoot arrows at the monster as it approached. She
was particularly annoying, and managed to shave off a total of 34 HP from it. Well, it’s not like it didn’t
expect to get some scratches in a frontal assault like that. It sat down next to the woman and chanted
“Kadahah Akhsohsohn.”
Nothing happened.
“Kadahah Akhsohsohn,” it repeated. And again, nothing happened. This was worrying. Unlike its
Storage, which could be activated without chanting, Cadaver Absorption required one to speak the name
of the skill out loud while focusing on the corpse. That’s just how it worked. Or at least, how it was
supposed to work. Learning a new Skill gave one the basic knowledge regarding its use, so there was no
doubt this was the right way to activate it. In fact, the Mimic could recall how to use its Skills
completely flawlessly, which was a bit odd in itself all things considered.
Still, it decided to double-check. After all, the information it wanted was just a couple of thoughts away.
Cadaver Absorption
Description: Allows the Mimic to absorb residual knowledge and power from the remains
of its prey.
Requirements: Level 15 Mimic, WIS 30, INT 30, Has devoured at least 30 of the same
Species.
Type: Active, Corpse-targeted
Cost: 150 MP
Range: 2 Meters
Effect: A portion of the target’s Attributes, Skill Proficiency or Job Levels will be
permanently added to the Mimic’s Status. What is absorbed is random.
This Skill can fail. Success rate depends on the Level of this Skill and the strength of the
LCK Attribute.
The amount of knowledge and power absorbed increases with each Level of the Shapeshift
Skill.
It examined the Skill window once more. The Activation Time referred to how much time the Skill
would take to fulfil its purpose and produce the desired effect. However, that was supposed to come
after the monster had started the process by chanting the name. Since absolutely nothing happened in the
first place, this particular requirement was not the problem.
Its MP was currently full at 170 so the Cost wasn’t the issue either. As for the Range, it wasn’t sure
exactly how far ‘2 Meters’ was. Was it too far away? Maybe that was the issue? It certainly wouldn’t
hurt to try. The chest sprouted its legs and sat right next to the body. This was probably within range,
right?
Nope, nothing. Then… maybe it was misunderstanding what Corpse-targeted meant? Maybe this
woman was far too skinny to count as a dead body? That was certainly a possibility - she was basically
skin and bones, except for two soft-looking lumps in the middle of her torso. Were they nutrient
repositories, perhaps? The Mimic vaguely remembered that black-robed woman it killed shortly before
acquiring this troublesome Skill. She had some big ones too. They tasted strangely sweet, come to think
of it.
“Ack!” it yelped. No good, it was getting distracted. It needed more information. Ah, but information
regarding Skills was usually a thought away, so maybe it just needed the right thought? It focused its
mind on the ‘Corpse-targeted’ term in the still-open Skill window. About a second later, a different
screen popped up.
Corpse-targeted
Requires a corpse.
The corpse’s original brain(s) and heart(s) must be present to establish it as a viable target.
Missing limbs or body parts will reduce the strength of the generated effect.
Now it was getting somewhere! So the Skill needed both the brain and the heart to function and needed
all its bits to produce the best result. The heart was that juicy thing in the chest and the brain was that
mushy bland-tasting thing inside the crunchy skull. In that case, that would explain why the Skill failed
to activate. It also meant its ‘lunchboxes’ would be unusable, but it had already accepted that.
The Mimic got up and walked off toward the wall. It stretched out its tongue and grabbed the bloodied,
pointy-eared head that had been sitting there for a while. It dragged it along the ground by its long
platinum blonde hair. Resisting the urge to pop it in its mouth, it walked back to the woman and placed it
squarely on her chest.
It let out a long breath that was probably intended to be a sigh. If it knew the head had to be attached, it
wouldn’t have bothered to remove it from the rest of her in the first place. Then again, it was slightly
unintentional. Her neck was entirely too slender so the monster’s sword strike cut clean through it. That
black-haired guy it killed last seemed to be made of much sterner stuff since his neck actually offered
some resistance.
So, now that all the parts were accounted for, it sat right next to the body and repeated the chant for the
third- no, fourth? Or fifth?
It sat down and repeated the chant.
Now, something definitely happened. It actually felt the majority of its MP disappear in an instant and
leaving it in a tired, somewhat lethargic state. About a dozen or so transparent purple tentacles sprouted
from its narrow sides, each of them about 2 meters in length. These mysteriously glowing appendages
looked like they weren’t actually there - like the Mimic was seeing only an outline of their true form.
Ignoring its idle wonderment, the appendages immediately bent towards their target and skewered it in
multiple places. The soft, pink skin quickly shriveled up as the corpse rapidly became nothing but skin
and bones. The Mimic noticed unidentifiable gray goop rapidly move up each of the twelve undulating
tentacles and disappear somewhere inside its body.
Precisely two seconds after the monster finished the chant, the tentacles retracted inside the monster,
dragging the rest of that colorless mass with them.
Your Cadaver Absorption was a minor success!

6% of the target’s highest Attribute has been added to your own. AGI +1.
“Yosha!”
It worked! The Mimic didn’t get much out of it, but it definitely worked! A new way of growing
stronger! Ah, but it didn’t get to actually eat any of that. The simple creature’s excitement level quickly
fell down to 0 when it realized that. It wanted to strip the flesh, rip the meat and crush the bones. Not
liquefy and drink it all without even tasting it. Where was the fun in that?
The gluttonous monster took one more look at the corpse. All that was left of the former elven Ranger
was a skeleton wrapped in gray, chalk like skin. It seemed to crumble into nothing under the weight of
her clothing. Even the severed head was left as nothing but a skull with a few patches of skin and several
strands of gray hair. Oddly enough, there was no hole in it even though two of the tentacles most
assuredly pierced it from both sides.
This looked completely unappetizing. Was there even a point in eating these dried out remains? Actual
dirt would probably be more nourishing than this pile of ash. Still, it was a way of using corpses for
something other than pigging out. That was definitely a good thing. Even if it did a shortage of dead
bodies, all it had to do was find something it could kill and BAM! Problem solved!
Feeling better about the whole ‘people have no taste when I drink them’ situation, the Mimic went over
to the next corpse - a bearded, bald man in a chainmail shirt. It sat next to him and waited patiently for
its MP to recover. Since it already saw the Skill in action, it now had a good grasp of the range. It simply
needed to be close enough for those ethereal tentacles to reach the corpse.
Roughly 10 minutes later, it’s MP had gone back to full. “Kadahah Akhsohsohn,” it chanted and the
tentacles happily liquefied and drank up the former Warrior.
Your Cadaver Absorption has failed.
“Nyeh,” it shrugged. It’s not like it expected it to work every time. It had already given up on chowing
down on these people so it just went through the motions. Since this Skill targeted only living tissue, any
gear and equipment the adventurers were using was left behind. The elf from before just had a tunic, a
pair of trousers, a bow and some arrows in a quiver. This guy, however, had a sword and shield.
It was the first time the Mimic had given someone a chance to use their shield. The wooden, iron-
reinforced disk had managed to deflect two of the monster’s swords. The third one then ran the Warrior
through the chest while he was off balance, killing him instantly. Still, it was a relatively impressive
display that piqued the Mimic’s curiosity. Wearing armor was out of the question, but its tri-tongue
could easily intercept and deflect attacks with this sturdy 30-centimeter wide circle. After some practice,
of course.
Also, it could probably double as a weapon. One such shield was responsible for knocking a hole
through that infuriating steel grate, after all. It was an attractive idea to be certain! Having made up its
mind, the creature tossed the warrior’s sword and shield into its Storage for safe keeping and walked
over to the third corpse. 10 minutes and another chant later, the gray-haired Priest was also slurped up.

Proficiency level increased. Cadaver Absorption is now Level 2. All attributes +1.
The Skill-up was good. The failure - not so much. Still, a higher Level of Cadaver Absorption meant a
better chance of gaining something useful. The Mimic would have to train this up as much as possible so
that it would be ready the next time it caught something big. But how much of a chance did it actually
have? Was there a way to find out? Would it even comprehend what all those numbers meant?
It had to wait for its MP to come back anyway, so it had some time to kill. It decided to mess around
with the Status and Skill screens inside its head. After about 5 minutes of random window-opening, it
tried to focus on a particular line of the Cadaver Absorption Skill Screen - the one that read “This Skill
can fail. Success rate depends on the Level of this Skill and the strength of the LCK Attribute.”
Nothing happened, as expected. It was hard to ‘focus’ on a long sentence like that. Instead, it tried to
home in on individual words.
Wisdom (WIS)
Improves critical thinking and decision making.
Every 10 points of WIS increase automatic MP recovery by 0.1 per second.
Luck (LCK)
Very slightly tips the odds in your favor.
Very slightly increases your chances of finding items of Uncommon quality and above.
Skill
Improves your understanding and expertise when it comes to performing certain tasks or
using specific tools or weapons.
Proper use of a Skill will raise its Proficiency.
When Proficiency hits a certain threshold, Skill Level will rise and you will receive a
permanent Attribute bonus.
You can Inspect individual Skills for more information.
Attribute
Improves a specific aspect of your mental or physical condition.
New Attributes may appear as a result of specific actions or conditions.
You can Inspect individual Attributes for more information.
These were the only screens it could open. Just like the others until now, it saw a lot of confusing things
that didn’t make much sense. The Mimic felt it could spend a really really long time just digging
through all these endless menus and screens. It tried to limit itself to the ‘surface’ as much as possible,
but all this ‘reading’ still felt like hard work. Liberated or not, it was still very much an airhead.
Mentally strenuous activities like this always gave it a headache. Or was it a toothache? Maybe a chest
ache? Well, it wasn’t quite sure what, but something ached.
A special action has been performed. INT +1.
Now this was odd. This was only the third time that INT had gone up on its own. The first time was
when it learned how to hold a sword without hurting itself. The second time was when it found out about
the Status screen and learned how to navigate it. Feeling extra curious, it decided to double-check it
anyway.
Intelligence (INT)
Improves your memory and capacity for knowledge.
Every 1 point of INT increases maximum MP by 5.
There was no change from the last time it went over its Attributes. While these screens did describe each
one, they held very few hints as to how to raise them outside of Level Ups. The Mimic wasn’t able to
grasp the requirements for these ‘special actions’ at all. The only thing it knew for certain was that it was
getting less and less of these as time went on.
The truth was that increasing one’s Attributes through training demanded that they consistently pushed
their limits. Lift heavy things until your arms are about to fall out. Run until you’re throwing up. Read
books until your head’s about to burst. And then keep on going. It was a painful and arduous process.
The only reason the Mimic seemed to enjoy frequent boosts at the start was that it had very little to
begin with. In actuality, raising a new Attribute to 5 seemed to happen very rapidly. Getting the first
point of it was actually much harder than getting the following four. That is, unless a Skill or Job created
the Attribute for you.
For example, that very first point of INT this Mimic earned shortly after its birth? Just remembering
what had happened 10 minutes ago pushed it beyond the limit of 0 INT. It had come a long way since
then, but such revelations were just still of reach. There’s no way something born less than 3 months ago
would be able to deduce that sort of obtuse rule. If it had figured it out on its own, then its WIS would
surely have gone up as a result.
Ultimately, the mentally immature monster ended up staring blankly at its final target until its MP filled
up. And then it casually absorbed the final corpse - that of the black-haired scruffy-bearded man.
Your Cadaver Absorption was a major success!

6% of the target’s highest Job Level has been added to your own.
WARNING: Unable to create Job at Level 0. Compensating.

Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a level 1 Warlock!
The Mental Fortitude (MNT) Attribute has been created through a special action. MNT +1.
INT +2. MNT +2. END +2.
You have learned a new Spell: Shadowbolt.
The Mimic’s only eye blinked several times. It suddenly had so many questions that the metaphorical
gears in its mind ground to a complete halt. If it could give voice to its most pressing concern, it would
undoubtedly shout out something like ‘Where the hell did all my Levels go?!’
“SHASHUSH!” it screamed in panic.
Sex N/A DEX 49 MNT 3 Warlock 1 0%
Age 2 months AGI 38
Guild END 47
273/280 (+0.4/
HP INT 39
sec)
MP 28/195 (+0.4/sec) WIS 40
Skill List
Assassination 4 29%
Stealth 3 11%
Storage 2 54%
Shapeshift 3 69%
Sword Mastery 5 6%
It felt relieved. It really did not want to go back to being a Level 1. Wait, wasn’t it technically a Level 1
AND a Level 15? And how can someone do two Jobs at once?!
Why did the number of questions keep increasing!?

(9) Eat And Grow 2
“Hnnnngg,” groaned the Mimic. It was gradually growing frustrated. Right now it was trying to work
out the correct chant to bring up what Spells it could use. “Uhh, shells!” it yelled. Nothing happened. So
far nothing had worked. “Najic!” was also a dud. It had dismissed that fateful Level Up window in
haste so that it could double-check its main Status Screen. And now it was regretting that rash decision.
It could no longer directly examine the unfamiliar words it saw there.
It had just learned the Shadowbolt Spell. It must have been that mass of darkness the scruffy-looking
black-haired male threw it at a few times. It really wished it had paid closer attention as to what he was
doing. But it was already too late - his ash pile would not offer any answers. It did absorb the Warlock
Job from his corpse though. And since it learned the Spell, the Mimic knew the chant and gestures
required to activate it, as well as how to target it.
But when it tried to cast it, nothing happened. So right now it was trying to find out what it was missing,
just like the last time it was stumped. But the Shadowbolt entry did not appear in any of the screens and
menus it was familiar with, so it was stuck. But surely there had to be some sort of list. There was a Skill
List and a Job List so surely there was one for Spells, right?
“… Shell Lisht?”
Spell List
Shadowbolt
“Yeshaaaaa!” it yelled in triumph. Its spidery legs did a little tap-dance for a few seconds,
commemorating the occasion. If the Mimic actually had lips, they would undoubtedly be curled in a
smile.
Shadowbolt
Requirements: Level 1 Warlock, INT 10
School: Ruin
Type: Projectile
Cost: 40 MP
Range: 25 Meters
Effect: Launches a volatile bolt of darkness in a specific direction.
The force of the Spell will attempt to pull apart the first solid thing it hits, then dissipate.
Grows in power in dark places or at night, dealing up to 50% more damage depending on
the environment.
Unsurprisingly, there was no new information here. All of this knowledge had already been transmitted
to the Mimic’s mind and engraved into its memory. In a hypothetical situation where it could
communicate with others, it would be able to accurately describe the spell as a Projectile from the Ruin
school of magic that grew stronger in the dark. The problem was that was that it would then be unable to
answer the obvious follow-up question:
What the fuck was Ruin?!
Ruin
An offense-focused school of magic that boasts the strongest destructive power, commonly
known as Black Magic.
Ruin Spells are unbalanced and inefficient, making them cost more MP than Spells from
other schools.
And now it could say that Ruin Spells hurt a lot, but demand high MP to use. Was it really that high,
though? Compared to the staggering 150 MP Cost of Cadaver Absorption, 40 almost seemed like a joke.
The question was, exactly how powerful was this ‘strongest destructive power?’ The Mimic only had
enough MP on it for, like, 3 casts of that Spell. Or was it 4? Wait, how much max MP did it have again?
It brought up the Status Screen to double-check.
It had 52/195 MP, so that was 2, 3, 4… Just short of 5 Shadowbolts’ worth of MP. It could probably do 5
in a row if it waited a bit for its MP to recover.
Oh.
It checked again. 53/195 MP (+0.4/sec). Now that the Mimic had a closer look, didn’t it have
20-something when it first got this Warlock Job? And didn’t it try to use this Shadowbolt spell almost
immediately afterwards? It knew the cost was 40 MP, but it didn’t really think to check how much it had
at the time. It was simply over-excited at the prospect of gaining a reusable ranged attack. It had given
up after several tries and had been poring over its menus ever since.
So, now would be a good time to try again, yes? The monster switched gears and sharpened its focus. It
let out a quiet guttural sound that was, in essence, the Shadowbolt chant in Mimicanese. It pictured
gathering the shadows around it into a small dense lump while doing so. A 15-centimeter wide black
mass formed steadily in front of it. A thick miasma poured out of it in all directions. The dark smog-like
substance lingered in the air for a brief moment before dissipating into nothing.
After about a second of that, it shouted “Shatolholt!” while simultaneously imagining the conjured
chunk of darkness flying off into a specific direction. And that is indeed what happened! The
Shadowbolt flew in a perfectly straight line into the distance with a small hissing noise. It reached its
maximum Range of 25 meters in just under a second before fizzling out of existence.
The Mimic had just used its first real Spell. It did another dance for joy. Like this, it would finally be
able to fight at range and also increase its Warlock Job Levels.
Any Experience Points (XP) earned through killing things would, by default, feed into the monster’s
Main Job - that of a Level 15 Mimic. For it to raise its Level 1 Side Job, it had to murder stuff by doing
Warlock-y type things. Like, for example, hurl lumps of eldritch darkness at its prey. If it just continued
stabbing and biting everything to death, the creature’s fancy new Job would remain as little more than a
Level 1 decoration.
This was the gist of the knowledge it had gleaned from its brief struggle to find out why its Shadowbolt
spell failed to activate. Most of that information was given to it freely after it Inspected the terms Job,
Main Job and Side Job and Job Level. It also realized that it would need to split XP between the Mimic
and Warlock Jobs, but that was not necessarily a bad thing. Those rapid Level Ups were sure to be tasty
in their own way. Additionally, as a shapeshifter, it fully understood the benefits of being versatile, so
having a means of attacking at range was going to be a huge help.
Although it then immediately realized something. The Shapeshift Skill was, in a way, this monster’s
main weapon. The legs, tentacle-tongues and even that one eye it sprouted were all possible because of
this Skill. But at the same time, it had somehow ended up neglecting it. Until now, it couldn’t really
morph itself while waiting in ambush. Nobody in their right mind would assume a wiggling chest was
the real thing, after all. That much it already knew by instinct.
But now was different. Now it would be taking a more active role that went against such gut feelings.
As a matter of fact, those very same instincts had steadily been getting quieter - even before its
connection to the dungeon had been severed. If at first they were like a loud ear-piercing scream, right
now they were closer to a murmur. It knew what they were telling it, but it could easily ignore them if it
wished to do so. It wasn’t actually a slave to such things, it didn’t necessary have to obey them. It was
odd that it took it this long to realize that simple fact. This was probably due to the dungeon’s
compulsions anyway. There really wasn’t much point in worrying about it now. Besides, its natural urges
appealed to it at a base level, so it would still end up indulging them every now and then. The difference
was it could now make the choice whether it would do that or not.
And right now, it was making the decision to improve itself. Outside of this dungeon was the complete
unknown and it needed to be ready. Therefore, it would need to train up its Shapeshift Skill so that it
would be better prepared. After all, the speed and range of transformations it could do went up
noticeably every time the Skill Leveled Up.
For starters, now that it had sight, how about increasing its field of vision? While not as accurate as its
magical perception, it was still wary of being ambushed from a distance. Those humans with their front-
facing eyes were clearly idiots. If they could see towards their backs and sides without turning their
heads, they might not be such easy prey. Such pitiful creatures.
Over the next several seconds, about 20 additional closed eyelids grew from the monster’s wood-like
shell. It needed that many to cover all possible angles it could think of, after all. Even if a few of them
were redundant, it was good to have backups. When the eyelids were properly formed, it then began
working on the hollow eyeballs under them. Since it had already figured out the proper structure, it just
need to repeat it over and over.
As expected, Shapeshift went up. It seemed that it would grow faster from massive changes rather than
small, delicate ones. The Mimic gained quite a bit of it while it was figuring out how to make its new
legs work. Growing them just right demanded it shift a lot of its biomass around, after all. And just now
it was recreating a considerable number of delicate organs on its surface.
Still, the Proficiency didn’t seem to climb as rapidly as it did while the monster was creating its first
eyeball. Its leg and tongue manipulation had practically stopped increasing its Proficiency altogether.
Ultimately, it seemed that it would have to create new and unique things from its malleable flesh if it
wanted to reach the pinnacle of shapeshifting. But that would come later.
Right now, it had finished growing its new eyes. And it opened them all at once.
Your mind has been overwhelmed. HP -10.

You are Stunned for 5 seconds.
And then immediately fell on its underside. Its legs sprawled out from under it like someone had
squashed it with an oversized fly swatter. Its eyelids drooped over its eyes while the magical perception
was cut off. It was now in a world of complete darkness. It was unconscious.
Simply put, its fragile mind was completely unprepared for the sudden influx of information. A total of
21 eyes plus the monster’s magical perception overloaded what passes for its brain. It was so harsh that
it actually felt physical pain as its HP took a small hit. Even though the surroundings were almost
completely pitch black to the imitation human eyes, it still proved entirely too much.
After snapping back to reality, it reflexively fluttered open its eyes. Not the wisest of decisions.

A special action has been performed. MNT +1.
It was so intense that its own body recognized it as a mental attack from the environment. And because
its MNT Attribute was still low, it was completely under the influence of the Stunned abnormal
condition. If its Mental Fortitude were high enough, it would be able to at least remain in a groggy,
dazed state rather than completely blacking out. Although that also meant that it would be trying to
process 21 eyes’ worth of visual information while it was Stunned. Whether it was able to close them
under such conditions was another question entirely. The worst case scenario would be it becoming a
prisoner in its own body. Its own perception would be overloading its brain while it could not cut off the
feed. What passes for its brain would then probably leak out of its gaping mouth as it quietly passed
away.
And again, its eyes opened up before its consciousness could stop them.

It wasn’t until the loop repeated itself several more times and earned it another point of MNT that the
Mimic was finally able to keep its eyes shut after waking up. Reeling from the intense something-ache,
it quickly retracted all of the extra eyes back inside its body. It was now back to having a single ocular
organ in the middle of its front side, just under its gaping maw. If it were an actual chest, that’s probably
where its lock would be.
Overdoing it with the shapeshifting was clearly a bad idea. The Mimic had gotten full of itself and
suffered for its stupidity. No matter how plain a creature was, it would quickly learn from such an
ordeal. Painful things were painful, after all.
For now It would try to take things slower for the moment. Something simpler, like slightly morphing its
appearance as it walked around. But how much would it need to do for it to be enough to train its
Shapeshift Skill? It wasn’t quite sure what counted as ‘shapeshifting’ and what counted as ‘moving its
body.’ Still, it would just need to try.
And so, after considering its options, the monster went to work. The treasure chest stood up on its spider
legs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Its faux-wood shell began rippling and shivering
slightly, almost like the surface of a puddle being disturbed by a harsh wind. It wasn’t morphing into
anything in particular, it just twisted its flesh around a little. After keeping an eye on its Status screen
and confirming the desired Skill Proficiency did indeed go up by 1%, it was satisfied. This ought to be
enough to casually raise the Shapeshift Skill as time went on, right? Yep, sure looked that way. Then,
while maintaining this state, it took a confident step forward, towards the future.
Which, as it would appear, was the floor. It had stumbled and face planted into the stone ground.
Shapeshifting actually took quite a bit of focus. Such a thing as ‘casually morphing its flesh’ simply
wasn’t possible. It had to make a conscious effort into restructuring its own body, after all. It also
disturbed its center of gravity, meaning it had even more trouble keeping balance on those six thin legs it
had. Even if it could walk, it’s not like that was an automatic process that happened on its own, either.
After all, it had these legs for less than a day. The fact it could actually run and fight like that was in
itself impressive. It wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t precisely mimicking an actual spider’s actions. But
in the end it was just imitating something else. It’s not like it had mastered these movements quite
yet. As a result, it hit the limit on its concentration and fucked up its gait. It simply did not have the
capacity to Shapeshift and walk at the same time.
So would it stay put and train or head out? Frankly speaking, it had very little desire to linger here. It felt
somewhat scornful at having been almost literally chased out by its own parent. Not to mention the prey
here were clearly unable to help it grow its Job Levels further. It was also slightly worried about those
five identically dressed people it murdered. Everyone else it had killed, while looking similar, was still
unique in some way. But that bunch felt different, like they belonged to something bigger.
Oddly enough, they reminded the Mimic of the dungeon’s giant bats. That particular breed of monster
had a habit of fighting in groups. If too many of its kind were killed, the survivors would focus on
escaping from battle. But rather than a surrender, this was more of a tactical retreat. They wouldn’t
forgive anyone who dared to slay their kin, so if they got away they would come back minutes later with
an entire flock of their friends.
It was something the Mimic had witnessed a few times as adventurers ran past it while being chased by
dozens of the flying rodents. Since they were already in full sprint, the Mimic had to regrettably let them
pass through its lair. It couldn’t keep up with humans that ran with all their might. If they didn’t
approach it or linger around its spot, it had no chance of getting close enough to ambush them. And
those panicked individuals certainly did none of those things. After all, what sort of idiot would stop to
check a treasure chest when he was about to be overwhelmed by large numbers like that?
But still, it was a scenario that was entirely possible with those shiny people. Even if none of them
escaped, it was likely that their friends would come looking for them. Therefore, the Mimic would need
to swiftly and surely evacuate before it was hunted down and killed. Picking itself up off the ground it
scanned the distance with its one eye. It spotted the slightly lit opening that its recent quartet of victims
had come from and headed off towards it. The draft it had felt earlier became more and more noticeable
as it closed in on that exit.
Somewhere along the way, it was told it had officially left the dungeon once again. Not like it cared
anymore at this point. Dismissing the message, it approached the narrow hole in the otherwise vast
cavern. A silvery light poured in from the 2-meter tall and 3-meter wide passage. The Mimic screwed up
its courage and passed through the threshold, setting foot into the wide open world for the first time.
And it saw many strange things.
The first new sight the Mimic beheld was grass. Green blades of fiber that swayed gently in the breeze.
They glistened with moisture as the air shoved them around for no particular reason. They actually
looked soft and might be pleasant to sit on, unlike that hard stone floor it was used to.
Next it saw trees. It somehow recognized them as being made of wood. After all, it was the very
material it was imitating. Not to mention its teeth had crunched plenty of wooden staves and bows into
splinters. Unlike steel, they weren’t hard enough to pierce the insides of its maw, so it had no trouble
gobbling them up. It wasn’t a particularly tasty or nourishing material though. It just ate them to get rid
of them, so it had no desire to chomp into those bland tree trunks. Those colorful bits on top of them
were another story. They actually looked like they might taste good!
And as its gaze went up the tree, it finally beheld the night sky. It stared blankly at the black void that
seemed to stretched out into infinity. Countless stars sparkled and twinkled from far, far away. The
unobstructed view of a star-filled night sky was a romantic, almost sacred thing. It was, in some ways, a
shame that the denizens of this world did not take time out of their daily lives to stop and appreciate its
natural beauty. Tonight was even a rare occasion when all of its moons were all visible at the same time.
The three celestial bodies that passed each other idly by as they hurtled through space. Their combined
silver glow bathed the surroundings in an almost eerie light.
The mysteries of the cosmos seemed to spread out before the Mimic and its one lonely eye. And all it
could think about was how come it was so damn bright in this new cave it had found.
Age 2 months AGI 39
Guild END 49
258/290 (+0.4/
HP INT 39
sec)
MP 45/195 (+0.4/sec) WIS 40
Skill List
Assassination 4 29%
Stealth 3 11%
Storage 2 54%
Shapeshift 4 16%
Sword Mastery 5 6%
(10) Eat And Grow 3
The janther was a fearsome creature. At first look it appeared to be a big cat. Its head had typical
features one would expect to see in something like a mountain lion - whiskers, perky ears, pointed teeth,
elongated face, soft fur and keen eyes. Its torso, too, was pretty much the same in structure, even if a bit
longer than one might expect. It also had a soft-looking tail which it used to adjust its balance when
running or falling.
That is, however, where the similarities end. For one thing, its fur was a dark green, bordering on black.
It also grew to sizes impossible for a normal animal, easily reaching up to 4 meters in length from head
to rump and about 150 centimeters in height. Its most telling feature, however, was the extra pair of legs
growing out right behind the frontmost ones. If it reared up on its hind paws, it would almost look like a
two-legged, four armed creature. And every heavily muscled appendage was tipped with razor sharp
claws capable of shredding people into ribbons.
It made its home in thick forests, where it could prowl and look for prey undisturbed. Hovering around
Level 30 during adulthood, these big cats usually dominated the local food chain. They were also highly
territorial and competitive with their own kind. A janther encroaching on another’s turf was no different
than a declaration of war. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that each of these individuals ruled over their
domain like kings or queens.
These majestic beasts were, without question, apex predators. They had an aura of undeniable strength
about them, a sort of almost regal bearing befitting of a powerful ruler. It was something a certain
treasure chest was just now made aware of as it desperately tried to conceal its presence.
While exploring this new ‘cave’ called the wide world, the first living being it found was a janther. It
beheld its form relaxing up in a particularly old and thick tree. The green fur blended in perfectly with
the tree’s foliage, making it impossible to see with the naked human eye. Which was what this particular
shapeshifter was using to look around. It therefore failed to notice the huge janther ahead of time.
When it walked within about 10 meters of the fearsome creature, the Mimic finally detected it with its
magical perception. The recently quiet instincts then screamed at it with all their might. ‘Hide!’ they
shouted. ‘Hide if you want to live, retard!’ And so it did. It immediately undid all of its mutations and
once again became a perfectly unassuming chest while activating its Stealth Skill.
This was a good call, because janther whiskers were very sensitive towards mana. So something like
magical perception, which was essentially a kind of magical sonar, made them react. The sleeping
janther woke up immediately when it felt the odd disturbance, after which it heard a soft impact of
something hitting the grassy ground.
In its haste, the Mimic had retracted its feet so quickly that its rectangular body fell to the ground with a
soft thud. It had no choice in the matter. If the shapeshifter was any slower, then its true identity would
have been revealed immediately. Instead, all the janther saw when it looked down from its perch was a
perfectly normal wooden treasure chest.
A rectangular pile of wood with steel edges which had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a
forest. This was not, in fact, as ‘normal’ as the Mimic thought it was. How could it possibly know that
chests did not exist in the wilderness? Still, even if it realized it now, it was far too late. The huge cat
had leapt down from its perch and was currently sniffing at the chest. That faint presence it felt just a
moment ago disappeared almost completely, but it was still definitely there. As expected, something
about this box unsettled it, but the beast had trouble figuring out what it was. That resulted in a sort of
stalemate between the two.
A stalemate of ignorance, that is.
The Mimic kept observing the huge predator with its magical perception, unaware that its gaze was the
reason for its current predicament. The janther, on the other hand, wasn’t sure what this odd tingling in
its whiskers was. The only reason it took interest in this strange pile of wood was that, quite simply, it
was curious. And while the saying that ‘curiosity killed the cat’ seemed like it might become reality,
there was simply no way that would happen.
The Mimic, objectively speaking, had no chance of victory here. The janther before it had a staggering
534 HP and more than double the Mimic’s STR and AGI. It was much tougher, stronger and faster.
Unlike the all-rounder Mimic Job, the specialized Big Cat Job focused only on physical Attributes.
Because of that, even if the two were on equal footing, the janther would still win in a straight fight. It
was a species well suited to combat, unlike its theoretical opponent. On the other hand, if the Mimic had
managed to land a surprise attack, it would have a decent chance of taking down the bigger creature.
But all that was a ‘what if’ scenario. The ‘what is’ scenario was one where the janther would have an
overwhelming victory no matter what the box did. The gap in Levels was simply too high. And while
strategy and experience might have been able to compensate for that, the Mimic had neither of those
things right now. At least, nothing it could use against a creature it had just seen for the first time.
So what would this self-proclaimed king do when it found a suspicious object in its territory? Why,
claim it as its own of course! Whatever this thing was, it was clearly inside its domain. Yet it smelled
like it belonged to someone else. In actuality, that smell was what bothered the six-legged monster the
most. So, after turning its body to the side and urinating on top of the weird pile of lumber, it went up its
tree and drifted off to sleep. Even if its whiskers were still tingling slightly, it wasn’t at a level where it
couldn’t be ignored. The slightly foreign sensation may have woken it up since it was a light sleeper, but
it was now used to it.
The freshly marked Mimic was not, as one might expect, outraged. It wasn’t feeling humiliated, nor was
its pride crushed. The simple creature didn’t have things like pride, humility or shame to begin with. So
what if it was covered in cat piss? Right now, it was simply glad to be alive. The big scary fuzzy thing
had gone back to where it came from and the immediate danger had passed. But the crisis was far from
over. Even the slightest movement on the Mimic’s part was sure to wake the big scary thing up again.
Therefore, the faux-chest focused its entire being on chesting. It would be the Chestiest Chest That Ever
Chested!
And so it waited. Again. It wouldn’t need to wait as long as it did last time though. It just had to lay low
until the six-legged green thing went away. Eventually the sun rose. As the Mimic felt the celestial
body’s warm light for the first time in its cave-bound life, it had absolutely nothing to say about the
matter. Chests don’t speak, after all. It did quietly ponder just what was causing it, though.
Several hours after sunrise, the janther finally woke up. It yawned and stretched a bit, then just sort of
lazed around its tree. It was, after all, a nocturnal creature. It wouldn’t leave to hunt until early evening
and would sit idly while scratching its ass until then. Truly an attitude befitting of a king.
But before any of that could happen, at around 2:30 PM in the afternoon, the janther suddenly leaped
down from its tree. It let out a low growl from its throat while it scanned its surrounding. The Mimic
briefly wondered what caused this sudden behavior. It could have such idle thoughts since it didn’t seem
to be the focus of the beast’s attention. Not this time, anyway. And, a few seconds later, it got its answer.
An arrow flew out from a nearby bush. It cut through the air at unnaturally high speeds, aimed squarely
at the janther’s eye. Its target dodged out of the way with a grace and speed that belied the size and
weight of its body. The errant projectile flew over the Mimic and stuck itself in the wide tree trunk. The
janther then roared loudly, as if demanding whoever had the nerve to shoot at it to show themselves.
What it got in response was another arrow. Then another one. And another one. The gigantic mass of
muscle and fur dodged them nimbly every time, but refused to fall for the obvious provocations. Its keen
sense of smell already told it there were multiple people waiting to ambush it on the other side of that
foliage. Once they realized their trap wouldn’t work, the would-be assassins showed themselves.
The first ones to run out of the bush were two men. Their matching longswords, kite shields and half-
plate armor all looked well used, but in good condition. Behind them was a pointy-eared female elf
carrying a thick oaken staff and a green robe that was modeled to look like a one piece dress. The last
one to show themselves was another elf, only this one was male and held an intricately decorated
longbow while clad in a tunic and trousers made out of brown leather.
The four-man adventuring party’s target was, without question, the janther. These mighty beasts were a
highly profitable source of income. The eyeballs, brain, sharp teeth, liver and several other of its parts
were useful to alchemists and enchanters, but the pelt was the most valuable of them all. They all
fetched a good price because it was a rare monster that not everyone living in these parts could take
down.
In addition to all that, this particular beast was already responsible for attacking several merchant
caravans. Its infamy earned it a sizable bounty, which is what these four were aiming to collect. The
thrill of a double jackpot like this was too enticing. And even if their Levels were still short of reaching
20, they actually had the strategy and teamwork necessary to take down the tougher opponent. There is
strength in numbers, after all.
The Mimic, which was just kind of sitting there, hesitated as to what to do. The janther had leaped out of
range of its magical perception some time ago. It had no idea what was going on nearby, but it definitely
knew something was happening. It could clearly hear the sounds of battle, after all. So would it flee or
stay put? After a while, it decided it need to at least verify the situation before making any rash
decisions. It sprouted an eye on its left side, taking extra care to disguise the eyelid with a layer of wood-
textured skin. It knew for certain there was nobody within 10 meters of it, so it was confident the tiny
abnormality on its surface would not be noticed. When it was ready, it timidly peeked at what was going
on.
It saw that indomitable janther bleeding heavily from its front. One of its eyes had been wounded. Its
chest and frontmost legs were covered in cuts and several arrows were stuck in its side. In truth, even if
it appeared heavily injured, none of those wounds were particularly deep, let alone fatal. The eye was a
bit of a problem, but it would grow back if given time. Therefore, at least for the time being, it could
keep attacking as fiercely as possible.
The giant cat-like creature swung its two left front paws at the black-haired Warrior. The man blocked
both of them with his kite shield, but was sent flying backwards from the impact. He fell a few meters
away from it, coughing up blood from the heavy impact. The other Warrior, a brown haired and stocky
man, took his place. The elven Druid in the back then chanted “Rejuvenate!” as she completed her Spell.
A soft green light engulfed the wounded black-haired man and began refilling his HP. “Entangle!” she
continued. Green plants that looked like barbed roots burst from the ground. They coiled themselves
around all four of the janther’s front limbs, pinning it in place. It struggled to break free, but that would
take some time.
Taking this opportunity, the Ranger nocked an arrow. He concentrated for a brief moment and then let
loose with a shout of “Multishot!” The Martial Art activated splendidly. The single arrow multiplied into
four the instant it was fired. The quartet of arrows struck the immobile janther’s right flank, causing it to
yelp in pain. In the next instant it finished breaking free of the roots and slammed into the brown-haired
Warrior in a fit of rage. It was a repeat of a little while ago as one Warrior was knocked back and the
other intercepted the monster in his stead.
This was a scene the Mimic was actually familiar with. The ones in front would keep the enemy busy
and block their advance. Then there would be that one person in the back who applied healing magic
and disrupted the tougher opponent. And finally, there would be someone even further away attacking
from a distance. The shapeshifting chest knew this formation well - it had faced it several times in the
past. While it did prefer solo targets, the adventurers who explored dungeons completely alone were few
in number. It often had to fight groups of two or three, sometimes four of them so it knew first-hand just
how painful that simple strategy was. Even those four it killed last night tried to do pretty much the same
thing. If it didn’t have the advantages of a higher Level or the element of surprise, it would probably not
be alive right now.
The Mimic did not know much, but it knew two things were certain. One - the janther would probably
lose. It couldn’t land a telling blow on those well armored people in the front and that green-haired
woman would not allow them to die. The second thing was that the healer - in this case the Druid - was
the lynchpin of this formation. If she were not here, then not all of those adventurers would survive the
encounter. Getting wiped out was also extremely likely.
Although, objectively speaking, the Mimic was really just a bystander in all this. It had no obligations to
help either side and would be justified if it chose to stay completely out of this mess. While it is true that
adventurers and monsters were fated to be enemies, it was also true that different species of monsters
very rarely got along. This was a situation where the enemy of its enemy was still an enemy. So in some
ways, it didn’t matter at all who would win.
But that was not entirely true, was it? If the janther won, it would simply go back to sleep or run off to
hunt. If the adventurers won, they would want to open the mysterious chest that this formidable creature
was ‘guarding.’ And with its true nature inevitably revealed, the Mimic would just be killed. If those
four could take down an opponent which the Mimic had no hope against, then it would not fare much
better.
Could it escape right now? Definitely. Neither of these two forces would be able to chase after it while
they were busy with each other. So why not try and kill a few of those people first? At the very least, if it
had to choose, it would want the janther would win. True, it did piss all over the poor thing, but the
Mimic didn’t particularly hate it. It was warm and sort of pleasant actually. Of course, it might think
differently if it had a sense of smell or if some of it got into its mouth.
Having made its decision to interfere, it next needed to choose a method. Shadowbolt was an option.
What better place to test its power? It even had the perfect target - that Druid in the middle. The Mimic
was completely in her blind spot and had a clear shot. Not to mention that, unlike the other three that
constantly orbited around their target, the female elf had to stand perfectly still while chanting.
Oh, right. Chanting. It would need to chant the Shadowbolt Spell out loud, possibly attracting attention
to itself. Still, with all that commotion, it doubted it would be caught as long as it was quiet. It was still
under the effects of its Stealth Skill, after all. That meant any sound, including its ‘speech,’ would be
lessened to some degree.
Right, now all that was left was to choose the right moment. The janther was rapidly running out of HP
and the adventurers were clearly getting tired, but the winner was pretty much obvious at this point. The
climax of the battle would be here soon and there might not be a good chance if it waited too long. And
then, one of the Warriors was blown back again. The Druid would now undoubtedly focus on healing
her teammate and would be a sitting duck.
The chest lid lifted ever so slightly. A low gurgle-like sound could barely be heard as it charged its Spell.
When the Druid started muttering an incantation of her own, the Mimic released its Spell with a whisper.
“Shatolholt.”
The mass of darkness streaked through the air with a low hiss. The female Druid had just finished
preparing her next Rejuvenation Spell and was about to invoke it with the keyword. She shouted “Re-,”
but only got as far as the first syllable. The Shadowbolt caught her completely off guard and made
impact with the side of her skull.
The sprawling shadow engulfed her head in an instant. The eldritch energies then viciously pulled her
flesh and bones apart. There was a horrible sloshing sound as her head burst open like a gory firework.
Drops of blood, bits of brain, clumps of hair, shards of bone and patches of skin rained down on her
comrades. The suddenly headless body stood upright for an impossibly long second before falling over
with a wet thud.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Arcane Assassin.
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a level 5 Warlock! INT +10. MNT +10. END +10.
You have learned a new Spell: Ebonfire.
You have learned a new Spell: Mass Panic.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Monster Magic.
Proficiency level increased. Ruin Mastery is now Level 2. INT +4. WIS +2. END +2.
Warlock
Sex N/A DEX 50 MNT 17 5 62%
(+)
Age 2 months AGI 39
Guild END 59
290/340 (+0.4/
HP INT 53
sec)
155/265 (+0.4/
MP WIS 42
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 4 39%
Stealth 3 36%
Storage 2 54%
Shapeshift 4 18%
Sword Mastery 5 6%
Ruin Mastery 2 87%
(11) Eat And Grow 4
Lylandros never wanted much out of life. Just to become really famous and get all the ladies. A simple,
straightforward dream. But as an elf born in the human-dominated Lodrak Empire, his prospects were
bleak. Practically non existent, actually. He was so low on the social ladder that even the worms in the
dirt seemed to be above him in the pecking order. All because of some big war over 300 years ago that
people are still salty about.
Well, it didn’t help that the elves used horrific and underhanded means to fight that war. They were
basically terrorists. And then they lost. Even if it was a long time ago, those random attacks on
uninvolved civilians caused some pretty deep scars. It was to the point where there wasn’t a single
human in the Empire who hadn’t suffered at their hands. So the humans despised the elves. They taught
their children to hate them, and those children passed that on. It had gotten a bit better for the elves with
time, but the discrimination was still pretty widespread. At least they weren’t chained and enslaved on
sight anymore, so there’s definitely progress, right?
And then you have this young elven street urchin who wants to make it big. What was he supposed to
do? Join an adventurer’s guild, of course. Unlike the general populace, most adventurers did not
discriminate against elves. Or at least, not openly. As a result, many elves were forced to take up the
dangerous work of an adventurer.
At least 25% of adventurers were elves, second only to humans who made up about 40% of the total.
Dwarves came in 3rd with a share of about 15%. Those short and bearded humanoids weren’t
discriminated against though. It’s just that most of them preferred to become artisans and artists, a much
better use of their dextrous fingers and deeper reserves of stamina. Also their short legs made traveling
long distances on foot a pain in the ass.
And so, Lylandros became an adventurer. That was about a month ago. He was steadily climbing up to
becoming a Level 20 Ranger along with his team. They were all former street rats like him, so they
shared a certain bond beyond mere colleagues. Since their moralities and values lined up, they became
fast friends and their teamwork was top-notch. Something like taking down a janther was not a big deal -
they had already killed one of the beasts a week ago. Admittedly it was a younger one at only Level 24,
but the method to fight it did not change. They made a decent amount of money from that kill. And then
they noticed there was a tempting bounty on this particular janther worth 500 Gold Pieces (GP), so it
was only natural they would go for it.
Admittedly, the traps he placed proved to be useless. It seemed that, unlike the younger one, this adult
would not recklessly chase them down. Still, that just meant the hunt would take longer. They still
considered this a low-risk high-reward job. The risk seemed to disappear as they verified the janther was
actually weaker than they expected. It was practically already dead and Raela still had a decent amount
of MP left. So then, why did her head have to suddenly explode just now?
Lylandros was this close to getting inside her pants, too! Such a shame. He would have to find someone
else to help him graduate from being a virgin by the look of things. But before that, he had one
important matter to take care of.
He had to throw up. He keeled over and went “Urk.. Urp! UGHRAHRAHRAHRA!” as the contents of
his stomach came out the wrong end. It’s not like the poor lad could help it - he was still young and
inexperienced. He was also right next to Raela when he saw her head was suddenly enveloped in a black
mist. He opened his mouth to scream, but in the next instant that pretty face had turned into soup. And
then he got a mouthful of bloodied brain tissue. He also briefly felt the presence of a tooth on his tongue
that wasn’t his own.
So he threw up. He vomited uncontrollably because his heart was gripped by a combination of fear,
panic, disgust and general what-the-fuck-ery. Brom and Krom didn’t seem to realize what had just
happened. The horrifying noise of their comrade’s head bursting into a red mist was drowned out by
janther’s roars. But even the sound reached them, it’s unlikely they would hear it. These muscle-headed
sworn brothers were so focused on their target that they didn’t notice anything else.
But Lylandros did. How could he not? He saw that sinister spell flying at Raela, but he couldn’t stop it.
He didn’t know who launched it, but he saw the direction. And so, while his comrades were in the
middle of trading blows with an enemy they were highly unlikely to defeat, he looked aside. And then
he saw… it.
A mass of wood, teeth and hatred. It was skittering quickly across the grassy ground on black, spider-
like legs. It lowered its profile and circled around to the janther’s back, using the six-legged beast’s body
as a shield. Krom and Brom had yet to notice it.
This was bad. He didn’t know why or how, but that spider-chest was definitely the culprit that murdered
the girl he liked. He couldn’t let it get away with that! He wouldn’t allow that monster to do as it
pleased! This time would be different. This time, he would do his job as the eyes and ears of this team
and warn them of danger. He opened his mouth and vomited furiously in their direction!
He couldn’t even scream properly. All that was heard was the wet splatter of disgusting bits of partially
digested meat against the grass. It’s not like the was quite over what had happened seconds ago. But he
tried again! He lifted his gaze to try and warn his surviving comrades. But it was a mistake. What he saw
next would undoubtedly give him nightmares for the rest of his life.
The Mimic had made a decision. It would interfere in this fight and test out its new Shadowbolt Spell in
the process. The one-hit K.O. against the Druid was unexpected, however. It had no idea Assassination
worked with Spells, either. If it did, it would have aimed for somewhere else. After all, without the
brain, it couldn’t absorb that corpse. Well, it was still going to eat it, though. Truthfully, it was feeling
rather hungry. Its HP and MP recovery weren’t halved due to starvation, but that moment felt like it
would come soon.
It had other things to do before chowing down, though. First, it needed to finish the fight. And it would
do so by killing off the janther and then moving onto the heavily wounded and tired adventurers. Truly a
lose-lose-win scenario that suited it perfectly! It crept around the janther’s back while under the guise of
Stealth. It noticed one of the adventurers was watching it, but couldn’t do anything about that. The
Stealth Skill only affected sound, so walking around in plain sight like that was bound to get it
discovered. It didn’t matter though, as long as its target was unaware.
Once it got into position, the Mimic took out a single sword and gripped it tightly with its tongue. Its
sudden burst of INT and WIS seemed to make it realize the janther had an obvious weak spot that was
perfect for Assassination. It was a specific organ that was also present on the humans and elves it had
already eaten. And its recent tussle with the quintet of guards back in that cave demonstrated that it was
undoubtedly a weakness. So, after taking some precautions and matching its timing with the still-
fighting janther, it brandished its sword and stabbed at it from behind. Using its magic perception and
dextrous tongue, it precisely pierced both of the janther’s testicles.
The damage dealt was low. That much was expected. It’s not like something that was this outside the
body was a vital spot. Well, it may have been necessary to the janther to qualify as a mammal, but the
beast had other things on its mind right now. Like a searing, indescribably intense pain. It still had 105
HP remaining, but the agony it was in made it almost want to die.
It yelled with a long, high-pitched scream as it fell on the ground. Krom and Brom stepped back at this
weird behavior. Since it didn’t look like the writhing and yelling janther would get up any time soon,
they could finally catch their breath. But something was off - where was their damned support? They
looked over their shoulders in unison to admonish their teammates for slacking. It was only then that
they realized something horrible had happened. Their Ranger was vomiting and their Druid was lying on
the ground, covered in blood.
And then the janther screamed again. Krom and Brom turned their focus back to their target. If they
turned their backs on it now, it was sure to kill them both. And then, they also saw it. A wooden chest
that was latched firmly on the janther’s back.
The Mimic had climbed up on the now grounded prey and driven its teeth deep into it. It stuck to it like
a tick. Even if the janther thrashed around it wouldn’t be able to shake it off. The Mimic then put the
next step of its attack into action - its six spider legs fused together to become two slightly disfigured
black arms. It was its first time growing human limbs, but it had no problems with that. It had eaten so
many arms that it could probably create one in its sleep. It’s not like the arachnid limbs that had to be
made from sight, or the eye which was a delicate thing. Simple muscle-and-bone could be easily grown
in an instant.
The arms then reached into the small opening between the monster jaws and the janther’s bloodied hide
and pulled out a sword each. They then began viciously stabbing every bit of janther flesh within reach.
The shapeshifter couldn’t put much as power into them as it wanted, but it had all the time in the world.
It kept stabbing and carving up the green fur, splattering blood all over the place.
The duo of warriors felt like they had walked into a nightmare. Their elven comrade further back felt
like he was already in hell. Even by monster standarts, that horrible wooden box was simply way too
vicious, entirely too brutal. It’s like it went out of its way to pick the most horrible way of ripping apart
its victims.
Once the janther finally stopped struggling and passed away, the Mimic morphed again. In an instant it
turned back into a spider-chest, but this time it had all three of its tongue-tentacles out and ready.
Without giving the dumbfounded men any time to relax it charged at them, swinging its blades around in
a flurry of death and blood.
Krom and Brom were natural-born Warriors. They were confident in their ability to block and parry a
wide range of attacks. Whether they came from monsters, bandits or even other adventurers didn’t
matter - they would deflect them all and hold the line. However, they could not keep up with this
onslaught. The sheer number of blows raining down on them meant they had no breathing room.
Exhausted and disheartened, they desperately tried to hold the monster back while getting covered in
scratches. But they still had faith. Faith that, if given enough time, that elf would be able to do
something about this nightmarish creature. They believed that from the bottom of their hearts.
But such a thing did not happen. Lylandros was already running away with all his might. His elven
nature screamed at him to save himself. His experience growing up in the gutter told him to run for his
life. And his fear-addled mind had absolutely no desire to stick around. And so, he ran. Comrades?
Lovers? Friends? You can buy plenty of those if you had money! But you couldn’t have any of that if
you died in a forest somewhere!
Besides, he had a duty. He had to report the appearance of that terrifying monster to the authorities. The
proper subjugation quest needed to be put out and stronger adventurers had to be called in from up
north! Dying there would be a disservice to his comrades who were still fighting to buy him time to
escape.
At least, that was what he told himself.
Back at that blood-soaked battlefield, Krom and Brom were both inevitably slain. They fought valiantly,
but they were in a hopeless position. Wounded, tired and abandoned, they died to a monster’s blade.
Slowly, painfully and gripped by despair. Their passing was so dreadful, that it was highly likely they
would come back as the undead. Assuming they would leave a corpse behind, that is.
The Mimic danced on their bloodied bodies. Its hastily-made plan resulted in a massive harvest. Since
someone else had already heavily wounded the janther before this opportunist showed up and stole the
kill, it only got partial credit. Still, that, combined with the other two kills it got, was enough to earn it
three Levels for its Mimic Job. The pointy-eared one got away, which was a bit of a shame, but all
things considered this was a very profitable engagement.
After it had settled down, it went over to the non-viable corpse and began eating the dead woman. While
it was doing that, it also went through its Status. It had earned a lot of things it didn’t have time to
double check before, so now was a good time to verify. And just like the Spell List, that new thing it saw
should have its own screen. It still had no idea what exactly a Perk was, though.
Perk List
Arcane Assassin
Monster Magic
Perk
A special effect that had been made available by fulfilling specific conditions.
You can Inspect individual Perks for more information.
Arcane Assassin
Description: Every assassin worth their salt knows that silence is golden
Requirements: Kill an opponent of equal or higher Level with a single Spell while the
Stealth Skill is active
Effects: Spells cast while the Stealth Skill is active will be completely silent
Spells cast while the Stealth Skill is active will cost 25% more MP
Monster Magic
Description: A being born of mana is naturally more skilled at manipulating it
Requirements: Obtain any Level 5 Caster Job as a Monster
Effects: All Spells are 5% more effective
So Perks were similar to Skills, except they wouldn’t grow stronger with time. Obtaining them seemed
to be mostly at random, too. How was anyone supposed to figure it out outside of blind luck?! The
Mimic complained slightly to nobody in particular. Well, not like it had a firm grasp on how to unlock
General Skills either.
Truthfully, adventurers could share this information and help each other become that slightly bit
stronger. They were all essentially competitors, so they only revealed such things to those they trusted.
And nobody was about to trust a monster that was currently busy eating the corpse of a person it
murdered in cold blood.
Next, the Mimic needed to verify its new magic.
Ebonfire
School: Ruin
Type: Targeted
Cost: 100 MP
Range: 25 Meters
Effects: Engulfs your target’s soul in flames, burning away their body over 6 seconds.
Has no effect on Undead, Demons and Golems.
Mass Panic
Requirements: Level 5 Warlock, INT 15, MNT 15
School: Domination
Type: Area Effect
Cost: 50 MP
Range: 5 Meters
Effects: Sends all living things in the immediate area into a magically-induced panic attack.
Ebonfire seemed to be like a powerful spell, but with limited usage. 100 MP also seemed like a really
steep cost. On the upside, it looked like it left the actual body in one piece, which was good. The Mimic
didn’t want to invalidate any more corpses if it could help it.
As for Mass Panic, it seemed to be of limited use. It was also of a school of magic different from Ruin.
Domination
A school of magic that focuses on influencing the mind.
Domination Spells do not deal physical damage and instead cause debilitating conditions.
Domination Spells will display stronger or weaker effects depending on the difference
between the caster’s MNT and the target’s MNT.
So it was something that seemed completely unreliable, at least for hunting. This was the simple truth
the Mimic’s noticeably boosted mental abilities realized. Still, the incantation was really short so it
might be useful as an escape mechanism. Having finished devouring the Druid, the Mimic then moved
onto the janther’s corpse. While it would definitely use Cadaver Absorption on it, the monster first
needed to rectify a problem - it couldn’t see in the dark. But this six-legged beast could clearly see it last
night.
Therefore, the Mimic wanted those eyes. It had to eat them to copy them properly. Technically, eating a
part of the corpse now would reduce the effectiveness of Cadaver Absorption, but some things are more
important than Attributes or Skills. And even then, it was only going after that one tiny part of its face.
Compared to the rest of the gigantic body, they were so insignificant that it probably wouldn’t make a
difference anyway. So the shapeshifter gouged them out slowly with a sword and then put them in its
mouth. It rolled them around on its tongue before slowly chewing them up and swallowing them.
The sole human eye on its surface then morphed. Its color changed from a dull brown to a bright yellow.
A vertical line ran down the golden iris, giving it the appearance of a cat eye. The Mimic would need to
wait until it got dark again to properly calibrate it, but it was a start. Since it had enough MP, it then
absorbed the entirety of the janther. What appeared to be thousands of liters of gray sludge disappeared
inside its body, leaving behind a pile of skin and bones that crumbled away slowly in the gentle breeze.
Unfortunately, it was a failure and nothing was gained. The Mimic immediately felt a pang of regret.
Hundreds of kilograms of delicious fresh meat just went to waste. It might actually mourn for it, if it
knew the concept of grief. Still, it had two more usable corpses it could absorb, so it might get lucky
anyway. But that would need to wait until its MP recovered some more. Right now it had one more
important piece of business with its Status Screen.
“Skill Lisht: Harlock” it chanted. The screen came up as expected, but it seemed it only had one Skill on
offer. This was because, simply put, it was missing supporting General Skills. For example, if it had the
Taboo Skill, it might unlock Hexcraft. But as it stood, it had to make do with what it got.
Summon Familiar
Description: The Warlock can call forth demons from the Beyond and bend them to his will
Type: Active
Cost: 50% of max MP
Range: 15 meters
Effect: Summons a demon to serve as the Warlock’s Familiar and obey his orders.
A summoned Familiar will last until it dies or the Warlock dismisses it.
The Familiar’s strength is dependant on the Level of this Skill and the MP used to summon
it.
Beware! Demons do not like to be shackled!
Having some company would be good. Not that the Mimic was getting lonely or anything, it just
understood the benefits of teamwork. And if that didn’t work, it would at least find out if demons tasted
good.
Warlock
Sex N/A DEX 56 MNT 23 5 62%
(+)
Age 2 months AGI 45
Guild END 65
178/376 (+0.6/
HP INT 59
sec)
35/295 (+0.4/
MP WIS 48
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 4 43%
Stealth 3 61%
Storage 2 59%
Shapeshifter 4 31%
Sword Mastery 5 15%
Ruin Mastery 2 87%
(12) Eat And Grow 5
straightforward dream. But that was then, and this is now. Thoughts of fame and fortune were so far
removed from his consciousness that he questioned if he really had them in the first place.
“Oy, twiggy,” came a voice from outside his cell. “The cap’n will see you now.”
Lylandros meekly got up from the pile of hay that served as his bed for the night. Not like he could fall
asleep anyway. His night terrors wouldn’t let him. The horrifying scenery of that girl he sort of liked
exploding all over him was still fresh in his mind. He remembered it vividly like it was yesterday.
Although that’s not really surprising considering that’s precisely when that happened.
He ambled over to the iron bars that made up his cell door and put his hands through a gap in the vertical
bars. The guard on the other side then cuffed the elf’s wrists with solid iron shackles connected by a
short, thick chain. Lylandros pulled his wrists back inside so that the guard can unlock and open the cell.
He then roughly grabbed the shackled elf by the arm and almost literally dragged him off.
This all happened so smoothly and methodically, onlookers might have mistaken it for a well-rehearsed
play. It was just that, like most small-time hoodlums, Lylandros was no stranger to being locked up. His
captors would insult and manhandle him all the time, so this treatment was nothing new.
He was actually glad to be in here. It was safe and quiet. They even confiscated his soiled clothes and
armor. The elf would probably never see those again, but that was undoubtedly a good thing for his
peace of mind. Right now the only thing he was wearing were rough, ragged trousers that did little more
than preserve his dignity. The brown cloth was so rough and riddled with holes that it wouldn’t be a
surprise if these pants were sewn together from old potato sacks.
The armed guard roughly escorted him through the damp, rat-infested dungeon. About a dozen tiny jail
cells much like his own dotted the dark corridor. Wall-mounted torches illuminated the thick walls made
out of hewn stone. Intermittent cries from the other prisoners could be heard echoing around him.
Lylandros and the jailer eventually reached the steep staircase that was the only way in or out of this
depressing place. They climbed up out of the dungeon and into the keep proper.
The walls looked pretty much the same, but at least there were windows here. Lylandros was guided
through several corridors, up some more steps and finally arrived at the office of the local guard captain.
His escort rapped twice on the thick wooden door. After hearing the “Come in,” he opened it and
dragged his prisoner inside. He then threw him roughly onto the floor.
“Hey, come on!” complained the captain. He was a slightly plump, balding man that was way past his
prime. He stood up from behind the heavy desk in the middle of the room. “Don’t do that! You’ll stain
the carpet!”
“Sorry, sir,” said the guard. “This one was rather violent yesterday, so I-”
“Enough! I don’t care! Just put him in the damn chair so I can interrogate him.”
The grunt replied with a simple “Yes, sir,” before picking up the scrawny elf by the armpit and putting
him in the simple wooden chair next to the desk. The captain eyed the prisoner up and down. He looked
like your typical hoodlum elf - lanky, hollowed out face and several scars from various stab wounds. He
was certain he had whip tracks over his back as well, but that was unimportant.
This particular street rat had entered this city yesterday afternoon. Well, ‘entered’ was perhaps too strong
a word. He ran up to the city gates covered in blood and started screaming something about explosions,
brains and a ‘horrible monstrosity.’ Since he caused a disturbance and refused to calm down, the guards
at the scene subdued and incarcerated him.
It was the same day that the big incident at the nearby dungeon complex was discovered. Captain
Reeves knew better than to assume it a coincidence. Although it took some time for him to go through
all the reports, his experience told him this elf and the disappearance of his patrol were somehow linked.
When the 5 man unit failed to report back on time, Reeves had sent in a contingent of 30 guards to look
for them. And they had made several extremely worrying discoveries.
First they found four piles of clothed ashes. Former adventurers by the look of it. The dog-tags
recovered from the remains revealed their names as well as which guild they belonged to. Using that
information, the guards then learned these four were on their way to the Yellow Zone of the complex.
That meant they weren’t total newbies and were between Level 5 and 10. Otherwise they would have
stuck to the Green Zone or moved onto the Red Zone that went up to Level 15.
The second clue the investigation uncovered was on the way to the quarantined area of the Green Zone.
The walls and floor of a particular tunnel were bathed in dried up blood. Dead monsters and their bodily
fluids would be absorbed back into the dungeon as a form of mana recycling. This meant this particular
blood came from those outside of the dungeon’s influence. And judging by the bloodied pieces of armor
that had been discarded all over the place, it came from Reeves’s patrol.
The third and perhaps most worrying thing was that the quarantine itself had been breached. His guards
brought back the circular portion of enchanted steel that had been neatly cut through. This degree of
precision and power was way beyond everything the veteran officer had ever seen. The dwarf
responsible for putting that grate together claimed it would take something that was well over Level 70
to make that sort of cut.
Or someone, Reeves thought to himself. Several high-leveled elven terrorists were still at large. This
sort of sabotage was clearly within their abilities and lined up with their MO. He theorized they had
heard about the appearance of a Sweeper and cut it loose to spread terror among the populace. The
captain estimated the Sweeper itself was a threat between Level 20 and 30. If it were any weaker, it
wouldn’t be able to kill that Necromancer or take down five of his guards at once. If it were any tougher,
it would have broken through the steel grate with sheer force within days rather than two weeks later.
And now, this suspicious elf was in his office. His background check revealed he joined his guild as an
initiate only recently. That was good enough reason to assume he wasn’t the one who sabotaged the
quarantine. After all, things like adventurers ‘hiding their true powers’ was impossible. The
organizations known as guilds had all their members undergo routine Appraisal inspections to track their
growth and progress. If a Level 70 no-name appeared out of nowhere and offered to join a guild, it
would cause a huge uproar. They definitely wouldn’t leave such a person as a mere initiate - doing so
would be disrespectful to their more senior members.
Still, Lylandros’s guild refused to tell Reeves anything other than the elf’s rank within their organization.
All guilds collected and recorded information concerning the Jobs, Attributes and Skills of all their
members. However, that was kept strictly confidential. Requests to release that data to people like
Reeves were reviewed on a case-by-case basis and usually declined. It wasn’t unheard of for adventurers
to become criminals, but their guilds needed more than mere suspicion to comply with such demands.
Then again, even the fact he was an initiate was good enough for Reeves - it was more than he usually
got out of those people. It was also sufficient grounds to dismiss this elf as the main perpetrator, though
he could still be an accomplice.
After sorting his thoughts, the captain began the interrogation. He asked the man’s name, age and
occupation for the record, then inquired about the events of yesterday’s afternoon. The elf answered his
questions without holding anything back. He spoke of their janther hunt, of his comrade’s sudden and
violent demise, of how the ‘horrible creature’ tortured their quarry to death and finally how he ran
screaming for his life. The way he spoke about such terrible events with a flat monotone and vacant,
fish-like eyes left little doubt in the captain’s mind. The young man before him was broken by what he
had witnessed.
“Thank you,” said the captain, concluding the interrogation. “Private, show this man back to his cell.
Gently this time. I mean, for real, be gentle. It’s not some euphemism to rough him up, okay?”
The guard saluted with a “Yes, sir!” before turning to his prisoner. “Come on, twiggy, up you go!” he
beckoned. He then lifted him by his shoulder and led the man outside the captain’s office.
“Oh!” exclaimed Reeves. “Send word to Sergeant Hargan that I need to speak with him when you’re
done.” The guard nodded with another “Yes, sir,” then slammed the door shut. Now left alone, Reeves
let out a long, tired sigh. “Fuck this,” he cursed and reached over to one of his desk drawers. He pulled
out a bottle of wine, uncorked it and took a mouthful straight from the bottle. He was gradually
becoming an alcoholic over the last several weeks. All because of this damned Sweeper.
A Sweeper was a term used to describe a particular abnormality within a dungeon. A monster that had
broken way past the Maximum Monster Level. It would roam the dungeon and annihilate everyone and
anyone it came across. Isolating and quarantining the Sweeper so that it died of starvation was one way
of dealing with it. The worst, laziest, cheapest way. It fit that idiotic mayor perfectly. If he had listened
to Reeves and approved a proper subjugation quest immediately, then things would be different. His men
and who knows how many others would still be alive.
He took another swig of the bottle.
After all, very few adventurers stuck around this province once they reached Level 20 or so. The few
that did were ‘retirees.’ Adventurers who did easy quests way below their pay grade so they can live
peacefully and humbly. A lot of his guards were ‘retired’ adventurers around Level 15, too. Many of
them were simply disillusioned when their childish dreams crashed into the impenetrable wall called
reality. They had simply given up and settled down. It’s not a bad way to live life, thought Reeves before
swallowing yet another mouthful of wine.
But now, he would have to take action. He would put his foot down. Although he would still send an
armed patrol to scout out the janther’s lair and confirm the elf’s story, he was more or less convinced.
The Sweeper had broken- no, had been set free from the quarantine and was running amok in the nearby
forests. Judging from Lylandros’s disheartened babbling, it seemed to be a type of Mimic. Since it
clearly had access to some form of magic on top of being particularly vicious, Reeves made another
conclusion. This Sweeper was a variant or rare species that had appeared in the nearby dungeon. Most
likely it was summoned by this phantom saboteur to spread fear and terror among the populace. It was a
common strategy of the elves during the big war, so it was entirely possible.
Later that day, Sergeant Hargan returned with the results of his investigation. Reeves had sent him to
scout out the site of Lylandros’s battle with the janther. The sergeant reported three piles of ash being
present at the scene. Two of them were wrapped in clothes and armor and the third one was much too
big to be a person. There was no sign of a headless corpse, but he did locate a huge day-old blood smear
on the grass.
That settles it, thought Reeves. The Sweeper was definitely at large in that forest. He gave the order to
assemble a punitive force to subjugate the threat. The minimum Level required was 20 and the monetary
compensation would be split up between the participants based on merit. As for the reward itself, the
total amount came out to a formidable 860 Gold Pieces (G). It was a sizable sum that would allow a
regular person to party it up for a whole six weeks. That or live off it for almost a year if they were
frugal. Even if it had to be split up between several people, it was still an extremely attractive prize for a
day’s work.
The captain didn’t want to deal with that scumbag of a mayor, so he put the reward together himself.
Most of this money came from the 500 GP set aside for the janther bounty that was now void. The
remaining 360G was collected from soldiers the barracks. Word had spread among the tightly-knit City
Guard that the subjugation target was the same bastard that murdered five of them. Some that were over
Level 20 volunteered. Most that couldn’t or didn’t participate directly gave freely of their own pockets.
A larger reward would mean an increase of both quantity and quality of adventurers willing to take the
quest. It was their own way of taking vengeance for the death of their friends and colleagues.
And so, about 4 days later, a force of 23 people was gathered. 8 of those were guards. The remaining 15
people were adventurers. As per the quest requirements, they were all at least Level 20, reaching up to
Level 27 in a few cases. This was the best they could gather on such short notice, but time was of the
essence. They needed to stamp out that Sweeper before it became too big of a threat. The near-two-
dozen men and women were gathered outside the city gates, eager to set off. Reeves appeared on
horseback and in full ceremonial armor and stood in front of them. He raised his arm to quiet down the
murmur and began the briefing.
“Thank you all for coming. I will now reveal what we know of the Sweeper. It species is suspected to be
a Mimic variant. We estimate its Level to be in the higher 20s, possibly lower 30s.” Most of the
adventurers found this news odd. The fact that this many people were gathered for one lousy box was, in
a word, overkill. Some of the adventurers let out an amused snort while others threw the captain a look
that said ‘What, that’s it?’
Reeves read the casual mood and immediately moved to dispel it. “This is not, as you might think,
overkill,” he declared. “This monster is unnaturally intelligent and vicious. It has killed over 50 people
in the last two months, possibly more. We also have good reason to believe it has an offensive Caster
Side Job.”
The gazes of everyone present sharpened. With this many people, even if the monster was Level 50 they
could probably take it down if they worked in waves. Assuming it couldn’t cast Spells, that is. Monsters
that were capable of magic were much more dangerous than those without. If the Level 50 monster in
the previous example could use magic, then there was a good chance the punitive force would suffer
heavy casualties. It might even be completely wiped out.
“We will commence a sweep of the woods. We will split into four 6-man teams. Be mindful of anything
even remotely box shaped, including rocks and fallen tree trunks! Look for fresh blood smears,
discarded gear or piles of gray ash! If you find the monster, make sure you launch a flare immediately to
notify the other teams of your position!”
The captain held up a small wooden tube. It was 5 centimeters in diameter and 20 centimeters long. A
string came out of one end of it. Everyone present had been given one of these earlier. Those that
weren’t familiar with the device were briefly taught how to use it. The instruction consisted of someone
saying “Pull the string and a shiny thing will pop out the other end, easy peasy!” One would think that
much would be obvious, but the guards knew better than to expect common sense from adventurers. A
few of those drifters seemed genuinely surprised that the flare-launchers were that simple to use.
“Do not get cocky and try to take it on by yourselves,” cautioned the captain. ”We’ve lost too many
good people to this foul beast already! If you fuck up, you won’t even leave a body behind for your
bereaved loved ones to bury! Understood?!”
“Yes, sir!” came the immediate reply. The spirited response from the 8 soldiers seemed to invigorate the
other adventurers. They realized that, for these guards, this was no longer just a job. It was personal.
And if some pencil-pushing lazy bums were about to give this mission their all, then how could they, as
professional monster hunters, possibly do any less? So what if guilds and law-enforcement didn’t always
see eye to eye? They were still allies in the grand scheme of things.
“Very good!” shouted the captain. “Sergeant Hargan will be taking over from here! I have given him
command over this operation! Good luck, and Godspeed!” He saluted and rode off back inside the city
without even answering any questions. That’s what Hargan was there for. Besides, the only questions the
adventurers wanted to ask that captain were things like “What the hell?! You’re not coming?! What was
the point of the horse and fancy armor?! Why’d you even come out here in the first place, fatass!?”
(13) Eat And Grow 6
A party of five were making their way through the thick forest. Two armed guards led the way while
three adventurers followed them. They were one out of four groups searching the forest for the Sweeper
that had appeared recently.
“Really, what was Sarge thinking?” complained Mark.
Harold frowned at him in response. “The sergeant knows what he’s doing. We need those three’s
abilities, but they didn’t have a vanguard. That’s our job.”
“I know that. I just… I can’t really trust people that easily. Especially that Rogue. He won’t even tell us
his name!”
Harold shrugged lightly and looked over his shoulder, where the other three were following.
“Hey, buddy! What do we call you?”
The tall, slender man who was wrapped head-to-toe in blackened leather turned his gaze towards
Harold.
“‘Buddy’ works,” he said casually. “And I don’t reveal my name because of guild policy. Occupational
hazard they call it. I’m sure you understand.”
Harold turned back towards his colleague with a smirk.
“There, see? He’s Buddy.”
“Very funny, Harold.”
‘Buddy’ was part of an adventurer guild called The Dark Hand. They didn’t let anyone join unless they
met the minimum requirements - Level 5 Rogue Main Job with at least Level 2 Stealth Skill. It was a
den of thieves, spies and assassins. Mark wondered how such a thing could possibly be legal. And while
the general populace like himself might doubt it, that guild was completely legit. There was a very high
demand for their services, after all. A Rogue could disarm or set traps, pick locks, scout ahead under
Stealth and murder the everliving shit out of monsters - all things that were necessary in dungeons. Even
once the battle started they made themselves useful by keep the enemy off balance. Smoke bombs,
poisoned daggers, throwing knives and all manner of other dirty tricks and tools made them reliable
allies in many situations.
Buddy was a particularly promising recruit. He was a Level 21 Rogue and Level 6 Alchemist. Choosing
an Artisan Job for a Side Job might seem weird, but being able to brew his own potions and poisons was
a huge help. Plus, the Alchemist Job and its related Skills all raised Dexterity (DEX), Perception (PER)
and, to a lesser degree, Endurance (END). A Rogue could make good use out of all three of those
Attributes. The downside was that Artisan-type Jobs took a long time to train, but it was still a Side Job
that matched perfectly with his Main Job.
His Status aside, he also looked the part. The tight leather bodysuit fit snugly around his arms, torso, butt
and thighs. While such armor couldn’t really ward off blows, a Rogue who was expecting to get hit was
already a failure in his book. That’s why his gear amplified his AGI, allowing him to dodge and evade
rather than block and parry. His head was completely hidden - a hood and mask covered everything but
his shifty eyes and sharp ears. Although exposing his ears did help a bit with his hearing, the main
reason he did that was to show he wasn’t an elf. He had nothing against those people personally. If
anything, he was actually a fan of elven women. However, a significant part of his clientele were
humans that hated elves. They would simply trust the Rogue more once they saw his ears weren’t
pointed.
But the thing that irked Mark the most was the Rogue’s personality. Here they were, hunting a
dangerous monster in the middle of the forest and what did that shady guy do?
“I may be an honorable thief, but I believe it is your piercing stare that has stolen my heart.”
He spent the last half hour hitting on the sole female in the group - the Witch, Xera.
“Thank you. That’s so sweet of you to say!” she replied while blushing lightly.
You don’t have to play along with that, screamed Mark inside his head. He had tried reprimanding them
at first, but gave up on that. He let out another sigh. In his eyes, that Xera was also a problem.
The way those deep-red eyes darted all over the place while her mouth hung open was the tell-tale
characteristic of a natural airhead. Her face was pretty and her long, black hair gave her an undeniable
charm. Her long, navy blue robe dragged slightly along the ground behind her. The light fabric left her
shoulders and back bare, while wide sleeves ran the length of her arms.
Then there was the completely outrageous cleavage. Her breasts were absolutely massive - almost as
large as her head and bounced hypnotizingly with every step. They pressed dangerously against the thin,
low-cut garment. It was almost as if they were trying to rip it apart from the inside. If one had keen
eyesight they would be able to notice the subtle outline of her nipples.
In short, she looked like a total bimbo. Her appearance and behavior were completely mismatched with
her claim of being a Level 27 Warlock. Mark wanted to question if that was really the case, but he knew
better. Everyone here had submitted to a limited Appraisal to prove they fit the minimum requirements
for this quest. Questioning his superiors’ ability like that would just earn him a week of cleaning toilets.
At least the last member of his group was reasonable. Koross was a well-built Level 21 Priest, no Side
Jobs. He wore sensible white robes with delicate golden embroidery around the wrists, heart and waist -
garb typical of those in service to the Gods. He had a thick, dignified beard and moustache that went
down to his stomach. His bald head seemed to glean unnaturally in the sunlight. Koross was also well
built, hinting the that the steel mace on his hip was not just for show.
He wasn’t without fault though. Koross was a dwarf. And like most dwarves, traveling with him came
with two very specific problems. The first one was that he was short. His stubby legs meant he had
trouble keeping up with the others and had to constantly half-jog after them. The second issue was that
dwarves were really weak to the lure of alcohol. Koross was no exception. He would occasionally bring
out a hip flask from inside his robe and take a swig from it. It was fine though - dwarves were of stout
constitutions and needed a lot more than that to get tipsy. All things considered, the guy who reeked of
whiskey seemed way more reliable than the shifty Rogue and the ditzy Witch.
Just as Mark had rebuilt his focus on the path ahead, Xera suddenly let out an embarrassed “Nooo!”
There was the sound of a slap and a yell of pain from Buddy. “I can’t do that sort of thing with you!” she
continued while covering her face with both hands. It seemed that Buddy had pushed his luck a little too
far.
“Will you cut that out! This is enemy territory!” shouted Mark. He couldn’t take it anymore. Was this
the sort of attitude adventurers had while on the road? Yes, actually. This was more or less how those
people behaved. A guard living in a relatively peaceful city like Monotal would have no idea how
stressful adventuring could get once you approached Level 30. If these people didn’t let off steam
regularly, they’d implode.
“What’s your problem, man?” said Buddy while rubbing his cheek. That slap from earlier had more
power behind it than it looked. “I’m properly keeping an eye out, you know?”
“Like hell you are!” shouted Mark.
“Haaah,” sighed the Rogue. This was why he hated working with civilians. “Fine, let me prove it.” He
took out a small straight knife from his belt and threw it up and to his right. It cut through the air without
making a sound before hitting something in the branches of a tree. He then pulled deftly on the almost
invisible steel wire, reeling the knife back into his hand. It had cleanly skewered a small brown squirrel.
“My Perception is really good, see? My ears alone can detect anything trying to sneak up on us. It can
even beat a Level 4 Sneak Skill you know!”
Mark blinked a few times, processing what just happened. That man in front of him had just hit a small
target some 20 meters away without so much as looking at it. “Cheh,” he clicked his tongue. “Alright,
you win. Just… keep it down will you?” Harold expected this much already, but he too was impressed.
Koross was in his drink at the moment so he missed the display entirely.
Xera, however, had a different opinion on the matter. “That poor fuzzy thing!” she wailed. “How could
you!? You there, shorty! You’re a Priest right? Can you heal this little guy?!”
The startled dwarf hurriedly put his flask away. “Huh?! What? Who? Oh, a squirrel! That our lunch?
Good work, lad!”
“Thanks old timer,” replied Buddy in good humor. “But I think lunch will have to wait. I smell blood.”
“Well aye, it’s all over yer hand there.”
“No, not this,” said the Rogue before throwing the squirrel carcass to the ground. “Monster blood, it’s
coming in from the east. My guess, about 500 meters.” He pointed towards the treeline to their left.“And
look,” he continued.”There’s some weird markings on the trees here. Like something was trying to take
a bite out of them.”
The group stared at the tree in question. Forget trying, something had actually succeeded in taking a
sizable chunk out of the thick trunk. And judging from those odd marks, it wasn’t a stretch to say they
were teeth tracks.
“Should we send a flare?”
“Not yet, Koross,” said Mark. “We need to confirm it with our own eyes first.” He and Harold both
unsheathed their swords and readied their shields. “Arms at the ready! We’re going to check it out!”
Buddy unsheathed his twin daggers from his lower back. He took out a small vial from a pouch on his
hip and applied the viscous green liquid inside it to his blades. Xera’s normally vacant expression
became almost unnaturally focused. She seemed like a completely different person. She reached over
her shoulder and took the heavy wooden staff out of its leather sling, gripping it tightly with both hands.
The Rogue’s keen eyes curiously eyed that staff. The upper end of the wood curved like the letter C and
had a purple crystal ball that floated inside the half-circle. It looked fancy. Expensive. How come he
didn’t notice it earlier? Ah, probably because it was behind Xera’s back while her voluptuous breasts
were, as expected, on her chest.
Koross was already holding his mace in his right hand, while his left reached into his robes. Only this
time, instead of a flask, he took out a small black book - the Scripture of the Sun. He went down on one
knee and put the book to his forehead. He mumbled something under his breath before finishing the
chant with “Blessing of the Sun!” Everyone present started glowing with a faint yellow light. A few
seconds later, it faded away.
You are now under the effects of Sun’s Blessing. Maximum HP +90.
The effect will last for 60 minutes or until it is overridden by another Blessing.
“Fiuuu,” whistled Buddy. “Not bad, old timer.” Judging from these numbers, he guessed Koross to have
a Level 6 Prayer Skill. “To think the most devout priest I’d ever seen would be an alcoholic.”
His light joke wasn’t far off the mark. While the dwarf may not have had a Side Job, being able to
devote himself fully to their God had its own merits. Such as being able to focus on training the Skills
that really matter. Not to mention a particularly powerful Perk if he became a Level 25 Priest with no
Side Jobs.
“Ain’t nothing in the Scripture that says us Priests can’t enjoy a good drink, lad.”
Buddy smirked to himself. He wasn’t a particularly religious guy, but he had to admit the Sun God Solus
was probably his favorite one. His clergy always seemed to be the most fun ones. Not to mention the
priestesses that worship him always seemed to have amazing boobs.
With their preparations ready, the group of five headed off into the lush forest. They warily crossed
between trees and bushes, keeping a close eye for anything that the Mimic could be disguised as. Even if
it was a shapeshifter, a Mimic could not shrink or drastically alter its rectangular body. This was true for
both the Lesser and Greater species of the monster. However, it could drastically change the way it looks
on the surface. Along the way, they pierced and attacked several suspect rocks, two fallen trees and one
stump. They followed the trail of gnawed trunks and curiously chopped off tree branches.
Buddy felt an odd sense of incongruity. He decided to give voice to his concerns. “I think our target is
inviting us in. The trail’s way too obvious.”
“Aye. That bugger’s supposed to be smarter than this, right?”
“It’s still a Mimic though,” said Xera while climbing over a small ridge. “Even if it became ten times
smarter than normal, it would still be as dumb as a rock.”
Harold decided to chime in. “She has a point, but I’m with Buddy. This is way too suspicious.”
The party moved onward carefully, watching their every step and minding their bearings. After about 10
minutes of painfully slow progress, they arrived at a clearing. Rather than a natural meadow, something
had cleared out all the trees in the vicinity and turned them into about 20 small flimsy huts.
“Goblins,” muttered the Rogue under his breath. A goblin was a monster that vaguely looked like a 10
or 11 year old child. It had green skin, a bony physique, and exceptionally long nose, chin and ears.
Regular goblins hovered around Level 10 or 15, but that was just a formality. The weak body of a goblin
meant that, despite its actual Level, its true strength was closer to a Level 8 or 9 monster. But goblins
never fought one-on-one. They attacked in great numbers and often roamed in packs of dozens, maybe
hundreds of them. They often made crude villages like this one where they could breed and multiply like
the vermin they were.
But this village had already been exterminated.
“What the fuck?” Mark was so shocked he reflexively cursed. The scenery that unfurled before him was
entirely too familiar. There was blood everywhere. It painted the walls of the flimsy hovels. Bits of
goblin flesh were strewn about the place. Piles of grey ash littered the scenery. But one overwhelming
theme was immediately apparent. There was not a single corpse left behind. It was almost exactly like
what he had witnessed first-hand in that damned dungeon. Only it looked like the monster had tried its
absolute darndest to outdo itself.
Since their ‘glorious leader’ was currently staring slack jawed at the scene, Buddy decided to take
charge. “Think it’s hiding in here?” he whispered. “There’s a lot of crappy baskets and pots around the
place.”
“Yeah,” nodded Koross.”Them logs around the campfire are also pretty suspect. Could be in the huts,
too.”
“I have an idea. I can try to smoke it out,” suggested Xera.
“Won’t you be wasting your MP? I thought those Ruin spells were quite costly.”
“They are, but I’ll be fine, Harold. I have over 1000 MP you know.”
The men shared several glances and nodded at Xera. They moved closer to the village as a group
without dropping their guard, even for an instant. After walking closer to the edge of the village, Xera
signaled everyone to stop. The Witch then held her staff up towards the sky and closed her eyes. And
then she started chanting her Spell.
“There is nowhere to hide! There’s nowhere to run! This village will burn like the heart of the Sun!”
Out loud. She chanted it clearly and purposefully, her voice echoing unnaturally.
“With infinite glee, I call upon thee!”
A chill ran down the men’s spines. They had a very bad feeling about this.
“INFERNO!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. A massive hurricane of red-hot flames appeared out of
nowhere and swept across the goblin village. It must have been at least 10 meters in diameter and 5
meters tall. It only lasted several seconds, but that was enough to set the entire village ablaze.
A wide smile appeared on Xera’s face. It was so wide that it seemed like her jaw was about to fall off.
“Kuhihihihihi,” she giggled. “Huhuhuhuhuhuhu. HAHAHAHAHA! AAAH HAH HAH HAH HAH
HAH!!”
She spread her arms and let out a maniacal four-stage laugh. Her eyes gazed madly at the flames that
ravaged the wooden huts and turned everything in front of her to ash.
The rest of the group merely went Ahhh. There it is! inside their heads. Nobody knew how or why, but it
was a sort of unspoken rule that female Casters were all fucked in the head. This seemed especially true
for offense-type Jobs like the Witch. In Xera’s case, it was obvious that she had a bit of a pyromaniac
streak going on. The way she cackled like that made it clear she had forgotten completely about her
surroundings. This was a serious fault that could one day lead to her death.
“Get down!” screamed Buddy. Everyone besides the still laughing psycho hit the dirt. A streak of dark
matter flew above them, precisely through the spot where the dwarven Priest’s head was half a second
ago. It kept going for several more meters before fizzling out of existence.
“Aegis!” screamed Koross. A transparent bubble of golden light wrapped around the party. A second
mass of darkness slammed into the hastily-constructed barrier. The Aegis spell couldn’t take it and
shattered, but proved enough to repel the attack.
Buddy recognized the Shadowbolt Spell. He leapt to his feet while shouting “It’s a Warlock!” to his
comrades. His right hand held three throwing knives between its fingers. He threw the trio of knives at a
particular tree some 20 meters away. The Rogue was aiming at a rather dense pile of leaves. His
heightened senses had already confirmed that was the origin of both Shadowbolts.
In an instant, the leaves opened up to reveal an array of dagger like teeth and a thick, red tongue. The
out-of-place maw then swallowed up the three throwing knives like they were an afternoon snack.
“Kishaaaaaa!” screamed the Mimic. Since it was already discovered, its leaf camouflage was now
useless. It leapt from the tree branch it was sitting on. By the time it hit the ground, it had already
returned to its regular appearance - that of a wooden chest frame with six black spider-like feet and a trio
of tongue-tentacles gripping a sword each.
Having confirmed their target, Mark immediately took out the flare launcher. He aimed it at the sky and
pulled on the string. There was a bang and a flash as the bright-red flare shot off screaming into the blue
sky. Having confirmed the signal was sent, he then turned his attention towards the monster. In the next
instant he felt something small and sharp fly past his face, leaving a scratch on his cheek.
You have suffered a minor scratch. HP -2.

You have been poisoned. HP -20.
Your movements have been dulled by the poison.
Buddy, who had already distanced himself from the two Warriors in the front, broke out into a cold
sweat. He recognized the projectile that grazed Mark as his own poisoned throwing knife. One of the
three he had thrown at the Mimic just moments ago, to be precise. The monster had somehow caught it
inside its mouth and had thrown it back with speed rivaling his own. If its aim was better, Mark would
have a metal handle sticking out of his eye socket right now.
Buddy wasn’t a particularly religious guy, but he still found himself offering a silent prayer to whatever
God was listening.
Please let our backup get here in time!
(14) Eat And Grow 7
Sergeant Hargan ran as fast as he could through the forest. Two of his men followed behind him - one
was a Warrior like the Sergeant, the other was a Paladin. Up in front was the three-man adventurer team
that was part of his group. A Ranger, a Berserker and a Cryomancer, all human women. Even that
extremely ripped and tall Berserker with the short hair. Just looking at her made one question if those
things on her chest were breasts or pecs.
At least the Ranger and Cryomancer were more pleasant to look at. If he were a more indecent man,
Hargan would probably relish the view of their tight butts as they strained against the two’s tight leather
trousers. But he was not like that. He knew full well such thoughts had no place on the battlefield.
Besides, his wife would probably murder him if she even suspected he was looking at young girls’
behinds.
The six of them were rushing towards the flare signal sent up by another team. The Ranger at the very
front deftly and precisely navigated through the forest, while the Berserker mowed down any trees and
monsters in her way with her gigantic sword. That Job was vastly different from Warriors that focused
on fighting through techniques like blocking, parrying and riposting.
A Berserker was a killing machine that ran on anger, blood and death. Once the red haze enveloped
them, they became unstoppable fighting machines that made one question who was the real monster.
Even if they thrived in combat, the side-effects of their reckless fighting style meant their bodies were
often left in a dire state. Ending a long battle riddled with wounds, bleeding heavily and with several
broken bones was pretty much the norm for them. It was not a Job for the weak-hearted.
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.
One that Hargan hoped would be able to subdue this Sweeper. Another team had sent a flare, signaling
they had confirmed its location. That was 15 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
were 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 15 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 that 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 were 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 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 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 can 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 hugging her knees on the ground. 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 then 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 white coarse 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 that was 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 performs Summon Familiar for the first time, they are 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 that 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 would hold 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 is 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 then abruptly got worse.
The Mimic bit off both of 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 then 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 an 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 eating while eating her, but it was still flesh born of mana. No matter how
many times it ate her, Xera’s body parts would just 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 3rd time it had 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 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 5th 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 13th time she was being
devoured, she felt herself getting aroused. On the 16th devouring, her lower lips were absolutely
drenched from start to finish. And then, on her 23rd 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 is 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 that longed to be hurt and abused by
others. Truly befitting of a demon that fed off men’s perversions.
And so, on the 35th 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 stop 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
that 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’s no way they
would be 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 be 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 Xera 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 had 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 it 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.
It took less than a minute to wipe out the whole group, after which it was time to set the scene
While Xera was doing her job in the city, the Mimic had gone back into the dungeon. The news of a
Sweeper running loose meant the place was practically deserted, allowing it to come and go unhindered.
The reason it went there was because it needed a scapegoat, something to take its place. The corpses of
monsters that died in the dungeon would be recycled and disappear, but such things didn’t happen once
their connection to the dungeon was severed. So the Mimic went in, found one of its kind, wrapped its
tongue tentacles around it and dragged it outside by force. The lower-Leveled monster struggled, but
was unable to resist its much stronger, more powerful kin. Once it was forced outside the dungeon, it
was murdered by a single use of the Ebonfire Spell. The weaker mimic’s corpse was then put into its
killer’s Storage.
And now that the time was right, it was taken back out. Xera and her master then ‘decorated’ the corpse
by burning it and stabbing it in several places and throwing some weapons around it to make it look like
it had dropped them. All that was left was to wait for everyone to gather and feed them the story. And
they bought it. They were even going to pay Xera for basically betraying and murdering her teammates.
All things considered this plot of hers was a resounding success.
So then, why was the Mimic pissed off at its familiar to the point where it found it necessary to shred her
face on the coarse ground? Because the Inferno Spell that Xera used as a ‘distraction’ very nearly set fire
to the tree it was hiding it. That pyromaniac side of hers wasn’t part of her act, that was just how she
always was. The succubus, it would seem, was one of those people who just wanted to watch the world
burn.
As for the Mimic, it was left feeling a little hungry after that exercise and had to give up on all those
tasty corpses. Since its tongue was already wrapped around something delectable, it absentmindedly ate
its familiar for the 35th time. It chewed on her slowly, ignoring her moans and wails. At some point, the
delectable succubus flesh suddenly vanished from its tongue.
Your familiar has been banished.
It then immediately remembered that doing that would not actually sate its hunger. Oh well. It shrugged
its non-existent shoulders and took out a dead deer from its Storage to snack on.
Mimic (Lesser)
Species STR 78 LCK 30 Mimic 25 MAX
(+)

Age 3 months AGI 70
Guild END 104
598/598 (+1.2/
HP INT 100
sec)
MP 465/500(+0.6/sec) WIS 64
Skill List
Assassination 5 23%
Storage 4 5%
Biomass 2 31%
Summon Familiar 2 98%
Power Overwhelming 1 0%
Shapeshift 5 78%
Stealth 4 61%
Sword Mastery 5 85%
Projectile Mastery 2 44%
Ruin Mastery 4 60%
Domination Mastery 3 37%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Shadowbolt Mass Panic
Ebonfire Delirium
Frostbite
Dark Explosion
(15) Eat And Grow 8
Having eaten its fill with animal carcasses from its storage, the Mimic then once again called forth its
familiar. It let out a gurgle of “Suhnon Fanilier.”
Several rings made out of purple light sprang forth from the chest. Upon closer inspection, the rings
weren’t solid, but actually made out of countless tiny runic symbols. The un-letters kept shifting,
changing and orbiting around the Mimic. The circles slowly shrank, converging on a single point just
half a meter in front of the Mimic. Over the 5 second duration of the Skill they tightened up into a small
ball of light. And then on the 5 second mark, it exploded into light with a soft pang.
Proficiency level increased. Summon Familiar is now Level 3. INT +2. WIS +1. MNT +1.
In its place was Xera in her true form. Her shape was predominantly humanoid and about 170
centimeters tall. However, nobody would ever mistake her for a human. Her smooth skin was a light
blue color while her waist-long, straight hair was a deep blue like a piece of the night sky. Her eyes
glowed with a bright red light that gave off the feeling she was staring into one’s very soul. She had a
fittingly gorgeous face with azure lips so soft and plump that it felt like a crime not to taste them.
The outfit she was wearing, if you can even call it that, was made out of blood-red leather. Her long legs
were covered in high-heeled boots that went up to her smooth thighs. A triangular bikini-like garment
hid her sensitive bits. Her arms had long detached sleeves that ran from her bicep all the way down to
her wrist. Each one was attached to a silver ring on the succubus’s middle finger, covering the backside
of her hands and leaving her palms and fingers uncovered. A choker encrusted with a single, sparkling
gem was fitted around her neck. Her formidable breasts, each almost the size of her head, were held up
by a risque, corset-like chest piece. It ran around her back and covered the front and underside of each
boob with a triangular strip of leather. It wasn’t even properly connected at the front, leaving the valley
of her cleavage completely exposed. The half-corset was clearly designed to push up and accentuate her
already impressive cup size rather than serve any practical purpose.
Altogether, her wide hips, dangerously narrow waist and eye-catching mammaries gave her an
undeniable hourglass-like figure. The gap between her thighs was wide enough to make her walk a
natural hip-swaying gait that caused her plump rump and marshmallow-like boob-flesh to jiggle
enticingly with every step. It was a body that truly had only one purpose - to enflame the lusts of men.
Even her demonic features looked beautiful and alluring next to the spectacle that was her slutty body.
The two curved, golden, ram-like horns that jutted out from the sides of her head clearly declared her
identity as a demon. Then there was the the long, black, spade-tipped tail that grew out of her lower
spine. Most if impressive of all were the two bat-like wings attached to her upper back. They were a mix
of deep red limbs and sky-blue membranes. They gave her a wingspan of over two meters which was
more than enough to allow her to fly.
Floating unnaturally next to the demonic seductress was her staff - a long, black wooden shaft tipped
with a half-circle staff head reminiscent of a hook. A purple crystal ball floated inside it, as if attached
by invisible strings. This staff, much like the outfit she was wearing, were essentially an extension of her
spirit. It wouldn’t be entirely wrong to call them a part of her conjured body.
Having been materialized in the waking world for the upteempth time, Xera immediately crossed her
arms and pouted at her summoner.
“Jeez, Master! You know you didn’t have to actually go that far!”
The demoness protested to being devoured alive. It was a fact that, regardless of its methods or
intentions, this chest had opened up a whole new world of pleasure for her. But she still refused to
openly admit that she actually longed to be abused and hurt. The shattered remnants of her pride would
not allow her to concede so easily. She would be a failure of a demon if some mortal had managed to
dominate both her body and soul to such an extent.
“I know I messed up, but surely that, hnnnn, punishment was a bit much!”
She let out an unintentional moan when she recalled what had happened minutes ago. No matter how
much her fractured pride tried to deny it, deep down she wanted more. Her Master was currently
ignoring her with a cold attitude that seemed to somehow egg her on. Again, this wasn’t on purpose, the
Mimic was simply busy. It was reviewing the Status Screen of its bonded familiar.
Xerababadubuth
L’okrelaila
Succubus
Species STR 13 MNT 66 Succubus 11 14%
(Cerulean)
Sex Female DEX 13 CHR 59 Pyromancer 7 88%
Age 748 years AGI 13
Guild END 46
243/243 (+0.4/
HP INT 79
sec)
255/395 (+0.3/
MP WIS 39
sec)
Skill List
Energy Drain 4 37%
Demonic Seduction 3 33%

Devouring Flame 3 93%
Shapeshift 2 86%
Dreamweaver 2 86%
Pyroclasm Mastery 3 11%
Raising the Level of Summon Familiar from 2 to 3 did indeed increase her abilities across the board.
Unlike beings born in the physical world, a demon’s strength relied entirely on how much MP was spent
to summon it to this realm. For example, no matter how many times she killed things with Pyroclasm
Spells, the related Mastery Skill would never raise. Likewise, her Job Levels would never progress on
their own.
A familiar’s body was, essentially, the manifestation of the Warlock’s Summon Familiar Skill. Demons
don’t actually have bodies in the Beyond, they were simply lent one by their summoner. So ultimately,
their actions in this world helped raise their master’s Warlock Job and Summon Familiar Skill. As the
master’s Skill and MP went up, so would the strength of the familiar.
Frankly speaking, a situation where a Level 13 Warlock summoned a Level 18 familiar was unthinkable
- they just wouldn’t be able to have that much MP. However, considering her master had a total Level of
38, her being 20 Levels below was pitiful. Still, it was just enough to take down that dwarven Priest in
less than a few seconds, despite the Level gap.
“Hey! Are you even listening to me?”
“Kleh?” grunted the Mimic. It wasn’t actually listening, no. It wondered what the hell this infernal
woman wanted now.
“I still need to go get the gold, right?!”
“Ack!”
It suddenly remembered she still had to collect her reward for ‘a job well done.’ It quickly gave her
permission to do that through the thought-link. Xera sighed and began morphing her appearance. Much
like her master, she could not assume a form that was hugely different from her own. But she could still
adjust things like her proportions or the colors of her skin, eyes and hair. Even her fetishistic leather
outfit started expanding and wiggling across her body as it took on the appearance of a blue robe. About
three minutes later, ‘Xera the Succubus’ was replaced by ‘Xera the Witch.’
“I shall be off, Master. And please do not eat any more trees. We’re supposed to be laying low and I’d
hate to see you discovered.”
The succubus then realized exactly what she had said and frantically tried to correct herself.
“D-don’t misunderstand! It’s not like I care whether you kick the bucket or not, okay?! I just don’t want
to see a successful conspiracy turn to nothing because of your careless actions!”
The Mimic then questioned her about what buckets had to do with anything.
“Well it’s- Haah. Nevermind.” Xera dejectedly dropped her shoulders. She knew better than to try and
explain things to that monster. Just making it properly grasp what the whole plan took almost an entire
day.
Really, she thought to herself, how come I had to be saddled with an incompetent Master like that? Well,
at least he lets me run around and do as I please while I’m in town, so I can’t complain too much.
Having cheered herself up a bit, Xera once again said goodbye to her Master and went off in the
direction of the city. Left to its own devices, the Mimic mulled over what it should do next. It had gained
2 whole Warlock Levels when Xera killed that priest and about 1 and a half Mimic Levels from
murdering the other three. It was a huge gain considering how little time the actual fighting took. The
only other time it noticed a significant bump in its Job Levels was when it ended up intruding on another
janther’s territory. This one was a bit weaker, so it was able to kill it with repeated applications of Mass
Panic to disrupt its attacks. The beast seemed to build up some resistance to the magically-induced fear,
but by that point it was already bleeding heavily.
And of course, Cadaver Absorption failed to gain anything useful. The Mimic was realizing exactly how
lucky it had gotten with the Warlock Job. It must have consumed over 50 corpses so far, but it only got
three minor successes for a total of 6 STR. Well, it did also get a ‘moderate success’ out of a goblin and
absorbed a bit of Sword Mastery Proficiency, but the actual gain turned out to be only 3%. It seemed
that Skills were really hard to raise beyond Level 5.
Still, it had a lot to look forward to in that regard. Its busy days in the forest had allowed it to unlock two
new Restricted Skills.
Biomass
Description: The shapeshifter’s intimate knowledge of its own body has allowed it to
stockpile additional mass without affecting its mobility or appearance while improving its
own regeneration.
Requirements: Level 20 Monster Job, Level 3 Shapeshift, STR 50, END 50
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effect: Increases body mass by 20% per Level of this Skill.
Increases automatic HP recovery by 10% per Level of this Skill.
This one was particularly useful. The additional mass was necessary raw material when performing large
scale shapeshifting. For example, it could now manifest eight spider legs instead of six, allowing a
greater degree of control over its movements and a noticeable increase in speed.
It’s tongues could also stretch out farther and strike with a bit of extra force.
The downside was that lugging that extra mass around consumed more energy and made the Mimic
hungrier as a whole. That wasn’t a problem though, this forest was basically an all-you-can-eat buffet
for this particular chest. Not to mention that eating a whole lot at once was the main way of raising this
Skill’s Levels.
Next was the Warlock Skill the Mimic had unlocked earlier today.
Power Overwhelming
Description: The Warlock becomes a bastion of arcane might
Requirements: Level 10 Warlock, Ruin Mastery, INT 60
Type: Active
Cost: 20 MP
Range: Self
Effect: Ruin Spells will cost 400% more MP.
Ruin Spells will be 200% more effective.
The Ruin Spell effectiveness multiplier will increase by an additional 20% per Level of this
Skill.
The effects of this Skill will last 20 seconds.
Most Caster Jobs treated MP as a valuable resource that had to be used sparingly. Their magic was not
unlike a candle that burned slowly and steadily. But Warlocks were different. Their magic was like a
rocket - brief, but blindingly brilliant. It was well suited to the Mimic’s ambush-focused hunting
patterns. Being able to settle fights in the first hit was the essence of Assassination.
However, there was a problem. The Skill was literally ‘blindingly brilliant.’ Activating it surrounded the
Mimic with an aura of arcane energies that crackled around it like lightning. It was so flashy and noisy
that it easily overwhelmed the effects of Stealth. There was no way it could successfully trigger
Assassination under such conditions. Ultimately it was a Skill meant for finishing a fight rather than
starting it, but the Mimic failed to realize that when it picked it.
Still, what’s done is done. Besides, it still looked like it would be good to use this in situations where its
ambush failed and it had to fight back. It could burn through its mana in one or two spells and get a head
start on its opponent before moving in to finish it off with melee attacks. It would certainly be more
useful than Projectile Mastery.
Projectile Mastery
Description: A measure of your ability to handle hand-thrown weapons
Requirements: None
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effect: Increases damage dealt with hand-thrown weapons by 10% per Level of this Skill.
This was pretty much identical to other Mastery Skills. It would seem that, in addition to the straight up
power boost, these Mastery Skills also raised the Mimic’s understanding of a specific weapon or school
of magic. How to grip them, how to slash with them or, in the case of magic, how to properly chant and
focus when casting Spells. It would be more accurate to say that this imparted knowledge was the true
reason behind the increase in offensive power.
As for this particular Skill, the Mimic had gotten it after playing around with the spears it had looted off
those guards back in the cave. It was convinced they could be a powerful ranged attack, so it ended up
practicing with them. It even managed to improve its dreadful aim every time the Mastery Skill went up
in Level.
Then it realized that it could just use magic if it wanted to attack at range and completely abandoned the
endeavor. Even if it could gain some Attributes from it, it would much rather focus on its Mimicry and
Warlock-ery. Using throwing weapons and chanting magic at the same time was also quite impossible.
Trying to do so would result in the Mimic biting its own tentacles off by accident, not to mention it
lacked the concentration to properly aim both of them at the same time. So it gave up on Projectile
Mastery. What would be the point in training up a Skill that had little to no practical use?
This monster had stumbled onto the simple truth that, as tasty as Attribute gains were, attaining a few
high Level Skills and Jobs was ultimately better than having a lot of low-leveled ones. Even if an
adventurer had multiple combat-related Jobs like, for example, a Ranger, a Rogue, a Warrior and a Priest
at the same time, they could never actually use those all at once. How can one simultaneously block with
a shield and shoot a bow? Or sneak around and ambush things while they were busy chanting healing
Spells? It was simply impossible, like trying to turn one’s head left and right simultaneously.
Not to mention that the Attributes were mostly exclusive. A Warrior’s Attribute gains that focused on
STR and END would be pretty useless for a Ranger which needed AGI, PER and DEX. And while both
of those had some overlap with the Rogue Job, that was an occupation that relied on completely
different Skills. Oh sure, ultimately it was possible to master all of those Jobs at once, but people did not
have that sort of lifespan available. In a world where quality was significantly more important than
quantity, it was vital to focus one’s training and become a specialist. Jack-of-all adventurers were, quite
simply put, useless past Level 50. A deep pond was many times more dangerous than a knee-deep
ocean, after all.
Even the Mimic was vaguely aware of that fact. Even though its familiar was created with a Level that
was below 20, her magic already seemed close in potency to that of the Mimic with a Level of 38. The
only reason it was able to bring out this much power in the first place was because its Main Job and two
of its Skills - Cadaver Absorption and Biomass - provided a boost to all Attributes, which included INT.
Much like how STR would improve all melee attacks, INT would improve the effectiveness of all
Spells. Right now the Mimic had INT that was more or less standard for a Level 20-ish Warlock with
proper magic-related Skills.
It would still continue to use Cadaver Absorption as much as possible, though. Doing that could still
give the Mimic free Attributes, Skills and Job Levels without having to spend time on actually training
them. And so, after considering what it would do in the future, it decided to focus on improving its
current Jobs and Skills rather than seek out new ones.
Speaking of which, it had reached Level 25 in its Mimic Job during that last fight. It opened its Status
Screen and was greeted with two unknowns. One was the MAX next to the Mimic Job. The other was
the (+) sign next to its Species of Mimic (Lesser). And the (+) next to its Job was not there. Did the
Status Screen not show up properly and misplaced the ever-important (+)? The Mimic opened and
closed its Status several times, but it always came up the same. It was again stumped. Trying to Inspect
the (+) sign did nothing, and inspecting its Species was equally useless.
Mimic (Species)
A low-class shape-shifting monster that exists only in dungeons. Mimics hunt by

ambushing careless adventurers. They can be born in the form of treasure chests, walls,
floors, doors or furniture. Even though they can change their appearance at will, they
cannot change the shape they were born with.
The species is divided into two variants - Lesser and Greater. The main difference between
them is that Greater Mimics are far more cunning and resilient than their Lesser kin.
This was trivia the monster already knew. So, desperately running out of options, it decided to ask for
help. At least now, it had someone it could actually ask for help.
Xera was making her way through the forest when she felt a slight tugging sensation on the back of her
head. It meant that her summoner wished to communicate with her.
“What is it, Master?” she inquired through the thought-link.
The chest replied it wanted to know what the thingie on the other thing was for. Also, how come the
thingie was on that thingie instead of the other thingie? And, perchance, was that thingie delicious?
The succubus let out a sigh. ‘Conversations’ with that moron always ended up being more or less like
that.
“Master, I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”
There was a short pause. Then her master’s Status splashed into her consciousness like a boulder into a
puddle. She let out a reflexive “What the fuck?!” at the sudden influx of information. It caught her
completely off guard, causing her to blank out for a few seconds. She then tripped on an exposed root
and fell flat on her face, smashing her forehead against a rock in the process.
You have suffered blunt trauma. HP -19.
Even at a distance, that monster still managed to make her suffer. She wondered if her master was
perhaps one of those idiot savants, only instead of maths or painting, it was unnaturally proficient in the
art of tormenting others.
That same master impatiently asked her again about the ‘thingie.’ She got up and rubbed her forehead,
wiping the trickle of blood away in the process. After turning her attention to the Mimic’s Status, she
immediately realized what it was trying to say.
“Master, try chanting Rank Up,” she sent back.
“Rank. Tasty?” came the fragmented reply.
“Just do it!”
“Orders. Me. Snack. You.”
The Mimic kindly reminded the uppity familiar of her position.
“Haah,” sighed Xera. She had briefly forgotten two important things in the heat of the moment. The first
thing was that her master regarded everything good or beneficial as ‘tasty.’ And the second was that,
when presented with a stupid question, she had to give an equally stupid answer.
“Sorry, Master. Yes, rank is tasty.”
Overjoyed at this revelation, the Mimic immediately chanted “Rank Ukh!”
Rank Up - Mimic (Lesser)

Requirements: Level 25 Mimic Job, Level 5 Shapeshift, END 75
Effects: Species will become Mimic (Greater).
Level Cap on Mimic Job will be increased to 50.
Shapeshift Skill Proficiency will increase.
The Requirements have been met. Do you wish to Rank Up?
Yes
No
The master agreed with its Familiar. This did in fact look delicious. And so, it eagerly chose ‘Yes,’ then
blacked out.
(16) Eat And Grow 9
Rank up complete.
Congratulations! Your species has become Mimic (Greater).
The maximum Level of your Mimic Job has been increased to 50.
The Mimic’s consciousness woke up to a brand new window waiting for it. The evolution from a Lesser
to a Greater Mimic was over with. It didn’t feel any different though.
No, it did actually feel something.
You are ravenous. Automatic HP and MP recovery are now disabled.

You are starving. You will lose 2% of your maximum HP every 60 minutes.
Hunger. An overwhelming desire to eat and consume in order to survive. An overpowering need to fill
its belly if it wanted to live. There was a void inside it - a vacuum so strong that it threatened to make it
implode in on itself. Something screamed at it to abandon all pretence and stuff its belly. However, it
would not succumb to its base instincts so easily. Not anymore.
And then it reactivated its short-range magical perception.
The first thing it ‘saw’ was itself. The monster had reverted back to its dormant state - the spider legs,
tongue and eyes had all retreated back inside its body, leaving it in its default chest-like appearance. It
looked exactly the same as it did before. This was probably some defensive mechanism its body enacted
on its own.
Having confirmed its body seemed to be intact, it then turned its attention to its surroundings. It was no
longer in a forest, but in some new place it didn’t realize. It was sitting on a floor made out of wood -
actual wooden boards, unlike the fake ones it used for its disguise. All around it were scattered wooden
crates and boxes of variable size and make. Some looked newer while others were practically rotting.
The walls of this place were weird, especially the ones on its left and right. They were slanted at about
45 degrees and leaning against each other. Did the wooden surfaces want to be a ceiling? At least the
ones directly behind and further in front of it were normal looking, but their neighbours had forced them
into a triangular shape. It was obvious which pair of walls were boss in this room.
And yes, this was indeed a room. Although the Mimic didn’t know it, the tight space was actually an
attic. It was only about 3 meters at its tallest point, 6 meters left-to-right and about 10 meters front-to-
back. The awkward placement of the slanted roof meant that, realistically speaking, you’d have to crawl
if you wanted to reach into the sides. Cobwebs and dust covered the place and the Mimic itself,
suggesting it had been there a while.
But how did it get here? And where, exactly, was here? Those were both good questions. If only it had
someone it could ask.
Oh wait, it did. It felt the link between itself and its familiar was still active, meaning the succubus
would probably know what was going on. It sent a telepathic message to get her attention.
“Snack!”
Names? Were those tasty? It didn’t know, but snacks were tasty. Therefore, the familiar’s name would
now be Snack.
“Who the hell is Snack?!” came the irritated response. “Ack! Master, you’re awake!”
“No. Hungry. Bring food.”
“Understood, Master. I will be there in fifteen minutes!”
It seems this familiar had an idea of what was going on. It was time to ask it for the details.
“Where? How? Why?” it inquired.
Xera then began explaining her side of the story. She had gone into the city and collected 650G for her
‘contributions’ to the Sweeper subjugation quest. Since her Master had been unconscious, she was left
without orders. That situation was something she fully expected to happen, which is why she wanted her
Master to Rank Up and allow her to play around for a while. It’s not something she had experienced
personally, but learned about it from one of her previous masters.
But before she could start playing around, she realized she had left her Master unconscious at the site of
its supposed death. If someone were to discover it, then her cover would be blown and it was
questionable whether she would be able to run away in time. So naturally she went back to that place
and, under the cover of night, dragged it over to one of the nearby farms. She used her natural charms to
convince the elderly couple that ran the place to let her stay for a while and store her ‘luggage’ in their
attic.
The Mimic found that last bit to be particularly interesting.
“Farmers? You mean humans?”
“Yes, two of them. Oh, you should probably avoid killing them since-”
“Too late.”
In the middle of Xera’s explanation an old, balding farmer went into the attic to fetch something. He
walked in through the trap door in the floor and was summarily eaten. His wife, having heard the
horrible gnashing and thrashing that came from upstairs, went to investigate. The last thing she saw was
her husband’s blood splattered all over the place before her head was chopped off from behind. Needless
to say, she was also eaten.
You are no longer starving. Your HP will no longer deteriorate.
“Was tasty. Chewy, but oddly satisfying.”
Even if they were old and barely had any meat on them, their intestines, livers and hearts proved to be as
filling as expected.
The succubus sighed to herself. Again, she forgot exactly who she was dealing with. Now they would
have to burn down the farm to cover their tracks and run away before anyone came asking too many
questions.
“How long was I out?” came the next question.
“Three days, Master… Huh? Master? Are you okay?”
“Yes?”
Maybe just my imagination, she thought.
“If only three days,” continued the Mimic, “then how come so much hunger?”
“That… part of the Rank Up process, I guess?” she offered. “But! More importantly than that! Master,
you can form proper thoughts now?!”
It wasn’t her imagination, but reality. What she received through the link weren’t some fragmented
words, but properly constructed sentences that had actual will and direction behind them. Also, it didn’t
once say ‘thingie’ and mentioned tasty things only 3 times in that conversation!
“I can have thoughts?”
“Yeah! Like just now!”
It seemed that Rank Up fundamentally upgraded the Mimic’s sad excuse for a mind. It was now capable
of holding a conversation without being constantly distracted. There was even a chance of it making
informed opinions based on more than its immediate desires!
“Are thoughts tasty?”
“... Yes Master, thoughts are tasty.”
She gave up. For the briefest moment she had the vague hope her Master would stop being such a
colossal moron. In the end, even if its mental abilities were expanded, it was still a 3 month old monster
that was barely even sentient. It didn’t really have any desires beyond the instinctive need to eat and
grow.
“I beg of you,” she added, “please stay still and don’t move!”
The Mimic had no reason to refuse. If ‘staying still without moving’ was an Olympic sport, it would
have a serious shot at the gold medal. So it returned to its spot in the attic and sat down. It still had
unfinished business with its Status.
“Rank Ukh!” it chanted and a familiar looking-window appeared.

Rank Up - Mimic (Greater)
Possible evolutions and their effects will be revealed once the minimum requirements are
met.
Meeting certain conditions will unlock additional options.
The Mimic’s curiosity skyrocketed. Rather than become a higher variant of the same species, it seemed
like it could evolve into something completely different. And it appeared as if what it did during its
journey to that point would somehow increase its options. However, it could not simply learn these
unlock conditions from its Status. While these menus and screens were useful, ultimately they did not
contain much information beyond what the monster already knew.
Well, no point worrying about things it had no control over. Achieving the bare minimum requirements
would be pretty straightforward and it seemed like it would get them eventually. Truthfully, it was
looking forward to the Level 10 Shapeshift more than anything else.
Shapeshift
Description: A measure of your ability to mould and sculpt your own flesh
Requirements: Born as a shapeshifting Species
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Unable to diverge from base form.
Increases shapeshifting speed and precision by 10% per Level of this Skill.
Increases how much of the body can be shapeshifted with each Level of this Skill.
Similar to Mastery Skills, this one had the hidden effect of increasing the Mimic’s general anatomical
knowledge. Things like how to construct stronger muscles and tougher hides. When eating something, it
could gain deeper insights into how it was put together. Doing so also meant it could mimic those body
parts more effectively and even pick out weak points such as tendons, hearts, eyes and throats with its
swordplay. At this point it could probably take apart and then put together a human with its eyes closed.
Not that it had eyes in the first place, though.
“Master!” shouted Xera. She had just poked her disguised head into the attic. Then she recoiled when
she saw the state of the place. “Eck! What in the hell?! Why is there blood everywhere?!”
This was the first time she had actually seen the aftermath of the Mimic’s feeding frenzy. The walls, the
floor, the ceiling and pretty much all the crates and boxes were stained with fresh, crimson blood.
“Forget that,” said the Mimic through the thought-link, “where is food?”
“Ah, right. Here you go, Master.” She raised her hand. It was holding a string, and tied around the string
by their feet were five whole chickens with freshly broken necks. Well, it’s not like the farmers would
need them anymore. Xera set them down on the floor in front of her master. The animate chest opened
its mouth and greedily scooped up the still warm bodies with its flexible tongues and devoured them in a
flash. It chewed on them for a few seconds before swallowing.
“Not bad. Tastes like people.”
Xera just barely managed to stop herself from retorting with ‘Isn’t that backwards?!’
“Snack! The thingie that can be traded for tasty things! Show me!”
The succubus rolled her eyes. They were back at ‘thingie’ again. Still, at least it was pretty clear what it
meant this time. She unhooked a small leather satchel from her waist and emptied its contents on a dry
spot of the floor. A number of glistening gold coins clanked onto the wooden planks. Each coin was at
little under 5 centimeters in diameter and about 3 millimeters thick. One side had a shield-shaped crest
decorated with flowers. The other bore the image of a bearded human with a fancy hat.These gold pieces
were the first ones it had ever seen.
“Here they are, Master. 13 King pieces worth 50G each, for a total 650G.”
But her words did not reach the Mimic. It’s entire attention had been captured by those coins. The only
light source in this dark attic was what was pouring through the trapdoor Xera was still in. Yet they
seemed to shine and glisten with a beauty like it had never seen before. This was a fascination well
beyond liking shiny things. It was as if the gold itself was speaking to the Mimic.
‘Hold me’ it whispered. ‘Protect me’ it said. ‘Never let me go’ it demanded. And the simple monster
would comply. How could it ever resist such sweet temptation?
The faux-chest’s imitation lid opened itself wide. And amidst the rows of pointy, jagged teeth appeared
something new. Something different. Rather than a red tongue covered in clear drool, what appeared was
the upper body of a woman. She had waist-long, straight hair that was the color of brilliant snow. Her
skin was so pale that anyone who saw it would doubt if it was ever touched by the sun. The eyes were a
deep crimson that seemed to stare into one’s very soul. Her breasts, almost as big as her head, jiggled
pleasantly with every slight movement. A proud, pink nipple stood on each one. Combined with the
unnaturally thin waist and flared hips that gave way to the rest of the Mimic, it gave her an astonishing
hourglass figure.
The girl-in-the-box wasted no time and stretched out both her arms. They extended unnaturally, like
rubber, covering the meter-and-a-half distance between the monster and the coins in an instant. Her
tender fingers then slowly, almost reverently, scooped up the gold pieces and brought them back to the
main body carefully.
The human-looking part of the monster then leaned back against its upper jaw which instinctively
retracted its teeth. It assumed a pose that looked like someone relaxing in a lounge chair. It then placed
the gold coins in the valley of its cleavage. Its hands and arms wrapped around those formidable breasts,
pushing them together and creating a sort of fleshy cradle for the Mimic’s new prize. A dumb smile
drifted naturally onto those full, pink lips and the monster stood perfectly still, reveling in the sensation
against its marshmallow-like breasts. The cold, heavy, shiny metal felt incredibly pleasant, after all.
“M-M-M-Master?” called out Xera, but that master was currently preoccupied.
This is it, thought the Mimic. This is right.
A treasure chest that finally had actual treasure. Those completely normal and entirely un-magical coins
fulfilled a craving the monster never knew it had. Right now, at this moment, it was satisfied. It felt
content for what was probably the first time in its short life. People were tasty. Levels, Skills and
attributes were also tasty. But gold was different. It had no actual flavor, yet the Mimic thought that it
was absolutely delicious!
“Master!” yelled Xera. This time she seemed to get the Mimic’s attention. The hazy stare and dumb
smile on that beautiful face disappeared. It stared at the demoness with a disgusted expression like she
had just taken a massive dump in its porridge.
“What is it, Snack?!” it sent through the thought-link, “I’m busy!”
“Why am I sticking out of Master’s jaws?!”
That was the reason Xera was staring. The human body currently poking out of the fleshy insides of that
chest looked almost identical to her. The colors were wrong, it had no wings or horns, but everything
else was exactly in the shape and proportions of the succubus’s true form. She also had the disturbing
thought that, if the woman-shaped part of the Mimic had gone on just a few centimeters lower, it would
certainly also mirror her lower lips.
“Snack is tasty. I needed tasty parts to enjoy delicious gold.” it replied simply.
The merciless MImic had eaten Xera so many times that it had absolute knowledge of her body. It was,
quite simply put, the body it knew best. Humans all had small differences between them. The
proportions, skin, hair, teeth, jaw, face - every individual was unique in various ways. So having tasted
the exact same succubus-shaped fruit over 30 times, it naturally became the form it was most familiar
with. It didn’t particularly care about pigmentation, horns or wings, which is why it came out looking
like an albino half-succubus. The important thing was it could properly enjoy the weight and feel of the
gold coins by borrowing Xera’s sensitive boobs.
In truth, this new development had very little to do with its evolution into a Greater Mimic. The monster
was perfectly capable of achieving this shape when it raised Shapeshift to Level 5. After all, even if it
couldn’t abandon its outward chest-like appearance, the insides were a completely different story. It
simply had no urge to do something like this until now. This form was ill-suited to combat and the
higher center of gravity meant it would have trouble balancing on top of its favorite spider legs. The sole
purpose the pseudo-Xera came out was to, quite simply, have fun with it.
Xera was dumbstruck yet again. As a shapeshifter herself, she more or less understood all of that.
However, the realization that the Mimic had created a cheap copy of her just to enjoy itself made her feel
oddly violated. It was almost worse than being eaten alive.
Almost, but not quite.
After about three and a half hours of the Mimic playing with Xera’s hard-earned money on top of Xera’s
borrowed breasts, it finally seemed to have enough. It stowed the gold inside its Storage and called out
to the succubus that was sulking in the corner.
“We go now.”
The demoness turned her head around. She was sitting while hugging her knees and facing away from
her master. She had been trying really really hard not to mind the situation behind her. It almost worked,
too. Until that creature started letting out cooing noises using her own voice. So she minded it
immensely. At least it was back to how it was before - a simple chest with eight black imitation spider
legs jutting out from under it. It was much easier to look at than that twisted imitation of her own self.
“Understood, Master,” she replied while standing up. ”Where to?”
“Back to dungeon. Something I have to do.”
Species Mimic (Greater) STR 78 LCK 30 Mimic 25 1%
Age 3 months AGI 71
Guild END 106
608/608 (+1.2/
HP INT 102
sec)
510/510 (+0.6/
MP WIS 65
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 5 23%
Storage 4 7%
Biomass 2 45%
Shapeshift 6 34%
Stealth 4 61%
Sword Mastery 5 85%
Ruin Mastery 4 60%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Frostbite
Dark Explosion
(17) Interlude A Cheap Drink
straightforward dream. But that was then, and this is now. Thoughts of fame and fortune were so far
removed from his consciousness that he questioned if he really had them in the first place.
Right now the only thing on his mind was whether he would be able to afford to pay his bar tab. That’s
all he wanted to think about. That and the thing right in front of him - a glass of Rotgut. This vile,
brown, murky concoction was an alcoholic drink so strong that it could knock out even a dwarf in about
4 shots. It was also incredibly cheap, which was convenient for the poverty-riddled elf. The downside
was that it tasted horrible. That much was to be expected considering it used goblin ears as an
ingredient. The flavor was so bad that no sane person would try it more than once. Just the rank smell
was more than enough to discourage a lot of people.
However, Lylandros knew the flavor of Raela’s brain matter. In the past, he had jokingly said he’d love
to have a taste of that buxom elven Druid, but he didn’t mean it literally. Compared to that, this mixture
was as delicious as honeyed mead. And he just remembered that fact, which made him even more
depressed. If only there was something around to help him forget.
Oh wait, there was.
He screwed up his courage and determination, then downed his drink in one go. The pungent taste and
high alcoholic content hit him almost immediately. It felt like a horse had kicked the side of his head.
You are intoxicated. The effects of the AGI, DEX and WIS Attributes has been reduced by
half.
He slammed the glass back on the counter with a bit of force while panting heavily, but it wasn’t
enough. He was still thinking about it.
In his mind, he knew he made the right call. His common sense told him he had no chance against that
monster. It had magic powerful enough to kill a person in one hit. There’s no way he could match up to
such a creature. Even if the four of them were completely rested and fully prepared, they could never
hope to take it down. And having heard how the subjugation quest he set in motion concluded, he was
definitely right.
His mind knew that, but his heart refused to accept it. Dark thoughts welled up from within every time
he had a moment to himself. Which, incidentally, was pretty much all the time.
I abandoned them.
Why was I the only one spared?
I should have died with them.
“Ah, crap,” he mumbled. His mind had drifted off into that particular direction again.
The elf seriously doubted he would be able to sleep at night if he wasn’t blackout drunk. Even if he
managed to calm himself enough to doze off, he would always be beset by nightmares and wake up a
few hours later in a cold sweat. And so, even if it tasted like ass, even if it was slowly poisoning him,
even if it made his breath horrible enough to peel paint off the walls - he would still drink his
‘medicine.’
But first, he had to get a refill. He lazily raised his arm towards the barkeep. The rough-looking
gentleman with the bald head and black goatee went over to his customer.
“Let me guess,” said the barkeep, “another shot of Rotgut?”
Lylandros simply nodded in return with a “Yesh.” The spitting image of a habitual alcoholic that had
given up on life. The barkeep didn’t judge or belittle the elf for that, though - he knew better. These
people would latch onto him the instant instant he treated them as anything other than a source of
revenue. They’d one-sidedly pour out their sob stories and either take up his valuable time, or get rowdy
when he tried to ignore them. The best solution to those awkward situations was to avoid creating them
entirely. The man had long ago ran out of fucks to give, so he kept relations between himself and his
customers strictly professional.
“Sorry twiggy,” he said, “but that lady over there bought the last bottle.” He pointed to the woman
sitting in the corner. She was wearing a blue robe and had long, straight black hair run down her back.
Her sizable breasts were visible from behind, poking out slightly from either side of her narrow back.
“If you want some more, you’re gonna have to take it up with her.”
“No more… more battles? Bottles?” asked Lylandros. He was already struggling to form sentences after
just one shot.
“Nope. That was the last of it.”
Although Rotgut was technically a drink, it was only ever ordered either as a prank, as a form of
punishment or, in some cases, out of morbid curiosity. But even then it was only ordered once - people
who actually ordered a second or third shot were extremely rare. With so little demand, the barkeep only
really kept the one or two bottles in stock at any given time. So given the choice between a pretty lady
who paid upfront and a filthy twig with a tab, it was obvious which one was the more valued customer.
“FFFFffffuck,” let out Lylandros. He got up from his stool and ambled in her general direction. The elf
had one goal in coming to this establishment - to black out for the night. Even if she didn’t want to share
the drink, he’d still find a way to accomplish his mission. There are more ways than one to lose
consciousness after all!
“Hey now,” the barkeep called out to him. “Don’t get violent with her alright? I’ll have you thrown out
of here with both legs broken if you try something funny!”
Lylandros turned around unsteadily and mockingly saluted him.
“Aye aye, cap’n!”
The barkeep just sighed to himself with a mumble of ‘bloody twigs’ before signaling the security he’d
hired to keep an eye on the elf. The over-two-meter tall goon that was leaning against one of the walls
simply nodded in response that he understood. His job was to keep the elf from causing any damage to
the owner’s establishment.
“S’cuse meh,” said the suspect in question to the woman in blue. “Could I bother you fro- for a drink of
that?!”
The black-haired beauty turned her head. Her crimson eyes locked with his hazel-colored ones. They
then followed his outstretched arm that was pointing at the drink on her table.
“Haaah. Why not?” she said with a sigh. “Have a seat, stranger.”
“Ohhh! Thanks kindly, ma’am!”
“Don’t mention it,” she said with a bit of a bitter smile. It was the sort of face that clearly said she had
far bigger problems to worry about than some random elf crashing her one-woman drinking spree. She
poured some of the Rotgut into the glass in front of her and passed it to Lylandros with a “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” he replied while staring at the drink.
Downing this thing was no easy task. You had to swallow it so fast that your tongue and nose would not
have a chance to react. Such a feat took a certain amount of mental fortitude and bravery. So when the
elf lifted his gaze and saw the girl chugging directly from the bottle in big gulps, his body reacted before
his drink-addled mind could. And he threw up on the floor.
The goon saw that and, after silently confirming with the bartender, went to work. Less than a minute
later, Lylandros was thrown out into a dusty alley through a side entrance. He fell on the ground hard,
like a sack of day-old laundry. The bouncer yelled something about a ‘final warning’ at the poor sod
before walking back inside the bar.
Lylandros just chuckled to himself. Tonight was a failure, it seemed. This was the only place he knew of
that both served Rotgut and would allow him to keep a tab. He really had nowhere to go, so he just layed
there on the cobblestone alleyway. He decided he might as well try and sleep right here. It was already
way past sunset, so there was nobody around to disturb him anyway.
Or so he thought. Less than a minute after he heard some footsteps and felt someone looming over him.
“Where do you live?” asked the gentle female voice. His eyes fluttered open and barely made out her
face in the darkness. It was that pretty girl who so kindly offered him some of her drink. She bent down
and extended an arm towards him. Her breasts swayed dangerously like pendulums when she did so.
“Come on,” she beckoned. “I’ll get you home.”
“Th-thank you,” he said, weakly. He really did not expect her to actually care, but he wasn’t stupid
enough to turn down help when it was offered. In reality, this was the first time since that day someone
had ever treated him as anything other than a burden. He gripped her tender hand with no hesitation.
After helping the poor man to his feet, she lent him her shoulder. The two of them then trotted off into
the night.
Whether it was the drink, the oddly romantic moonlit atmosphere or, most probably, the soft breasts
pressing against his side, Lylandros felt he rather fancied this girl. He made a small pass at her,
commenting on how beautiful she was. The girl simply smiled demurely and blushed slightly, saying he
was rather handsome himself. One thing led to another and by the time they reached Lylandros’s hovel,
they were already passionately kissing. They barely made it past the front door before their clothes
started slipping off their bodies almost by themselves. Not even their undergarments remained by the
time they made it to the bed.
The elf was pushed down on the bed by the woman whose name he didn’t even know. She slowly
climbed in over him, letting her bare nipples drag along his skin. Intoxicated by the erotic situation, the
poor virgin could do little else but hope he wouldn’t bust a nut immediately. The nude body before him
felt like it existed for the sole purpose of rousing men’s lust. Not that he was complaining, anyway.
She straddled his waist and grinded her moist lower lips along his already stiff member. She let out a
few moans that were positively dripping with passion. After making sure both of them were as aroused
as possible, she reached down and grabbed it. The elf watched in awe as she raised her hips and guided
his manhood towards her special place. She bit her lip and slammed her hips downwards, taking the
entire length inside her all at once, popping the proverbial cherry of the young elf.
But alas the young man could not resist the onslaught of pleasure and came immediately. He grabbed her
flared thighs and thrust his hips upwards without thinking. He committed spurt after spurt of semen to
her innermost depths while his partner simply hummed delightedly.
About 15 minutes later his orgasm finally ended. The woman simply let out a small, satisfied sigh. It
was her first real ‘meal’ ever since she was contracted to that moronic box. She dismounted her partner
and got off the bed. Despite accepting copious amounts of bodily fluids, not a single drop ran down her
thigh.
Xera snapped her fingers. The discarded blue robes on the ground leapt up in the air and flew at her as if
being pulled in by an invisible wire. They splashed against her naked body like goop and began shifting
and transforming into their previous appearance. Having completely ‘clothed’ herself in seconds, the
succubus then retrieved the bottle of Rotgut she brought with her and poured the last of its contents
down her gullet.
“Aw man, they really dilute this stuff nowadays,” she complained to nobody in particular after finishing
it off. “This swill isn’t enough to even give me a buzz! Sometimes I really hate this body’s constitution!”
Since her flesh was a magical construct, it really did not need food or water. Even her ‘feeding’ just now
was nothing more than scratching an itch. Technically it had the effect of restoring HP and MP, but since
she was already full on both accounts the whole affair amounted to little more than a midnight snack.
It wasn’t quite as satisfying as she’d hoped though. She preferred the taste of big burly men rather than
these scrawny virgins, but beggars can’t be choosers. Right now her master was sleeping due to its Rank
Up, but she had no idea how long her short vacation would actually last. Under these circumstances, is it
really any wonder she eagerly gobbled up the first suitable victim she found? That elven lad had no
resistance to her Demonic Seduction whatsoever and nobody of note would really give a shit if he died.
He was not ideal, but good enough.
“Damn. I really need something stronger. I wonder if I can find some Firewater Brandy around this
place?”
She tossed the now-empty bottle of Rotgut away and made her way out of the filthy hovel to seek her
next victim.
As for Lylandros, all that was left of him was an emaciated corpse. A body that was little more than skin
and bones with a wide, creepy smile on its hollowed out face.
(18) Urges 1
The Red Zone of the Litigar Dungeon Complex was undoubtedly the most inhospitable place around the
city of Monotal. As expected of the most dangerous part of the only dungeon in the area. Still, not many
adventurers past their first two or three months on the job would find this place particularly dangerous. It
was certainly not that bad when compared to the majority of other dungeons strewn throughout the
world.
Unlike the cave-like systems of the Green and Yellow Zones, the Red part looked more like a crypt or
mausoleum. Stone brick floors, walls and a dark ceiling that seemed to upward forever. Stone gargoyles
could be seen lined up at random along the walls and creepy carvings could appear and disappear from
the floor and walls seemingly at random. Pale blue torches bathed the corridors in an eerie light, just
enough to keep one’s eyes from adapting to otherwise profound darkness. The air was heavy with the
stench of death and carried a faint strawberry-like flavor. The latter would be a side effect of the slightly
thicker concentration of mana. The former was caused by the denizens of this place.
Hovering around Level 15, they were all undead beings that made this place particularly troublesome.
To begin with, most undead would not get tired and did not feel pain. Those they encountered would be
met with relentless pursuit and an unyielding hatred. The simplest enemy to fight in these halls were
skeletons. Just a glance would reveal what variety of skeleton it was. Would it be the Skeleton Soldiers
carrying rusted weapons and armor? Or perhaps Skeleton Archers that never seemed to run out of
arrows for their short bows? And most troublesome of all were the Skeleton Mages that bombarded their
targets with Spells that were attuned to the Ice and Dark elements.
They often moved and attacked in small groups of 4 or 5. Much like adventurer parties, they usually had
a good balance and worked with a sort of teamwork to maximize each individual’s Skills. The sight
almost seemed like a promise to those that invaded this place. ‘Die in here and this will be your fate’
was the message it sent across to the living. This was, of course, pure superstition. Those Skeletons were
simply monsters spawned out of the mana-enriched miasma that lingered in this place. But the threat
they bore was still very real. Encountering one such patrol was said to be one of the most dangerous
things that happen in this place.
And yet they were still the simplest to fight. They came at you from the front and didn’t get back up on
their feet once you smashed them to bits. Ghouls, on the other hand, were different. These half-rotten
carcasses skulked the halls absentmindedly until they caught the stench of the living. They would charge
forward running on all fours like some wild animal, screaming their heads off at their target. Once close
enough to their target, they’d leap at them in a frenzy of filthy claws and jagged teeth. A single scratch
often meant being afflicted by Poison and/or Disease, slowly draining HP or numbing one’s movements.
And they were relentless. Even if they lost a limb or half their torso, they would not stop attacking.
Chopping off both their legs didn’t seem to deter them one bit, either. Slicing off their head simply
meant their headless torso would keep coming at you. It was a monster that had no vital points that
could be exploited to rapidly drain their rather significant HP. One had to thoroughly destroy and
dismantle them in order to put them down the old fashioned way. A very troublesome opponent to fight.
The last species of monster in this place was also the most annoying one - specters. These incorporeal
beings appeared as a transparent green mist that vaguely resembled people. They would phase through
the walls and floor while showering their victims with debilitating Domination magic. Paralysis, Sleep
and Panic were the more common magically-induced afflictions that plagued any adventurers that came
here. To make matters worse, their transparent gas-like bodies could only be harmed by magic. Spells
and enchanted weapons would be necessary to defeat these, so any adventuring group that came here
unprepared would surely fall apart the first time these specters appeared.
Still, what made this place truly inhospitable was that combat would often attract more undead from
nearby. A train of more than 20 enemies was almost common in these parts. Much like goblins, this part
of the dungeon aimed to overwhelm invaders with sheer numbers rather than individually strong
monsters. The worst case scenario for the living was when the stream of enemies contained all 3 types of
monster. Dealing with the murderous skeletons, rogue ghouls and unpredictable specters at the same
time made for an incredibly grueling fight. Even if the adventurers won, they would likely need to deal
with the troublesome side-effects from fighting with the undead.
In the end, very few adventurers dared to step foot in here and instead went to hunt and train in the
nearby forest. It would be significantly slower, but also much safer.
Still, a place like this attracted 4 specific Jobs that were well suited to dealing with the undead. Priests
and Paladins were an obvious choice. Their Spells and Blessings served as both offense and defense.
Bathing an undead creature with holy magic would purify it rather than heal it and all of the negative
effects on their Status could be neutralized with repeated application of the Cleanse Spell.
The third Job that was really good at dealing with the undead was the Necromancer. Fighting hordes of
undead with more hordes of undead proved to be extremely effective. While the minions fought at the
front, their master was able to rain magical support from the rear. Even if some of the walking corpses
under their control were destroyed, replacing them was a simple matter. The remains of naturally
appearing undead could be used to bolster the Necromancer’s forces. But that wasn’t all - these self-
proclaimed rulers of death could turn enemy undead into their own minions and force them to obey their
commands. All it took was the right combination of Skills.
Truly, it was like fighting fire with fire. Except that fighting undead with undead was extremely messy
and chaotic, which perpetuated a Necromancer’s habit of not having any living friends. However,
fighting undead with actual fire proved to be one of the best solutions.
“Inferno!” shouted Xera.
The small tornado of flames swept up the pack of ghouls, skeletons and specters in front of her. The
Spell only lasted a few seconds, but it was wide enough to cover the entire hallway and engulf every last
one of them. Although direct contact with the Inferno was not as particularly damaging as one might
expect, it was brilliantly bolstered by her Devouring Flame Skill.
Devouring Flame
Description: Overwhelming fire leaves behind naught but ash and cinders
Requirements: Level 5 Pyromancer, INT 40
Type: Toggled (ON)
Cost: N/A
Range: 100 meters
Effects: Increases the cost of Pyroclasm Spells by 20%.
Pyroclasm Spells will apply Devouring Flame to your target for 5 seconds.
Devouring Flame inflicts damage equal to 10% of the initial hit each second.
Increases the damage of Devouring Flame by 20% per Level of this Skill.
This was the strength of the Pyromancer and Cryomancer Jobs. Their Spells did not deal as much
damage up-front as something like a Wizard or Warlock, but the potent secondary effects of their Skills
more than made up for that. This situation was a perfect example of that. Most of the undead did not
succumb to the initial damage of the Inferno, but were set ablaze and swiftly turned to ash. Only the
tougher ghouls seemed to linger, but Xera would just finish those off with an extra Fireball or two. All
while laughing maniacally, of course. How could she not? The undead were particularly flammable,
after all. To her, this place was little more than a playground and she acted like it.
That attitude earned her a hit to the back of the head with a thrown rock.
You have suffered moderate blunt trauma. HP -44.
“What are you doing?!” shouted her master directly into her mind. “I said leave the Ghoul corpses
whole!”
*CLINK*
The succubus, who was currently masquerading as an adventurer, simply rubbed the back of her head,
feeling the sticky sensation of blood seeping into her hair. Her immediate reaction was the desire to yell
something along the lines of ‘Do it yourself then, you lazy bum!’ What actually came out of her mouth
was-
“Understood, Master.”
She hated to admit it, but it had a point. This wasn’t the first time it had to yell at her after she got
carried away with the setting things on fire. Ghouls were the only suitable targets for its Cadaver
Absorption, after all. As for Xera, she was actually trying to distract herself from what was going on
behind her.
*CLINK*
That master of hers had copied her form yet again just to play with its gold coins. She was forced to
walk ahead of it and do all the work while it enjoyed itself. Worst of all, it used a mockery of her true
form to do so. A demon’s body was something incredibly personal. It was essentially their true self
given form in the material realm. Having someone pervert it for their petty amusement like that was
pretty much the ultimate insult to a demon.
*CLINK*
And it made the broken succubus undeniably aroused. The physical torture may have lessened, but the
psychological abuse seemed to be getting worse. Or better, depending on the point of view. Still, the
proud demoness would not admit any of that so readily. Yet she was still powerless to go against the
wishes of her master. The most she could do in this situation was try her absolute best to ignore that
blasted monster.
*CLINK*
But alas, that was proving difficult. Since the Mimic was currently cradling the gold coins in Xera’s
mirrored breasts, every step it took made them jingle a tiny bit. Just enough to stimulate the tortured
succubus’s imagination.
*CLINK*
As for the Mimic in question, it was actually using the large number of undead to get stronger faster.
These opponents proved to be too weak to give any significant increase to its close combat Skills or the
Mimic Job. Feeding them to its Warlock Job would prove to be more beneficial in the short term, but all
of its Spells had poor affinity against the undead.
*CLINK*
Domination was outright useless, and all of its Ruin Spells were either of the Darkness or Ice elements,
to which undead were pretty much immune to. Technically, the Ebonfire Spell dealt Fire damage, but
since it did that by igniting the target’s soul, it had no chance to shine against these lesser varieties of
undead. They were vessels of grudges and hatred. Something like an ego or soul did not dwell in the
bones and flesh around here.
*CLINK*
But its bonded familiar used Pyroclasm Spells, which were predominantly Fire-attuned. And anything
she killed would contribute XP to the Mimic’s Summon Familiar Skill and Warlock Job, though it
seemed it was going slower than expected. Perhaps receiving the XP second-hand meant it didn’t get the
full amount? Or was it because killing monsters provided significantly less XP than murdering
adventurers? A combination of the two, perhaps? Still, it was better to get a few early Levels of those
two things while it could. If the familiar was too weak to properly support its master later on, then what
would be the point of her existence.
*CLINK*
The demoness proved to be surprisingly effective, too. Technically she was only a Level 8 Pyromancer,
so how come she did so much damage? Was it because she had the Attributes of a Level 19 Caster? Did
that matter in some way? It double-checked something in its Status Screen.
Intelligence (INT)
Improves your memory and capacity for knowledge.
Improves the effectiveness of your offensive Spells.
Every 1 point of INT increases maximum MP by 5.
Now that would explain it. That second line wasn’t there the last time it checked this Attribute. Then
again, that was before it actually had the Warlock Job or any of the offensive Spells that came with it.
There appeared to be no other changes when it checked through the rest of its Attributes. Well, at least
now it knew to give those another look the next time it unlocked a Job. It kept thinking such things
while idly rolling one of the King pieces up and down Xera’s xeroxed knuckles.
“Master, adventurers ahead,” came the silent report from its familiar.
The Mimic quickly put the coins back in Storage and assumed a less conspicuous shape. That is, as
inconspicuous a living chest with eight spider legs and a cat-like eye could be. Still, it was its preferred
shape for combat. These were the first people they had ran into since they entered this place and it was
pretty much itching to sink its teeth into actual flesh and blood.
This dungeon was pretty much ‘tamed.’ Signposts and markings left behind by others clearly showed the
path to the Red Zone. Of course the Mimic couldn’t read any of them, but that’s why Xera was there.
Following those directions let the two of them reach the deepest part of the dungeon in about 10 or 15
minutes. They’ve been wandering around the labyrinthine corridors ever since. That meant they skipped
straight to the most unpopular part of this place. It was also the dead of night outside, so them running
into adventurers under these circumstances was extremely lucky.
Or unlucky, depending on the point of view.
It peered around the corner and saw four people, all human males. They seemed to be sitting around a
campfire, talking about something. Sneaking up on them might prove to be difficult since they were all
alert and keeping an eye on their surroundings. Then it realized that sneaking around was completely
unnecessary. If they were in here then they were unlikely to be higher than Level 15. As a Level 39
magic-wielding monster, it would have no trouble wiping them out in a frontal assault.
“Wait, Master!” pleaded Xera with a telepathic shout. “Can you let me handle those four?”
The Mimic that was just about to charge at them stopped dead in its tracks. “Why?” it asked.
“Information. Those people look like they might know something about this place. I wish to go over
there and find out if they can somehow lead us to our objective. And the sooner we find it, the sooner we
can be done here.”
Xera really didn’t want to spend too much time navigating this damnable dungeon. Incinerating masses
of undead was fun, but that was merely the highlight. The majority of the last three hours were spent
walking with nothing but that infuriating chest for company. She was really looking forward to getting
out of here and alleviating her stress and boredom. If those people had maps or a guide, then it would
speed up their progress quite a bit!
“Okay. Go learn what you can.”
The Mimic readily agreed to the proposal. It also wanted to be done with this place and find tastier prey.
Not like it would actually eat any of those corpses. They tasted terrible and, much like Xera, wouldn’t
fill its stomach. Cadaver Absorption could be used on ghouls if the Mimic acted quickly. Its purpose was
to train its Skills, so it didn’t particularly care it only had repeated failures. Even if the Skill succeeded
there would probably be very little benefit since the undead could barely even be considered corpses.
“Ah, can you patrol the area make sure no monsters interrupt our little… talk? It might take about half
an hour. Probably more.”
It had no complaints about fulfilling that request. Between the two of them, Xera was still the leading
expert in dealing with humans so it had no choice but to rely on her judgement in these situations.
“Okay. I go hunt.”
Without wasting any time it went into full on storm-of-steel-and-teeth mode and skittered off somewhere
while waving its swords around for no good reason. Xera let out a sigh of relief as it disappeared around
a corner.
“Now then,” she said to herself, “how should I cook those four?”
(19) Urges 2
Xera thought about her approach. It had to be plausible and fit the circumstances. Male adventurers all
had a soft spot for damsels in distress, a weakness that could be exploited. Correction, a weakness that
would readily be taken advantage of at every opportunity. The succubus made up her mind - she was
going to play the part of a lost adventurer that had gotten separated from the rest of her party and
happened upon these kind men.
The straight black hair on her head rapidly turned blonde and extremely disheveled. Her eyes became
wider and the crimson irises gave way to a sky-like blue. Her face as a whole morphed into a younger,
more innocent one. The imitation robe she was wearing suddenly ripped open all on its own in several
strategically chosen places. Scratches and bruises appeared on her exposed skin. The staff she was
carrying was simply left behind on the ground - it wouldn’t do to gain their trust if she was ‘armed.’
With her preparations finished, all that was left was for her to approach the targets. What happened then
would be one of three things.
Number one was she would be found out and killed. This outcome was pretty unlikely though. Even if
it did happen all that it would mean is the Mimic would come back and kill them off, then resummon her
and probably abuse her a bit for her failure. Not a big deal, all things considered.
The second and most likely thing to happen would be they would fall for it and try to protect her,
possibly escort her. She could then wring any potentially useful information out of them using her
demonic wiles and have her master come in and kill them afterwards. Actually, she might be able to do
that last part herself, but that meant burning them to a crisp. Doing that would surely earn her yet more
beatings.
She wasn’t actually looking forward to those, okay?
Xera appeared before the men while panting heavily, clutching her side and wearing robes torn so
thoroughly that they left little to the imagination. The men stared at her with surprise and wariness as
she called out to them for help. Just as planned, they let down their guard upon hearing her fake sob
story. But their gazes and expressions turned lecherous once they realized this beauty was alone, scared
and vulnerable. Indeed, out of the possible reactions they could make, they chose the outcome Xera was
hoping for the most. The third one.
A group of rather unsavory-looking men find a cute-faced, scantily-clad and outrageously proportioned
girl in a secluded place that was well removed from prying eyes. The succubus probably didn’t even
need to use her Demonic Seduction to entice them into assaulting her.
One of them held her arms behind her back and violently ripped off all her clothes. Xera silently named
him Grabby. He pushed her down to her knees with a knife against her throat and she responded
accordingly - by crying and whimpering. They fed Xera some bullshit lines like ‘don’t struggle, this is
payment for our protection’ while holding her at knifepoint. She almost laughed at their idiocy, but
managed to keep that from slipping out. The men then broke out into a squabble over who gets to go
first. It didn’t sound like this was the first time they’d done something like this, either.
I knew it, thought the succubus to herself. She had guessed the true nature of these four brutes correctly.
Not just their looks, but their body language, speech and facial expressions all gave off the feeling of
‘dishonest opportunistic bastards.’ She had a good eye for people and would often be able to pick out
scumbags like these four. These stereotypical goons who were easily swayed by their desires made for
easy prey. In fact, they seemed to emit a certain presence that would easily make one think of them as
bandits rather than adventurers.
Objectively speaking though, the difference between those two professions was paper thin. They all
attacked their victims for personal gain and sometimes broke into their homes (dungeons) with the aim
of robbing them blind. Pretty much the only thing that set them apart was their choice of targets. One
might argue adventurers served and protected the general public, but if they truly wished to do that then
they should have signed on as guards, soldiers or knights.
Saying banditry and adventuring were two sides of the same coin would not be too far removed from the
truth. The two walks of life seemed to blur together on more than one occasion. It wasn’t unheard of to
see actual bandits who were trying to escape their criminal past by starting anew as adventurers. Of
course the guilds would do background checks to weed them out, but it was inevitable some of them
would slip through the cracks. Others would start as adventurers and end up as bandits simply because
the power they gained went to their heads. There were even so-called ‘dark guilds’ that were essentially
organized crime syndicates.
The four bandit-like adventurers had finally finished their discussion. Their leader would be the first to
taste their new prize and Grabby would assist. The other two would have to patiently wait their turn
while keeping watch.
The leader lied down on the ground and took out his erect dick. Grabby then forced the ‘unwilling’ girl
to straddle him. The one below grabbed her flared thighs and roughly pulled her down while thrusting
upwards, going balls deep inside her in one smooth motion. His victim yelled out in pain and he noticed
a small trickle of blood seep out from her vagina. The thought that he was defiling a pure virgin seemed
to spur him on and he began pistoning in and out of her, complimenting her on how tight she felt.
Grabby also joined in by eagerly stuffing his own rigid member in her ass and spouting out lewd
remarks of his own.
As for Xera herself, she continued acting her part flawlessly. She screamed and struggled weakly while
sandwiched between her two assailants. Weak cries of ‘Please let me go!’ and ‘This can’t be happening!’
could be heard echoing through the corridor while tears ran streaming down her face. Her upper body
was bent forward while she was relentlessly pounded from below and from the rear, causing those
massive breasts to sway back and forth like a pendulum. The demonically-enhanced stench of sex
permeated through the men’s makeshift campsite.
Under such circumstances, the other two couldn’t hold it in any longer and abandoned their watch, their
reason already clouded by the mini-orgy that was happening right next to them. One of them roughly
grabbed onto the girl’s blonde hair and shoved his dick into her screaming mouth. Still holding onto her
hair for leverage, he began to eagerly face fuck her. The head of his penis bumped against the back of
her throat causing her to gag and cough around it, which only served to provide yet more stimulation.
The last one had to be satisfied with a forced handjob. He took one of her slender arms and made her
wrap her fingers around his member. The sweaty, oddly hot and deliciously tender digits proved to feel
far better than he was expecting. He was thoroughly delighted when the poor girl ‘got the message’ and
began expertly jacking him off on her own accord.
The gang-bang went on for about five more minutes at a fervent pace, the four men devolving into
nothing more than fuck-hungry beasts as time went on. Once the succubus was certain she had them
completely under her control, she decided to stop wasting time and finish things off. She didn’t
particularly care for the act itself. Sex was a weapon and nothing more. While it was possible to feel
pleasures of the flesh, such things paled in comparison to the sheer satisfaction and joy she felt when
taking in copious amounts of bodily fluids. Succubi craved semen and nothing more.
Which also meant that it would be a shame if she left that last guy be satisfied with her hand. Her
Energy Drain would be far more effective if he came inside her body, but all her other holes were
currently occupied. Not that it was much of a problem for a shapeshifter, though. She grew a wide gash
flanked with distinctive lips on the palm of her hand. She pressed the new opening against the rock-hard
dick, allowing it to slip inside her hand. The malleable flesh of her wrist and forearm stretched and
bulged obscenely as it gave way to the intruder’s girth. She kept pushing forward until it was completely
wrapped in the walls of her hand-pussy.
One might think these men would see the freakish display happening before them and run away
screaming. Unfortunately for them, their heads were so filled with pleasure that they could get punched
in the face and still not realize it. Even the guy penetrating an arm could barely process anything beyond
the sudden increase in pleasure.
The experienced succubus then began rhythmically undulating and contracting all of her filled openings,
massaging the male organs trapped inside the fleshy prisons and bringing them to a near-instant,
simultaneous orgasm. Four streams of semen loaded with life force then poured into her as if on cue.
One into her pussy, a second up her asshole, a third down her throat and a fourth into her freakish love-
canal of a forearm. The succubus merely hummed pleasantly around the man meat lodged in her mouth
as she slowly sucked the very life out of her ‘assailants.’
The four of them were gradually turned to lifeless mummies over the next 15 minutes. She then got up
and prepared to dress herself, but was rudely interrupted.
“What are you doing, Snack?”
“Ack!?”
The succubus let out a stupid voice when she heard her master’s voice. She slowly turned around when
she realized the Mimic was standing right next to her. It clearly saw her standing naked over the corpses
of the four men she was supposed to interrogate.
“Uhm, I was,” she stammered,” that is…”

“No information?!” it asked, almost accusingly.
“No, Master. They attacked me and I had to-”
*SMACK*
You have suffered major blunt trauma. HP -76.
The Mimic hit her on the side of her head with one of the adventurers’ discarded weapons - a small one-
handed mace. The force of the blow caused Xera to stagger and fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Stupid!” it yelled at her. “Don’t lie!”
Of course it would realize it had been deceived. Not even it was that big of a moron. It had actually
come back to check on her a few minutes ago and saw the bizarre scene of the men turning to skin and
bones with her in the middle of them. It didn’t quite comprehend what was going on at first and
wondered if it should interfere. But since Xera did not call for help it assumed there was no trouble.
Then the humans fell to the ground like a bundle of sticks while she was smiling widely to herself. At
that point it was pretty clear she had killed these people completely on purpose. And now that it had a
closer look, it could confidently say ‘devoured’ was more accurate.
“Did Snack just want to eat them?!” it pressed. The familiar seemed to hesitate as to what to say. So it
forced her with an order. “Answer without lies!”
The contract meant orders had to be fulfilled to the best of her ability. While broad or unspecific orders
could be taken advantage of, direct and simple ones like that were impossible to worm herself out of.
“Yes, Master,” she replied. “I just wanted to eat them.”
That was the truth of the matter. She wanted to devour these men for the simple purpose of having a bit
of fun. The bit about squeezing information out of them was a plausible excuse, but nothing more.
“So my Snack lied to me?”
The succubus braced herself for the next hit.
“Yes, Master.”
However, the beating did not continue. She dumbly stared at the Mimic while it stood there idly with a
bloodied mace in its tongue.
“Don’t lie to me again,” it continued. “Lying to me is bad. Very not tasty. So don’t!”
Xera dropped her shoulders and averted her gaze. Succubi lie and cheat all the time, it was within her
nature. Deceiving people, especially her previous masters, was something Xera had done hundreds,
possibly thousands of times with a confident smile on her face. Yet hearing it put in such a puerile and
nonsensical way as ‘very not tasty’ somehow made her feel ashamed.
“Stupid!” it repeated. The succubus had to admit, being called that by this retarded chest was not exactly
a good feeling.
“If you wanted to eat, then you should have said so!”
Xera’s eyes widened. She turned to face her master with an extremely shocked expression.
“Then… Master isn’t angry because I killed these men?”
“No. Snack wanted to eat, so Snack ate. That instinct is very tasty. Would have done the same.”
This was… praise? The tortured familiar could scarcely believe it, but this seemed to be the case.
Now that she thought about it, why did she even try to deceive it in the first place? Her current master
was not a man, but a monster. Eating and murdering people is something it did on an almost daily basis,
and with great gusto. Of course it would have no issue if its subordinate did the same. Therefore, she had
absolutely no reason to hide her intentions from it in the first place!
“But lies were not tasty at all! So no more lies!” it demanded in a childish tantrum.
A faint smile drifted onto her bloodied face. Lies were not tasty. In other words, as long as Xera properly
stated her intentions then she would likely be allowed to do as she pleased. This arrangement might not
be as bad as she initially thought.
“Understood Master. I will be more considerate in the future.”
But she forgot about one very important aspect of this ‘arrangement.’
“Good. Now is snack time!”
She had slighted a master who knew no compassion or mercy and had yet to be punished for it.
“Eh? Huh? But I- ” she tried to plead her case, but it was too late. The red tongue was already coiled
around her feet while she was still on the ground. It then pulled them into its open maw, dragging the
succubus’s cushiony rump across the floor. She watched in abject horror as the mismatched rows of
teeth slammed shut, biting her legs off in one move.
“Aaaaaargh!” she screamed.
You have been dismembered. HP -83.

Maximum HP reduced by 75.
“My fucking legs! Nnnngh! Why is it always with the legs?! Haaaahn!”
She wailed in half-pain half-pleasure while rolling around on the ground. It was impossible to get used
to the pain and shock of having her limbs violently ripped off no matter how many times it happened.
The stumps of her legs let out crimson blood all over the floor, but not as much as one would expect. A
demon’s body was a construct of flesh, muscle and bone. They did not possess a large number of the
internal organs one would expect from a living being, like the heart, liver, kidneys or intestines. The
blood they let out when injured was more or less decorative, too. They wouldn’t just up and die from
having a leg or two chopped off, but it still hurt like a bitch.
That inhuman vitality was almost a curse in Xera’s case. It meant she wouldn’t get the brief reprieve of
an easy ‘death’ that easily. Even then she’d just be re-summoned and re-eaten time and time again until
her master was satisfied.
Of course, this initial dismemberment was simply the beginning. The Mimic spent the next several
minutes slowly and meticulously chewing on her various bits until she was banished back to the
Beyond. Some weird juice squirted out from her lower half a few times during the process. The
oblivious chest still had no idea what that was even though it happened regularly during snack time. It
just assumed it was part of her being a demon and didn’t particularly mind it.
Why would it? The slimy liquid was just as sweet as the rest of her, after all.
Age 3 months AGI 71
Guild END 108
620/620 (+1.2/
HP INT 104
sec)
520/520 (+0.6/
MP WIS 65
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 5 40%
Storage 4 13%
Biomass 2 56%
Shapeshift 6 43%
Stealth 4 78%
Sword Mastery 6 2%
Ruin Mastery 4 60%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Frostbite
Dark Explosion
(20) Urges 3
Xera was brought back to ‘life’ a mere 10 seconds and 260 MP later. The succubus had fully prepared
herself for yet more snack time, but it seemed like that wasn’t on the Mimic’s immediate agenda.
“Wait here,” it commanded.
“Yes, Master.”
It seemed that the Mimic would be using its corpse-related Skill on those four. It sat right next to the pile
of corpses and a number of transparent purple tentacles appeared from its faux-wood surface. They
pierced one of the bodies and swiftly drank what little remained of its flesh, leaving behind little more
than a pile of chunky ash. It was a scene the succubus had seen multiple times, so she was loosely aware
of what was going on, including the hefty MP cost of that weird Skill. That would explain why it didn’t
want to devour her over and over right now - it would much rather eat those corpses than eat her.
Xera felt slightly irked at this realization. This wasn’t because she was disappointed that ‘snack time’
did not continue, okay? It’s not possible to be jealous of a bunch of dried up skeletons, alright? She just
felt awkward that her master was taking her sloppy seconds like that and didn’t want to particularly stare
at the gruesome act, so she turned around on the spot and waited for it to finish.
The Mimic was likewise sitting patiently, waiting for its MP to recover. The first use of Cadaver
Absorption failed as expected, but at least the Skill seemed to be usable on these leftovers. It seriously
doubted the Skill would demonstrate its full effects, however. These corpses technically had everything
attached, but they looked even less delectable than those ghouls. Still, it wouldn’t do to just pass them
over.
However, the MP limitation was getting to be a problem. The INT stat was growing steadily, but WIS
was falling behind, meaning the automatic recovery was lacking. This wasn’t an immediate concern
since the Mimic was in no particular rush and it didn’t mind sitting idly while the MP recovery did its
thing, but that didn’t mean this would always be the case. Xera, for example, became quite useless if she
ran out of MP in the middle of a fight.
The animate chest had witnessed the sight of its familiar running out of MP just before she could finish
off the ghoul. The undead creature then leaped on top of her and ended up seriously injuring her body. It
very nearly killed her before the Mimic could slice it into ribbons. It had to stop playing with its gold to
do that, which made it a bit irritable. This was not a particularly tasty situation, but it proved a point.
Running out of MP in combat could mean death. And if the Mimic should need to use magic to fight,
then it would run dry extremely quickly.
“Snack,” it called. “I want more magic.”
The bare-bones explanation somehow managed to get its point across, giving the demoness a good idea
of what it was talking about. She hated to admit it, but she was getting better at translating from
Mimicanese.
The succubus was keenly aware of the MP issues that all Warlocks faced. How could she not be? Every
single one of her previous masters was a Warlock, after all.
“Have you tried using a staff?” she suggested. If it were any other Warlock, they might think she was
patronizing them. However, Xera was being dead serious. She had no doubt that the idiotic chest she
called a master did not even consider something so basic.
“Is staff tasty?” it said, quizzically. The succubus’s educated guess was dead on.
“It’s like a sword for magic,” she explained. “Holding one when using Spells can increase their damage
or reduce their MP cost, depending on the quality of it.”
“So... tasty?”
“Yes, Master. Tasty,” she confirmed with a sarcastic tone. This time she was patronizing it. Not like the
moron would notice the not-so-subtle meaning hidden in her voice anyway.
“Good! How do I get the tasty thing?!”
“Here, one of these guys had a staff.” She picked up the weapon in question off the floor and presented
it to her master. It almost looked like a walking stick when compared to her fancy succubus staff, but it
was a staff nonetheless. The apple-sized blue crystal ball at the top of the plain wooden shaft was
evidence enough to that effect.
“This? Ah, I’ve eaten many of those. Not very tasty,” it said dismissively. This time it meant that
literally. Wood did slightly fill up its belly, but the flavor was not at all to its liking. Not bad, but also not
good would be the way to describe it.
Xera thought it would be best to point something out. “Master, you don’t eat this,” she said. ”You just
hold it when casting magic.”
“Like Snack does?”
“Yes, Master. Just like-”
Realization hit her and she immediately stilled her tongue, but it was too late. Words spoken out loud
could not be taken back. And indeed, the Mimic accepted the staff from the succubus’s hands. Using her
own hands, that is. The albino mockery of Xera’s true form had appeared from inside the chest. Seeing it
curiously hold a staff the wrong way around somehow made it worse. And how come those nipples were
always erect?
“Fffffuuuuuuck!” screamed the real Xera while turning around as quickly as she could. However, this
time she was more upset at herself rather than the simple Mimic. Of course it would do things exactly
like her, right down to the body. She walked into that one all on her own.
*Swish swish*
She could hear it swinging its new toy around. But then she had a thought which brought chills down her
spine. It probably wanted to try out its new weapon. And there were no suitable targets around, except
for one.
“Shadowbolt ~♪!” came her own oddly cheery-sounding voice from behind. In the next instant, she was
hit in the back by the Spell in question.
You have been hit by a mass of darkness. HP -88.
Xera screamed in pain while falling to her knees. Sticky demon blood and flesh flew around the place as
the Shadowbolt took a literal piece out of her lower back. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. Right
now her lower back was missing a chunk of flesh roughly the size of a fist.
But the Mimic wasn’t done. It dropped the staff on the ground with a slight cluttering sound.
“Shadowbolt ~♪!” it called out again.

The Mimic verified that the Spell was ever so slightly stronger with the staff equipped. It didn’t seem to
reduce the MP cost, but it was still something! It picked the weapon back up and did a little celebratory
dance. Its spider legs tilted the milky-white, chest-bound woman left and right while she held the staff
above her head with both hands. The massive milky-white breasts swung left and right indecently. It also
started chanting “Staff is tasty ~♪! Staff is tasty ~♪!” over and over for no good reason.
Xera was becoming even more and more mortified. She stared at the spectacle the same way one might
stare at a hurricane. Her own oddly melodic voice was singing such an absolutely retarded tune while a
mockery of her body was performing a fittingly childish ‘dance.’ Eventually she managed to tear her
eyes away from whatever that was and turn away from it entirely.
“Please, just kill me now,” she muttered sarcastically.
“Okay!” called out the Mimic in good humor. It was in a good mood, so it decided to grant the familiar
this simple request. Xera, understandably, immediately tried to stop it.
“NO! I didn’t mean-”
But it was too late. Words spoken out loud could not be taken back.
“Shadowbolt ~♪!”
“GUHAAAHA!” she screamed. That third spell to her back made her fall flat on her face.
“Hm? Still not dead?” asked the Mimic. Indeed, she wasn’t. She was barely alive with only 2 HP left.
“It’s okay, I fix ~♪!” it added. It then started walking closer to her. Xera was too busy coughing up blood
and red goop to protest. She could only turn her head just enough to see her own face looking down on
her with a dumb smile. It let out a “See you soon ~♪!” before bringing down the wooden shaft of its new
staff towards her head.
Oddly enough, the succubus found herself mirroring that goofy smile right before the staff cracked her
head open. She had realized that she was her own worst enemy. In more ways than one.
The Mimic, on the other hand, was happy. It learned a new thing and helped its Snack out with a request.
But then it got a bit sad when it realized it had used every last drop of its MP on that third Spell. That
would delay the absorption process, not to mention it would need to summon its familiar yet again. Well,
ultimately it just had to sit still and play with its coins while the automatic MP recovery did its thing, so
it wasn’t that big of a deal.
Just to be sure, it double-checked its Status, but its Ruin Mastery didn’t budge. It seemed that using its
own familiar as a punching bag wouldn’t actually raise its Mastery Skills. Well, she was born of its own
MP so doing that was more or less like hitting itself. Which, it knew for a fact, also couldn’t be used to
train up Skills.
And so it spent the next half hour or so idly regenerating its MP while playing with the gold coins. First
it summoned back Xera and told her to keep checking the camp for anything else that looked useful.
Then it absorbed one more corpse, which ended in another failure. The third one, however, was a hit.
Your Cadaver Absorption was a moderate success!

12% of the target’s highest Skill Proficiency has been added to your own.
The body’s deteriorated condition has weakened this effect by 40%.
Proficiency level increased. Dagger Mastery is now Level 2. STR +2. DEX +6.
The Skill itself was not that great, but the Attribute gains were tasty. Now that the Mimic thought about
it, it was still carrying that oddly shiny dagger it had picked up when it was still Level 10. It used the
fake Xera’s white hand to reach into its Storage and pull it out. The weapon in question had a deep blue
gemstone embedded in the pommel. The short steel blade glistened with an unnatural light blue sheen
and a faint icy fog drifted down from it.
This was a magic weapon, enchanted with the power of ice. Anyone stabbed by this would have their
insides freeze over, causing additional HP damage. The downside was that it needed more maintenance
than plain steel blades, not to mention it was almost 5 times more expensive. The simple Mimic
obviously had no idea about any of this. It was just coveting the shiny thing that looked like a tiny
sword.
However, now that it had the knowledge of Dagger Mastery, it realized this short blade was more suited
to ambushing targets. It could be thrust in and out of flesh with much greater ease and speed. Xera’s
white, tender hand changed into a grotesque red tongue-tentacle as it gave the weapon a few
experimental swings. The actual Xera stiffened up when she heard the familiar swishing sounds, but felt
relief wash over her when it became obvious it didn’t feel like stabbing her.
Well, not for the moment, at any least.
After some more waiting around, Xera had finished checking all the belongings.
“I’ve found a few… ‘tasty’ things, Master,” she reported.
“Show me!” it replied eagerly.
“They were carrying a few low-grade Healing Potions. Er, you do know what a Healing Potion is,
right?”
“Yes,” it confirmed. “Glass thing with liquid. Gives HP when I eat it. Moderately tasty.”
It was already familiar with this alchemical product. A few of those potions were present in the satchels
and pockets of its previous victims and spilled out into its mouth while it chewed on the remains.
“Oh okay. Here they are.”

Xera held out three crystal vials. The Mimic put them in its mouth, crunched down on them and
swallowed. Just because it knew what potions were didn’t mean it would realize you could save them for
later. Food was meant to be eaten before it got all rotten and un-tasty, after all.
As for the succubus, she actually felt herself die a little on the inside. Just when you think that chest
would behave rationally, it proved you wrong. She was still overestimating it. Or underestimating,
depending on the point of view. All that was left for her to do was let out yet another sigh before
continuing with her findings.
“There were also two swords over there that you’d probably like.”
She pointed to the unsheathed blades on the ground a few meters away from her. The simple blades
looked practically brand new. The Mimic was quite enthusiastic about this as the ones it had were
woefully unmaintained and horribly over-used. They were actually starting to rust and would snap in
half any day now.
“I also found some more gold for you - 63G in total.”
Next, she took out a small purse and dumped its contents on the floor. Dozens of coins rained down
from it. They hit the brick-covered ground with a bit of a racket, then bounced or rolled all over the
place. Rather than being annoyed, the Mimic simply marvelled at the sight. It began picking them up
one by one with great glee, carefully appraising each piece before putting it safely away inside its
Storage.
Most of them were tiny ones, barely bigger than a thumbnail and just as thick, worth 1G each. A good
number of them were also slightly bent from changing hands so many times. The rest were about twice
as large in diameter and a tiny bit thicker, worth 5G apiece.
“They had a map, too,” she added with a tinge of hope in her voice. “The thing you’re looking for is
actually less than minute away from here.”
However, saving the best news for last proved to be a mistake. The Mimic was too enthralled by the
shiny things to pay her any attention. Eventually it calmed down enough to process the good news. After
she repeated them, of course. It still had one more corpse to absorb, though, so it went over to do just
that.

12% of the target’s highest Attribute has been added to your own.
The Charisma (CHR) Attribute has been created through a special action. CHR +7.
It quickly verified this mysterious new addition to its Status.
Charisma (CHR)
Slightly increases your attractiveness.
If it was the Mimic from two weeks ago, it would definitely scoff at this seemingly useless Attribute.
The one in the present instead considered how effective Snack was at deceiving others with her looks. If
it could become an irresistible treasure chest, then it would undoubtedly be much easier to fool its prey.
After all, it thrived on ambushing those blinded by greed, so something like this was sure to be useful.
Unfortunately, the monster was being a bit too optimistic for its own good. Even with 10,000 CHR it
would still be just a really clean and sparkly treasure chest and nothing more. This Attribute had almost
no impact on how an inanimate object looked, after all. It would be a different story for someone who
was naturally beautiful, however. For example, if Xera had a five-figure CHR Attribute she could make
both men and women alike fall madly and hopelessly in love with her with just a glance. A wink and a
smile would make them orgasm on the spot. Indeed, entire kingdoms would willingly line up to receive
the honor of having their life sucked out of them by such an unimaginable beauty.
Getting back on topic though, the only way CHR would be useful to the Mimic right now was if it
gained a new Job that could make use of this Attribute. Even if it morphed into half-a-Xera, the lower
half of that form would be a dead giveaway to anyone with half a brain. Indeed, it would probably
attract more ‘customers’ if it just stuck with its tried-and-true chesty visage.
Now that all four corpses were gobbled up and its MP was mostly replenished, it decided it was time to
move out. It went over to where Xera was waiting. The bored succubus picked herself up off the ground
when she noticed her master approach.
“We go,” said the Mimic. “Show me where the Dungeon Core is.”
Age 3 months AGI 71 CHR 7
Guild END 108
622/622 (+1.2/
HP INT 104
sec)
486/520 (+0.6/
MP WIS 65
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 5 40%
Storage 4 18%
Biomass 2 56%
Shapeshift 6 49%
Stealth 4 78%
Sword Mastery 6 2%
Dagger Mastery 2 12%
Ruin Mastery 4 60%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Frostbite
Dark Explosion
(21) Urges 4
Just as Xera had said, the heart of the dungeon was quite close by the little camp those adventurers had
made. It was definitely marked on the hand-drawn map they had brought with them. A significant
portion of the labyrinthine corridors had been mapped out in great detail, which looked odd considering
with how uneven and smudged the lines on it were. It was legible, but barely.
Xera guessed this was something those four had copied for themselves, but that was besides the point.
Even as poor quality as it was, the place where her master wanted to go was plainly visible. Their
destination was the only unmapped portion of the dungeon, with the words ‘Do not enter’ scribbled in
the blank space. And the two of them were standing at a T-shaped junction, right on the edge of that
space.
Behind them was the way they came from. To the right was a path that would take them nowhere in
particular. The way to the left stretched out into a straight corridor that led into the uncharted heart of
this dungeon. It looked pretty much exactly like the rest of the underground maze - stone brick walls and
floor, creepy statues and carvings visible along the wall and ghostly torches providing just enough blue
light to make their presence known. It was easy to see how someone might enter this place by accident if
they didn’t have one of these maps.
Which is probably why ‘DO NOT ENTER’ was written in large blocky letters on either side of the
passage in question with an eye-catching yellow paint. Grimy and steadily peeling off, but eye-catching
nonetheless.
“The core should be down this way, Master,” said the succubus.
The Mimic stopped playing with its expanded collection of gold coins and, much to her relief, shifted
back into its combat stance, swords at the ready.
“Go in front,” it ordered.
It sent its familiar ahead so that she can be bait for any ambushes or traps. Even if she was much more
fragile than itself, she could still be used as a meat shield. After all, she was expendable and her death
would be an inconvenience at most.
Also, the Mimic was more than a little worried about friendly fire. It had plenty of opportunity to watch
Xera use her magic throughout the dungeon, so it knew full well just how out of control those Pyroclasm
Spells could get. Being in that pyromaniac’s line of fire was not an attractive prospect, to say the least.
So it went against the common sense of adventuring parties and put the vulnerable Caster Job at the
front.
The succubus walked about 15 meters in front of her master like she had been doing until now.
However, unlike before, it was being strangely silent. She found herself looking over her shoulder a few
times to make sure it was still following her. The way that animate chest followed made for a rather
unsettling sight. Even the experienced demoness found the way it was quietly gliding along those eight
spider legs to be a bit creepy. If someone were to see the two of them right now, they’d undoubtedly
misunderstand the situation as a monster stalking an innocent young woman.
The corridor itself went on straight for a while and had several left turns, but there were no intersections
with other tunnels. Rather than a maze, this part of the dungeon was more akin to a spiral. Eventually,
the corridor ended in a rather plain stone archway with a wide hall on the other side of it. The
rectangular chamber was far more spacious when compared to the rest of the dungeon, more than 30
meters on each side. Four wide stone columns were spaced out evenly around the interior, likely holding
up the 4 meter tall ceiling.
And right in the middle of the room, on top of a circular marble altar, was the core. A glowing red
crystal ball, roughly one meter in diameter. At first glance it seemed to be sitting on top of its pedestal,
but closer a inspection revealed it was actually floating ever so slightly above it.
Xera entered the room boldly, her footsteps echoing throughout the chamber. Her master skittered in
silently behind her shortly after. As the succubus approached the core on the Mimic’s orders, she heard a
strange whimper and a rustling of chains. Looking to her right, she saw what appeared to be a young
human girl that was still in her mid-to-late teens chained up against the pillar.
The prisoner was sitting on the ground with arms bound tightly above her head by thick, rusty shackles
and chains. Her long, black, oily hair was stuck to her face, obscuring part of her features. She was
wearing what appeared to be leather armor that was mostly in tatters and left much of her pale, bruised
skin exposed. The odd posture she was in seemed to emphasize her moderately-sized, albeit perky
breasts.
“Please! Help me!” she shouted with a voice halfway between a plea and a cry.
“Sure,” replied the ‘adventurer’ with a smile on her face.
“Really? You’ll release me?!”
“Yep! Release you from life, that is!”
“... Huh?”
“Fireball!”
The sudden Spell crashed into the stone pillar, wrapping the lowest part of it in a plume of bright red
flames.
“What are you doing?!” screamed the prisoner.
“I could ask you the same thing, hmm?”
In the split second between chanting the Spell and it hitting its target, the black-haired girl had slipped
out of her restraints and climbed up onto pillar to avoid it. She was sticking to the smooth stone bricks
while upside down with her arms and legs spread out, like a cross between a human, a frog and a
cockroach.
“Ah,” she exclaimed after realizing the position she was in. Xera simply smiled mischievously.
“Good evening, miss dungeon master.”
The ‘prisoner’ clicked her tongue disapprovingly.
“Tch, figured me out did you?”
“Puh-lease, honey. I knew the instant I heard you. You’re 500 years too early to try and deceive the likes
of me!”
“Hyu hyu hyu hyu hyu!” came the odd laugh. “That’s why I love humans! They always spout such
nonsense right before-”
The girl, or rather the thing that looked like a girl was rudely interrupted by another Fireball that flew
straight at her face. She leaped off the pillar and landed to the ground with a small roll while implying
Xera was prone to having intimate relations with a horse. Incidentally, there was that one time that
involved a centaur, so technically speaking she was half-right.
The dungeon master then ran straight at the succubus, crossing the 10 or so meters between them in an
instant. She punched her in the throat to interrupt her chanting and swept her feet in the next instant.
Xera landed on her back with a thud and a yelp, dropping her staff in the process. Her attacked then
immediately straddled her stomach and pinned her wrists to the floor. She loomed over her captive
victim with a triumphant smile on her face.
“-right before I eat them,” she finished.
The black-haired woman’s mouth then opened unnaturally wide like her jaw had been unhinged. A
slimy and oddly familiar tongue poured out of it. She probingly licked Xera’s face, then retracted the
tentacle-like organ inside herself with a smack of her lips.
“Hyu hyu hyu hyu! You’re quite tasty, you know that?”
“I have been told that before, yes.”
The dungeon master’s eyes widened with surprise and she leapt forward, releasing Xera from her grip. A
trio of blades then sliced through the space she was occupying mere moments before.
“Huck!” cursed the Mimic. Its ambush was dodged and the opportunity to use Assassinate was now
gone. It wasted so much time maneuvering into the right position, too!
“Master?!” shouted Xera through the thought-link. “Why didn’t you use magic!?”
“... Ah!”
Xera could almost see the proverbial lightbulb go off in its mind when it did that. She silently asked
herself if this retard had seriously forgotten that it could use magic, but immediately let go of that
pointless question. Now was not the time for such thoughts. She quickly scrambled to her feet and
picked up her staff.
The dungeon master had already retreated to a safe distance of about 18 meters. The creature before
them had already reverted back to its base form, revealing its identity as a monster. The head, arms and
legs still retained their human appearance. Even the hair was the same unruly collection of black strands
that naturally draped over her face. However, the skin was so white and flawless that one could easily
mistake it for porcelain. This illusion was solidified by the pure white eyes that had no irises.
However, what clearly set her apart as a monster was what she was ‘wearing.’ The ruined leather
trappings had transformed into what appeared to be a pile of meat and bone masquerading as a loose-
fitting strapless dress. A grotesque collection of blood-red muscles, distended blood vessels and even a
few misshapen eyes covered its surface. They all seemed to crawl and pulsate all on their own. The
horrifying garment had a short skirt made out of red flesh that had several misshapen human-like teeth
poking out of it at random. It hung down to the monster’s knees, allowing the bare, pale feet underneath
to practically shimmer in the dim lighting.
This was indeed, as Xera guessed, the dungeon master. She was a Fleshmaiden, an intelligent and
cunning shapeshifter that liked dark and damp places. Once one of these had established a lair, they
would practically shut themselves inside it. It was a reclusive species that did not enjoy being out in the
open at all. However, those who would dare intrude on this monster’s sanctum would not be allowed to
escape with their lives. Which is probably why the only entrance to the room was sealed shut by a stone
slab that rose up from the ground.
“I see,” she said in a calm, clear monotone while glaring at the Mimic. “You brought one of mine.”
The monstrous woman thought of herself as the mother of all creatures in this dungeon. That notion was
not entirely true, but it wasn’t entirely false either. Indeed, the only reason that mimics started appearing
in this dungeon was because because the Fleshmaiden had taken control of its core. The glowing crystal
ball that served as the heart of this place was influenced by its new owner, prompting the dungeon to
spawn the only shapeshifting species of monster it could. That was, of course, merely the beginning.
Eventually the whole underground labyrinth would evolve and change to suit its new ruler, including the
walls and layout of the place.
“ A strong one, too,” she continued. “Isn’t this the same child that grew too large for this place? You’re
controlling it, aren’t you?!”
“Found me out, did you?” smiled Xera. This creature in front of her was clearly misunderstanding the
way their master-servant relationship worked and the succubus had no intention of dispelling it.
Her master, on the other hand, was too busy sizing up its prey to bother with the chit chat. The thing in
front was clearly not human, but a shapeshifter much like itself. This meant the insides were vastly
different from the outside, so traditional weak points like the heart, head, throat and lungs were unlikely
to work.
The Fleshmaiden reached inside the folds of her ‘dress’ and pulled out a pair of mithril daggers, one in
each hand. The silver-like blades glistened forebodingly with an oddly green sheen.
“You whore!” she wailed while lowering her stance. “How dare you take what is mine?!”
She charged forward with the same abnormal speed she displayed earlier, clearly aiming to finish off the
troublesome magic user first. However, she was blocked by the same trio of blades she dodged less than
a minute ago. They thrust through the space she was going to be in if she didn’t immediately skid to a
halt.
The Fleshmaiden’s mind rapidly changed gears at that. Even though the swords themselves were not that
great, the one wielding them could not be underestimated. If the Assassination attempt from earlier
succeeded then she would undoubtedly be in a bad spot. However, one does not simply sneak up on a
Fleshmaiden. They’re way too paranoid to trust only one pair of eyes and always have an extra two or
three of them along their bodies, covering all possible angles. Indeed, she had picked out the skulking
chest almost immediately, but did not expect it to attack her rather than the person she was holding
down.
And the Mimic would do that again. It took the initiative and pressed the attack. The flurry of tentacle-
guided blades struck at the Fleshmaiden, but they were all repelled. She had parried all the blows
beautifully even though she only had two blades to the Mimic’s three. It didn’t stop there and kept
swinging wildly at her, coming at her from all sorts of awkward angles. All its previous opponents were
overwhelmed by this approach, but they were only human. The Fleshmaiden’s arms and hands moved
with superior speed and skill while bending and stretching in ways no human arm could ever manage.
She was able to stand her ground against the chaotic onslaught.
The two kept exchanging blows as sparks flew off and metal-on-metal clanging reverberated through the
chamber. Xera was left with nothing to do in the meantime. Her master had given her a strict order to not
use any magic near it, so she was unable to do anything in this situation. Indeed, the chaotic nature of
her flames was one of the ways she used to ‘accidentally’ torch one of her previous masters. But that
was then, this is now. And right now she was left with no way of attacking, regardless of her intentions.
This was also likely the Fleshmaiden’s plan since Casters would hesitate to fire on their own allies.
However, it still meant that Xera was left undisturbed for the moment. She seized her chance and ran off
towards the core, clearly aiming to secure her prize while the current dungeon master was held at bay.
Her intentions did not slip the Fleshmaiden’s notice. The dagger-wielding monster decided to kick things
up a notch and stop that infuriating woman from trying anything funny. Truthfully, even though she
appeared to have her hands full, she was simply taking a cautious wait-and-see approach with her
opponent. Her superior speed and excellent kinetic vision actually gave her quite a bit of breathing
room.
She saw a gap within the Mimic’s wild swings and managed to thrust her dagger through it. The sharp
blade cut into the tongue on her left, sinking in about halfway through it and causing it to stop its
movements. She then followed up with another strike to the same place, severing it completely. The
slimy red tongue and the sword it was gripping both fell to the ground with a sputter of gooey yellow
blood.
One down, two to go.
Reeling at the sudden loss of limb, the Mimic didn’t have time to react before the middle one was sliced
off with three successive strikes. It realized the opponent’s aim and reeled in the last tentacle while
pulling back, but the Fleshmaiden would not allow that. She swung down fiercely with her whole upper
body, chopping it off just moments before it had disappeared inside the Mimic’s mouth.
However, while it was by no means a bad move to disarm her opponent, she ended up narrowing her
attention on the swords a bit too much. Her rushed downward swing had left her slightly off balance and
within centimeters of the Mimic’s natural weapons. It swiftly tied the its other two tongue-tentacles
around her shoulder and neck, pulling on her fiercely while lunging forward. It sank its jagged,
misaligned teeth deep into her side.
The Fleshmaiden wailed in agony. Her right arm, shoulder and the side of her torso were all inside the
Mimic’s maw. But so was her dagger. She thrust it upwards, piercing clean through the roof of its mouth.
The mithril blade stuck out from the inside of the imitation wood lid like an oversized nail. Satisfied
with the hiss of pain from her opponent, the Fleshmaiden tried to pull it out and keep stabbing the
insides of its mouth.
However, it wouldn’t budge. The monster had reflexively tightened the muscles around it, locking it in
place. It also wasn’t quite done with the piece of meat stuck in its teeth. It reared up on its spider legs,
lifting the captive Fleshmaiden off the ground. It then swung her around to its side like a wet rag before
slamming her down on the floor with a disgusting wet thud. The force of the impact severed what little
flesh connected the right side of its victim’s upper torso to the rest of her.
At least that’s what it seemed like. The Fleshmaiden had willingly detached herself from those jaws,
much like a lizard shedding its tail to escape. She rolled on the ground and scrambled to her feet. Her
quick wits once again re-evaluated the situation. While she did have the upper hand in speed and
dexterity, her opponent had her outclassed when it came to raw power and durability. Facing it head-on
was not impossible, but it was a much wiser decision to cut off its reason to fight. Her new position put
her in a perfect spot to bypass the still-reeling Mimic and take care of that troublesome Pyromancer.
The woman in question was busy banging on the transparent pink barrier the dungeon core had thrown
up to protect itself. It was an automated security system of sorts. There’s no way the core would allow
anyone except its rightful owner approach it, after all. And while it wasn’t capable of keeping that shield
up indefinitely, it would still take a long time to break through.
The Fleshmaiden made up her mind and charged swiftly at the girl. Xera noticed her approach and
immediately began chanting a Spell, but she didn’t make it in time. The gap between them was closed in
almost an instant and a mithril dagger was stuck deep into her chest. Right where her heart would have
been if she was human.
“I will have you pay for what you’ve done!” growled the Fleshmaiden while twisting her blade further
inside her target. However, the face her victim made wasn’t one twisted by pain or the fear of death.
Quite the opposite in fact. She was smiling with a wide, shit-eating grin that was proud of pulling off an
elaborate prank. She dropped her staff and gripped the dumbfounded Fleshmaiden’s arm with both
hands.
“Inferno,” she said, finishing her chant.
A swirling mass of fire enveloped them, burning away at both of their bodies. And even though they got
the same treatment, they had wildly different reactions. The Fleshmaiden wailed in pain while the
demon laughed maniacally.
That’s the trouble when dealing with immortal beings - they don’t hesitate to self-destruct. It didn’t help
that the being in question was also a masochistic pyromaniac on top of being a summoned demon. If
anything, it’s a surprise she lasted an entire week since her ‘awakening’ before she thought of setting
herself on fire.
The Inferno did not last long, however. The Fleshmaiden was a resilient monster that would not give in
so easily. She pulled her hand free and stabbed the succubus three more times in rapid succession before
her HP was completely depleted, cutting the effects of the Spell short. Xera’s charred body fell to the
ground while giving her killer the finger in a final act of defiance. It then broke apart into bright purple
particles that faded away into nothingness.
The Mimic had already recovered as best as it could. The cut off tentacles were regrown and the mithril
dagger was safely put away into Storage. It hesitated to approach the burning figure of the Fleshmaiden,
however. Fire was a natural enemy of both wooden treasure chests and living things in general, so it was
wary of approaching her.
When Xera’s Devouring Flames faded away a few seconds later, it revealed a shocking scene. The
Fleshmaiden’s burnt and charred skin was healing itself. The bitten off portion of her torso as well as her
right arm were growing back rapidly. She raised her left arm, pointing the dagger towards the Mimic.
“You’re next, traitor!” she bellowed.
Name Puddy Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress
Species Fleshmaiden STR 47 PER 31 Slime 25 MAX
Sex Female DEX 104 Fleshshaper 19 57%
Age 8 years AGI 110
Guild END 72
407/407 (+0.7/
HP INT 173
sec)
619/865(+1.4/
MP WIS 93
sec)
Skill List
Appraisal blocked.
(22) Urges 5
The Fleshmaiden may have been fooled by her own hubris at first, but she quickly realized the woman
she had killed was not actually human. There’s no way she would have shrugged off a dagger to the
heart like that if she was. The subsequent self-destruction proved that point even further. After all,
humans were creatures that clung desperately to life. She respected that though. You won’t last in this
world without the resolve to fight tooth, nail and tentacle for your survival.
The bottom line is that Pyromancer was a monster, which meant she was actually cooperating with the
Mimic. The chest had attacked her out of its own free will. It may even have been the mastermind
behind this little invasion into her lair. Her guess was spot on, although ‘mastermind’ was giving it
entirely too much credit.
Regardless, it had much to answer for. She even lost one of her trusty mithril daggers to it, but that’s
okay. All she had to do was carve it out of its wood-like hide.
And so, once the flames had subsided, the Fleshmaiden threatened the monster. Of course, that was
entirely to help heal her injured ego. After all, throwing words like ‘traitor’ at a moronic chest was about
as useful as pissing against the wind.
Leaving such stupid thoughts aside, she charged at it while swinging her dagger wildly. The Mimic had
already regrown its tentacles and picked up its dropped weapons, so it was ready for her. Or so it
thought. The Fleshmaiden ran straight through the trio of sword strikes. One was turned away by her
dagger, the second cut open her unarmed left hand and the final one left a gash on her shoulder. She
ignored the wounds and got right next to the chest-shaped body and stabbed at it with her remaining
dagger.
The instant she thrust her arm forward it opened its maw and threatened to eat her whole. The
Fleshmaiden was forced to stop her attack and pull back, lest she lose her other weapon as well. The
sudden change in momentum made her stagger, which was just enough for the Mimic to drive all three
swords into her shoulder, torso and thigh, depriving her of a devastating 235 HP. She pulled away from
it in a panic, but the Mimic was holding its swords with all its might and tried to pull her into the
opposite direction, towards its waiting maw. The girl-shaped monster’s malleable flesh was ripped apart
violently, sending indeterminate bits of red flesh and sprays of crimson blood flying all over the place. It
hurt like a bitch and cost her even more HP, but she managed to escape for the moment.
The Fleshmaiden had to admit she was underestimating it. Even in the middle of a fight it still found a
way to surprise her with an attack that was almost enough to kill her outright. She hated to acknowledge
it, but that thing’s combat instincts were the real deal. Even now it sensed her weakened state and chased
after her, trying to finish the job.
The huge wound on her thigh meant the normally faster Fleshmaiden could not run as freely as before
and she would surely be caught on flat ground. So she leaped at the nearby stone wall and stuck to it
using adhesive slime secreted from her palms and feet. She clambered up the 4-meter tall surface,
attempting to put some distance between herself and her pursuer. Even a few seconds would be enough
to pull herself away from death’s door.
However, the chest vehemently chased after her. It skittered up the wall after her using its imitation
spider legs as makeshift climbing picks. It stabbed their hard, chitin-covered tips between the roughly
hewn stone bricks, creating just enough of a hole in the aging mortar to make a foothold. It was a crude
method that it thought of roughly 3 seconds ago, but it was reasonably effective.
It’s prey expected this development, however. After all, would it really be that strange for a half-spider
half-chest to climb along the wall? Granted the method it used was vastly different from how actual
spiders climbed walls, but that was besides the point. The Fleshmaiden stopped going upwards and
instead turned 90 degrees to the right and moved quickly to the side.
The rapid change in direction slowed down the determined Mimic even further. Try as it might, it had no
chance of catching her under these conditions. It briefly considered dropping off and firing Spells after
her, but it was a risky move. Its opponent already proved to be more than capable of dodging or
interrupting magic, so the Mimic had serious doubts as to whether it would be able to get a shot off. To
make matters worse, the deep wounds it had left on that woman’s body were already closing up as if
time was running backwards.
This is not tasty.
The chest knew a thing or two about shapeshifting. Replacing lost limbs or closing up wounds did not
recover lost HP. The severed flesh and spilled blood both needed time to recover. Damaged tissue, on the
other hand, was still there even if the wound wasn’t visible on the surface The most it could do with its
current Skills was to supplement the missing bits of its limbs by shifting Biomass around or force its
wounds closed so they wouldn’t bleed as much.
But what this Fleshmaiden was doing was beyond that. She was regenerating. It looked similar, but any
shapeshifter worth its tentacles would be able to grasp the difference. She didn’t simply shuffle flesh
around. Entirely new muscle tissue grew rapidly on the spot, allowing her to restore both her body and
her HP at the same time. Whether this effect was due to a Skill, a Spell or came from the power of the
dungeon core was a complete mystery to the Mimic. But one thing was crystal clear.
This situation is very much not tasty!
Once the female monster had recovered enough, she did a 180 degree turn while still clinging to the
wall. She swung around one hand like she was an unreasonably fast clock and used that momentum to
slice two of the Mimic’s front spider legs off in one slash. The animate chest that was deprived of two of
its anchors then lost its balance and fell towards the ground. It just barely managed to kick off the wall
and rotate itself in a three-quarter circle so that it landed squarely on its legs, the missing ones already
being rebuilt out of spare Biomass.
The Fleshmaiden leaped down immediately afterwards with her body in perfect health. She pressed the
attack, but this time she did not rush in carelessly. She fought on the edge of the Mimic’s range, stabbing
away at its tongues or legs. It retaliated by slashing away at her limbs in turn. It grazed her a few times
but failed to land a telling blow on its quicker, more agile opponent. She didn’t make things easy, either,
and kept running around it in circles, constantly hounding it at all sides and not giving it a single
moment to rest. The Mimic used its magical perception to track her position and its flexible tongues
swiveled around it, covering it on all sides. And while it didn’t have any blind spots per-se, it still
struggled to keep up with her movements.
And so the two reached a sort of stalemate. One ran in circles and struck at any tentacles or spider legs
she could reach. The other one responded in kind and aimed at her arms and feet. It even managed to
chop them off a few times, but the Fleshmaiden took a page out of its own book and replaced them
swiftly through shape-shifting. Her seemingly endless regeneration would undoubtedly restore her HP
afterwards.
Severed limbs rained down in the area around them as they sliced at each other’s bodies. Indeed, the
surreal scene was a duel between monsters - creatures with enough vitality to fight until their last drop of
HP was gone. And looking at the way things were, the Mimic was undoubtedly going to be the first to
fall. Even though it did almost twice as much damage as its more nimble opponent, it was still not
enough. The enemy kept regenerating at a rate that was much faster than what it could dish out, but had
no way of recovering its own HP. The Fleshmaiden had the clear upper hand in a battle of attrition like
this.
Then why did she not do this at the start? If she was this strong, why did she feel the need to block the
Mimic’s blows and deprive it of its weapons? Was it because she wanted to kill off the Mimic’s Snack?
No, that was certainly the cause of it. After all, taking out the magical support first was something the
Mimic desperately tried to do. But Xera clearly was an offense-type Caster, which meant her magic was
a bigger threat.
This is regret?
The Mimic had passed on not one, but two whole chances to hit the Fleshmaiden with its own magic. It
was possible that the high output of Warlock Spells might be able to overpower that regeneration, but
there was no chance to use it now. The chest was under too much pressure, it couldn’t focus on casting
magic like this.
Regret is not tasty!
In fact, the current situation was so un-tasty it almost made it want to puke in disgust. Things could not
be allowed to carry on this way, otherwise it would surely be killed off. Therefore, it had to change the
circumstances so they became more favorable. Much like how it desperately threw that spear during its
struggle against the guard patrol, it needed to create an opening where one did not exist. It hastily threw
together a plan that just might work, then put it into action.
The first step was, essentially, the same thing it did against those guards.
Over on the Fleshmaiden’s side, things were going according to plan. She could only inflict 10 to 20 HP
worth of damage with her glancing strikes. After all, she was slashing at thin limbs rather than stabbing
at hearts, so her damage was quite low. Still, she was quite confident she wouldn’t lose. Her miraculous
regeneration was the product of her Mend Flesh Skill. It allowed her to essentially convert her massive
MP pool into HP. Like this, she was completely safe as long as her MP held out and she avoided getting
in dangerous spots that could overwhelm the speed of her regeneration. In the worst case scenario where
she ran out of MP, she could still run around the room for a few minutes until she recovered a sizable
chunk of it.
But it would seem that was not necessary. The Mimic had swung down at her with too much force and
missed her completely. Its sword slammed against the ground and broke off at the handle. The
Fleshmaiden smiled at this development. One sword less meant it could no longer attack nor defend as
vigorously as it had until now. So far it had managed to keep picking up its weapons with regrown
tentacles while keeping her at bay with the other two, but one of those was now useless.
The monster had permanently disarmed itself in its own over-eagerness.
The Fleshmaiden would not let this chance slip by. She moved in closer and, while staying wary of those
teeth, cut clean through one of the tentacles, albeit at the price of a sword strike to the right side of her
face. It didn’t deter her and she cut off the last tentacle, drastically cutting down on the Mimic’s attack
range. It then predictably lunge at her in an attempt to bite her, but she was well prepared for it this time.
The flesh-draped woman dodged nimbly to the left, going around its narrow side where those jaws had
no way of reaching her. She was absolutely sure that nothing the Mimic could do would injure her in this
position.
So imagine her surprise when she felt a sharp pain in her right side. That last sword hit to her head took
out two of her eyes that had yet to grow back. Her limited field of vision meant she didn’t notice that the
Mimic had stabbed her with her own mithril dagger. She had completely forgotten about the little
‘present’ she left inside its mouth during their first clash. But then the Mimic introduced yet another
dagger to the situation, this one stabbed right through her neck. A sensation of piercing cold
immediately spread through her throat as it began to ice over.
The Fleshmaiden had no idea where that last weapon came from, but she didn’t have time to worry
about it now. The weapons lodged in her started pulling her towards the Mimic, which undoubtedly
wanted to eat her whole. Her instincts screamed at her to run the fuck away.
So she tried to pull away, much like the last time she was in this position. The dagger lodged in her side
felt like it would slip out easily enough, but the one in her throat was different. The frozen wound caused
by the enchanted weapon meant it was firmly stuck in place. It was an extreme decision, but she
willingly detached her head to escape from the jaws of death that were rapidly approaching her.
The headless woman then ran away from danger at top speed. Most of the Fleshmaiden’s many eyes
were hidden inside her black hair. The only ones remaining were those on the front of her ‘dress.’ She
had to sacrifice her hearing, her expanded field of view as well as a chunk of her HP to get away, but it
was far better than being gobbled up. She could grow as many heads as she wanted, but no amount of
regeneration would save her from being digested inside the Mimic’s stomach.
And in a repeat of the last time this happened, she retreated up the wall. Her limited field of view was
then quickly rectified by several eyes that grew out of her back and shoulder. She was unused to creating
eyes on those areas of her skin, so it took her an extra second to get them just right. It was important that
she confirmed the distance between herself and the Mimic that was likely following her.
But when those eyes opened up, they revealed that she was wrong. The Mimic did not chase after her.
Far from it, it didn’t even budge from its spot. What it did was far more unsettling.
The Fleshmaiden immediately recognized the face of that infuriating Pyromancer from earlier. That
bitch was supposed dead, so how come she was sticking halfway out of the Mimic?! The skin, eye and
hair color were completely wrong, but there’s no way she would mistake shit-eating grin for someone
else! But wait, there’s more! The woman on the wall broke her tunnel vision away from that insufferable
face and realized that the Great White Whore was pointing a cheap-looking staff in her direction and a
weird aura of crackling electricity surrounded her body.
If she still had ears, she might have heard the Mimic finish chanting its spell.
“Ebonfire ~♪!”
Black flames enveloped the Fleshmaiden. The impossibly dark fire that erupted from her skin seemed to
suck in what little light there was in the dark chamber. The Mimic couldn’t even see her skin inside that
localized inferno.
Your target has been afflicted with Ebonfire.
The target in question fell to the ground, screaming like a banshee. She rolled around, desperately trying
to put out the flames. But she could not, for they were coming out from beneath her skin. The Mend
Flesh Skill was working overtime to try and keep her body alive, but any new flesh that formed was
immediately burned away. The heat was intense enough to overpower her rapid regeneration.
Your target’s soul burns away at their flesh. Target HP -140.
Overcome with exhaustion, the Mimic’s spider legs gave out and the bottom of its chest-like body
slammed against the ground. The half-a-Xera on top of it went limp and fell forward under the influence
of the accurately reproduced oversized breasts.

Proficiency level increased. Power Overwhelming is now Level 2. INT +4.
It seemed that spending every last drop of its 520 MP in one go proved to have a side effect on its body,
but it was worth it. The Mimic had managed to surprise its enemy by secretly taking out an enchanted
weapon from its Storage. It knew that, once driven into a corner, the Fleshmaiden would flee at all costs.
Even if it meant sacrificing parts of her body to do so. A strategy she has used twice already. So it aimed
for her head and forced her to leave it behind. All that was to buy it enough time to prepare the nastiest
attack it could muster - a supercharged Ebonfire spell.
Power Overwhelming
Description: The Warlock becomes a bastion of arcane might
Requirements: Level 10 Warlock, Ruin Mastery, INT 60
Type: Active
Cost: 20 MP
Range: Self
Effects: Ruin Spells will cost 400% more MP.
Ruin Spells will be 200% more effective.
The Ruin Spell effectiveness multiplier will increase by an additional 20% per Level of this
Skill.
Ebonfire
School: Ruin
Type: Targeted
Cost: 100 MP
Range: 25 Meters
Effects: Engulfs your target’s soul in flames, burning away their body over 6 seconds.
It was a gamble. Breaking its sword on purpose to lure her in, trying to get rid of those pesky eyes all
over her head, pressuring her so much that she focused her whole being on running away - it was all
done for this. Its one ace in the hole was that the Fleshmaiden did not know it could use magic. In some
ways it was glad it passed on those first two chances. A half-baked Spell would have only revealed its
identity as a Caster and ruined any chance of pulling something like this off. That much was made clear
by her impressive last-ditch effort to dodge its spell.
However, Unlike Fireball or Shadowbolt, this Spell did not fire out a projectile. The Mimic simply
needed to focus on a target that was both within its line of sight and within range. Finishing the chant
would then cause it to immediately catch on fire.The Fleshmaiden had absolutely no chance of pulling
off a feat like dodging the chest’s eyesight when she was more than 10 meters away from it.
And so, its improvised plan to confuse and befuddle the dungeon master came to fruition. Its rewards
were a terrifying amount of damage being dealt each second and an unceasing torrent of screams. Truly
a satisfying result that was almost as tasty as Snack.
But now wasn’t the time to laze around and bask in the afterglow. The Spell was about to expire and the
Mimic had to be ready in case that persistent creature actually survived it. It hurriedly picked itself up
off the floor and wobbled unsteadily towards the Fleshmaiden that was still clinging to life.
Your target’s soul burns away at their flesh. HP -140.

Level up!
Level up!
But she did not make it. An increase in Job Levels was definite proof that something had died. And
since the Mimic was still very much alive, that meant it was unquestionably the winner. All that was left
of the former dungeon master was an extremely charred pile of meat that was still gripping onto the
handle of her mithril dagger.
The Mimic felt relief wash over it. It slumped back to the ground and reverted back to a chest that was
battered and splintered all over. There would be no celebratory dance this time, it was way too tired for
that sort of excessive celebration. The only thing on its mind was to rest, so it naturally returned to its
dormant state.
The room seemed incredibly peaceful after that violent struggle. The Mimic had forgotten how quiet it
could get in this dungeon. Its thoughts drifted off towards the way it had lived its short life until this
moment.
Close fights like this were nothing new to this monster. It was forced to face off against groups of
adventurers multiple times while it was still a resident of this place. Honestly, that guard patrol fight
wasn’t even in its top 5 most dangerous scuffles since it walked away with most of its HP intact.
But all those close calls had one thing in common - the monster was able to overcome them through a
combination of luck and its opponents fucking up in some way. It vividly remembered that one Caster-
type adventurer. It was busy fighting with his friend and suffered numerous wounds before it drove a
sword through his chest. The Caster panicked and fumbled his Spell, causing it to backfire and explode
in his hands. If that adventurer had succeeded, then the Mimic would have died then and there. The fact
all its coin tosses so far came heads-up almost seemed like a miracle.
Indeed, today wasn’t the first time it had to fight desperately to survive, but it was the first time it
achieved victory completely on its own power. There was no lucky break and its opponent didn’t trip up
over herself. The Mimic had driven the Fleshmaiden into a corner by using her own habits against her. It
had won in a battle of wits, pure and simple. Thinking back on that intense struggle, it felt an odd surge
of emotion unlike anything else it had experienced. It wasn’t the joy of winning a tough battle nor was it
spite for the enemy that wounded it so badly.
No, it felt a very specific feeling. One that gave rise to two words, a phrase it never even knew about
until just now. It focused its magical perception on the smoldering remains of that formidable enemy and
it gave voice to that emotion.
“Thank you.”
It then drifted off into a peaceful slumber, which was just another in a long line of ‘firsts’ that had
happened today.
Mimic
Species STR 82 LCK 30 Mimic 25 46%
(Greater)
Warlock
Sex N/A DEX 88 MNT 62 16 42%
(+)
Guild END 113
62/647 (+1.3/
HP INT 118
sec)
19/590 (+0.6/
MP WIS 66
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 5 40%
Storage 4 20%
Biomass 2 56%
Shapeshift 6 61%
Stealth 4 86%
Sword Mastery 6 21%
Ruin Mastery 5 13%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Frostbite
Dark Explosion
(23) Urges 6
The Mimic woke up violently. It shot out several unrecognizable limbs from its underside that were
perhaps intended to be spider legs, but they came out so malformed and unrefined that they looked
closer to oversized noodles. They flailed and thrashed around for a few seconds before managing to tip
the chest over and make it fall on its backside with a thud. The sudden impact with the ground seemed to
snap the monster out of its haze and allow it to finally remember where it was and what it was doing
there.
The root cause of its distress, was that it had never experienced sleeping before. This sensation of
waking up was vastly different from the time it slipped into a 3-day Rank Up coma. Back then, its mind
seemed to wake up before the rest of its body did, which was the opposite of what happened just now.
The whole slumbering monster thing was vastly different from the other times it took a break. After all,
no matter how tired or hungry it was, its consciousness had never slipped out from under like that
before. It’s not like the thought of resting its body was strange, but this was the first time it needed to
rest its mind.
Or, to put it in another way, this was the first time it had a mind that needed rest. Up until a few days
ago, it was still a simple Lesser Mimic whose main concerns were not dying, how tasty things were and
where it could get more of the tasty things. But now it was a Greater Mimic, a creature that could form
coherent thoughts and had a much higher capacity for learning and understanding. Complicated
emotions like gratitude towards an enemy were now also within reach. And that higher-performance
cognitive ability demanded maintenance in the form of sleep.
That’s not how the Mimic saw it though. It almost felt cheated, to be honest. Why did it have to
suddenly lose consciousness like that? Didn’t such a thing make it incredibly vulnerable? If it knew
about this sooner, it would have not allowed itself to sleep in the first place. Or at the very least it would
have wanted to have its familiar around to guard it.
Eventually it would find out that it was actually quite a light sleeper and would wake up the instant it
detected something within the range of its magical perception or felt an odd vibration through the
ground it was ‘sitting’ on. It’s just that right now, it had no idea about any of that. Such things were not
present in this deathly silent chamber.
“Ack!” it exclaimed. It picked itself up off the floor and stood up. Or at least, as close to ‘standing up’ a
spider-chest could get. It quickly scanned the room and confirmed three points of interest. The dungeon
core was still there, the former Fleshmaiden was still dead and the entrance was no longer sealed shut.
Having made sure its safety was not in immediate danger, it allowed itself to relax a little. Only a little
though, it still had things it had to do.
First of all, it leaped up in the air and did a backflip, then performed a few stretches and trial shapeshifts
to make extra sure everything was in working order, which seemed to be the case. Its body actually felt
strangely refreshed and full of energy. If these were the after-effects of a good night’s rest, then perhaps
sleep wasn’t all bad. Well, it was still only day 2 of its life as a Greater Mimic. It would still need more
time to get used to its new species.
There was still the matter of the Fleshmaiden’s corpse though. It went over to it and tried to use Cadaver
Absorption, but the Skill failed to activate. Even if she did have a heart and brain, they would have been
completely destroyed by the Ebonfire Spell. Her body was in such a horrible state that the Mimic didn’t
even want to eat it the old-fashioned way. Which was a shame considering that the few pieces it bit off
her during the fight weren’t half bad. Perhaps a bit juicier than it preferred, but tasty all the same.
It felt better about it when it remembered to take her other mithril dagger, though. That one clean stab
she got on the inside of its mouth did a whopping 130 damage to its HP. It was therefore looking
forward to seeing if these new weapons would serve it well. These weapons also had the added benefit
of being shiny. Mithril was technically a precious metal also known as white gold, so the Mimc
instinctively felt a certain amount of satisfaction when it put both of those things in its Storage.
Next it checked its Status. It remembered it had managed to become a Level 16 Warlock before drifting
off to sleep, meaning it could unlock one additional Skill.
Skill List: Warlock

Unlocked Skills: Summon Familiar, Power Overwhelming
Available Skills: Blood Magic, Crystallize Magic, Demonology
Once again its options seemed oddly limited. At Level 5 it could only pick Summon Familiar. At Level
10 it had a bare-bones choice between Power Overwhelming and Blood Offering. It chose the former
because it seemed like the more useful one, even if it turned out to have bad compatibility with Stealth
and Assassination. Not to mention the other Skill looked more than a little dubious.
Blood Magic
Description: The Warlock offers up his own life force to power his magic
Requirements: Level 10 Warlock, END 60
Type: Toggled (OFF)
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Ruin and Domination Spells will consume HP instead of MP.
Reduces the HP Cost of Ruin and Domination Spells by 3% per Level of this Skill.
It was a Skill that demanded the Mimic willingly sacrifice its HP to use magic. There’s no way the
monster would agree to something like that, though. Preserving MP was important, but keeping HP
above 0 was its top priority. It may have been a different story if it had the power of regeneration like
that Fleshmaiden or maybe the healing magic that adventurers were seen using, but such things were
beyond its reach for the moment. It might reconsider its choice if it gained some method of instantly
recovering its HP.
And then realization hit it like a whale crashing into a rowboat.

Potions. The magical red liquid that would miraculously close wounds and restore HP. Those three vials
it crunched yesterday would have been incredibly helpful in the fight it just went through. It finally
understood why those humans kept the tasty thing bottled up rather than drink it immediately. Healing
potions were not food, they were medicine. Okay, it didn’t use word ‘medicine,’ exactly. That much was
still a foreign concept, but at least it recognized them as ‘tasty thing that makes the pain go away.’ Close
enough, right?
Regret was not tasty. It had wasted more than a few of those life-saving vials during its time, completely
oblivious to the fact that it could save them for later. But now that it was aware of it, it made up its mind
to keep a ready stock of them inside its Storage. The importance of preparation was yet another lesson it
had picked up during this dungeon crawl, among other things. It truly felt a smidgen of gratitude
towards the Fleshmaiden for showing it just how conceited it had become.
Ah, but it was getting side-tracked. It still had two new Skills to check up on!
Crystallize Magic
Description: Binds magic spells to a more permanent form, allowing it to be stored for later
use
Requirements: Level 15 Caster Job, INT 90, WIS 60
Type: Active
Cost: 0 MP
Range: Self
Effects: The next Area Effect Spell will have its MP Cost increased by 25%.
The next Area Effect Spell will be stored temporarily inside a conjured Spell Crystal.
Shattering a Spell Crystal will unleash the stored Area Effect Spell.
Spell Crystals will last up to 6 minutes per Level of this Skill before disappearing.
Another complicated Skill with a lot of weird restrictions. However, its effects did seem to be worth the
trouble. If the Mimic could prepare a bunch of these crystals in advance, it wouldn’t need to chant at all.
All it had to do was keep them in its Storage and then throw them out at the right moment. However,
that seemed limited to only Area Effect Spells, of which it currently only had two.
Mass Panic
School: Domination
Type: Area Effect
Cost: 50 MP
Range: 5 Meters
Effect: Sends all living things in the immediate area into a magically-induced panic attack.
Mass Panic had the problem that it only affected the area around the caster. If the enemy was already
that close, then there’s a good chance they would be able to interrupt the chant. But if that was sealed in
a Spell Crystal, it would eliminate that possibility. It should even be possible to throw the crystal and
drastically increase the range. The usability of this Spell would go way up!
Dark Explosion
School: Ruin
Type: Area Effect
Cost: 120 MP
Range: 25 Meters
Effect: Causes a violent shock wave of darkness at a target area.
The force of the Spell will forcefully repel all matter within 3 meters of the target area.
Grows in power in dark places or at night, gaining up to 50% additional force depending on
the environment.
Dark Explosion on the other hand had a rather lengthy chant that took 3 or 4 seconds to complete,
significantly longer than something like Ebonfire or Shadowbolt. Therefore, preparing the Spell in
advance would allow the Mimic to throw it out instantly at the opportune moment! A strategy that fit in
perfectly with its dirty fighting. Would the other Skill be able to compete with that?
Demonology
Description: The study of demons and demonic rituals
Requirements: Level 15 Warlock, Level 3 Summon Familiar, WIS 60, MNT 60
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Increases the Cost of Summon Familiar by 2% per Level of this Skill.
Allows the Warlock to contract and summon 1 additional demon through the Summon
Familiar Skill at Level 1 of this Skill.
Allows the Warlock to contract and summon 1 additional demon through the Summon
Familiar Skill at Level 7 of this Skill.
That did indeed seem to be the case. The succubus had proved to be extremely useful when it came to
infiltration and deception. Her magic was nothing to scoff at either, but she was sorely lacking when it
came to close quarters combat. Therefore, if the Mimic had another demon under its command to fill
that gap, they would be able to fight far more efficiently as a group. It even had the added boon of
allowing it to use more MP during the summoning, meaning its demons would grow steadily more
powerful.
There is strength in numbers. This was the simple truth the chest had gleaned from its fights against
adventurers. And it had experienced it first hand. It was highly likely that the chest would have perished
in the encounter with the Fleshmaiden if Xera wasn’t there. It would be a long time before the Skill
reached Level 7, but sometimes the wait made the meal all the more tasty.
Ah, but Crystallize Magic looked tasty as well. But which one was more delicious? Telling just by
looking really wasn’t possible, after all. The greedy Mimic wanted both, and that could technically
happen once its Warlock Job reached Level 20, but it still had to choose the one it wanted first. This
really seemed like a tough decision. Magical grenades or another capable minion? If only there was
someone around to give the stumped chest a fresh perspective.
Oh.
“Greetings Master,” said Xera some 10 seconds and a flash of light later. This was immediately followed
by “Ughh! What the fuck?!”
The dumbfounded succubus grimaced fiercely as she took in the surrounding scenery. The aftermath of
two shapeshifters going at each other with bladed weapons was on par with a natural disaster! Dried up
blood and dismembered body parts littered the floor, including an out-of-place, half-molten head resting
awkwardly in a puddle of something.
The nearby pile of charred meat that used to be the Fleshmaiden was the biggest problem. Not the way it
looked, although that was pretty disgusting in and of itself, but rather the horrible stench it gave off. That
indescribable scent of burnt flesh seemed that seemed to permeate this entire room.
“What in the hell happened here?!” she asked with a hand over her mouth and nose. It wasn’t helping
though.
‘I won,” said the Mimic with a hint of pride.
“Yes, I can see that! I mean what’s with this horrible smell?!”
“What smell?”
“...”
Right, treasure chests didn’t have noses. The succubus actually envied that lucky bastard of a box right
now. Ah, technically speaking, she didn’t really need hers, either. So she took a page out of her master’s
book and shapeshifted it shut. Even if the horrible stench didn’t technically cause her any harm,
unpleasant things were still unpleasant.
“Is the smell tasty?!” probe the Mimic.
“No, Master. It’s extremely disgusting. I would not recommend trying it.”
If it did, it would undoubtedly get pissed off. Which meant snack time until it calmed down. And Xera
did not want any more of that. She didn’t, okay?
“Oh. Okay,” it responded dejectedly. Higher mental functions or not, it still felt disappointed when the
verdict of this new thing was ‘not tasty.’
The succubus walked over to the former dungeon master and gave it a curious look. This was the first
time she had seen something burned up so thoroughly before. And yet it still seemed to be… leaking.
“Master, what did you do to this thing?”
“I hit her with a big spell.”
Xera’s eyes widened in shock. A single Spell? Given how quickly she moved and how she shrugged off
having half her torso bitten off, Xera was convinced she must have been at least Level 40. Not to
mention she was obviously experienced at fighting Casters. Then again, nobody is really prepared for
the ridiculous things this box does. It probably used some underhanded trick to seize a weakness.
She chuckled. What she was most surprised about wasn’t the power it displayed, but the fact it actually
remembered to use it. It seemed like the succubus would have to give her master some credit. Just a little
though.
“Alright then, what do you want from me?” she asked in a business-like tone. It was highly unlikely this
chest summoned her for no reason.
“Do you know the Demonology Skill?” it asked.
“Umm...”
The succubus furrowed her brows and dug through her memory, but had trouble recalling anything about
that particular Skill. That was to be expected since her knowledge regarding the Warlock Job was quite
superficial. She wasn’t one herself, after all - she merely worked with them. Often against them,
actually.
That was pretty much her expected behavior, though. Relationships between a Warlock and its Familiar
were always founded on distrust and deception. And with her being a succubus that thrived on such
things, it meant she was trusted even less. Nobody in their right mind would want to listen to her
opinions, lest they fall for her schemes and ended up as a dried up corpse in a ditch somewhere.
She really didn’t need to go that far, though. The Warlocks that she managed to turn the tables on
complete idiots that practically killed themselves. There was that one guy that stuck his penis in her
mouth and gave her some vague command like ‘Make me cum buckets.’ How did he not realize that was
an open invitation for her to suck the very life out of his dick?!
But her current master was radically different from all of her previous ones. Well, that was to be
expected considering it was a monster with no sex drive. It treated her like dirt, constantly ate her flesh
and even tortured her psychologically with its inane attitude and brazen shapeshifting habits. And yet, it
understood and even encouraged her urges to devour the lives of mortal men. Sure, it was idiotic,
merciless and completely devoid of common sense, but this was still the best working relationship Xera
had ever had with another person. Well, another mortal at any rate.
Deliberately or no, that chest still did wonders to alleviate her boredom. That was ultimately the most
important thing. It’s only been a week or so since their contract began, yet she found herself incredibly
curious as to how far it would be able to go.
“No, Master. I am not familiar with this Skill,” she answered after putting her thoughts in order.
“What about Crystallize Magic?”
“I don’t know that one either.”
The Mimic then proceeded to explain both Skills and how it wasn’t sure which one to pick. Would it go
for the nasty crystal surprise or opt for the extra pair of hands to help out in fights? It seems that it had
been obsessing over this decision for quite a while. However, Xera almost immediately pointed out
something that her master didn’t consider.
“You do realize what would happen if you dropped one of those crystals, right?”
The chesty Warlock thought back on the first time it used Dark Explosion. The Spell had been aimed at
a group of 7 goblins that were foraging for food in the forest. Two of them were right at the center of the
detonation. They became red mist. Three of the others were closer to the edge of the Spell’s area of
effect and were thrown into the air like ragdolls. They crashed into trees and rocks at high speeds, dying
instantly from the impact. The last two were outside the blast zone, but still suffered heavy damage from
fragmented stones and bones sent flying by the explosion.
Having recalled that rather vivid memory, the Mimic then imagined what would happen if it fumbled a
Dark Explosion sealed inside a Spell Crystal.
“...”
Proficiency level increased. Demonology is now Level 1. WIS +2. MNT +2.
Sometimes it really helps to bounce ideas off other people.
(24) Urges 7
Establishing a contract with a demon is generally believed to be a complicated ritual that involves a
number of seemingly random ingredients and materials. There are indeed such practices that may be
performed, such as the Ritual of Zul’Goroth. That particular ceremony involves butterflies, blood, a fox,
a severed head, some cheese and skipping rope with some entrails. The product of this ritual would be
the creation of a perfectly ordinary sweetroll that was actually kind of stale. Not the best use of a severed
head if a certain Mimic had anything to say about that.
The Demonology Skill flooded the animate chest’s mind with the knowledge of several dubiously useful
rituals like that. But none of those were actually related to establishing a contract with a demonic entity
and calling them forth to this world. No, that bit was actually rather straightforward. It just needed to
concentrate a bit and reach out into the Beyond, a process that simply required that the Warlock ‘think
aloud’ a series of numbers.
1-800-7355-9687-7685
*Beep ... Beep ... Beep … Bee-*
*Click*
“Hello,” spoke a voice directly into its mind. It sounded rough and gritty, like someone had been eating
gravel for breakfast every day for two decades.
“You have reached Demons ‘R’ Us,” it continued,” my name is Carl and I’ll be your liaison for today.”
“Hey Carl,” responded the Mimic. It seemed it had managed to connect to the same agent it got the first
time.
“Ohhh! If it isn’t that amusing little box?! How’ve you been, buddy?”
“Pretty good. Ate some people. Gained some Levels.”
“Hey, that’s super. So, what can I do for you today?”
“I got a new Skill that said I can get another contract.”
“Alright, just a second. *Taptaptaptap taptaptaptaptap tap taptaptap* Okay, can you forward your
Status to me? You DO remember how to do that, right?”
Carl had spent nearly 3 hours teaching the Mimic how to send its Status over a telepathic link the first
time around. It messed up several times and even somehow forwarded it to Carl’s boss by mistake
before it could get it just right. Carl caught more than a little flak over that particular event.
“Yes, sending it now,” it replied.
“Okay. I’ve received it. Oh, you got a Rank Up, grats! Ah, Demonology is it? Hold, please.”
There were some more half-tapping half-clacking noises before Carl continued.
“Good news, my square friend. Your request for additional demonic support has been approved! Now
then, what species are you looking to form a covenant with?”
“Fiend.”
*Taptaptaptaptap tap*
“Male or female?”
“There’s a difference?”
“Males are generally more intelligent while females are more ferocious.”
“Then female.”
*Taptap taptaptaptaptaptap tap*
“A tall one or a short one?”
“Tall.”
*Tap tap tap*
“Do you prefer big or small chests?”
“Big,” answered the Mimic immediately. How was this even a question? Bigger treasure chests had
more shiny things inside them and were therefore better without a doubt.
“I know, right? Ah, sorry for asking again, company policy.”
“No problem.”
The question did strike it as a little out of place at first, but it didn’t worry too much about it. Carl
himself said it didn’t affect the demon’s performance in any way and was mostly a formality of
establishing the contract. He asked it some more questions followed by some more weird mechanical
noises. A few minutes later, they got to the last one.
“Any additional requests?”
Last time the Mimic had said it wanted something that was good at hiding and got a succubus
specialized in infiltration and covering her tracks through dream manipulation. That wasn’t quite what it
had in mind, but it still worked out so it had no complaints. This time was even simpler - it just needed a
vanguard that could take hits in its place. And pretty much any Fiend fit that bill. Still, having one that
has more than a single use would be good.
“It doesn’t matter as long as it’s handy.”
“Understood. *Tap taptaptaptap taptaptap taptap* Alright, now all we need to do is wait for- Oh,
nevermind! Your application got an instant reply! Just gimme a sec here… *Taptaptaptap* There, done!
Your new familiar is all set up and ready to be summoned. Will that be all for today?”
“Yes.”
“Then would you like to fill out a survey to-”
“No.”
“Understood. Thank you again for contacting Demons ’R’ Us. We hope to hear from you again.”
*Click*
Well, that was over and done with. It then immediately proceeded with the summoning, which caught
the attention of Xera. She stopped staring absentmindedly at the dungeon core and went over to see her
new co-contractor. Part of her was really looking forward to having someone else be the Snack for once.
10 seconds and 300 MP later, a new demon appeared in the dungeon. A giant form about 250
centimeters in height - almost a full meter taller than Xera - loomed over them. Counting the slightly
curved horns that were pointing straight up, it was actually closer to 270 centimeters tall.
The summoned female Fiend had bright green hair that went past her shoulders. It was unruly, thick and
voluminous, giving her a rather wild appearance. A pair of long, elf-like ears sprouted out from beneath
it. Her skin was a bright, eye-catching red that was impossible to conceal. Her eyes were bright green,
similar to the hair. They gave off a keen glare that looked for the weakness in others. Her face as a whole
didn’t look half-bad. Humans would honestly consider her to be cute or pretty if she stopped scowling
and baring her pointed teeth at her surroundings.
Below her chin was a choker with a metal plate in front that seemed to protect her neck. Immediately
below that were her breasts. Unlike Xera, they appeared to be more modestly proportioned when
compared to the rest of her. Their actual size, however, easily triumphed over the succubus due to the
difference in height. They were bound together tightly by a white sports-bra-like chest piece that left her
clearly defined abs and well-muscled lower-back exposed.
An extremely tight pair of very short shorts fit snugly around her lower end. Highly muscular and
disproportionately massive thighs that were nearly as thick as her relatively narrow waist. They strained
against the white hotpants, threatening to rip them apart at any moment. Her legs beneath the knees were
encased in metal plate greaves. The outside of her left thigh was covered by interlinking metal plates
that went all the way up to her waist, leaving the inner thigh and the entire left upper leg exposed to the
air.
Her arms, like the rest of her, had a significant amount of muscle that was clearly visible along her bare
shoulders and upper arms. Her biceps didn’t bulge out that much, but looked to be quite dense all the
same.
Heavy-looking metal gauntlets were strapped to her forearms, however these didn’t seem like armor.
Her palms, fingers and the underside of her forearms were left unarmored, for one thing. Actually, given
the way the gauntlets naturally covered the knuckles and the back of her hands in metal plates, they were
probably intended to be weapons that enhanced punching attacks. They also looked like they’d add a
significant amount of weight to each strike.
Also, there were four them. An extra pair of shoulders grew out from behind the primary ones to give
her a total of four powerful arms.
Well, she was definitely ‘handy,’ though perhaps not quite in the way the Mimic meant. It made a mental
note to be as unambiguous as possible the next time it spoke to anyone from Demons ‘R’ Us.
As for the newly summoned fiend, she seemed to do a few flexes and twists to get used to her physical
body while looking around the room. Her line of sight stopped on Xera, who standing off to her left.
“Huh? You’re my new master?”
She gave the very obviously inhuman woman a dumb look with a tilt of her head.
“No. Demons can’t summon other demons you dimwit,” replied the succubus. She then pointed at the
other demon’s feet. “Your master is down there.”
The confused tower of muscle looked down to see a simple wooden treasure chest. The Mimic was
currently still busy appraising his new minion. She seemed to be slightly more armored on her left side
than on her right, which was a bit odd. The various metal plates strapped to her body appeared to be
made out of the something resembling steel, but the strange red sheen they gave off meant it was
anything but. Her horns seemed to also be made of that stuff. Her top and bottom garments, on the other
hand, were made of a flexible white fabric that hugged around her womanly bits snugly without
obscuring movement.
Still failing to comprehend, the newly summoned fiend squatted down to get a closer look at it. It looked
exactly like an unassuming wooden treasure chest no matter how much she looked at it.
“This thing?” she asked Xera while pointing curiously at it with her two right hands. “How’s a box
supposed to be my master? Or anyone’s for that matter?”
“Lean in closer,” came the first command.
“Ugeh! It really is the box!”
That order definitely came from the thing in front of her. It would seem that the succubus in the room
wasn’t just fucking with her for shits and giggles like she thought.
“I said lean in closer!” it demanded. The fiend was still dumbstruck, but did as ordered. It was part of
the contract she just agreed to, so she put her face even closer to the treasure chest without much
thought. She was now close enough to it that she could lick it if she stretched out her tongue.
And then the Mimic jumped at her and bit her across the face. Its powerful teeth sank into her skull, but
failed to crush it.
“Uraah!” she screamed, more in surprise than pain. The sudden shock of having a vicious chest clamp
onto her face made her stumble backwards from her squatting position and fall on her tight rump.
“What the fuck?! Are you trying to eat my face or something?!”
She tried to pull it off her head, but couldn’t put any strength into her arms since that would count as
attacking her master directly.
“Yes,” was the immediate reply.
“Why?!”
“The other demon is really tasty. I want to know if you’re any better.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She immediately stopped her struggling and let the Mimic do as it pleased. It nibbled on her face for a
while the fiend just sat cross-legged without uttering a sound. Xera was, understandably, completely
baffled at the turn of events. Not the Mimic trying to eat things, that was expected. But a demon
willingly accepting that sort of treatment was strange, to say the least.
Eventually the Mimic had enough and detached from the red woman, landing deftly on its spider legs. It
had went for her face because her other limbs were all armored up and didn’t seem like they would
break under its jaws. The skull was also unexpectedly thick and tough, as expected of a species that
thrived on close quarters combat.
“So,” said the fiend while black blood streamed down her forehead. “How was I?”
The Mimic replied by sticking out its tongue and making a “Bleh!” sound.
“Not tasty at all! Snack is much tastier!”
“Oh come on! I can be tasty too!”
“Impossible.”
Xera always tasted the same no matter how many times it ate her, so it was unlikely this new demon
would just change suddenly.
“Grrr!”
A fact that seemed to somehow tick her off.
“What, you want to be eaten alive?!” retorted the succubus, wide-eyed.
“No! I mean, not particularly! I just hate losing! Especially to a- wait, Snack?!”
“Ah, that would be my… job description,” said the junk food in question, albeit a bit hesitantly.
“Pfu! Puhahahahaha!” The fiend broke out into a mocking laughter. “You’re a snack! Hahahaha! To
think one of you stuck-up whores would end up as nothing but some box’s afternoon meal!
Ohohahahaha!”
She kept rolling around on the ground, clutching her stomach and unable to hide her enjoyment of her
compatriot’s suffering. Well, all demons did that, but this situation was extra tasty for her. After all,
fiends and succubi never got along with one another. This was hardly a surprise considering the two
species of demon were pretty much polar opposites of one another.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up while you can.”
Xera casually dismissed the other demon’s mockery with a wave of her hand. This much humiliation
was nothing compared to what that Mimic had put her through. Also, she was secretly looking forward
to watching this newcomer go through the same level of abuse.
As for the chest in question, it had already lost interest in their shenanigans and was moving towards the
whole reason it came to this dungeon in the first place - the dungeon core. With its previous owner dealt
with, the core’s automatic defense system no longer activated and anyone could approach it. And when
the Mimic got within a meter of the floating red orb, it suddenly got an offer.
The Litigar Dungeon Complex has recognized you as its rightful ruler.
Do you wish to claim ownership of this dungeon?
Yes
No
The two demons in the room seemed to notice it was doing something and stopped their bickering so
they can see what happens. Xera had no idea why her master wanted to come here, but she had a pretty
good guess. The newcomer had no idea as to much of anything right now, so her curiosity was on an
entirely different level.
And then the Mimic took out a sword and slashed at the dungeon core. The steel blade was knocked
backwards the instant it made contact with the crystal, as if someone had forcefully deflected it with a
shield.
Your attack has been repelled.
“Huck!” it cursed out loud. It tried once again, this time by putting as much strength and weight into it
as it could. The over-used and under-maintained weapon was repelled with even greater force when it
struck the red crystal, causing the blade to break off at the hilt and fly off into the air. It then promptly
sheathed inself inside Xera’s torso, right between the breasts.
“Yeeeow!” she screamed. It stung like a bitch, but it was still much more tolerable than snack time.
“What the heck are you doing?!” she chided her master. “You can’t break a dungeon core with a shitty
weapon like that!”
“Oh,” replied the Mimic. Then how about a different weapon? Ah, but the mithril daggers might break
as well against that indestructible ball. That wouldn’t be tasty at all.
“You there,” it called out to the red fiend. “Name?”
“Fufufufu… You did well to ask me that, mortal!” She took a haughty pose with her arms crossed and
started monologuing while looking smug for some reason. “Know that this one’s name will one day be
known throughout the lands as-”
“Your name is now Arms,” it interrupted. It remembered it could just check her Status rather than asking
directly. Her name was incredibly long and difficult to say, so it just went with a nickname. It then gave
her an order to “Go break the shiny thing.”
She seemed to have a good bit of STR and her species looked to have considerably more muscle mass
than Mimics, so it was a good time as any to see just how powerful she really was.
“Oh! I can smash it?!”
Completely forgetting her self-introduction was cut short, the demon whose long-ass name should really
be shortened to ‘Kora’ was getting oddly psyched up.
“Yes. Smash it.”
“Alright!”
Fiends thrived on violence and combat, and loved smashing things in general. Therefore, Kora felt
overjoyed when her first real order was to smash a thing. She walked over to the comparatively tiny
dungeon core and lowered her stance to the extreme. The Mimic quietly walked away from her since it
had a sneaking suspicion of what would happen next.
Kora turned to her side and started winding up. The muscles on her right arms and shoulders bulged out
even more. She then hurled them forward while spinning on her heel, putting all of her body weight
behind the blow. Her metal gauntlets made a duo of heavy-sounding hits on the core, but were bounced
backwards all the same. The sudden change in direction would undoubtedly have snapped her arms in
half if those metal plates didn’t absorb much of that counter-impact.
“Gah!” shouted the fiend in frustration. It seemed her power wasn’t enough to bypass whatever defense
that thing had.
Not that she cared.
Alright, she did care.
She cared immensely, actually.
“You stupid ball!” she shouted. “Don’t think you can make a fool of me! Ora!”
She then took another swing at it with one of her right arms.
“Orrra!” and then a follow up strike with one of the lefts.
“Ora! Ora! Ora!” She kept calling out with each failed swing while picking up the pace. If a single big
hit wouldn't do, then how about 500 smaller hits?
“ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!”
Her hands became a blur as she unleashed a torrent of punches on that infuriating crystal orb. All of
them failed to do a single point of damage. She grew more and more frustrated until she did a final
attack with a spinning roundhouse kick while screaming “HHOOORRRRRAAAA!”
Her armored foot made an almost echoing thud when she struck the core.
This attack didn’t get repelled.
It didn’t break the core either. What happened was that the glowing crystal ball was dislodged from its
magically affixed position. It then sent it flying into the stone wall on the edge of the room as if it were a
kickball. The core hit the stone brick wall hard, then fell down to the ground with a clear gong-like
sound. The room seemed to actually shake a little from the strength of that impact.
“Take that!” screamed Kora after it. “Piece of shit ball! Showed you who’s boss, didn’t I?!”
“It’s still perfectly whole though,” pointed out Xera. “You obviously can’t break a dungeon core with
just brute strength. Only moronic muscle-heads and retarded boxes would keep trying despite knowing
that.”
“... Showed that ball who’s boss!” insisted her red-skinned co-contractor while completely ignoring the
succubus’s snide attitude.
The Mimic on the other hand walked closer to the still glowing core. It seemed that the Snack was right
and cracking this thing open was beyond its means. It really wanted to get its revenge on this place, so
leaving without breaking the core seemed like it would leave a bad taste in its mouth. Then again, it did
kill the dungeon master. That was rather satisfying on its own, so it decided to consider its mission
fulfilled.
On second thought, not breaking the core might be a good thing.
“Arms. Pick it up and bring it outside.”
“‘Kay!” she replied in high spirits.
Fiends hated being used for menial labor, but Kora was pretty happy right now. How could she not be?
It’s been a really long time since she’d last been to the physical realm and then she was told to smash a
thing almost immediately. Being able to move around so much with an actual body felt amazing.
“Master, why are you telling her to bring that thing along?” asked Xera, dumbfounded.
“I want the shiny thing.”
Koralenteprix
Name Khusuuszun Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress
Caonthioxxaa
Species Fiend (Pit) STR 100 MNT 84 Fiend 12 55%

Sex Female DEX 42 Berserker 8 88%
Guild END 100
615/615 (+1.0/
HP INT 16
sec)
MP 67/67 (+0.1/sec) WIS 16
Skill List
Demonic Armaments 4 64%
Second Wind 3 51%
Bloodlust 4 17%
Idiotic Strength 3 4%
Brawling Mastery 4 0%
(25) Urges 8
The Mimic and his two familiars were finally going to depart the core chamber. They had spent a bit too
long in there and the monster had gotten hungry. There were a few left over wolf corpses in Storage, but
those were not enough to completely satiate it. It wanted to go before the debilitating starvation
conditions started to set in. They still had that map they looted earlier, so they wouldn’t get lost on their
way out at least.
Next would be the matter of the 1 meter wide crystalline dungeon core. The Mimic wanted to bring the
shiny thing along, but it wouldn’t fit in its Storage. The swirling portal to the monster’s pocket
dimension could only expand to about 60 centimeters in diameter, which was considerably better than
the 10 centimeter hole it was at Level 1. It was still far from enough though.
And so the solution would be for Kora to carry it. The core weighed in at about 80 kilograms, which, all
things considered, was relatively light. Not that the female fiend had any trouble handling that sort of
weight. She hoisted it up with one hand and put it on her shoulder, cradling it between her head and
forearm. Even its awkward size was no problem for someone of her stature. If anything, the way she
casually handled it would make one think it was just a fancy beach ball rather than the crystallized heart
of a dungeon.
“Okay,” said the Mimic after confirming there was nothing of value left in the desolate room. “We’re
leaving!”
It headed off towards the chamber’s exit along with its familiars leading the way.
“Master, why are walking?” asked Xera with a bit of annoyance. “Let’s just use Portal Keys to get out!”
“Portal Key? What’s that? Is it tasty?” came the rather predictable response from the chest.
“Can I smash it?” chimed in the fiend with a sharp glint in her eye.
“Haah,” sighed the succubus.
She then began educating the two airheads about the common, albeit slightly expensive, items known as
Portal Keys. Crushing one of these would teleport an adventurer to the safety of the dungeon’s
Waystone. It was convenient, but came with a few limitations. The user had to stand still when using it,
it could only bring out one person at a time due to weight restrictions and the item was lost after a single
use and had absolutely no function outside of a dungeon with a Waystone. Not observing any of these
rules meant the item would simply fail to activate properly.
“Do we have something like that?” asked the Mimic once the explanation was over.
“We do!” she demanded.”Those white stones we looted earlier, they’re still in your Storage, right?”
“Oh, the dusty things!” exclaimed the Mimic. It had seen a few adventurers using the item, but didn’t
quite understand its effects. That is, not until Xera explained them just now. To its infantile mind it just
seemed that the other party disappeared. It didn’t want to disappear, so it took extra care to avoid
accidentally eating those stones until now. There was just one problem though
“Can we bring the shiny along with us?”
“... Probably not,” said Xera while hanging her head. The very weight restrictions she mentioned earlier
would not allow for the extra-heavy dungeon core to be transported.
“Then we walk. Arms, can you fight while holding the shiny?”
“Sure. I still got three spare hands you know.”
She gave them a wave to prove her point. Satisfied, the Mimic ordered them all to make for the exit.
They proceeded down the long, spiraling corridor at a brisk pace. The spider-chest actually had to skitter
along faster than normal to keep up with Kora’s wide stride. Xera gave up on walking altogether and just
glided along behind them on her wings with her staff floating idly by her side. Overall, it was almost a
pleasant walk. If only it wasn’t for that one, nagging thing disturbing the Mimic every now and then.
The Litigar Dungeon Complex has recognized you as its rightful ruler.
Yes
No
This offer kept reappearing no matter how many times it declined. It’s been coming up every 5 or so
seconds ever since Kora managed to dislodge it from its spot earlier. However, mimics were ultimately
creatures of patience. This particular individual was pretty much a specialist at ignoring others, to boot.
It would take a lot more than some nagging windows to annoy it into submission.
Just pick [Yes] already! Please?! I’m begging you here!

Yes
No
A weird one popped up by the time they passed the ‘No Entry’ point on the map and got back into the
dungeon proper. The Mimic didn’t even pay attention to the stubborn pop up at this point and
immediately chose ‘No.’
Okay, I get it! You don’t wanna be a dungeon master. In that case, just leave the core
behind, already! It’s not like it’ll be of any use to you, anyway!
Yes
No
It seemed that there was some sort of consciousness inside this dungeon and it was aware of what was
going on. Its pleas and attempts to make the monster see reason were quite futile. After all, the selfish
box already decided it wanted the shiny. Therefore, it would keep the shiny.
Do you have any idea how long it’ll take to grow a new one?! Look, I promise I’ll make it
worth your while if you listen to me and put it down!
Yes
No
This attempt at bribery might have actually worked if it wasn’t worded poorly. If the Mimic had been
offered ‘many shiny things’ it would have undoubtedly paid attention, perhaps even accepted the deal on
the spot. However, ambiguous phrases like ‘worth your while’ went squarely over its metaphorical head
and were summarily ignored. It was a crucial blunder. After all, success or failure in negotiations hinged
almost entirely on how well one understood their opponent. Therefore, this entity which did not know a
single thing about the monster’s thought process had no chance of persuading it with words.
Listen here, buddy! You already killed the dungeon master! If you think I’ll let you just
walk away with that core then you’ve got another thing coming!
Yes
No
Whoever or whatever was trying to communicate with the Mimic seemed to be getting rather angry. And
perhaps a tiny bit desperate if they gave up on diplomacy and resorted to vague threats. The arachno-
chest still ignored them with all its might, though. Even trying to contact the other two proved to be
completely fruitless.
That was because Xera and Kora were already bound to the walking chest. There’s no way they could be
offered a new soul-binding contract while their current one was still in effect. They were therefore
completely oblivious to the silent struggle going on inside their master’s mind.
However, it would seem that it would not go on for much longer.
Fine! I didn’t want to do this, but you forced my hand! Don’t say you weren’t warned!
Yes
No
The dull red glow that the core gave off until then suddenly intensified, bathing the surroundings in a
bright red light. It then started flashing this light on and off with a steady rhythm, almost like an alarm.
Because that’s exactly what it was.
“Um, Master?” said Xera with a rather accusatory tone. “What did you do to the core?”
“Nothing? Arms is the one holding it.”
It shamelessly deflected the blame. Not that it understood how this was any of its fault, though.
“Hey, don’t look at me! I’m just holding onto it like I was ordered and then it started flashing all on its
own!”
“Wait, do you hear that?”
There was a sudden howling and screaming coming in from the passage in front of them. And judging
from the increasing volume, it was headed right for the three core thieves.
An extra large group of undead - about 30 skeletons, 7 ghouls and a dozen or so ghosts poured out of the
next corner and dashed madly towards them.
“Arms, smash them up. Snack, support from the back.”
The Mimic just calmly gave out orders. It saw no reason to worry. True, the number of enemies was
nothing to sneeze at, but it had already faced similar numbers on the way in. Xera by herself was able to
take out most of them with her Inferno Spell and what few were left became food for the Mimic’s
combat Skills. So now that the two of them had Kora to take point, this fodder stood absolutely no
chance of winning.
“Oh yeah! Now this is what I’m talking about!”
The fiend in question seemed to really be looking forward to getting her hands dirty, so much so that she
ran out to meet their charge while sporting a wide toothy grin. She smashed into the Skeleton Soldiers at
the front with a wide sweeping kick that sent them flying and crashing into the stone wall. Weakness to
blunt force trauma was a characteristic trait of skeletons, so most of those monsters shattered into pieces
and instantly lost their unlife. Their ‘comrades’ didn’t care though, they just attacked their target. As
expected of the mindless undead.
The rusty blades of the other Skeleton Soldiers and the filthy claws of the zombie-like ghouls struck at
her. A good number were deflected by the armor on her arms and legs, but over half of the attacks sunk
into her flesh.
You have suffered a shallow wound. HP -19.

You have been afflicted with a disease. Max HP reduced by 50.
You have suffered a deep cut. HP -38.
You have been poisoned. HP -9.
Your movements have been dulled by the poison.
Over 100 HP was lost in the blink of an eye. She didn’t just sit there and take it, though. Metal-clad
punches rained down on the undead like hail while she yelled out ‘ora ora’ over and over. The storm of
heavy blows pounded them into the ground until they were naught but dust and splinters. Well, the
skeletons were anyway. The ghouls became more of a bloody smear on the floor and walls.
Xera didn’t sit idle either. She called forth an Inferno to decimate the undead platoon’s backline that
consisted of Skeletal Archers, Skeletal Mages and ghosts. They were all wiped out before they could
unleash their arrows and magic onto the gigantic red target in front of them. A few well-placed Fireballs
picked off any surviving ghosts.
And while the demon girls were busy clearing the way, their master just sort of stood back and kept an
eye on things. Well, it didn’t see a need to interfere. Its magic would be as innefective as ever and slicing
up undead seemed to make its swords deteriorate much quicker than when it used them on people or
animals. It needed to take better care of them until it could learn to maintain them properly. Not to
mention it was down to its last 6 weapons. Four of them - two swords and two mithril daggers - were
picked up in this dungeon. The remaining two blades - a worn-out sword and that shiny enchanted knife
- were leftovers from its newbie-hunting days.
So instead of dulling its weapons needlessly, it simply enjoyed the sweet taste of its Skills going up in
Level without it actually needing to do anything. However, it noticed that Demonology did not go up as
quickly as expected. Usually a new Skill would shoot to Level 3 quite rapidly with a huge engagement
like this, but it just barely seemed to reach Level 2. If it was going to be this slow, then getting it all the
way to Level 8 would take forever.
Maybe it misunderstood the way it should be using this Skill? It’s true that simply having the second
familiar participate in combat increased Proficiency, but the gains were way too small. Now that it
thought about it, wouldn’t Demonology go up quicker if it performed some of those rituals? Well, it
would have to wait a while before testing that out. Pretty much all of the ceremonies it knew about
needed troll blood. It wasn’t even sure what the fuck a troll was!
“Yeeaaaah!” screamed Kora triumphantly while standing ankle-deep in undead bits. “Get smashed,
son!”
This odd cheer snapped the Mimic out of its thoughts. It appeared that the two demons were done
cleaning up the undead. The one-sided massacre didn’t even last a minute! Checking their Statuses, the
Mimic confirmed that Kora had lost about 250 HP while Xera had used up about a third of her MP.
“Arms, why is your max HP so low?” it asked after spotting the oddity in her Status. The value in
question was currently listed as 374/515. Wasn’t it over 600 just a few minutes ago?
“Ah, I’m still poisoned and diseased!”
Oh, right. Abnormal statuses like that were common when fighting the undead at close range.
“You just realized this now… ?”
“Snack, shut up and fix her.”
“Yes, Master.”
The succubus went up to Kora and put a hand on her chiseled abs. Right over the already festering
wound left behind by a ghoul.
“Hey!” exclaimed her ‘patient.’ “What are you doing?!”
“Just following orders, dearie.”
“And how is poking my wound going to-”
“Purge!”
Plumes of blue flame shot out of all of the fiend’s open wounds and lit her up like a dangerous christmas
tree. They burned away the toxins in her system while cauterizing her wounds, accompanied by a
momentary spike of pain.
Your body has been purified by the flames. HP -30.

You are no longer poisoned.
You are no longer diseased.
You are no longer bleeding.
Kora immediately confirmed the feeling in her body was back to normal. Well, she was covered in burns
rather than open wounds, but at least she could move properly again.
“Ohh! I can move freely again! Thanks, slut!” she said with a toothy grin.
“I have a name, you nitwit,” retorted Xera while sneering.
“Ahahaha! My bad, my bad. Thanks, Snack.”
“Hohoho, sounds like someone wants their face melted off!”
“Bring it short stuff! I’ll pummel you so hard only your tits will be left behind!”
“Hah! As if a clumsy oaf like you could ever catch the likes of me!”
Sparks seemed to fly between them as the two glared at each other with murderous intent. Simply
because they both had the same master didn’t mean they would get along. It actually seemed to have the
opposite effect.
After all, one of them was a succubus that thrived on deception and conspiracy. A creature whose
manipulative and cunning nature could incite life-long friends to betray each other. Toppling entire
kingdoms from within was entirely possible for the winged seductress. Highly unlikely, but possible
nonetheless.
And her co-contractor just happened to be a fiend. A demon that wanted nothing less than to crush her
enemies, see them driven before her and hear the lamentations of their women. Or men. Or pet dogs.
The mountain of muscle didn’t have any prejudices in that regard and would gladly accept all forms of
lamentation, regardless of who or what they came from.
In fact, the only thing in common these two species of demons had was how much they hated each other.
Kora and Xera were no different and would undoubtedly be trying to kill one another if their summoning
contracts weren’t holding them back. From a magical standpoint, a bound demon was more or less an
extension of its master. The two of them were completely unable to physically harm one another without
their master’s say-so.
A fact which both of them seemed to realize at the same time.
“Master, requesting permission to kill this bitch!” they screamed out in perfect sync.
The answer they got was a stone throw to the face that gave both of them matching black eyes.
“No time for that,” said the Mimic. “More enemies are coming. A lot more.”
“What makes you say that, Master?” asked Xera while rubbing her injured face.
“Look at the shiny.”
Both of them then stared at the still flashing core on Kora’s shoulder. They stared at it but failed to
comprehend what was odd about it. Well, other than the obnoxious light, that is.
“What about it?” asked Xera.
“Dunno,” said Kora. “It does seem to feel a little bit heavier, though.”
Unfortunately, neither of the two demons had the means to see what their master was talking about. At
least, not with their eyes.
The Mimic’s senses seem to have grown sharper ever since its Rank Up. Its magical perception in
particular turned out to be quite sensitive. It was at the point where it was capable of reading the thick
flow of mana in the dungeon’s air if it focused hard enough. That’s how it knew that the core was
currently pulling a huge amount of that mana into itself. The mystical current was so strong that it
seemed to cause the remains of the undead to dissipate much faster than normal due to the loose magical
energy being pulled out of them by force. And all that errant mana was being absorbed by the core.
So what was its purpose in doing so? That was a mystery. However, the side effects of that action were
obvious to the former resident of this place.
“It’s pulling the dungeon towards us.”
The monsters in a dungeon would follow the flow of mana without fail.
Guild END 113
647/647 (+1.3/
HP INT 120
sec)
419/600 (+0.7/
MP WIS 71
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 5 40%
Storage 4 27%
Biomass 2 73%
Demonology 2 6%
Shapeshift 6 65%
Stealth 4 90%
Sword Mastery 6 21%

Ruin Mastery 5 13%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Frostbite
Dark Explosion
(26) Urges 9
A swarm of 20 or so giant spiders skittered through the tunnels of the Yellow Zone. This part of the
dungeon was a cave system not unlike the Green Zone, but its residents were mostly of the arachnid or
insectoid persuasion.
The dungeon core is in danger.
Such a message was relayed to all monsters that belonged to this place and the oddity in the dungeon’s
thick mana was guiding them to the object they were programmed to protect. They were certain they
were getting close to the source of the distress signal, but less certain about the odd rumbling that could
be felt through the walls and floors of this passage. They were approaching a bend in the tunnel when
the ones in front spotted the tell-tale red glow of the dungeon core being nearby. And judging from how
it increased in intensity with every flash, it was moving towards them.
However, the first thing to pop out of the corner was a wooden box with eight imitation spider legs of its
own. They were oddly similar, yet also quite different from the actual spider legs of these monsters. And
out of the opened lid streamed out three tentacles, each gripping onto a shiny dagger, though one seemed
to be different from the other two.
Not that any of them had time to appreciate such things. The arachno-chest bore down on them at great
speed, easily surpassing their own, and they immediately recognized it as an invader - an enemy. And
the feeling was proved to be pretty much mutual when it started stabbing and slashing at them as the
Mimic tore a path right through the middle of them.
Proficiency level increased. Dagger Mastery is now Level 3. STR +1. DEX +3.
6 of the monsters were gutted in an instant as the chest kept on running. A few of the simple beasts
might have wondered where it was off to in such a hurry, but such idle thoughts were beyond them.
They would have gotten their answer almost immediately though.
A giant, crystal ball at least 2 meters in diameter rolled out from the tunnel ahead of them. It seemed to
be so large that it barely fit in this narrow tunnel. There was a loud impact right before it unnaturally
changed course. It was just enough to make it ricochet off the cave wall at speed and roll towards the
slightly stunned spiders without losing much speed.
It then rolled over them and mercilessly turned them into paste. As for the Mimic, it was in too much of
a rush to worry about some spiders. The dungeon core behind it had been rapidly growing in size and
weight over the last 5 or so minutes. If the orb kept increasing in size like this, then it would
undoubtedly get stuck in these narrow tunnels and prevent any attempt at bringing it outside the
dungeon. Which, incidentally, was exactly what the greedy chest was trying to do.
It was a simple solution, really. Since the core fed off the mana in the dungeon’s air, all that needed to be
done was to remove it from the dungeon entirely. With its energy source gone, it would surely stop
growing and maybe return to a more manageable size. Of course, it had to kick itself and its familiars
into high gear if it hoped to do such a thing.
“Take a left at the next fork, then immediately a right!” shouted Xera from behind the core.
“Whatever you say!” replied Kora from in between Xera’s soft thighs.
The fiend was currently busy pushing and guiding the boulder-like crystal through the winding paths at
less-than-safe speeds while the succubus sat on her shoulders and acted as the navigator. This posture
was humiliating for both of them, but they had no say in the matter since it was a direct order. It was
mostly Xera’s fault anyway. She had trouble keeping up with them due to her low physical Attributes,
not to mention she was the only one who could be trusted with reading the map. And the one who came
up with this ridiculous yet surprisingly effective solution was none other than their master.
“Get ready!” shouted Xera again while peeking over the top of the gigantic core. Kora pulled back her
right arms in response.
“Aaand.. NOW!”
“Ooora!”
Kora’s powerful double punch knocked the nearly 400 kilogram core off-course and steered it down the
path her co-contractor had indicated. She then did the same with her left arms and knocked it down the
tunnel on the right at the next junction. All without once breaking out of her run. Xera on the other hand
had to cling onto her with all her strength just to avoid being thrown off. It’s a good thing the fiend’s
horns were there for her to grip onto.
“You think you can be a bit more gentle down there?”

“We can trade places if you think you can do a better job at pushing this thing!”
“Nevermind!”
“That’s what I thought, bubble-boobs!”
The Mimic was in front mostly due to self interest. It was a precaution in case the ever-growing core got
stuck in the passages. If that were to happen, then the Mimic could at least find its way out of the
dungeon rather than be sealed inside again. Well, it also got some valuable Skill XP along the way so it
really seemed like the best way of doing things. It felt bad about having to abandon its little ‘festival,’
but it really had no other choice in the matter.
“To the left!”
“Ooorr-”
“No, MY left!”
“Wha-? We have the same left, you stupid cunt! DOORYA!”
At first it thought the seemingly endless onslaught of monsters was a really good thing - like pigs
walking into the slaughterhouse all on their own. But it underestimated just how many monsters were in
this dungeon. Regardless of how strong they were, the Warlock and its two familiars still needed time to
rest and replenish their HP and MP. Kora had already succumbed to the multiple injuries and died once,
dropping the core she was still hanging onto in the process. It rolled around on the ground near the
Mimic. That’s when the chest noticed that its prize had gotten significantly bigger than it had before.
“Didn’t we miss our turn-off just now?”
“No that was only the second junction, we want the third one! Are your eyes just for decoration?!”
“I can’t see over this fucking ball you know!”
That’s when it decided to retreat immediately. Dragging the core along was really slowing them down,
though. It had to create an opening using the remainder of Xera’s MP in order to re-summon Kora. With
the demonic forklift back online, they were able to move at a much faster pace.
“Left on the crossroads up ahead! It’s a hard turn so watch it!”
“Alright!”
Kora once again adjusted the course of the ball with a paired punch. It bounced off the cave wall and
into the right tunnel, but it lost more momentum than expected. Something that was easily rectified by
the fiend’s multiple arms pushing it along. Rolling it like this was a pretty fast way of moving it along,
though it was hard to control. She could technically deadlift this thing, but didn’t have the headroom to
do that once it got to about 160 centimeters in diameter.
“Master, we’re in the Green Zone now!” reported Xera over the thought link while struggling to read the
map in front of her face. “We should be out of the dungeon shortly!”
“Good,” came the response from the box in front.
“Are you sure we can’t just leave this thing behind and run?” she asked for the upteempth time.
“I told you, we’re bringing the shiny with us! Now shut up and steer!”
That’s right, it still wanted the shiny thing. There was more to it than that, though.
Give it up and become a corpse already, loser!

Yes
No
The entity on the other side of those messages kept taunting and insulting the Mimic ever since the core
had started flashing. Whoever or whatever that thing was, it was obviously connected to this dungeon in
some form. Was it the dungeon itself? Or an overseer of sorts? Could it be some malignant being with a
secret agenda?
“Did you just wet yourself up there?!”
“Just your imagination, dearie!”
Details like its real identity didn’t matter though. The important thing was that the malicious box had
already shifted the feelings of resentment it had towards its birthplace onto this mysterious presence and
was looking forward to getting some ‘payback.’ And since the core was apparently nigh-indestructible,
taking it out of its dungeon seemed like the best way of doing just that. This whole expedition had boiled
down to it trying to piss off someone it didn’t even know for no good reason.
Mimics, as it turned out, could really hold a grudge. Even if it was woefully misguided.
“Turn right here! After that it’s a straight shot until we’re out of this place!”
“Okay! Orrrrraaa!”
“I’ll go further ahead. Keep going until you’re out of this cave!”
“Yes, Master!” replied the two demonesses in unison. One might actually get the wrong idea they were
getting along if they saw them like this.
The speedy arachno-chest picked up the pace even more and, after several seconds of dashing, burst out
from the cave and into the wide cavern that served as the entrance to the Litigar Dungeon Complex. It
immediately noticed a group of adventurers, maybe 5 or 6 of them, all huddled around the alabaster-like
pillar that served as this dungeon’s Waystone. They all seemed to be staring wordlessly at the bloodied
dwarven waist and legs that had arrived without a torso attached to them.
Well, let’s just say that this particular adventurer’s Portal Key did not quite save them from a mysterious
Power Overwhelming-enhanced Shadowbolt. The teleportation effect triggered at the same time as the
Spell found its mark, leaving the upper half of the poor bastard splattered on the walls of the dungeon.
And since they were all conveniently bunched up and not facing where the Mimic was, it took the
opportunity to get the drop on them. It shifted back into its Xera-assisted casting stance and started
chanting Dark Explosion.
“Master! The exit-”
“Quiet! Busy!”
It cut off whatever Xera was trying to say and re-focused its attention on the Spell.
Just as it was about to finish, the flashing boulder-sized crystal crashed into the slightly-too-narrow cave
exit. Its momentum carried it through the mouth of the cave, breaking off the rocks and stones in its way
and making one hell of a racket in the process. The gathered adventurers all turned to face the origin of
the noise. That extremely bizarre sight of a giant red ball rolling behind a naked, well-endowed albino
beauty made their brains momentarily skip a beat.
“Dark Explosion ~♪!”
Much like the goblins before, all the people gathered there either became red mist or were flung through
the air, dying on impact with the walls and ceiling. The dungeon core then smashed into the cavern wall
hard, finally coming to a stop. The Mimic quickly retracted its spell-slinging side and went to check on
its prize. The extremely hard crystal was partway embedded in the wall, but completely flawless
otherwise. Its familiars were a bit further back, having suffered some damage when they burst through
that tight opening along with the core.
“Stop wasting time and get my shiny out of there,” it demanded.
“Yes Master!” responded Kora. She seemed to be quite fired up for some reason, which was the polar
opposite of the succubus that had fallen off the other demon’s shoulders during the impact. She looked
like she had ran a 40 kilometer marathon despite doing none of the physical work.
With the immediate area secured and its minions busy dislodging its prize from the wall, the Mimic
finally had a few moments to verify the new Spell it had learned earlier.
Dark Infusion
School: Domination
Type: Targeted
Cost: 75 MP
Range: 10 Meters
Effect: Increases your target’s STR, AGI, DEX and INT Attributes by 20% for 30 seconds.
Your target will be stunned for 5 seconds once the effect expires or is dispelled.
The stun component of this Spell has no effect on Undead, Demons and Golems.
A significant boost in combat potential followed by an extremely dangerous downside. The Mimic
would hesitate to use this on itself, but it was possible to empower its familiars ‘for free’ as it were. It
was eager to try it out, but needed to raise its MNT Attribute to 80 before it did that. Otherwise the Spell
would backfire and the resulting magical feedback would injure the Caster. It already suffered that pain
breaking through the steel grating weeks ago and had no intention of reliving that experience.
There was a loud cracking and rumbling noise as the Mimic finished recalling that painful memory. It
seems that Kora had managed to get the ball out of the wall by punching it real hard. If someone were to
ask ‘Did she punch the wall or the core?’ the answer would be ‘Yes.’ Smashing things seemed to be her
go-to solution for pretty much every problem. Such an approach would normally be questionable at best,
but it was hard to argue with results.
“Good,” said the monstrous chest. “We’re almost out, so let’s go!”
“Yes, Master!” they replied in unison once more, although Xera had significantly less pep in her voice.
She was currently lamenting over her immediate future where she would most likely be ordered to
babysit a gigantic fucking ball for no good reason. Just the thought of a boring assignment like that
seemed to be enough to make her depressed.
This was in stark contrast to the Mimic, which was very much looking forward to worshipping the
gigantic ball of shiny. And then it walked over the border of the dungeon with its prize in tow. With the
link severed, the dungeon no longer flashed with that obnoxious red. The annoying pop-ups had stopped
too.

Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Grand Theft Arcana.
All Attributes +10.
Oh right, Perks were a thing.
The box had completely forgotten about them, what with all the running around it had been doing ever
since breaking free of this place’s control.
Grand Theft Arcana

Description: It takes a special kind of person to steal a dungeon from a dungeon.
Requirements: Remove a dungeon core from its dungeon’s sphere of influence.
Effects: Provides a permanent boost of +10 to all Attributes every time you accomplish this
feat.
Number of pilfered dungeons: 1
It would appear that its selfishness and stubbornness had yielded an unexpected boon. The +10 to all
Attributes was tasty without a doubt, but finding out this new way of growing stronger was perhaps even
tastier than that. Granted, it had no plans of entering another dungeon, but it might end up doing so
anyway in order to take advantage of this Perk. Gaining 5 Levels worth of Attributes was nothing to
sneeze at, especially considering how slow Leveling Up had become of late.
Although it seemed that the cocncentrated mass of mana had two more things left to say.
You are now the owner of dungeon core AD-0429-PR.

All functions of dungeon core AD-0429-PR are currently unavailable.
Please establish a dungeon to unlock them.
WARNING!
Dungeon core AD-0429-PR is over maximum MP capacity by 953%!
Catastrophic meltdown will occur in 8 minutes and 19 seconds!
(27) Urges 10
The Mimic stared intently at those two notifications. The first one seemed to imply that it was now the
rightful owner of a dungeon core. It really didn’t need some notification window’s permission for that,
but at least it made things official, in a way. Now all that was left was to deal with that second one.
There was just one problem.
“Snack,” it called out, much to Kora’s amusement. “Is a ‘catastrophic meltdown’ a tasty thing?”
Just knowing what something was called didn’t mean it could understand what it actually was.
“Huh? What?!” replied the succubus. She was actually aware of the meaning behind those words, but
what worried her was the reason her master suddenly inquired after them. Then realization hit her like a
cannonball to the face.
“Wait… don’t tell me the core is going to-”
*CRACK*
A tiny fracture appeared on the crystal ball. Rays of white light seemed to pour out of that tiny gap.
“Not tasty!” she yelled out immediately. “Master, that core is very much not tasty! We have to get rid of
it! No, we have to run away from it at full speed!”
“Don’t wanna. It’s my shiny!” came the selfish reply one would expect out of a toddler.
“Look, Master, that core is going to explode. It’s going to blow up and none of us will survive! Being
alive is much tastier than having a big shiny thing, right?!”
It didn’t deny her outright this time and actually pondered her words.
A certain invisible presence that was the cause of this situation would do well to take notes here. This
was the proper way to negotiate with a mimic.
Only it was taking its sweet time deciding. No matter how much it wanted to keep the shiny, surely it
didn’t want to be killed for it, right?
“Hey bubble-boobs,” whispered Kora. “Why are you so insistent with this? If the Master bites it we get
to run off and do what we want, right?”
“You know that box has a lot more HP than either of us, right?” she whispered back. “Do you honestly
think our bodies would survive a blast that it could not?”
“How strong a boom are we talking about here?”
“Only dust will be left behind. And that’s if we’re lucky.”
Kora crossed her arms in front of her chest and closed her eyes. One could practically hear the rusty
gears springing to life inside her head.
No master means no contract. No contract means I get to play around all I want. That’s good. But dying
sends me back to the Beyond. I can’t be summoned back unless I have a contract. Which means that if
both of us die at the same time...
“Master!” she blurted out after reaching the painfully obvious conclusion. “We should get rid of that
glowy thing right now!”
“Okay,” it responded.
It wasn’t actually torn between life and shiny though. It was just lamenting having to let go of this thing
after going through so much trouble to secure it, but there was no way around it. At first it wasn’t sure if
Snack was telling the truth, but that whispered conversation with Arms showed she was acting out of
self-preservation. It was an instinct the Mimic was very supportive of. Therefore, it would listen to its
familiars this time and do as they suggest.
It just had one major problem.
What do I do with it?
WARNING!
Catastrophic meltdown will occur in 7 minutes!
Whatever it was going to do, it needed to do it fast. It could always roll it back into the dungeon, but that
idea didn’t sit right with it. Sure it might be able to blow this place up and destroy it, but that annoying
pop-up might be able to reclaim the core somehow. Perhaps that’s what it was expecting? But if not the
dungeon, then was there any other place nearby where it could-
“Ah!” it exclaimed. “Arms, get the shiny outside! Fast!”
The three of them went out of the cavern and into the open air. It was already past noon, as evidenced by
the sun’s position in the sky. It seemed its little dungeon crawl had taken quite a bit of time.
The Mimic looked along the dirt road that led towards the nearby city of Monotal. There were a few
figures moving along it in the distance, obviously traveling between that place and the dungeon.
But that’s not what was important. The road itself was flat, mostly straight and on a downhill slope that
went pretty much all the way to the city.
“Arms, push the shiny down that road! Give it to that big place with the walls!”
“Huh?” replied Kora, dumbfounded. She had no idea what her master was going on about.
Xera, however, immediately caught on. Her face adopted an expression that seemed to say ‘Oh, I see!’
louder than any words could. Dumping the dangerous thing on the humans was a perfect way of getting
rid of it. How come she didn’t think of that? It was honestly a little annoying to be outsmarted by that
blasted box. Still, this was an idea she liked a lot.
“Allow me to guide her to the city, Master,” she offered.
“Okay. Arms, follow Snack’s lead!”
“Pfft! *Ahem* Yes, Master!”
The red-skinned fiend pushed the core down the road while the succubus took to the skies to keep from
falling behind. Using her wings at high speed inside that narrow dungeon was tantamount to suicide, but
out here she could soar as high as she wanted.
Their master watched them depart on their assignment for a few seconds before it started running in the
opposite direction. There was no telling how big that explosion was going to be, but judging from how
much mana it soaked up it was easy to tell it wasn’t going to be a small one. Therefore, putting as much
distance between itself and that orb was the obvious thing to do. Just like Xera had pointed out, nothing
is tastier than being able to stay alive!
It ran through the forest. It went up some hills and down others, around rocks and trees. A river was
forded at some point. A few wild animals and monsters were gobbled up along the way.
Proficiency level increased. Biomass is now Level 3. All Attributes +1.
Make that a few dozen wild animals and monsters.

WARNING!
Catastrophic meltdown will occur in 2 minutes!
“Snack, what’s going on over there?” it inquired through the thought link.
“We’re coming up on the gates now, Master. We’re going to try and force our way through.”
“Huh? Inside the walls?”
“Yes, it’ll do more damage if we bring it closer to the middle of the city.”
That was true. Dark Explosion was a Spell that had to be aimed in such a way so that it hits as many
things as possible. The scale of this core meltdown was likely to be much larger, but the same logic
applied.
WARNING!
Catastrophic meltdown will occur in 60 seconds!
It contemplated such things while it made its way through the wilderness. After a short while, it got a
rather sudden update.
Xera had been done in, likely by the city’s defenders.
“Arms, what’s going on?”
“ORRA! Oh, Master! DORRYA! We got past the wooden gate with brute force but- ORA ORA ORA
ORA! - there’s too many humans!”
“Keep them busy!”
“Hahaha! Gladly!”
Well, judging from how fast her HP was dropping, that wasn’t going to last long.
It ended up bursting through the treeline and onto a small clearing. There was a lone road along a small
cliff that gave it a clear, unobstructed view towards the walled-off city in the distance. Several streaks of
black smoke were visible, probably a result of that pyromaniac Pyromancer’s magic.
Ah, it seemed Kora finally went down. She held out a lot longer than the Mimic was expecting. Maybe
it’s due to that weird ‘Second Wind’ Skill she had? The chest decided it would be best to more
thoroughly investigate her Status later.
WARNING!
There wasn’t much time left. Should it keep running? Then again, another 30 seconds would hardly
make a difference if that explosion could reach this far… Then what about going underground? Yes, that
seemed like a good idea!
The chest shapeshifted its spider legs so that their ‘feet’ were more like shovels and less like needles. It
then began eagerly digging into the soil. This was the same technique it used to hide itself in the ground
shortly before its Rank Up, so it felt confident about it.
WARNING!
By this point, the chest had already dug out a hole about 1 meter deep. Going deeper at this stage
seemed to be meaningless, so it instead braced for impact.
At that moment, nearly 7 kilometers away, a group of adventurers and guards were cautiously circling
the ominous red ball. Cracks ran along its surface as more and more rays of light streamed out. It was
actually audibly buzzing at this point. They were unsure about what to do with this strange object that a
couple of renegade demons had brought into their city. Some of them felt it prudent to run the hell away,
while others thought to quarantine it somehow. If they had a few more minutes, they might be able to
teleport it away from them with magic.
But they didn’t and the core ruptured.
There was a flash of light so bright that it blinded about a dozen unfortunate travelers and merchants that
happened to be facing that direction.
...
Your target has been disintegrated. HP -5463.
…
It took but a fraction of a second to reap the lives of 8,235 people. That’s not counting all the animals,
domestic or otherwise, that got caught up in the blast. All of those were considered an attack made by
the Mimic, and all of those attacks relayed their less-than-useful results back to the perpetrator.
The onslaught of status messages scrolled on and on and on seemingly without end, assaulting the
Mimic’s consciousness until it nearly blacked out.
“Zeeh, zeeh, zeeh.”
Nearly though. It panted heavily inside its impromptu foxhole, reeling from the mental impact. If it
wasn’t for its MNT then it would probably end up stunned again. Just as it had calmed down, it felt the
ear-splitting noise of the core meltdown wash over it next, followed almost immediately by the
shockwave of the blast. It shook its little hidey-hole as if a major earthquake had taken place.
All things said and done, it lost about 300 HP in the ordeal. It fared much better than its victims, though.
And then it finally got the all-important news.
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
…
…
You have learned a new Spell: Shadowbind
You have learned a new Spell: Mind Blast
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Butcher of Humanity.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Collateral Damage.
The Mimic calmed itself down and climbed out of its little hole, then looked towards where the city
once stood. All that was left in its place was a glowing crater and a gigantic mushroom-shaped cloud of
smoke and dust. The green plains and thick forest around it had been turned to gray ash. The monster’s
selfish actions had left a scar on this world that would never truly heal.
“Neat!”
That’s all it had to say on the matter, though. So what if it brought about a calamity that wiped out an
entire city? It reaped a massive profit in Levels, and that’s all it cared about! No, that’s not quite right.
There was also the matter unlocking new Restricted Skills!
First and foremost, the oddly nostalgic Mimic Skills.
Skill List: Mimic

Unlocked Skills: Assassination, Storage, Cadaver Absorption, Biomass
Available Skills: Natural Armor, Misdirection, Create Fleshling, Liquid Mimicry, Metal
Mimicry
Create Fleshling was a Skill that would create a miniature, semi-sentient version of the Mimic to serve
as its minion. However, these creatures would die after a set amount of time and could only follow pre-
set orders, not to mention that separating chunks off its own body was obviously going to be unhealthy.
In short, Summon Familiar suited its needs much better. Therefore, it passed over this one.
Liquid Mimicry was also offered at Level 20, along with Create Fleshling and Biomass. It allowed the
Mimic to recreate almost any non-magical liquid the Mimic knew about by expending MP. However,
anything created by this Skill would disappear after a while and it was impossible to create alchemical
products like potions and poisons. Therefore it was passed over for Biomass.
And now it seemed that it only got one new option.
Metal Mimicry
Description: The ability to turn flesh and bone into steel and iron
Requirements: Level 30 Mimic, Shapeshift, Biomass, STR 100, END 100
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Flesh can be shapeshifted into any known non-magical metal.
MP will be consumed depending on how much of the body is turned to metal.
The transformation will fade after 15 minutes.
Reduces the MP consumption of Metal Mimicry by 5% per Level of this Skill.
The Mimic actually stopped to think about this one. It looked attractive, but several concerns gave it
pause. While it would be possible to create arms and armor on the spot, it would come at a heavier price
than what was obvious at first glance.
Metal was hard, heavy and inflexible. Hard was a good thing. Right now the Mimic could instantly
cover its body with something that looked like steel, but that wouldn’t mean it would be anywhere as
tough. It was still shapeshifter flesh under the shiny surface and would not actually block attacks any
better. Therefore, having the legitimate toughness of steel was extremely attractive. It probably wouldn’t
have to worry about running out of weapons, either.
But the other two characteristics of metal were downsides. Heavy meant it would take a LOT of its body
mass to create it. Therefore, the actual amount of metal it could ‘produce’ would be quite limited. As for
inflexible, let’s just say the Mimic was worried whether it could move joints that were turned to steel.
The answer would most likely be ‘no.’
Therefore, rather than gamble on an unknown, it actually revisited and reversed a decision it had made a
long time ago.
Proficiency level increased. Natural armor is now Level 1. END +6.
Natural Armor
Description: Monsters are known for their tough hides that can shrug off anything and
everything.
Requirements: Level 5 Monster Job, END 10+
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effect: Reduces all incoming damage by 1% per Level of this Skill.
Provides an additional +2 END per Level of this Skill.
‘I don’t need it if I don’t get hit’ was the sort of naive thinking that had nearly gotten it killed in that
dungeon. Therefore, while it may not be flashy, it picked the most reliable-looking Skill it could.
Besides, it would probably need it if something went wrong when working with the other Skill it
wanted.
Proficiency level increased. Crystallize Magic is now Level 1. INT +2. WIS +2.
While the sentient chest still felt apprehensive at the thought of blowing itself up, it was hard to argue
with the results from the dungeon core meltdown. The event had also given it a really good idea for how
to handle the potentially dangerous Spell Crystals. It just had to have someone extremely expendable
take care of it!
Speaking of which.
“Ohh! I’m back!” shouted Kora after her summoning. “Woah!? Is that the city in the distance?!”
“What’s left of it.”
“WAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!” The fiend threw her hands in the air and let out a stream of hearty
laughter. “Serves you right you blondie! Let’s see you try ‘cleansing this world of my taint’ when you’re
nothing but dust!”
“Blondie?” inquired the chest, curiously.
“Ahn? Oh yeah, there was this guy with a really shiny sword and flashy, spiky hairdo. Super annoying.
Kept prattling on about justice and whatnot while I was busy ripping this other guy limb from limb.
Those Hero types are always a buzzkill, you know?”
“I don’t.”
“... Oh, right. You’re only like 3 months old, huh?”

“Yes.”
“Well, you’ll find out soon enough. Hmm? Hey, my body seems to be overflowing with power
compared to before! Did you Level up from that?”
“Yes, many times. Got Skills and Perks too.”
A very tasty result indeed. As for the Perks, the first one seemed to be quite useful.
Butcher of Humanity
Description: Repetition is the mother of learning. Especially when it comes to murder.
Requirements: Kill more than 5,000 humans.
Effects: Increases all damage dealt to humans by 5%.
Killing a human invigorates you, restoring 2% of max HP and MP.
The Mimic fought humans a lot. It would probably keep on fighting them, so being more effective
against them was a good thing to be sure!
Collateral Damage
Description: Like exploding fish in a barrel.
Requirements: Hit more than 20 targets with a single attack.
Effects: Increases the radius of Area Effect Spells, Skills and Martial Arts by 10%.
The other one... Well, it made the Mimic feel a bit cheated. Still, considering its plans for Crystallize
Magic, it was far from a useless Perk.
“Where’s the walking pair of boobs?” asked Kora.
“Does such a tasty-sounding thing exist?!”
“Uhm, yeah, the succubus you call your, heh, your Snack.”
“Oh! Yes, I’ll summon her soon.”
Kora went back to enjoying the aftermath of her hard work while the Mimic was recovering its MP.
After a minute or so, it summoned Xera.
“Greetings Master. Oh wow!” she said when she saw the mushroom cloud.
“I know, right?!” exclaimed Kora. “I don’t think anyone survived that thing!”
“Yes, I can see that. I must say this is… much more devastating than I thought it would be.”
“You’ve seen this sort of thing before?”
“Sort of. I was caught up in something like that along with an old master, but this is my first time seeing
the aftermath.”
Xera gave a sigh. She was actually counting on at least one person who saw her wonderful acting to
survive that. This world would become a lot more interesting if that were the case. Well, it was a hastily
thrown together idea anyway, so brooding over its failure would be pointless.
“Where to now, Master?”
“...”
The Mimic really hadn’t thought that far ahead. Somewhere it needed to go? No, not in particular. Some
task to accomplish? Nothing came to mind. Something it wanted to get? Yes. Plenty of things actually.
“I want tasty things! Shiny things too! Ah, and potions! And troll blood. Lots of troll blood, actually.
What’s a troll anyway? Is it tasty? It sounds like it might be tasty. Oh and I need to find out what
happens when Warlock gets Level 25. And good swords too! Shiny swords! Snack! Where can I find all
those things?!”
“Uhm… going to another city would be a good place to start, I guess?”
She knew a big city would have libraries, blacksmiths and alchemists. The ‘shiny things’ it wanted were
obviously gold, maybe jewels. Those could also be gotten easily in a city if one were ruthless enough.
“Oh! Where’s that?!”
“I’m not sure, Master.”
She knew her way around a map, but had no idea where they were right now. She’d never heard of a
place called Monotal until a week ago. Well, technically speaking it wasn’t really a place anymore.
“We could always follow the road until we find some travelers we can, huhu, squeeze for information.”
“Okay. Let’s do that! Arms! We’re leaving!”
“Eh? Huh? Oh! On my way!”
Kora had been staring reverently at the former city. It seems she wasn’t quite done appreciating the
scenery. She had high hopes for the future too. How many demons could claim they helped destroy an
entire city on the first day of their new contract?! She was sure her master’s name would spread
throughout the Beyond if she-
“Huh? Master, you don’t have a name?”
“No. Are names tasty?”
“Well… Even if you ask me that…” Kora looked inquisitively at Xera, silently asking for help.
The succubus let out another sigh. How did this moron not figure it out yet?
“Tasty means good. It also means tasty,” she explained.
“Oh. Oh! Yeah, Master! Names are tasty! You can do fun things like yelling ‘Bow before the terrible
might of Koralenteprix!’ at people right before you smash them! It’s even better if they bow, because
you can really squish their head against the ground!”
The Mimic had absolutely no idea what Kora was getting at. Still, it had to admit that it was curious. But
how would one go about getting a name? Maybe if it opened its Status and inspected the Name field?
You are currently unnamed.

Would you like to a name to be assigned to you?
Yes
No
Well, at least this one seemed easy. It chose ‘Yes’ without a second thought.
A few moments later, its new name appeared in the Status and was then communicated to its familiars
through their respective contracts.
“Hahahaha! Nice one, Master! Aaaah hah hah hah! That’s amazing!”
“Oh, come on! What sort of name is that?! Are you kidding me with this shit?! There’s no way I’m
calling you that!”
Kora burst into laughter while Xera seemed to have some objections. The Mimic was actually quite
happy with it though. If a name could be tasty, then this one most certainly was.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Guild END 158
900/900 (+2.0/
HP INT 163
sec)
MP 815/815 (+1.0/ WIS 103

sec)
Skill List
Name Level Proficiency Name Level Proficiency
Assassination 5 60% Shapeshift 6 70%
Storage 4 34% Stealth 4 94%
Cadaver Absorption 4 85% Sword Mastery 6 36%
Biomass 3 11% Projectile Mastery 2 44%
Natural Armor 1 0% Dagger Mastery 3 21%
Summon Familiar 6 85% Ruin Mastery 5 30%
Power Overwhelming 3 26% Domination Mastery 3 37%
Demonology 3 12%
Crystallize Magic 1 0%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Frostbite Dark Infusion
Dark Explosion Mind Blast
Shadowbind
(28) Interlude A Little Fisting Goes A Long W
Kora, Xera and their newly named master made their way down the road at a leisurely pace. Boxxy had
already filled up its near-bottomless stomach so it was in no particular rush for once. Its familiars,
however, seemed to be in the middle of a heated debate. It seems Kora still had some gripes over the
way they fought at the former city of Monotal an hour ago.
“You burned me up on purpose back there, didn’t you!?” she said accusingly.
“Your big head just got in the way of my Fireball!” deflected Xera.
“As if! I know how you backstabbing whores work! You arranged it in such a way that I’d run into those
Spells face-first!”
She was, in fact, correct. The succubus wouldn’t be able to aim directly at something the contract stated
was an ally. However, ‘accidents’ happen in firefights. As for the reason she did something like that,
well, she just felt like it. Technically speaking they had already delivered the core, so their orders were
fulfilled. The humans had little to no chance of stopping it at that point. So Xera had taken that
opportunity to bully Kora a little. With a well-placed Fireball to the face.
“Tch, figured it out huh?” she whispered under her breath while clicking her tongue.
“Hey! I heard that!”
“Oh yeah?! What are you going to do about it? Flex at me until I die of boredom?!”
“Why you- Oh! That’s right! Master! Requesting permission to smack-a-bitch!”
“Huh?”
The Mimic, who was doing an amazing job ignoring the conversation, suddenly got dragged into it.
“What this moron means to say is we want to fight each other to the death,” clarified Xera. They had
been at each other’s throats for a while now, so she was very much looking forward to putting the uppity
moron in her place.
“Ah. Okay. Just make it quick. I’m going to take a break over there.”
It didn’t particularly care about their petty issues. If they needed to beat the shit out of each other then it
saw no reason to stop them. They were still technically in the forest where it had spent a few days
hunting, so there were no particularly dangerous enemies around. Besides, it was feeling a bit tired from
running with all its might to escape that explosion, so it went over to the side of the road and sat down to
rest a bit.
The two demons were already at it by that time though. Kora had taken a swing at Xera pretty much the
instant Boxxy let out that casual ‘Okay.’ Xera saw it coming a mile away and retreated high into the air
well before the attack could reach her, much to her opponent’s chagrin.
“Urgh! Get down here so I can smash you!”
“Haha! As if!” taunted the succubus from above. “Get roasted, dumbass! Fireball!”
Kora dove to the side, avoiding the Spell completely.
“Fireball!”
A second one came down immediately after, which was also dodged. The third and fourth ones followed
soon after.
Unlike Shadowbolt, Fireball was a more efficient Spell with a base Cost of only 20 MP. This meant that
Xera, who currently had over 800 MP, could keep firing them as much as she wanted. All while flying
well out of reach of hear grounded opponent.
And try as she might, Kora could not dodge forever. The fifth and sixth Spells hit her in the back and
shoulder, respectively. The Devouring Flames from Xera’s Pyromancer Job clung to her, draining even
more of her HP. There was no way she could keep avoiding those until Xera ran out of MP. Even if she
did, she had no way of reaching her.
Or at least, that’s how things would have been before their latest summoning.
A summoned familiar’s overall strength relies entirely on how much MP was used up to forge their
physical bodies. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that the MP spent by the Warlock was directly
converted into Attributes and Levels. The species of the demon dictated which Attributes would be the
strongest, as well as its Main Job. For example, all fiends would have a high degree of STR and END,
with a fair amount of AGI and DEX, but in return their INT and WIS would be pathetically low. They
would also predictably have the Fiend Job, which had a very strict set of Skills available. Only Pit
Fiends had access to the Idiotic Strength Skill, though.
So in some ways, it was safe to assume what a demon was capable of based on its species. However,
Masteries, Side Jobs and Side Job Skills were something each individual could choose for their own. It
was all part of their unwritten contract, an aspect that could be changed freely any time they were
summoned forth from the Beyond. This second part of a demon’s Status was known simply as its kit.
And what Kora had done during her latest summoning was add a new Skill to her kit. Of course this
meant all other Skills would suffer and drop in Proficiency to compensate. The thing is, Kora had a
feeling something like this bout with the succubus would happen eventually. And even she wasn’t stupid
enough to think that crafty bitch would fight her at close range. Therefore, she needed a way to attack
from a distance that didn’t rely on her pathetically low MP pool.
Her solution to this was simple - Projectile Mastery. It was a Skill that allowed her to turn all manner of
debris around her into ammunition, and there was no shortage of debris whenever a fiend participated in
battle. In this instance, she made her own by smashing up the cobblestone road to produce as many
throwable rocks as she wanted.
“Let’s see how you like these apples!” she said, gripping an rock in each hand. She then sent them
skywards in rapid succession.
This caught the overconfident Xera completely by surprise. She had to stop her magical barrage and
fervently dodge the improvised anti-air fire. The stones that were the size of grapefruits flew past her
like they were cannon fire. She avoided two, four, six of them, but her pathetically low AGI meant she
could not keep it going for long. One of the projectiles caught her in the knee, which threw her off-
course. Another one tore right through one of her wings, breaking it in half and rendering it useless.
The demoness screamed in pain as she fell out of the sky, landing on the grassy plain next to the road
with a painful faceplant. She was about to pick herself up when Kora’s armored boot dug into her ribs.
You have suffered major blunt force trauma. HP-120.
“Gufu!”
The force of the impact lifted the succubus off the ground and sent her flying like she was a pile of dirty
laundry. She hit the ground once more, some 6 meters away, skidding and rolling along the grassy soil
until she stopped with her back against the ground. The unbearable pain from her side kindly informed
her she likely had a few shattered ribs. The same metal-clad foot that put her in this position then
stomped down on her chest.
“Give up yet, cunt?!” said Kora triumphantly while crossing her arms.
“As if!” said Xera while coughing up some blood. “I’ll never admit defeat to a lucky shot like that! You
petulant bitch!”
“Oh really?” said Kora while raising an eyebrow. “I wonder what your bones have to say about this!”
She lifted her armored boot and stomped on the same spot she kicked moments ago, aggravating her
fracture. The weight she put into that step also pressed the succubus’s injured wing into the ground,
causing her double the agony. With so much pain shooting through her head at once, there was no way
Xera wouldn’t have a reaction.
“Hyaaaahaaaaaah!” she screamed. Her body visibly shuddered and shook for several seconds, especially
the area around her nether regions.
“...”
Kora did not miss her strange response. That scream was expected, but it was still way too high-pitched.
Not the kind of voice one normally lets out when they’re being tortured. No, that noise was almost like-
“Did you just… come from having your broken bones stepped on?”
“No! Hahn! There’s no such thing! Yahnn!”
There’s no way Kora would believe that extremely unconvincing response. She had always assumed
succubi were just a bunch of perverts and deviants, but even then had trouble believing they would be
this hopeless. Determined to find out if her words were truth, she knelt down on the ground while
straddling the succubus’s knees. She pinned her arms beneath with two of her hands while a third one
reached down and roughly tore off the blue-skinned slut’s bikini bottom. The exposed pussy lips
glistened with moisture. No, that wasn’t quite right.
“You’re practically flooded down there! So you did have an orgasm!?”
Xera could only avert her gaze in shame. This served only to infuriate Kora.
“You SLLLUUUUT!” she yelled before half-punching half-slapping Xera across the face. She had no
idea what was going on, other than she was absolutely disgusted with this creature beneath her.
“Why are you getting off on being hit?!” she continued with another ‘slap.’ “You fucking whore! We
were supposed to be fighting here!”
“S-shut up!” spat back Xera. “I don’t need to listen to any of this shit! Just fucking get it over with and
kill me already!”
“Yeah you’d want that, wouldn’t you?! You’d certainly enjoy it, right?!”
“Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you!”
She raised her hand to slap her again, but stopped herself. What would be the point? The damn succubus
would just get horny off it! The air already smelled like a bitch in heat due to the fluids dripping out of
her pussy. Her chest heaved up and down as she took unsteady breaths, causing her outrageously large
and impossibly perky breasts to bob enticingly.
“Actually, know what?!” said the fiend. “I think I will!”
Kora reached down to her own hotpants and pulled on them. The normally stretchy fabric came apart in
an instant to reveal her own naughty bits. It would seem that the succubus’s arousal was infectious as the
fiend’s own genitals were also quite damp. However, she had a little something extra. There was a
second vertical slit on the skin just above her vaginal opening. She spread it open with two fingers,
causing something outrageous to flop out.
A bright red, human-like dick was suddenly poking out of Kora’s groin. She slowly stroked it while
looking down at the injured succubus, coaxing it into a full erection. Xera’s eyes stared at it scornfully.
She had a feeling this would happen the instant she was knocked out of the sky.
According to a fiend, the best thing in life is a violent fight complete with a certain amount of
lamentation, while the second best thing is a violent fuck with a fitting amount of kicking and
screaming. If a fight wasn’t satisfying, then they would move onto rape. Even the females of the species
were like this. No, especially the females. They loved to force themselves on others so much that their
bodies almost always came equipped with the best tool for the job - a penis. They kept it hidden inside
their bodies most of the time though. Leaving an obvious weak point like that dangling about
unprotected was asking for a kick to the groin.
“Typical!” spat out the succubus. “This shit is why nobody likes you damned fiends! Not even other
fiends can tolerate you!”
“Oh please, do share your hypocrisy with me, miss I-get-horny-from-being-hit!”
“It’s not like that!”
“Then you don’t want to taste my dick?”
“I don’t!” she insisted and struggled to get away, but Kora had her firmly pinned down. There’s no way
she’d be able to overcome the difference in strength and stature.
“Too bad! You don’t get a choice in the matter!”
“We’ll see about that! I call upon-”
“Oh no you don’t!”
Xera was about to start chanting a Spell, but Kora cut her off by grabbing her throat with a spare hand,
nearly strangling her.
“Khuhak! Koff! Khek!”
Only nearly though, there would be no point of preventing the succubus’s self-destruction if she choked
to death. Especially not before the main event.
Speaking of which, her dick was fully erect by now. It stood at attention at a length easily surpassing 30
centimeters. Keeping one hand on Xera’s throat and another on her rock-hard member, Kora moved the
other two arms to grab the struggling slut’s legs. She lifted them up into the air and then pushed the
succubus’s ankles towards her head. This naturally caused her lower back to lift off the the ground,
putting her in the piledriver position. The horny fiend dragger her victim towards her, putting those face-
up pussy lips squarely against her engorged cock-head.
And without further ado, with no warning and for little reason, Kora pushed forward, sheathing her
entire dick inside Xera’s pussy in one go with a massive grunt. The succubus wailed in half-pain, half-
pleasure in response to the organ-displacing penetration. Her perpetually tight vaginal walls were
stretched obscenely by the intruder’s girth and reacted by rhythmically coiling and undulating as they
massaged Kora’s member, putting pressure on all the right spots.
The sudden spike of pleasure nearly made the fiend unload then and there, but she managed to hold
herself back. Unlike a succubus that cared only for the ejaculation, a fiend’s aim was to thoroughly
enjoy the feeling of violating their victim. Indeed, Kora was by no means a stranger to rape. Admittedly,
the opportunity where she could enjoy forcing herself on someone rarely presented itself since she was
usually made to stop by her previous masters, but she still got away with quite a few ‘conquests’ in her
past.
This, however, was her first time doing a succubus. And it was beyond anything she had ever
experienced.
“Haah, haah,” she panted as she calmed herself down a bit. “That was close! As expected of a
professional cock milker!” She looked down triumphantly on her latest prize, only to be met with a
toothy, shit-eating grin.
Kora was dumbfounded for a moment. She was sure the succubus had been thrashing about and trying to
call her names until just a moment ago, much like all her other victims. So then how come she was
looking so pleased with herself right now?
Xera mouthed the words ‘You’re mine!’ before unnaturally twisting her legs around. The plump limbs
wrapped around the fiend’s wide thighs, firmly locking them together in place.
Realization dawned on Kora’s face as she felt her body’s life force drain away. To a succubus, sex was a
weapon. Sticking your dick in one is very often a one-way ticket to the next world. She couldn’t believe
she fell for that so easily and her anger flared up again. Part of that fury was directed at herself for being
taken in so easily, but most of it was aimed towards the succubus. How dare she make a fool out of her?!
“Very well, slut!” she growled while lifting her thighs, easily breaking Xera’s leg-lock. She withdrew
her dick almost completely out of the succubus’s fleshy confines, leaving only the head inside. She
would have been satisfied with either a fight or a fuck, so there’s no way she’d back down when she was
about to get both at the same time!
“If that’s the way you want to do this,” she continued,” then I won’t back down!”
Their thighs slapped together as the erect shaft was plunged back inside the wet tunnel with full force.
Kora began pistoning in and out of the blue whore’s pussy, driving her deeper into the dirt with every
downward thrust. She purposefully put her entire weight behind each motion, causing each plunge to
register as a ‘blunt force trauma’ that chipped away at the succubus’s HP. Of course, she could always
crush the slut into a pulp, but that wouldn’t be very fun. At least not as fun as fucking her to death would
be. That would surely shut that uppity whore up for good!
The physically weak succubus could do little but let her cunt be mercilessly pounded. Having her insides
smashed to the point of taking damage, it was needless to say it came with a lot of pain. But all that did
was resonate with her masochistic side. She screamed and moaned and gasped for air every single time
Kora bottomed out inside her. These were not the screams of someone getting hurt, nor were they the
fake noises she made to make her targets cum faster. No, that unrestrained voice was simply the sound
of a bitch in heat getting the dicking she didn’t even know she wanted.
It would seem that she finally stopped bullshitting herself. So what if she enjoyed being beaten, raped
and dominated by someone she couldn’t stand? She’s a demon, she’s free to find pleasure in whatever
she damn well pleases, and right now she was in the middle of the single best sex she had ever had. This
was the simple truth she accepted with all her heart and pussy. And she was finally able to enjoy it to the
fullest now that she abandoned her so-called pride.
Indeed, some might say she was enjoying it a bit too much. Drool and tears were leaking out of her open
mouth and vacant eyes, signifying she had already given herself over to the pleasure. She had already
lost control of her body as her shaky mind was rocked by repeated orgasms. It had only been 15 minutes
since the angry fuck started, but she had already come 7 times under the constant, violent pounding.
Kora on the other hand was way past thinking anything coherent beyond ‘Succubus pussy is the best!’ It
was nigh-impossible to retain one’s reason once they were balls deep inside something like that. Sure,
the demonic fiend’s mind lasted longer than most mortals, but ultimately she succumbed to the need to
breed and fuck the eager slut under her. Her face was twisted in a toothy grin and her eyes shone madly
like a brainless fuckmonster, because that’s pretty much what she had devolved into. Her breath became
ragged and her growls became more primal as her mounting lust was about to boil over.
And then, inevitably, with a final thrust and unearthly howl, she came. Her cock exploded inside Xera,
releasing a veritable torrent of demonic spunk. It poured out of her like a river, her body obeying the
succubus’s instinctive demand for semen. Being stuffed so thoroughly and filled so completely triggered
Xera’s own climax as her body was rocked by her 8th and biggest orgasm. It seemed to roll on and on
without end as more and more cum was pumped into her. There was so much of it that even the greedy
demonic cunt could not hold it all. The off-white liquid overflowed from the cock-stuffed pussy and
dribbled down Xera’s stomach and lower back, forming a small puddle of spunk under her.
After what felt like an eternity, but was actually closer to 10 minutes, their paired orgasms finally ended.
It seemed that sucking a fiend of equal power dry in one go was pretty much impossible for the
succubus. Kora was nothing like the characteristically weaker humans, after all. It was a good effort
though, seeing as how she was left with only 120 HP or so.
And now that her head had finally cleared up a bit, Kora looked down at the succubus beneath her. All
of Xera’s broken bones and wounds had healed up during the seemingly endless orgasm, leaving her in
perfect physical condition. It also seemed like she’d recovered from her own sex-fueled craze much
faster than Kora, as evidenced by the staff she was pointing directly at the shocked fiend’s face.
Technically speaking, the duel hadn’t quite ended yet.
“Fireball!”
The direct point-blank hit to the face engulfed Kora’s head in flames, knocking it backwards. She yelled
in rage and pain, but had trouble moving her body on account of it being weakened so much by the blue-
skinned pervert. A second Fireball came moments later, robbing the last vestiges of her HP and killing
her while her dick was still lodged inside the succubus’s greedy cunt.
Xera then finally caught her breath. Even if her body had recovered its HP, her stamina was another
story. She wallowed in the small puddle of mixed liquids for a while before standing up and stretching
her sore body. Any excess cum on her body evaporated along with the fiend’s emaciated body, but she
still felt like she could use a shower. She then dressed herself with a snap of her fingers, or at least as
‘dressed’ as one could be in fetish wear like hers, and walked over to where the Mimic was sitting.
“Master, the duel is over,” she said matter of factly.
The animate chest sprouted some weird noodle-like appendages from its underside and tipped over
backwards. It seems it had grown bored of their little contest and fallen asleep without realizing it. After
all, it had a full belly and was basking in the warm sun while sitting on the soft grass. It had even found
the rhythmic slapping of flesh its familiars made while pounding each other to be oddly calming, almost
hypnotic. All things considered, it was almost inevitable that it would end up dozing off under these
circumstances.
Boxxy, it would seem, still had a ways to go before it conquered sleeping.
Still, now that it was awake and rested, it wanted to get back on the road. It righted itself and promptly
summoned back Kora. Once it confirmed they were both done with their little grudge match, it ordered
them to continue escorting it and went on its merry way.
“Argh!” groaned Kora once they started walking again. “I can’t believe I lost to you! This sucks!”
“W-well,” stammered Xera. “To be perfectly honest, it felt more like a draw to me.”
“Huh?! What the shit are you talking about? You killed me, didn’t you?”
“That did happen, yes. However, while I may have triumphed over you as a demon, I also completely
lost to you as a woman.”
Much like she was Kora’s first succubus, the opposite was also true. Xera had never had sex with a fiend
before and she was surprised to find just how much she enjoyed the violent fuck. That blasted chest may
have been the cause of her new ‘eccentricities,’ but it was this fiend that had inadvertently helped her
come to terms with that new side of herself.
Therefore, she had no qualms admitting that Kora had managed to completely satisfy her in every way
imaginable. Not only was the semen abundant and delicious, but even the sex itself felt insanely good.
After all, the main reason she came to this world was to have fun. Was there any real reason as to why
she kept denying herself that sort of enjoyment any longer? Her pride? What’s that? Is it tasty? Such
things simply got in the way.
“I don’t get it,” said Kora while crossing her arms and tilting her head. “How do you lose as a woman?”
Xera let out a sigh. For a moment there she forgot just how dense a fiend was. There’s no way she could
glean what she was trying to say if she used roundabout means. Since playing coy obviously wasn’t
going to get through that thick skull of hers, she just took the direct approach.
“I’m saying I really enjoyed it when you pushed me down and fucked my brains out.”
“Good for you, Slutty McSlutface. I had a good bit of fun too.”
“Then how about giving it another go sometime?”
“... You know what, I was thinking the same thing. I’ve never cum like that before, it was pretty intense.
Your head’s pretty broken, but you got a nice cunt that just won’t quit. ”
“I could say the same about you and your dumb-as-rocks-brain. Not to mention your breath smells like
brimstone and your movements are about as graceful as a drunk hippo. In fact, your cock’s pretty much
the only halfway decent thing about you. If you could just disappear and leave that dick behind that
would be perfect.”
A vein seemed to pop on Kora’s forehead. This bitch seriously wants me to wreck her so bad she can’t
walk right, huh?!
“Master! Requesting permission to punch the bitch in the face and the rape her in the pussy! Not
necessarily in that order!”
Boxxy, who was currently contemplating whether the left or right side of a human was more delicious,
simply shrugged its non-existent shoulders.
“Only if you can do that while walking.”
“Oh, that’s fine then,” said Kora. She cracked her knuckles while staring at Xera’s trademark grin with a
toothy smile of her own. “I’m sure I’ll find a way.”
(29) Not A Chapter Q A
So I thought it might be good to have a proper place where you guys can ask questions. So leave a
comment with your query and I'll update this post with an answer. You can even come back to this post
later and leave a question any time you like, just keep in mind spoiler-ish comments will be removed.
DISCLAIMER: I may or may not delete this post whenever I feel like it.
What made you pick a mimic out of all the monster species available for your protagonist? Besides
the obvious chest jokes that such a option opened up..... get it..... opened up?.....
I just wanted something more interesting than a goblin. The stupid chest jokes were 90% of the reason
though.
Can dragons get the shapsifter skill?
No. It's a skill that's granted at birth depending on one's species.
Are dungeons born from the world or does a god(or powerful person) make them?
A bit of both. There is someone behind the dungeons, but they can't be created anywhere they please.
Can plants/trees also have classes even if they aren't setient?
No, that would be a bit too silly.
Will this stay an evolution based story with erotica elements (like last chapter) or turn into an
erotica story with evolution elements? Or something different altogether?
The ero will not be the focus. The poll awhile back made this pretty clear.
That mimic can go far, I wonder where you will take it(him?).
Don't ask me, not even I can completely control that stupid box. (I'm making shit up as I go along)
Does Boxxy identified themself as a "it" or were you assuming their gender (insert feminazi's
insult toward chauvinist male pigs)?
It has no gender and is incapable of reproduction. If you want one of those made up genders, then it
identifies as a tastysexual.
is the mimc ever going to turn his tongues into dick tentacule combined with the liquid mimicry to
ravage and fill up both Xera and Kora until they pass out or get fuck to death which would be
funny(aspecully because one is a succubus) and a good way to tame Kora by dominated her?
Actually it would probably fully tame both.
Who knows? Certainly not me~
Did you ever delete a comment I posted?
I only delete double-posts and 'FIRST' comments. So... only if you did one of those two things.
Want to have a lemon (sex scene) competition? xD
No. Writing these scenes takes forever, at least for me. I'd rather put that energy into a new chapter o3o.
... is possible to our chest friend to change his "nature" that only hide his real chape (become a
chest to trick the tasty humans) and change for another type of shapeshifter?
If it Ranks Up to become a non-mimic species, then yes.
How much time did you spend writing and rewriting the lesser mimic chapters trying to properly
create such an unintelligent character ?
Not a lot. Maybe a week or two working on the first arc before posting it here. I just imagine what it's
like to have a toddler with a gun on the loose and the rest sort of happened.
Are boxxy's familiars full on lesbians now or are they still straightish and are just using each are
for stress relief?
Kora will fuck anything with a pulse so long as she's horny enough. Xera just wants to get violently
dicked and creampied, the rest doesn't really matter.
Does Ebonfire damages the body?

It does, but the amount of tissue it burns relates to how mcuh damage the spell did in total. Also, keep in
mind it goes out immediately after its target dies.
In the earlier chapters it was used against a low-level mimic that died in a second, so its corpse was
mostly unblemished. In the battle against the Fleshmaiden, it was supercharged by Power
Overwhelming and burned her out for the full 6 seconds, leaving behind little more than charcoal.
What about bugs and bacterias? Can they have skills?
See question about trees above.
What is Boxxy's current dimension (i.e length, width & height), does it change?
From the first chapter - 80 centimeters long, 35 centimeters tall and 40 centimeters on its side. It has
grown a bit in all directions, but not by much.
If I ask Boxxy "Which do you prefer, a big chests or chests as flat as box?" what would it answer?
It would probably stab you in the face and eat you.
Will there be nemesis'es for Boxxy? Like some great enemies that MC will fight through few
volumes and they gonna escape some fights and force MC to run away from others, ending in epic
1-2 chapters long conclusion fights.
Perhaps, though it will take some time for them to emerge. Anyone who might have served that purpose
was caught up in that meltdown.
Will there be jewelry (shiny) mimic ? Just to be lil' bro of our chest
Interesting idea. Unlikely, but interesting.
Is it possible for Boxxy to become a higher beings (e.g. god, immortal, etc)?
It could. I don't feel like taking it down the god route, but it might become an immortal species. Not
invulnerable though.
If boxxy somehow gain high int, will it stop tasty?
Nope. Well, probbably not. It may stop calling things 'tasty' or 'shiny' but it will still seek them out
vehemently.
How'd you write a chapter with fisting in the title, about two characters violently fucking each
other, and have no actual fisting occur? Xera's ass was crying for it. Hell, Kora has FOUR fists. I
feel cheated, sir.
You have a point, why did that happen? It's almost as if that's exactly the reaction I was hoping to get
out of some people...
How did you end up giving Fiend's Dicks? Was it just something you thought would be funny or is
their some other sorta story that had done it before?
Funny story that. I was actually going to have Kora yell out 'SUUUCK MY DIIIIICK' over the
mushroom cloud, as a sort of final farewell to that hero bloke. Then I realized she didn't actually have a
dick, so that shout made no sense.
And two chapters later, here we are. In hindsight, I probably should have left that in.
Gimme dah spoiler. For Boxxy's next evolution, will you evolve it into another creature with the
same shapeshifter kind, or will you evolve him further down the mimic road?
All I'm going to say is it's going to graduate from being a mimic. At least in body, though perhaps not in
spirit.
What are current senses of Boxxy? Is it still at only one eye after it messed up with too many at
once and got traumatized? What about ears? It can definitely hear things, but how?
Still one eye for the moment, it doesn't really need more. And it can hear because I said so.
Fine, if you seriously want a plausible explanation then I'll just come up with one for you. Uhm, it's
because its magical perception also works on sounds. It's a sort of magical sonar so it should have no
trouble picking up vibrations in the air. So there.
will boxxy have a love interest later?
It will, actually. I have something very special planned for that. It will involve a brand new Job and the
appearance of a loli catgirl.
Are you mister author a human or a machine?
My central processor claims I'm human, so I'll go with that. Though to be honest it's been getting a bit
loopy lately.
It doesn't seem like the additional int, wis, or ment, stars have added much to the mimic's
intelligence. How smart is he, and how smart will he become? Will his desire for tasty things ever
develop into a more nuanced motivation?
Intelligence and wisdom don't just appear out of the blue, you know. Those stats simply increase its
capacity, its potential to store and process information. Give it time, it's barely been a week or so since it
was released from the dungeon's control and had to think for itself.
Will Xera suggest to Boxxy that acquiring a education might be a good thing to do in a larger city?
Oh, it will definitely visit a center of learning. It has a loooot of questions regarding Warlocks after all.
And if so will it mimic a desk or kidnap tutors?
Tutors? What's that? Is it tasty? It sounds vaguely tasty. *Nod nod*
Author, do you ever get paranoid that a tapeworm is crawling out of your rectum and laying eggs
on your butt cheeks at night?
I don't. Or rather, I didn't until just now. Thanks, asshole.
I have another question: Is the picture only there as clickbait?
:^)
Are questions tasty?
Eh, 7/10.
Inserting YouTube videos doesn't work?
Doesn't seem to be, no.
While your making up your bullshit, would you consider having an epic 1v1 with boxxy and a
sweeper woodchuck?
Hmmm... Hamsuke from Overlord comes to mind. Okay, I'll consider it, though I'm not sure how 'epic' it
could be considering it's a R.O.U.S.
I have a question: Didn't you say in a previous chapter that demons don't really have any organs?
If so why does the mimic need lungs etc.. to speak?
Quote from the chapter in question: "They did not possess a large number of the internal organs one
would expect from a living being, like the heart, liver, kidneys or intestines."
They still have a few, and one of those is lungs. I am of the frim belief that all living things need to
breathe, even if they're demons that can forego food and water completely.
Hum~ Author-san, can Spell Crystals be utilized as landmines, nyaa~?
Nope. They're intended to be used like grenades, more or less.
This mimic is slightly based on "The Luggage" of Discworld series?
I'm afraid not. I've never read a Discworld book for myself, so it strikes me as odd that my writing gets
compared to that. Still, I'll take that as a compliment.
You gonna publish this on Amazon or something once you're done?
Publishing something on Amazon (and doing it right) involves a hell of a lot of work. Writing is
something I do for fun and I don't intend to make a career out of it. So to answer your question - no, I'm
not doing that.
Suppose the mimic gains the spell of "death like state" and uses it on one of its minions would it
gain their class skills using absorption?
Nope. A demon's physical body doesn't have a heart, so it's not a viable target for 'Corpse Targeted'
spells and skills.
(30) Science 1
There was a swirling of dust, shadows and sparkling particles while a small object materialized out of
thin air over the course of a few seconds. It was a 12-sided polygonal shape, a dodecahedron, that
appeared to be made out of thick, clear glass. Inside the 10 centimeter wide construct was a small,
swirling cloud of pitch-black smog that looked as if someone had bottled a tiny typhoon. The conjured
object floated in place while spinning around slowly in no particular direction.
Boxxy’s imitation Xera hand reached out and grasped the newly formed Spell Crystal. Holding it was an
odd feeling. It definitely felt it was gripping something solid, but there was absolutely no other sensation
to it. The tender fingers relayed no change in temperature and could not make out the texture of the thing
they were touching. This would probably be what it was like to grasp solid air.
Still, it wasn’t slippery and had a bit of heft to it, which made the Mimic a bit more confident about
handling these things. It had already practiced a few times by using the non-lethal Mass Panic Spell.
Well, it wasn’t like the damage from a single misfired Dark Explosion would kill it, but it would still
hurt like hell. The initial hit did as much as two Shadowbolts’ worth of damage and the concussive force
that followed that was not to be underestimated.
In other words, this was the first time it had tried crystallizing an offensive Spell. That act somehow
filled Boxxy with a distinct feeling of satisfaction that bordered on tasty. Now that it looked at it, the
Spell Crystal was actually considerably shiny. Not in a literal sense, but in a more aesthetically pleasing
way that caused the pseudo-Xera to smile at it. It was an innocent, happy smile that seemed to say all is
right with the world. The same goofy grin it had whenever it was playing around with its gold coins.
But it had work to do and couldn’t just idly enjoy itself. There would be plenty of time for that while its
MP recovered afterwards.
“Arms,” it called telepathically, “stop playing with Snack and come here.”
“Aw man,” exclaimed Kora. “I was just getting to the good part!”
She yanked violently on Xera’s silky hair, pulling her head away from Kora’s groin. The fiend’s
absurdly sized member slid out of the succubus’s throat with a small popping noise. She put it away
inside her body, pulled up her hotpants and went to see what her master wanted. It was regrettable that
the face-fucking was cut short, but it was a direct order so it couldn’t be helped.
After all, they somehow managed to work out a ‘standing fuck order.’ It was rather straightforward
arrangement gave the two demons permission to go at each other all they wanted. Well, provided there
were no other standing orders and they kept themselves above 75% HP. They had to ask special
permission for the full-blown back-breaking, ball-busting and bone-crushing sex since that always ended
with one of them dead. Boxxy had no intention to spend its valuable MP on its minions’ shenanigans.
“I’m here, Master,” said Kora with a hint of frustration in her voice.
“Here, hold this.”
It handed her the crystallized Dark Explosion. She accepted it with one of her massive hands and gave it
a curious look.
“Oh, another one huh? This one seems a bit different though.”
Indeed, the Mass Panic crystals looked pretty much the same, only the Spell captured inside them
appeared as a semi-transparent purple skull rather than a vortex of darkness.
“Use it on Snack,” it ordered.

Kora glanced towards Xera, who was currently on her back, wallowing in the dirt and gasping for air
some 20 meters away. The succubus was still reveling in the sensation of having her throat filled so
completely that it cut off airflow. Literally choking on dick felt amazing to her, so much so that she had
orgasmed without even touching her lower lips. Well, the black eye and broken collarbone also helped
bring that about, but the deepthroat was the main cause.
“Alright,” answered Kora. She wasn’t sure what that box was doing, but she didn’t really care, either.
She mumbled something under her breath and threw the crystal at her target with a shout of “Hey,
Slutinator!”
“What?” replied Xera, sitting up and turning her attention towards Kora just in time for the Spell Crystal
to hit her right in the middle of her forehead with an audible thwack.
“Guhya!”
Her noggin recoiled from the impact and slammed back into the ground while the offending projectile
ricocheted off it and flew straight up into the air.
“Think fast!” yelled Kora, entirely too late.
It would seem she was quite pleased with her little prank, if that evil smile on her face was any
indication. Then again, it would be really difficult for a fiend to make a non-evil smile. They loved to
bare their sharp, pointy teeth so much that 90% of the time they gave off the impression that they wanted
to eat someone’s baby.
Of course, that wasn’t actually true. Infants were stringy and had tiny bones that got stuck between their
teeth. And even then they were gone in one or two bites, hardly worth the effort and annoyance. It’s not
just fiends, most demons shared that opinion. In fact, the only demons that wanted to eat babies were
the dingo variants of hellhounds.
The point was, Kora did that on purpose. She had a feeling Xera would be displeased by the sudden
impact to the skull. And judging from how the succubus sat back up while glaring daggers at her seemed
to prove her guess was right. Even if she had learned to enjoy pain, she still hated surprises. So it
wouldn’t be hard to imagine her displeasure at what happened next.
The Spell Crystal that had bounced off her forehead seconds ago inevitably came back down. It broke
apart the instant it touched the ground, releasing the stored Dark Explosion Spell. A black, barely visible
shockwave exactly 6.6 meters in diameter radiated from within the shattered crystal.
*Ka-PANNNN*
The strength of the blast was enough to turn the slightly trampled ground into a small crater. As for the
succubus, she fared no better.
Your target has been blown away. HP -253.
The Dark Explosion had flung Xera’s surprisingly light body through the air at an extremely low angle,
almost parallel to the grassy ground. She flew for a dozen or so meters before bouncing once, then
twice, and finally coming to a stop by slamming face first into a giant boulder.
“Wow!” exclaimed Kora. “I wonder if she’s okay?” she added, although that was more out of morbid
curiosity than concern. She then remembered exactly who it was that was sent flying. “Yeah, she’ll be
fine.”
As for Boxxy, it was satisfied to see that a crystal’ magical failsafe behaved the same regardless of the
Spell used. Essentially, a Spell Crystal remained inert and would not release the stored Spell. Even if it
expired or was smashed open, the magic inside would just fizzle out harmlessly.
The only way to make it explode was to chant a magical command word while holding it. Three seconds
after doing so, the crystal would become armed and detonate the instant it came into contact with
something solid. Therefore, the Mimic was free to keep them in its Storage or have its familiars carry
them around without worry.
Ah, but this was the first time it tested an offensive Spell Crystal on them. It checked its Skill
Proficiency just in case, but neither Crystallize Magic nor Ruin Mastery gained any Proficiency. As
expected, it had to use it against a viable target. The problem was there were no such things around. It
had been traveling along this road for a few hours now, so it expected to see at least something it could
murder the shit out of.
Boxxy had no way of knowing this, but this current situation was more or less its own doing. Animals,
monsters and people alike in a large area around the former city of Monotal had either ran away or
hidden themselves in fear. A natural reaction considering that inexplicable yet terrifying explosion. The
shockwave could actually be felt dozens of kilometers away and the blinding flash it produced went
beyond even that. Not to mention the top part of that ominous mushroom cloud was visible from
hundreds of kilometers away. It didn’t help that, rather than clearing up, it actually seemed to be
growing while slowly turning a pale green.
Oh well. None of that really mattered to Boxxy. That explosion was back then and happened way over
there. Therefore, it had nothing to do with the here and now.
“Master?” said Kora, interrupting the chest’s train of thought. “What happens if you do the glowy thing
while making those boom-crystals?”
“Glowy thing?”
“Yeah! Like when you become all like ‘khrakakakoom’ and then it's all ‘bzzt bzzt bzzt’ and your magic
becomes really fucking strong!”
“Ohh!” it exclaimed. It actually hadn’t thought of combining its Skills like that until now. The MP cost
was a bit worrying, but since its MP was currently full anyway, it might as well give it a shot. It
activated Power Overwhelming and Crystallize Magic at the same time, then started chanting a Spell.
A whopping 770 MP was consumed over the span of a few seconds. The sudden drain on its MP pool
was both disorienting and draining. It actually made Boxxy stagger and nearly fall over for no good
reason. It felt a similar sensation when it used every last drop of its MP to take down the Fleshmaiden
yesterday. It would seem that wasn’t a fluke due to its already exhausted and weakened state, but an
actual condition it had to be wary of.
The Spell Crystal was formed without issue, though. It looked exactly like the last one, only it had a tiny
version of the Power Overwhelming aura crackling around the swirling vortex inside the crystal. The
Mimic grabbed it out of the air and handed it to Kora once again.
“Huhuhu… I can’t wait! Okay here we-”
“Wait,” said the Mimic, stopping her. “Stand there and don’t move.”
It then backed off to a distance of about 15 meters.
“Okay,” it said through the telepathic link. “Now turn it on and put it at your feet.”
Kora broke out in a cold sweat. It would seem it was actually her turn to be the test subject. She
unwillingly armed the crystal and placed it on the ground next to her. Then she realized that her master
hadn’t actually told her to-
“Stand still and let it hit you,” it added, cornering her completely.
And as the impossibly long 3 seconds ran by, Kora was finally starting to understand what Xera was
talking about when she blamed her ‘condition’ on their master. That box was a natural at causing
suffering to everyone around it. It was so effective that it somehow shattered the psyche of a 700 year
old demon. A feat almost as difficult as wiping out a city in a single day. That realization worried Kora
quite a bit. If she was put through that same wringer, then there’s no telling what might become of her.
Therefore, she silently wished that she wouldn’t end up a wanton, broken slut that lived only for cock
like a certain succubus.
Technically speaking though, that last part was mostly Kora’s fault. While it’s true that Boxxy was the
main cause of Xera’s masochistic tendencies, it was by no means a permanent condition. In actuality, its
abuse of the demon had most settled down as of late. It had only eaten her once since its Rank Up, after
all.
This reprieve had allowed Xera to start slowly gathering up the remnants of her former self. With
enough time, she might have even made a full recovery. But now any hope she might have had of
returning to ‘normal’ was gone, all because a certain someone couldn’t keep it in their pants.
Not that the perpetrator in question had any idea about that. She just assumed all succubi were like this,
though she had to admit the masochism thing was new. So in some ways what was about to happen to
her could easily be summed up as ‘karma is a bitch.’
Inevitably, the 3 seconds ran out.
*Click*
“Ah, fu-”
*KA-DOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN*
This blast was completely incomparable to the previous one. Absolutely everything and everyone within
its area of effect was completely and utterly rejected. While the previous one may have made a small
dent in the landscape, this one caused an upheaval that drastically changed the terrain, flinging dirt and
countless stones in every direction. Including towards Boxxy.
You have suffered a series of cuts and lacerations. HP -65.

You have been impaled. HP -58.
The small shrapnel-like pebbles ripped apart its flesh while two of the larger stones hit it full on. One
slammed into the chest’s eye while the other one pierced through pseudo-Xera’s abdomen. Boxxy hissed
and screamed as yellow blood sprayed from its wounds. When the gust of wind and debris died down, it
willed its wounds closed and pulled out the foreign matter stuck into its flesh.
It then finally undid the Xera form and returned to its preferred arachno-chest shape. As expected,
having a whole human body sticking out of itself simply made it a bigger target. If it had been just a
chest at the start, then it would have suffered far less damage. Come to think of it, did it really have to
expose itself like that just to use magic?
Actually no, it didn’t. It had been chanting just fine before it somehow picked up that habit. It’s true that
being able to wield a staff boosted its magic somewhat, but overall it really wasn’t worth it, right? Ah,
but there was more to this than just damage. It hated to admit it, but chants were much easier to do with
a human mouth and throat rather than its lipless maw. After all, one of those was clearly made for
devouring flesh and nothing else, so the more versatile human bits served better at chanting.
Then again, it didn’t really need the entire body, right? Surely it would be enough to grow only the head.
How about just the mouth? No, the voice box was in the throat. Then there was the inescapable need for
lungs if it wanted to do things properly. Not to mention the possibility of having to produce imitation
human blood.
“Master?” called out Xera. “W-what happened here?!”
Oh, right! Snack survived! it exclaimed to itself. Boxxy had completely written her off as a corpse, yet
here she was, alive and kicking. Well, just barely. Most of her left side was, for the lack of a better word,
a bloody pulp. It looked painful as all hell, though she clearly didn’t mind. At least, not if that clear
liquid dripping down her inner thighs was any indication.
“I used the shiny Spell. It was a bit too strong.”
“A bit you say…”

The succubus stared disbelievingly at the crater some 15 meters away. While the first blast may have
dented the ground and made a small indentation about a meter deep, this second blast was so powerful
that it dig out a perfect hemisphere that was a little over 6 meters of diameters.
“Where’s Kora- I mean, Arms?”
“Over there,” responded Boxxy while pointing to the side with one of its spider legs. “And there. And
there. Oh, there too!”
“Uwaah… How enviab- I mean, what a terrible way to die…”
Even if she had decided to embrace that masochistic side of herself, Xera still wanted to avoid revealing
it to her master. If that chest figured out pain was more of a reward rather than a punishment, it was
liable to come up with some other way to torture her. Therefore, she wanted to maintain this status quo
for as long as possible.
“Not dead.”
“... Huh?”
“Not dead,” repeated Boxxy. “At least not yet.”
“What do you mean-” she stopped halfway through her sentence since her ears were picking up
something odd.
“... uuuuuuuh-”
It sounded like that fiend’s voice, but how come it was so distant? No wait, wasn’t it getting closer at
terrifying rate?! Looking up, Xera finally saw Kora, or at least what was left of her, as she was
plummeting towards the nearby cobblestone road.
“-uuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUCK!”
*SPLAT*
“Now, she’s dead,” said the Mimic matter-of-factly.
That was an understatement. The familiar had splattered against the road as if she were an overripe
tomato that was thrown against a wall. Her head was cracked open and her black blood was all over the
place. What was left of her torso was tenderized into paste. The only things still attached to it were what
was left of her head and a total of two arms. Well, most of one and two elbow-length stumps if one were
to be more specific.
Xera’s only reaction was to instinctively shudder when she imagined just how much that whole thing
must have hurt.
“Let’s go,” ordered Boxxy while Kora’s leftovers were disappearing into thin air. “I have to find dinner.”
Something about making all those explosions really made it work up an appetite.
(31) Science 2
A caravan of 3 horse-drawn carriages had been on the road for the past three days. The first of them was
a stagecoach capable of carrying 6 people and their belongings. The other two wagons were transporting
cargo. One of them had barrels and crates loaded with all manner of food. Salted meats, smoked fish,
dried fruits and pickled vegetables made up about half of its cargo, the rest consisting mostly of rye and
wheat. There were even a few kegs of top-quality dwarven ale and a crate of less-than-top-quality elven
wine. The other wagon, the third vehicle in the convoy, held a number of general goods such as spices,
ropes, clothing, tools and cutlery.
Overall, the caravan was carrying goods that had a total market value of about 1,300G. A tempting
target should a group of well-coordinated unscrupulous individuals decided they wanted it for
themselves. Which is precisely why the merchant that owned these carriages hired a total of 13
adventurers as armed escorts. 9 of them were keeping pace with the caravan on foot while the rest were
riding on top of the carriages where they and their weapons were clearly visible.
Usually a show of force like this would be enough to deter bandits. After all, even though such criminals
were not that uncommon, they weren’t stupid enough to risk fighting an engagement where their lives
would be at serious risk. No matter how sweet a prize, you couldn’t get a single taste of it if you were
dead. That’s why such criminals would not attack their victims unless they had an overwhelming
advantage.
Such as, say, having a large group of 30 or so bloodthirsty men ambush the convoy and use their
superior numbers to quickly overwhelm the defenders and seize the loot. Which is more or less exactly
what the local bandit gang tried to do. They picked a spot on the road where one side of it had a thick
forest with plenty of cover while the other side was a sheer 25 meter drop into a rocky canyon, complete
with furious white water rapids at the bottom. Even if the escorts survived that fall, they would still be
dragged under by that unforgiving current.
And so, with their plan in place and their target in sight, the bandits began their ambush by firing on the
caravan out of the forest. A flurry of arrows and Spells rained down on the adventurers. However, it
would seem the criminals had not gone entirely unnoticed. The Shaman and Wizard in the group had
already deployed their defensive Spells.
“Wind Wall!”
“Anti-Magic Shell!”
An impossible gust of wind knocked physical projectiles off course while a bright purple bubble repelled
the offensive magic. However, the defensive magic could not cover the entire convoy, and a number of
attacks ended up on target. A combination of two Acid Javelins and a Shadowbolt struck the lead
carriage at once, knocking it over and blocking the road. The horses flew into a frenzy and bucked
wildly, threatening to wreck the two cargo wagons.
The redhead human Ranger that served as leader of the armed escort quickly flew into action. She
ordered her comrades take cover behind the cargo wagons, with the canyon to their backs. She wanted to
confirm the safety of the passenger in the lead carriage, but that seemed to be a lost cause. The bloodied,
lifeless hand that stuck out from inside the melting wreckage was more than enough proof that their
client had died. A second volley was fired soon after, killing the horses and completely ruining any
chances the adventurers might have had for a quick escape.
However, the 230 centimeter tall, scar-faced, black-haired gang leader by the name of Makren didn’t
order a third ranged attack. The female Ranger’s snap judgement was spot on. It was only natural that
the bandits would hesitate to destroy the very loot they came here to get.
“Damn that bitch,” he cursed under his breath. “Guess she’s not as green as she looks.”
He ordered over half his men to step forward. 20 heavily armed bandits revealed themselves from the
treeline and started establishing a perimeter while brandishing their weapons. All of them were male and
wore mismatched armor and shields, obviously looted gear from previous victims. There was even a trio
of them that appeared to be deserters from the royal army, or at least the very least wore its trademark
plate armor with the griffin-head-shaped right shoulder pad. Other than that, the rest of them were a mix
of half-plate, chainmail and reinforced leather armor.
However varied their gear might have been, all of them still had one thing on common. Each
bandit wore a dark red cowl, hood, headband and/or bandana. Clearly intended to be some sort of
identifying gang sign, a flag if you will. They also moved with a certain amount of coordination,
suggesting they had been training in mixed unit tactics, which was extremely strange for criminal rabble
like that.
Once their half-encirclement was complete, they moved forward in a threatening manner, stopping some
15 meters away from the still hiding adventurers. It was a tense atmosphere, a standoff of sorts. While
the adventurers were naturally unwilling to start the inevitable skirmish, the other side seemed to be
holding back as well, at least for the moment.
“Listen up, snowflakes!” shouted Makren. “We just want the loot! Leave it behind peacefully and we
will not give chase! Nobody else has to die here!”
They would probably win the fight if it came to that, but it was highly likely the bandits would suffer
quite a lot of casualties even though they outnumbered those people nearly 3-to-1. If their ambush had
succeeded and they had taken out 3 or 4 of them, then it would have been a different story. However, the
Ranger leader had spotted their approach seconds before and prevented most of the damage. Two of her
people were heavily injured before they could scramble for cover, but it was nothing the party’s healers
couldn’t deal with. The client in the lead carriage, however, was not so lucky.
“Yeah, right!” she yelled back. “As if anyone would trust a bunch of lowlifes like you!”
“Be reasonable, honey! Your people ain’t got a chance!”

“Then come and get us, you dickless turds!”
Makren sighed. He really hated those heroic types that never backed down. It was always the hard way
with those insufferable people. To make matters worse, he really wasn’t lying about letting them go.
Engaging a well-oiled adventurer team in open combat was a terrifying prospect. They were people that
fought dangerous monsters and beasts on a nearly daily basis. The difference in quality between a bandit
and an adventurer was almost like heaven and earth, which is exactly why Makren made his men train
together regularly. The importance of teamwork was something Makren understood well, having been
an adventurer himself until a few years ago.
“Come on boss!” said one of his subordinates. “Let’s go shut that bitch up real good!”
“Yeah,” chimed in the fellow next to him. “Enough with this diplomancy bullcrap!”
His fellow bandits, however, lacked that sort of insight. They failed to understand that the adventurers
leaving peacefully would have been the best resolution to this failed ambush. None of his men would die
and they’d keep all of the loot. True, they’d leave witnesses alive, but they could always relocate if
someone put out a bounty on their heads or if some punitive force came knocking.
That path was now closed to him, however. He now had three options.
First was to try to flush out the adventurers and keep the cargo as intact as possible. They would reap the
most profit, but his men would end up questioning his leadership if a lot of them ended up dying over it.
This was the best short-term solution, but would sow seeds of discontent among the survivors which
would likely become trouble further down the line.
The second was to bombard the carts from afar with magic. That Wizard would try to ward off their
Spells, but his MP would not hold out for too long. That way they would suffer the least casualties, but
also have very little to show for their trouble. Some smart-asses would probably question his decision
anyway, but he could just counter with how they’re alive now becaues of it.
And the final option was to simply give up on the profits and withdraw. A sure fire way to have his men
turn on him, have a bounty put out on his head AND lose out on all the loot. It was still technically a
choice, no matter how terrible it would be.
“Have it your way then!” he shouted. “Boys!”
Having made his decision, Makren lifted an arm above his head. Everyone, bandit and adventurer alike,
went silent in anticipation of what would undoubtedly be the order to start the battle. The tension in the
air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Wait, wasn’t this too quiet? The bandit leader could have sworn he still heard the odd bird call or distant
roars of monsters while they were preparing their ambush. In fact, the forest’s denizens had gotten
particularly noisy ever since the sky lit up and the ground shook several hours ago.
And yet they were quiet. In the middle of a summer day, that entire section of the overgrown forest was
completely and utterly silent. The only noise that could be heard was the muffled splashing of the nearby
river.
“Boss! On the road, look!”
One of the bandits pointed in the direction that led towards the city of Monotal. Makren followed his
finger and easily saw it. How could he not? You’d have to be blind from the eyes to not notice that. A
nearly 3-meter tall, red-skinned, four-armed and metal-horned pile of muscle and anger was running
toward them at full sprint. It was some 150 meters away and closing in fast.
“W-What is that?!”
“What do we do, boss?!”
The bandits were understandably shaken. It’s not every day one meets a demon. Especially not one that
seemed to be without a master.
“Calm down, you shits!” shouted Makren. “That thing’s nothing to be scared of!”
He once again raised his arm. That demon was going to be upon them real soon!
“Backline!” He swung his arm down theatrically. “Open fire on that thing! Turn it into a puddle!”
His men raised a cheer in anticipation for the light show. It lasted for several seconds before it dawned
on them that such a thing wasn’t going to come.
“... Huh? What are those assholes doing?!”
Their leader looked towards the forest, just in time to see a small crystal fly out of it. It was a perfect
dodecahedron, with a tiny, transparent skull inside it. It fell on the ground, right int the middle of a
cluster of his men. It then cracked open, releasing a wailing, piercing screech that was loud enough to
rock one to their core.
Your target has been crippled by fear for 6 seconds.

Mass Panic is much tastier this way, thought Boxxy. The spike in MP cost was well worth the additional
range. The duration of the effect was still unreliable though. It seemed to vary from person to person,
and never went over 8 seconds or under 4. Well, other than all those times its minions resisted the effect
completely, but that was besides the point.
“Aaaah!”
“Save me! I don’t wanna die!”
“Mommy! I’m sorry! Mommy!”
The bottom line was, the distraction was scarily effective and effectively scary. About half of the red-
clothed humans were currently curled up in a ball and wetting themselves or running away at full speed
due to the magically induced panic attack. And fear was contagious. Even if it wasn’t ‘real,’ the sudden
wailing and crying, combined with Kora charging at them like a gigantic woman-shaped battering ram
made the rest of them visibly shaken.
And speaking of the muscular fiend, she seemed to finally reached their panicking front line and then-
“Here comes the pain, bitch! OOOORAH!”
-literally ran them over. She clotheslined two of them with a double lariat and decked a third one with a
boot to the face. Being crippled by magic left them wide open for her attacks, allowing her to forego
defense and hit them as hard as she could. She then jumped on top of the booted one’s face heels-first,
using her enormous weight and powerful legs to smash the human’s head open against the ground,
killing him instantly.
“Ora! Ora! Ora ora ora oraoraoraoraoraora!”
Next came the immediate barrage of fists and kicks aimed at the few bandits that still had the balls to
attack her. Some of them tried to strike at her unarmored torso while others tried to stall for time by
blocking and parrying. However, all of them seemed to be fighting sloppily due to their anxiety and
uneasiness. If they were calm, they would be able to quickly pick up on her simple attack pattern and
counter attack, but the Mimic’s new toy had taken a massive shit all over their composure.
Judging by the 8 bandits it disposed of silently just a while ago, Boxxy had concluded they seemed to be
quite a bit tougher than the rabble it had dealt with until now. Estimated Level was around 30 or 35. 40
at most. And while that increase in Level made this endeavor more dangerous, the XP and Proficiency
earned were extremely delicious. Ah, but it would seem that one or two of the rats were making an
escape. It would seem the Mass Panic Spell Crystal was a bit too effective. Now it would have to go
hunt them down and kill them. After all, the last time it let someone escape like this, it resulted in a
punitive force being organized to hunt it down. Needless to say, it wanted to avoid a repeat of that
situation. Next time it may not be so lucky.
“Snack,” it called out telepathically,” I am going to hunt. Do not let any of these people survive.”
“Yes, Master,” replied Xera.
She was currently scouting out the situation from high in the air. Even if someone were to look upwards
it would be difficult to see her light-blue camouflaged body against the clear sky. The rotten gears in her
head started turning, looking for a way to fulfil that command.
“Ah, Master!” she exclaimed. The proverbial lightbulb had gone off in her head when she saw the new
development. “I need something from you to help me do that!”
Back at the battle itself, the adventurers were already locked in combat with the enemy. Borona, the
Ranger leader, made a judgement call to assist the mysterious red-skinned demon. It was a risk to get too
close to it, however. She may have managed to kill one and incapacitate two of those criminals during
the surprise attack, but it wasn’t clear if she was under contract or not. The fact she was not under
ranged attack from the forest meant she probably had allies working nearby that counter-ambushed the
Casters and archers hiding in the treeline. Even if that wasn’t the case, it was better to act now and catch
the bandits in a sort of pincer attack, rather than, as her second-in-command named Winchester put it,
‘sit down, have a pint and wait for this whole thing to blow over.’ Bloody dwarves.
“Miles, support Eric and Logar,” she ordered through her Whisper Wind Skill.
The effects of this Skill meant her words would reach any target within 200 meters without fail and
would be clearly audible no matter what.
“Haas, you have two of them on your left. Nora, don’t get near that rampaging demon just yet!”
It also meant that only the target would be able to hear her speak, which made this an excellent tool for
relaying orders during a hectic battle like this.
“Winchester, how are you already out of MP?! I swear, if you put whiskey in your mana potions again I
will rip your fucking liver out and feed it to you!”
She kept giving out orders while firing her bow from a distance. Even if the enemy was more numerous,
the adventurers had magic support on their side, which made them the superior force. The only worry
was making sure none of the people under her command died to this scum.
Just then she saw a Fireball stream in from the treeline. Her first thought was that more bandits had
shown up, but quickly abandoned tht thought when she saw the Fireball accurately hit one of the
bandits in the back, setting him on fire while he screamed his lungs out. The Ranger quickly tracked its
point of origin to female human Caster emerging from the treeline. She had auburn hair tied in a long
ponytail and wore long, gray robes. It was plainly obvious she had been badly hurt. Her right thigh had a
deep gash in it with copious amounts of blood leaking from it. Her robe had been slashed up along her
thigh and shoulder, and it looks like she cauterized her wounds with magic. Let’s not even mention
that heavy limp she had.
“I am an adventurer from Monotal and that fiend’s master!” she yelled towards the Ranger. “I will
support you!”
“Understood! We welcome the assist!” came the immediate reply.
The Ranger was honestly glad. Looks like they wouldn’t have to face off against that fiend. Honestly,
she had serious doubts she was actually leashed. She knew demons were brutal by nature and that
bandits were to be killed on sight by law, so she could accept a certain amount of violence under the
circumstance. However, ripping off a guy’s arms and and then beating him across the head with them
while repeatedly yelling ‘Stop hitting yourself!’ was perhaps a bit too violent. It’s like her master didn’t
even try to restrain the demon under her charge.
Which was more or less the case. That red demon’s actual master was currently busy stalking one of the
two deserters from earlier. It had neither the time, the opportunity nor desire to reign in its rampaging
familiar. In fact, ‘run wild and mow them down’ were pretty much the orders it gave Kora in the first
place.
“Haah, haah, haah,” panted the bandit as he leaned against a tree to catch his breath. He was a young
man, barely 17 years of age. That Mass Panic from earlier hit him hard. It was his first time experiencing
that sort of depthless desperation. When he finally regained his senses, however, he had already deserted
the battle. And he knew full well what that leader did to deserters. Therefore, he just kept running.
Fighting people was one thing, but he never signed up for that sort of freaky monster shit. How come he
had to-
The mithril dagger was then casually withdrawn from the back of his throat, pulling his body down in
the process. Boxxy then immediately activated its Cadaver Absorption Skill. This should be the last one
it needed before reaching the next Skill Level.

12% of the target’s highest Attribute has been added to your own. AGI +10.
Proficiency level increased. Cadaver Absorption is now Level 5. All Attributes +1.
And indeed it was. It even got some tasty tasty Attributes from it as a bonus! It would seem that taking
part in that little struggle was the right choice. Even if its Jobs were slow to increase in Level, it could
still spend some time and train up some of the Skills it had been neglecting recently. Such as, for
example, Stealth.
Stealth
Description: The practice of thinning out one’s presence in order to avoid detection
Requirements: AGI 15, DEX 15, INT 5
Type: Toggled (ON)
Cost: 10 MP
Range: Self
Effects: Suppresses all sounds made by movement.
Drains 2 MP for every 1 meter traveled in any direction.
The noise suppression effect of this Skill improves with each Level of this Skill.
Honestly, this entire encounter so far felt oddly nostalgic. Boxxy felt like it had been forever since it
actually managed to ambush something properly, even though it’s only been about a week in reality.
Well, from the perspective of something that’s only been alive for 3 months, that’s still quite a long time.
Even the core meltdown that happened earlier today already felt like a distant memory.
Ah, but now wasn’t the time to space out and reminisce about the past. It had hunted down one of the
rats that tried to flee the sinking ship, but the other one had escaped in a different direction entirely.
Boxxy wasn’t very good at tracking so, realistically speaking, its chanced of tracking him down now
were catastrophically low. It could keep looking around blindly, but perhaps it would be better to go
back and make sure that tasty buffet it left behind didn’t go anywhere?
Speaking of which, it had been about 7 or 8 minutes since it left that battle. Wouldn’t it be prudent to
check on the situation? Yes, that seemed like a-
Your target has been obliterated. HP -934.

The slaughter invigorates you. HP +126. MP +112.
Level up!
Level up!
Several seconds after that, it was notified that the four targets that were ‘blown away’ had suffered blunt
force trauma, presumably on impact with the ground, giving it an extra 18 HP and 16 MP through the
Butcher of Humanity Perk. It also heard the distant echo of an explosion roll through the forest.
“Arms, any survivors?”
“I don’t think so, Master. That bitch blew up good! She took out the whole lot of them in- Oh wait! One
of them’s still twitching!”
The slaughter invigorates you. HP +19. MP +18.
“There, all done!”
“Good. Guard the place, I’ll be there later. I have prey to hunt.”
“Yes, Master.”
The Mimic felt oddly satisfied as it began its search for the last survivor. As expected of the Snack, it
came up with a truly tasty plan. Boxxy would never have considered gaining the trust of adventurers just
to explode them all at once in a suicide attack by detonating a Big Bang Ball. That was the nickname it
had given to the potent combination of Power Overwhelming, Dark Explosion and Spell Crystal.
Incidentally, the Bang Ball was the same, only without the Power Overwhelming, and the Mass Panic
Spell Crystals were referred to simply as Boo Balls. It’s true that, technically speaking, they weren’t
actually balls, but the Mimic didn’t really sweat the small stuff. Besides, there was no way in hell it
could actually say something like 'dodecahedron,' no matter how many times Xera tried to teach it.
Speaking of which, Boxxy was still unsure as to one aspect of her anti-adventurer plan, but it was hard
to argue with tasty results like these. Therefore, it decided to accept that jamming the 10-centimeter
wide crystal up the succubus’s asshole was probably for the best.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Guild END 171
HP 953/968(+2.2/sec) INT 180
314/900 (+1.1/
MP WIS 110
sec)
Skill List

Demonology 3 19%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Shadowbind
(32) Science 3
With one of the deserters taken care of, Boxxy turned its attention towards finding the last survivor. Or
at least, it would have liked to, but it had no idea where to even begin. It was confident it could outrun or
at least keep up with humans at full speed, but that would require it have sight of its quarry. And that
wasn’t going to happen in this thick, overgrown forest. Even if the trees weren’t there, the numerous
hills and boulders would still block its line of sight.
It had lost sight of its latest victim several times due to the terrain. The Mimic’s AGI had risen quite a bit
recently, but that young man appeared to have a good deal of the same Attribute himself. In truth, he was
quite a bit faster than Boxxy and might have escaped if he didn’t stop to catch his breath. However, the
monster was still able to track him by sound. Such a method obviously wasn’t going to be of use to it
when its other target was long gone, though.
Then how about following his trail?
Boxxy had already tracked a number of things during the few days spent in the forest, so it already knew
what sort of signs to look for. After all, that same knowledge was applied to leave an ‘invitation’ for
those punitive force members to come find it. Therefore, it turned around and headed back towards the
last spot it saw that lone survivor, near the caravan ambush site.
After several minutes it arrived at its destination - a place that was only about a dozen meters from the
edge of the forest, beyond which lied the road and the canyon. Boxxy started investigating the area,
using its magical perception to look for even the smallest sign of that man passing through, but soon
realized that was a pointless effort.
After all, the direction the soon-to-be-dead-man was headed towards was pretty obvious. There was a
faint path of trampled and dried up grass in the forest floor that led away from the road and deeper into
the woods. Humans had a fondness for traveling over such flattened and relatively smooth terrain, so
there was a good chance that man ran through here. Therefore, Boxxy just needed to follow this path and
see where it leads. But first, it decided to bring its familiar back to life. There was no point to simply
waiting around on full MP after all.
“Greetings, Master.”
Xera materialized while already grinning from ear to ear. Whether her good mood was because she had
successfully fooled and betrayed an entire party of adventurers or due to the fact she experienced a fatal
anal explosion was best left unsaid.
“Scout the path,” ordered Boxxy while pointing deeper towards the forest.
The succubus spread her wings and took to the air, but ended up reporting back the instant she cleared
the forest’s canopy.
“Master, I see an old abandoned fort in the distance. I think that’s where this path leads.”
The Mimic was more than a bit surprised. Wasn’t this too easy? It quickly skittered up the side of a tree
to get a good look for itself. Its needle-like spider legs dug into the bark as it ascended the tree trunk and
up the thickest, tallest branch it could find. But even after going as high up as it could, it still couldn’t
see above the treeline. This would probably be the first situation where it wanted to be taller. Well, not
like that was impossible.
The ghostly pale pseudo-Xera’s head poke out from the mass of leaves, giving Boxxy the same vantage
point as the currently cringing demoness. The albino head swayed and shook awkwardly thanks to the
meter-long neck it was attached to, giving Xera the creeps in the process. She wasn’t a stranger to this
sort of freakish display, but seeing her own body being stretched like that really got under her skin.
The Mimic scanned the treeline and immediately saw what Xera was talking about. There was an old,
ruined stone tower poking above the treetops, with stone walls reminiscent of those around the (former)
city of Monotal surrounding it. Peering into the distance, it also saw what looked like people patrolling
on top of them. Well, they were smaller than grains of rice at this distance, but they were most definitely
shapes moving about.
Humans liked hiding behind walls, so there was a good chance its quarry had ran there. However, much
like the city, there appeared to be quite a few sentries up on those crumbling walls. They were bound to
discover it and raise an alarm, at which point it might get pincushioned by ranged attacks. Then again, it
had a pretty tasty distraction with which to befuddle them.
Name Xerababadubuth Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress

L’okrelaila
Succubus
Species STR 32 MNT 162 Succubus 17 43%
(Cerulean)
Sex Female DEX 32 CHR 145 Pyromancer 12 32%
Guild END 97
517/517 (+0.9/
HP INT 210
sec)
489/1050 (+0.9/
MP WIS 97
sec)
Skill List
Energy Drain 5 47%
Demonic Seduction 4 13%
Invisibility 2 70%
Devouring Flame 4 91%
Mana Burn 2 68%
Shapeshift 3 58%
Dreamweaver 3 58%
Pyroclasm Mastery 4 62%
Both Xera and Kora had gotten quite the boost in power with its latest burst of Job and Skill Levels. The
succubus’s magic-focused Status in particular shined through as she finally surpassed 1000 MP. The
much higher INT would without a doubt make her Spells much more dangerous than Boxxy’s. While
both monsters dealt a similar amount of damage with their respective magic, Xera could keep using her
highly efficient fire-based Spells for much, much longer. The downside was that her physical Attributes
were pretty pathetic. Her HP also seemed a bit low, all things considered.
There was more to a Status than simply Attributes though. The increase in Job Levels had given her
access to two brand new Skills as well.
Invisibility
Description: Succubi are tricksters of the highest order, capable of fooling even light itself.
Requirements: Level 15 Succubus
Type: Active
Cost: 250 MP
Range: Self
Effects: Grants invisibility for 30 seconds.
Casting a Spell or being hit will negate the effect.
Increases the duration of this Skill by 3 seconds per Level of this Skill.
Similar, yet completely different from Stealth. It also did not suppress the noise she made, so she could
still be detected by the sound of her footsteps or breathing. Her gliding, however, was almost completely
silent. Flying while under the effects of this Skill was perfect for scouting out enemy positions and
getting the drop on others. However, she had to stand perfectly still while activating it, which meant
using this once combat started was probably a bad idea. She couldn’t really attack back anyway, only
escape.
Mana Burn
Description: A Pyromancer’s flames can burn away magic itself
Requirements: Level 10 Pyromancer, Devouring Flame, INT 45, WIS 45
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: 100 meters
Effects: Devouring Flame effect will reduce the target’s MP by an amount equal to 50% of
its HP damage.
Increases the duration of Devouring Flame by 0.5 seconds per Level of this Skill.
This one was perhaps not as flashy, but seemed to be quite effective nonetheless. Those Devouring
Flames left behind by Xera’s magic were almost as bad as the Spell itself, but combined with this Skill it
would make them even worse. The ability to reduce the target’s MP directly was undoubtedly going to
be very useful in long fights, especially against opponents that can heal themselves. It was unclear to
Boxxy if it would have helped against the Fleshmaiden, but adventurers with healing magic were
incredibly persistent if one was unable to take them out instantly.
But it was digressing. It still had people to slaughter.
“Snack, we’re attacking that place.”
It leapt off the tree and started making its way towards that ruined fort. Even if it could be seen from the
treetops, it still took about 20 more minutes to reach the place. During that time, the sun had actually
began to set and the sky steadily turned red. It also gave Boxxy ample time to prepare. Its Spell Crystals
would last up to 18 minutes now, which meant it could stockpile quite a few of them in advance. It took
only a little over 2 minutes to recover the MP spent on a Bang Ball, so it could easily start the battle with
5 of them prepared while being on full MP. Throwing them out mid-battle could be dangerous though,
which is why it gave 4 of them to the succubus.
It refused her request to stuff them up her ass this time, though. Even if she was adamant they would fit,
that wasn’t the point. She had to throw them down from above as a surprise attack and Boxxy had
serious doubts she would be able to evacuate her bowels quick enough to accomplish that. After all,
once the keyword was spoken, all four of them would arm at the same time. Let’s not even mention the
obvious lack of accuracy when using such a method. Therefore, she would just carry them around in her
arms.
“Now stop saying stupid things and go!”
Xera’s idiotic monster of a master had called her ‘butt-bombing’ idea stupid. A brainless chest that bit
people in the face as a way of saying ‘hello’ was looking down on her. And worst of all, it was
completely in the right.
A casual observer would expect a proud demon such as a succubus to feel scorned or disheartened at
such a realization, and they would be correct. In fact, if it were the Xera from yesterday, she might
actually suffer HP damage from that self-inflicted self-burn.
“Haah. Yes, Master.”
However, that person was gone. All that was left in her place was a shameless, hopeless and incorrigible
pervert who was sorely disappointed she wasn’t going to get her anal cavity stretched and abused. Still,
the succubus had orders to follow and the sooner she was done, the sooner she could resume choking on
Kora’s dick. Therefore, she promptly activated her Invisibility and took off from the ground and into the
air. She glided silently through the evening sky towards the bandit-infested fort that was some 50 meters
away and began relaying the layout of the place back to Boxxy.
Well, calling that place a fort was an overstatement, it was closer to ‘decrepit ruin’ if one were to be
brutally honest. The main feature of the place was the 15-meter tall half-collapsed stone tower. On the
ground next to it stood an old two-story barracks made out of rotten wood and a smaller stone building
that doubled as both storehouse and armory was position opposite that. Several shabby lodgings such as
wooden shacks and animal hide tents were erected in a hurry around the place, most likely by the
criminal gang that had turned the old military outpost into a place of residence.
The wall itself was about 6 meters tall and 2 meters thick and surrounded the ancient compound. From
the air it looked like a lopsided rectangle with about 30 meters on each side and a small, circular turret
on each corner. While not large enough to be a castle wall, it was clearly intended to keep away wild
animals and monsters rather than invading armies. About half of it had collapsed under the ravages of
time and what remained looked like it would fall over with a good push, although the same could be said
of the other buildings.
“There are 6 guards on the wall, but more could be inside,” she added, finishing off her report.
“Good, then drop the Bang Balls to start the attack,” came the telepathic order.
And it was obeyed, though slightly reluctantly. Xera armed the four crystals she was carrying and
dropped them from above at random. One of them fell next to a bow-armed bandit on top of the wall, the
resulting shockwave knocking him off his perch and down onto the ground. It also caused the aged wall
to heave mightily under the stress and collapse into a pile of stones. The second magical bomb fell on
the barracks, ripping a huge hole in its roof and wall. The last two didn’t hit anything of value and
simply made small craters in the ground.
Overall, the damage done was quite minimal. However, the collapsing wall, the screaming victim and
the exploded barracks all did their job of terrifying the simple bandits.
“Waah! The wall exploded!”
“What the flying fuck was that?!”
Their reaction was to be expected. Just knowing magic existed didn’t mean you were mentally prepared
to be attacked by it, especially not so suddenly. However, there seemed to be someone around to take
charge of the situation.
“Calm down you worms!”
A 230 centimeter tall, scar-faced, black-haired man by the name of Renmak came out of the ruined
tower. He had just finished ‘interrogating’ the spineless worm that abandoned his twin brother, Makren.
The idiot actually came back to their base rather than run off and die in the forest somewhere. Judging
from his testimony about the ‘four armed red nightmare’ and how he ‘pissed and shit his pants while
running away,’ it was clear to the former adventurer exactly who was attacking them.
“It’s an enemy attack! It’s likely a Warlock!” he shouted. “Don’t bunch up! Scatter and find hi-”
A mass of darkness hit him squarely in the back before he could even finish giving out orders.
“Guaaaahack!” he screamed while falling forward.
The other bandits looking in his direction were all left speechless at the sudden turn of events. First their
base started exploding for no good reason, and now one of those incredibly tough and feared twins was
laying face-down on the ground with a hole in his upper back. It was as if some wild beast had snuck up
on him and taken a bite out of Renmak.
Which wasn’t entirely wrong.
*Krakakooom*
There was a roaring thunder that seemed to come directly from above. Looking up, they saw the most
bizarre combination of a box, a spider and a slut wrapped in a cloak of lightning, clinging to the side of
the ruined tower.
No longer needing to hide itself, Boxxy fired the empowered Spell at the collapsed bandit. It hit him in
the lower back, finishing him off. The Mimic took extra care not to explode the head or heart this time.
It turned its attention to the other bandits, the snow-white lips curved in an impossibly wide crescent
moon smile that made shiver run their spines.
And a few minutes later, all that was left of those men were their mutilated, albeit mostly intact, corpses.
The magical barrage from Boxxy and Xera swept them away, it was completely one-sided. After all,
their leader had taken what few Casters they had to carry out that ambush, so the people left there were
more or less runts that were only good to drive wild animals and monsters away.
Now that all of those pesky humans were out of the way, Boxxy was free to investigate their camp at its
leisure. After all, this was only its second time being in the same living space as humans. It was quite
curious as to what it would find. There wasn’t much to see, though. After all, there’s not much a bunch
of outlaws living the woods could really have. Just being able to drink and eat while keeping a roof over
your head was good enough for most of them.
So it was understandable that the rickety huts and tents the lower-ranked members used held absolutely
nothing of value. The wrecked barracks building that had been used as a combination common room and
mess hall didn’t fare much better, either. The smaller stone building had a bunch of food which was
immediately eaten and a few barrels of clean water that were completely ignored, but there was also a
pile of weapons and armor that caught the chest’s interest.
These items must’ve belonged to victims of these criminals. They were bloodied, rusty, bent, broken,
ripped or otherwise in poor condition. The trash pile reminded Boxxy of that pile of scrap metal it left
behind in the dungeon during its harrowing escape. Well, that particular collection of souvenirs was
probably evaporated in the blast, so thinking about it was pointless.
Still, there was something to be found in this scrap heap. Boxxy looted a few swords that looked to be
mostly in working order. There were also a collection of 10 simple iron daggers that were also put away
inside its Storage, mostly for Projectile Mastery training. It then went back outside and started using
Cadaver Absorption on the corpses.

12% of the target’s highest Attribute has been added to your own. END +7.

12% of the target’s highest Attribute has been added to your own. STR +13.
The rest were, predictably, failures. This success rate was definitely higher than what it experienced
while fighting in the forest, though. Both its LCK and its Cadaver Absorption Level had gone up
significantly since that time, so this much was natural. It still needed about 10% proficiency for
Shapeshift to advance, though. Boxxy felt like it had just been repeating the same old transformations
over and over, which didn’t really seem to let it gain much proficiency. Even turning into a humanoid
shape other than Xera’s did little for its Proficiency. Therefore, it would need to actively consider what
new shapes and forms it could adapt as part of its training.
But that would come later. Right now, it still had one more building to check - the ruined tower that the
biggest of the humans came out of. It walked into the building through a stone archway and took a look
around. There was a table with a bunch of papers and books in one corner and several chairs thrown
haphazardly around it. Several unlit torches lined the walls and the starry night sky was visible through
the missing parts of the wall and ceiling. There really wasn’t much to look at in this filthy place.
However, Boxxy’s attention was focused on one single thing.
“Huck!” it cursed, taking a wary step back and baring its teeth.
In this place, against all odds, the Mimic was left face to face with that once more. The second toughest
opponent it had ever run across. The Fleshmaiden was undoubtedly the worst, but that thing in front of
the sentient chest had given it more trouble than everything else besides her. Even that janther was
ultimately no big deal in comparison.
“What’s the matter, Master?” asked Xera. She had followed her master into the room and was more than
a little surprised to see her master acting cautious for no apparent reason.
“Enemy! It’s an enemy!” it spat back.
The succubus, however, still had no idea what Boxxy was talking about.
All she saw was the base of an old, stone tower with nothing in it except for some shitty wooden
furniture and what appeared to be stairs leading down into some sort of basement, sealed off by an
enchanted steel grate.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Guild END 178
1016/1016 (+2.2/
HP INT 180
sec)
314/900 (+1.1/
MP WIS 110
sec)
Skill List
Demonology 3 19%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Shadowbind
(33) Science 4
“Dark Explosion!!”
*Ka-ponnn*
The hateful steel grate was rocked by the most violent of Boxxy’s Spells. The metal creaked and
groaned, but it survived with barely a dent. The stone brick doorway it was bolted to was equally
unfazed.
It tried again, but it didn’t fare any better. It didn’t seem like the grate was withstanding the force of
those shockwaves, but more like the magic itself wasn’t exerting as much power as it normally would. It
would be common sense that in a world of magic and monsters, military fortifications such as this one
would have some form of enchantment against enemy magic. This outpost was definitely magically
fortified at some point in time. And while the magic has waned and lost effectiveness on the wall
outside, this part of the tower was not as ravaged by time and still retained some of its strength.
Not that a particular Mimic had any idea about any of this.
*Krakakoom*
“Huh?” exclaimed Xera. She was still a bit stupefied when she realized the big bad ‘enemy’ her master
was so wary of was an inanimate object. The angry face and hate-filled shouting her albino imitation
made was also a first. So she was slow to react when said master flared up with the really dangerous
Power Overwhelming.
“Master! If you-”
*KADOOOOONNN*
Aimed at right in the middle of that infuriating grate, the extra-strength Dark Explosion finally did the
trick. It overwhelmed the anti-magic enchantment on the steel and the surrounding stone, blowing them
apart. The nearby wall of the tower itself also got caught up in the Spell, setting off a chain reaction that
collapsed the entire thing on top of Boxxy and Xera and burying them in debris.
A few minutes later, the sentient chest crawled out from under the rubble. The pseudo-Xera sticking out
of it had been pierced clean through the chest by one metal rod, and a second, smaller one was stuck into
the Mimic’s main body. It would seem that the extra-powerful Spell had turned the metal rods the
grating was assembled from into spear-sized shrapnel.
“FUUUCK!” it cursed, using Xera’s actual mouth. “That stupid grate, how dare it try to kill me again!”
“Master, that was entirely your own fault,” came a voice from nearby.
The real Xera was currently digging herself out of the rubble. It seems the metal shrapnel missed her
entirely and the falling stones weren’t enough to finish her off.
“No it wasn’t,” insisted Boxxy. “That thing is just really evil.”
It refused to admit that it inadvertently hurt itself again. Especially since it should know what would
happen if it went for the Big Bang in an enclosed space. It’s just that, in the heat of the moment, that
little fact slipped its still developing mind.
“Haah,” sighed Xera. The cluelessness of this monster that annihilated an entire city for kicks calling a
lump of metal 'evil' was too much for her to handle. “Whatever you say, Master. What now?”
“...”
Boxxy took a few moments to calm down a bit. That was a good question, wasn’t it? Why did they come
in here to begin with?
Oh right, checking out the place. The Mimic pulled out the metal rods from its body and went back to its
more compact spider-chest form. It went over to double-check on the passageway it blew away, but it
was completely inaccessible. The narrow, steep staircase entrance was covered with rubble. The passage
beyond it was probably collapsed as well. Clearing the way would take substantial effort, not to mention
the basement it led to might have caved in anyway.
The Mimic’s little magically-empowered tantrum had pretty much put the nail in the coffin for this old
ruin, after all. Therefore, there was only one possible course of action - give up on it.
“We go back to where Arms is.”
Well, technically it was possible to use Storage to excavate the place and explore what was downstairs,
but Boxxy had more pressing matters to attend to. Like those 20+ corpses waiting for it back at the
massacred caravan. It had gotten a lucky streak of successes with its Cadaver Absorption recently and
wanted to see if that would continue.
And so Boxxy and Xera left the former fort and current pile of rubble behind and made their way back
to where Kora currently was. The sky had already gone dark and the stars peered down from between
gaps in the forest’s canopy. While this forest was never particularly hospitable during the day, it was
much, much worse during the night. Most nocturnal monsters were far more vicious than their daylight-
loving counterparts. The janther was a prime example of this. And this area was home to one of those
self-proclaimed kings. An individual that was currently investigating the scent of a challenger that had
entered his domain.
At least that’s what it seemed like at first. The simple beast was more than a little confused when it
found out this ‘challenger’ was a box with legs, rather than one of its own kind. It observed this curious
creature from a distance, not sure what to do with it. That wooden shell and stringy-looking legs didn’t
look particularly appetizing. On the other hand, this thing certainly carried the faint scent of another
male’s urine and was brazenly walking around its territory. It was pretty much an insult, one this janther
would not forgive. So it gave up on stalking its target from a distance and naturally crept closer, using its
Stealth Skill to make sure it wasn’t discovered.
And it worked perfectly until it got to about 10 meters away from it. That’s when the hunter felt an odd
tingling in its whiskers.
Followed immediately by an intense burning sensation from within its very core.
“Fireball!”
And another one in its face. The beast roared and charged forward in a blind rage, but it was no
opponent for the Level 57 chest. With the difference of magic and Status, it was a total massacre.
Level up!
You have learned a new Spell: Singularity
Correction, Level 58.
“Status,” chanted Boxxy.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Sex N/A DEX 124 MNT 115 Warlock 25 MAX
Guild END 180
1026/1026 (+2.3/
HP INT 182
sec)
543/910 (+1.1/
MP WIS 110
sec)
Well, the maximum Job Level being 25 wasn’t a surprise. Those seemed to go up in multiples of 25.
However, the total and complete lack of a (+) sign anywhere on this Status screen was most unsettling.
Boxxy tried to ask its font of knowledge, the succubus Xera, but she wasn’t particularly useful. Her
Status worked in a completely different way, after all. The only thing she knew about it that the
Mimic didn’t was the Rank Up chant, and that was only because one of her previous masters was
obsessing over it constantly and she overheard it by chance. It would seem that Boxxy needed to enter a
city and extract the relevant information from a library or guild. Using Xera as a proxy, of course.
Well, it wasn’t going to be getting any new Skills for the moment, but at least it got a brand new Spell
for its troubles, right?
Singularity
School: Ruin
Type: Area Effect
Cost: 500 MP
Range: 40 meters
Effects: Creates a gravity well at the target location for 15 seconds.
Requires a focusing crystal.
Okay, maybe not. It was still a bit short of the 200 INT requirement, but that could be solved with a few
more Levels. The real problem was that ‘focusing crystal.’ Yet another thing Boxxy didn’t know about.
Inspecting the words didn’t offer any new insight, either. The knowledge of the Spell seemed to indicate
it would an apple-sized crystal bauble and that it would be consumed to invoke the Spell, but that was it.
More useful data like what it was made of, where to get it or what it actually looked like was not
available. And, most important of all, the Mimic had no idea if a focusing crystal was tasty or not. It
sounded rather tasty, if it had to be honest.
“Oh, Master! You’re back!” said Kora when she saw the two of them step out of the treeline. “Thank
fuck! I was getting so bored that I-”
“I don’t care. Did you finish retrieving the bodies?” asked Boxxy, completely shoving aside her
complaints.
“... Yeah, they’re over there in a pile.”
The fiend pointed behind her towards a deep crater in the cobblestone road, the site of Xera’s butt-
bombing. All the dead bandits were there, as well as what was left of the adventurers the mutilated
corpses and miscellaneous body parts were piled up in a way that resembled an extremely disgusting
salad. Which, considering the circumstances, was oddly fitting. The Mimic went over to the corpse pile
and started processing them using Cadaver Absorption.
“Urk!” exclaimed Kora. “Is it… drinking those people?!”
“Oh yeah,” said Xera. “This is your first time seeing this, isn’t it?”
“What the fuck?! It does this regularly? Why?!”
“It’s some weird Skill the Master uses to permanently upgrade its Status. I’m not sure on the details, but
I think that’s how it got the Warlock Job without visiting a trainer in the first place. Seems to be quite
convenient.”
“That’s an understatement! Considering the body count that thing has racked up in just a day, I’d say it’s
almost too convenient!”
“Maybe,” shrugged the succubus. “It’s not a bad thing, though. Honestly, I don’t mind having that box
as a Master. It may be a moron, but it’s certainly more entertaining than my previous contractors.”
“Hmm, you do have a point. I mean it’s only been my first day yet I got to smash 68 different things!
Certainly way better than my previous jobs. Though to be honest, this is only my third time being bound
to a mortal, so I don’t know if that statement counts for much.”
“What, really?” blurted out Xera, eyes wide. “Only three contracts? Aren’t you like 400 years old?!”
A demon gets contracted on average once every 80 years, so cases like Kora’s were quite rare. Succubi
like Xera in particular tend to have turnover rates almost three times higher than other demons.
“Well, my last master was a dwarf who kept me in his service for 124 years before he died of old age.
The worst part of it was he only summoned me thrice in that entire time. And all three times were to
help him move furniture!”
“Wow, that sounds terrible. No wonder you jumped on this thing’s fiend contract so eagerly!”
“If anyone here’s the eager one, it’s you, isn’t it?!”
The two demons kept making small talk for a while before it inevitably descended into their favorite
pastime: hate-fucking. It really was no surprise that the two of them seemed unable to keep their hands
off each other, almost as if they were newlyweds on a honeymoon. After all, the pleasures of the flesh
were impossible to experience in a place like the Beyond, so they indulged themselves at every
opportunity while in the physical realm.
Boxxy ignored the flesh-on-flesh slapping noises coming from behind and continued processing the
corpses. It absorbed 13 mostly intact bodies, 7 that had a few missing body parts and 3 that were
basically a head and torso. None of them yielded a success, however. It would seem that the Mimic’s
lucky streak had run out after all. As for the leftover limbs, it simply gobbled them up as a snack.
Having concluded its desecration of the dead, Boxxy climbed out of the crater and went to investigate
the 2 cargo wagons and the overturned stagecoach.
At first, the food cart seemed to be a really good catch, but that judgement quickly changed after the
Mimic sampled its contents. The preserved food it carried would definitely fill the monster’s stomach,
but Boxxy would be hard-pressed to call it tasty. The fruits and vegetables in particular seemed to have
little-to-no flavor, while the salted fish was downright nasty. The various dried meats and jerky were
alright, though. After tasting a bit of the merchandise, Boxxy began putting all of it, except for the fish,
into its Storage. Food was food, even if it wasn’t particularly tasty. Having another source of nutrition
would allow Boxxy to absorb more corpses rather than be forced into eating them in order to sustain
itself.
The fish could just fuck off and disappear though. It was almost as un-tasty as the mummified remains
left behind by Cadaver Absorption.
Proficiency level increased. Storage is now Level 5. END +1. INT +1. WIS +2.
This was the first time in a long while Boxxy had used the Storage Skill so much, so the new Level
wasn’t that big of a surprise. In fact, Boxxy was pretty much counting on it. The higher the Skill Level,
the higher the pocket dimension’s capacity. At Level 4 it would have been impossible to fit in all the
cargo it wanted to carry around inside, but Level 5 gave it quite a bit more space. It was filled almost to
bursting anyway, but still had several cubic meters’ worth of room inside.
The second wagon held a plethora of common items one would find in a general store. It seemed to be
slightly more exciting, at least at first. After all, the Mimic had never seen the vast majority of things in
here, like kitchen utensils, wooden plates, commoner clothes, string, hammers, nails, paints, farming
tools and so on. However, simple curiosity is all the attention they got. Once they were judged as neither
shiny nor tasty, they became unworthy of the Mimic’s notice. It still took a bag of glass marbles and a
mining pick though. The former looked like it would be fun to play around with, and the latter seemed
like it was good at breaking things. Certainly better than slamming its swords or daggers into hard
surfaces.
Satisfied, Boxxy left the cargo wagons behind and approached the ruined stagecoach. It would seem
Arms had been slacking when it gave her the order to gather all the corpses in one spot. Then again, it
only stated to gather the ‘redheads and adventurers.’ It failed to realize there would be people in the
wrecked pile of wood at the very front until it was standing right next to it and saw a bloodied hand
sticking out from under the mass of planks. It tore through the wreckage, pulling it apart and flinging the
debris haphazardly around using its tentacles. It actually found not one, but three corpses inside.
The first was an adult male human. One of the bandits’ Spells had hit him in the side of the head,
destroying half of it. He was eaten to become part of the Mimic’s Biomass. Oh that’s right, Biomass
only increased in proficiency if Boxxy consumed flesh. Focusing too much on Cadaver Absorption
would have a negative impact on this Skill’s development. If it wasn’t for the the additional HP recovery
it granted, then the Mimic would have surely died in its encounter with the Fleshmaiden. Regrowing all
those lost body parts would be also impossible without the deep reserves of shapeshifting material this
Skill provided.
The monster now regretted not chowing down on that janther it killed. Consuming hundreds of
kilograms worth of meat and guts like that would have surely helped push Biomass closer to Level 4.
Using Cadaver Absorption on it felt like a waste in retrospect. Perhaps, in the future, it would be better
to chow down on large and relatively weak creatures like that. Smaller ones could be absorbed in order
to raise its Skill proficiency, since the size of the body didn’t seem to actually matter when it came to
that particular Skill.
Speaking of which, the second and third corpses were indeed small. They were gnomes, a highly
advanced subterranean race that is said to be cousins to the dwarves. Their average height was only
about 120 centimeters which, combined with their slightly chubby build and slightly-too-large heads,
made them seem like 10 year old human children at first glance. A second glance would reveal the sort
of well-trimmed facial hair that only an adult could have.
For Boxxy, this was the first time it encountered such a race. It was able to immediately recognize they
were not human based on their anatomy, so it was slightly curious how they would taste. It wrapped its
tongue around one’s waist and gobbled it up like a piece of candy. These things were so small, the
Mimic could probably fit 3 or 4 of them inside its mouth cavity at once. The taste was nothing special
though - they had a flavor that was almost exactly like humans. A trait which was shared among the
other civilized races it came across. Eating these would do very little for a hungry monster like itself, so
Boxxy decided it would much rather absorb them. So that’s what it did on the last one, although that too
was a failure. Still, the Mimic did not care in particular. It’s not like it lost anything other than MP when
it ran that sort of gamble, so there was no point in feeling disappointed.
It was just about to move on from this place and continue its aimless journey down the road when it
stopped to consider a part of the wrecked stagecoach. A miraculously intact wheel hanging on a less-
than-intact axel. Boxxy’s violent digging through the wreckage had disturbed it, causing it to spin
around ever so slowly while hanging off that piece of wood.
When Snack mentioned the wagons while she was scouting ahead earlier, she explained them as ‘huge
boxes humans use to move stuff around.’ The Mimic had never actually seen it in motion, so it just
assumed those horses were sort of dragging it along the floor. After all, the carriages’ round ‘legs’ were
clearly lacking feet, knees or any other discernable joints. Because they weren’t legs at all, they were
wheels. They spun around instead of moving up and down, allowing the carriage to roll across the
relatively flat ground.
Boxxy understood that rolling around was a more efficient form of movement than walking, especially
on flat surfaces. That was knowledge it had gleaned during its brief time with handling the gigantic
dungeon core. True, it was heavy and looked like it was tricky to control at high speed, but it still moved
much, much faster than if Arms were to carry it around on her back. Curious as to how good these
wagons would be at that sort of thing, it took a run up and slammed at full force into the side of the
mostly empty food wagon. It rocked violently, but didn’t even budge. Realizing its mistake, the Mimic
tried again, this time from the back if the carriage.
*Kotororor*
It moved! How mysterious! Boxxy repeated the process a few more times, using its magical perception
to observe the wheels and axles as it slowly inched the vehicle forward. The purpose of this was simple.
Mimics gotta mimic.
If a giant box could have wheels and axles, then why couldn’t a smaller one? What the monster was
doing right now was not simply fooling around, it was observing in detail exactly how the carriage
moved. After about 10 minutes of this, the Mimic decided it’d seen enough, stopped playing with
studying the wagon and sat down on the ground. Half of its spider legs were retracted completely inside
its body, while the remaining four became short, thick and straight.
Now came the difficult part. The Mimic had to form the actual wheels. It did this by pumping its
Biomass reserves into those stumpy legs. Eight long, fleshy rods grew out from each of those, growing
outwards until they were just under 60 centimeters in length. Then the tips of these organic sticks split in
two up to around the halfway point, then stretched outwards to form a bent T shape. The split up tips
then met each other to form one long, flawless circle.
All things said and done, it took the Mimic about two minutes to create four spoked faux-wood wheels,
just over 30 centimeters in radius. What looked like wood was actually condensed and hardened tissue
that became a sort of cartilage - an organic, rubbery substance that was good at absorbing vibrations and
withstanding impacts. The wheels were positioned such a way that the chest would have to travel
sideways, giving off the impression of a miniature wagon filled with teeth and murderous intent.
Boxxy started hesitatingly moving its newly forged ‘feet’ around. The shape was a bit inconvenient, but
couldn’t be helped. After all, the wagon it copied them from was longer than it was wider, so the Mimic
would have to assume a similar construction, at least at first. It was confident that, with some trial and
error, it would find the right setup to ensure maximum stability. Much like when it first created its
favorite spider legs for the first time.
However, such an adjustment period turned out to be unnecessary. After all, a carriage was chest-shaped,
but a spider was not. By copying the work of skilled craftsmen, Boxxy actually found very little
adjustments that needed to be made. If anything, its imitation product turned out to far surpassed the
original. The four wheels stuck to the side of the creature were living things that could be bent and
angled in any direction. Feeling rather proud of itself, Boxxy then decided to move around. It flexed the
muscles at the base of its axle-legs, forcing the wheels to rotate under their own power.
That’s when it discovered the first major flaw with its brilliant transformation - power management. The
overeager box put too much power into the motion, causing a sudden burst of acceleration that launched
it sideways faster than expected. It traveled several meters in an instant, which then showed the second
flaw with its new ‘invention.’
Your muscles have ripped. HP -87.

You have been dismembered. HP -154.
The very muscles used to begin the rotation gave out. Although they were flexible and malleable, they
had a limit as to how many times they could twist around an axle before tearing. With the tissue holding
them in place, the freshly grown quartet of wheels and axles detached from the base of the Mimic. They
rolled off into the distance or into the air, spraying yellow blood all over the place. Their owner,
currently busy hissing and cursing at the sudden pain, slammed into the ground and skid across it for a
little bit.
“What the fuck is it doing?!” asked Kora, with a perplexed look on her face.
“Hyehn, heeeeh, aaauuu…” moaned Xera with her tongue sticking out and her eyes rolled up into her
head.
“Right, good point.”
The fiend then gave up on worrying about the silly box and resumed pounding the face-down-ass-up
succubus’s tight asshole with renewed vigor.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Guild END 183
802/1041 (+2.3/
HP INT 183
sec)
915/915 (+1.1/
MP WIS 112
sec)
Skill List
Demonology 3 19%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Shadowbind
Singularity
(34) Science 5
Having recovered from its rather pathetic crash, Boxxy was forced to re-examine its approach. Creating
a detached joint that would allow the wheels to spin as much as they wanted was possible, but it also
came with a good amount of risk. Doing that would mean it would be much easier for them to come
loose and break off should the monster go over rough terrain. Ah, but the Mimic could just revert them
back into legs if it wanted to go off-road. However, the earlier incident did manage to prove one thing -
moving around on wheels was far easier than walking.
So the animate chest decided to give this new mode of transportation another go without feeling
disheartened. It’s not like this was the first time it failed at shapeshifting, anyway. It messed up multiple
times back when it was still learning how to use those spider legs, so trial and error was hardly a foreign
concept to it. Well, forming these wheels took quite a lot longer than those arachnid limbs, but that was
entirely a temporary setback. Muscle memory was a terrifying thing that meant even complex creations
like Xera’s upper body could be thrown together in fractions of a second with enough practice.
First of all, however, it needed to deal with the Biomass it lost when those prototype wheels flew off into
the distance. It was not an insignificant amount. At least rectifying that turned out to be as simple as
opening its Storage and depositing roughly 5 kilograms of strawberry jam directly into its gullet. It was
pretty flavorless to the monster, no different from eating leaves, wood or spinal fluid, but it would still
do the job of replenishing its lost body mass after being digested.
Once that was done, it once again grew out those circular limbs in mostly the same fashion, but with one
key difference. This time it created the flexible joint at the spot where the wheel and the axle connected,
rather than where the limb poked out of its body. That’s when it ran into its first major hurdle. It would
need to completely detach the wheels from the axles, but doing so would effectively cut them off from
its own body. Not a particularly attractive proposition.
What about continuously shapeshifting the connecting tissue so that it would untwist, thus preventing it
from snapping? That seemed like it might work, so it gave it a try. It once again willed its new limbs to
rotate, taking extra care to use as little strength as possible. The box-cart inched forward at a snail’s
pace. After the wheels made 3 revolutions each, it felt the strain on the connecting tissue and willed it to
untwist itself without detaching, then kept moving forward. Doing so allowed it to keep going on and
on, covering about 10 meters before it stopped.
Well, it worked, but the concentration required to carry out that constant, minute shapeshifting was
pretty taxing. Moving in such a manner would end up being more tiring and slower than simply walking,
not to mention that moving downhill and allowing the momentum to carry it forward would undoubtedly
cause the wheels to spin way too fast and the connecting tissue to snap off. And it would seem that mere
practice would be unable to make it speed up to a point where this wasn’t an issue. Unlike the ‘fire and
forget’ actions of growing limbs and then using them, this was an ongoing process that required constant
shapeshifting and muscle flexing.
In short, this method of moving around defeated the purpose of having wheels in the first place. Simple
walking along and tumbling down a hill would prove to be much easier than-.
“Aha!”
Boxxy just got an idea. Rather than trying to mimic the entire cart, didn’t it only need to focus on the
wheels themselves? After all, that dungeon core rolled around just fine even though it was one solid
object with no moving parts. Surely something similar was entirely within the Mimic’s reach.
The four fleshy discs and their axles were quickly reabsorbed back into the Mimic’s main body, leaving
it to sit on the ground. Next it grew two slightly larger wheels about at about 80 centimeters in diameter
on its sides. These were firmly attached to its body and would not rotate at all. Rather than a carriage,
the Mimic assumed the form of a slightly misshapen spool. The giant solid wheels on its left and right
lifted its chesty body off the ground. As long as it was like this, it could roll around as much as it
wanted.
Then came another problem - propulsion. Moving about like this under its own power was going to be
difficult, to say the least. It would need a push to get going, and yet more pushing to keep rolling. Going
downhill was going to be easy enough, but it was otherwise dependant on outside assistance. After all, it
couldn’t just push itself.
Or could it? Technically speaking, the ground wasn’t that far away and it still had a good deal of
Biomass to spare. So it grew out a set of four spider-ish limbs, much shorter than the usual ones. They
were also positioned much differently. One poked out from its front, a second from behind, the third
from its bottom and the last from the top of its lid. Preparations complete, Boxxy then coiled the leg on
the bottom and kicked at the ground with it, pushing itself forward and up.
This got the chest rolling ever so slightly forward. Then the leg coming out from its front did the same,
then the top leg, then the hind leg, then the bottom leg. Each kick added more and more momentum to
its revolution, and pretty soon it was rolling along at a rather impressive pace. Its current speed was
actually close to its full sprint, but with a fraction of the effort required to maintain it.
It was moving forward in an energy-efficient manner and without hurting itself. So far so good. But the
problem was that this method made its body roll forward along with the wheels. Even with the monster’s
magical perception it ‘looked’ like the ground was spinning around it at high speeds and gave off the
rather unpleasant sensation that it was constantly falling. Deciding it’s had enough, Boxxy suddenly hit
the breaks by causing its wheels to break apart into legs of their own. The result setup was a variant of
its spider-chest form with the legs coming out at slightly awkward places. The sturdy limbs dug into the
ground, killing the monster’s momentum in an instant. And none too soon - a few meters more and it
would have fallen into that deep canyon that ran alongside the cobblestone road.
“Wow, I was sure it was gonna fall off the cliff!” remarked Xera.
“Tell me about it,” agreed Kora. “I guess even that loony box isn’t as stupid as I thought.”
The two demonesses were currently taking a break in-between ass pounding session. Kora was still
buried deep inside Xera’s asshole after busting the proverbial nut a while ago and was waiting for her
erection to recover. Even a rape-happy demon from another dimension couldn’t keep up with the
insatiable succubus’s demands. Her mild Energy Drain also didn’t help conserve the fiend’s stamina
much. Not that Kora complained about it though. Having the cum milked out of her dick by an eager
slut was an experience well worth the price. It was highly doubtful she’d ever be satisfied with a
mortal’s orifice after getting used to this first class sex toy.
“I guess all that INT wasn’t just for show after all, huh?” added Xera while massaging the half-mast
member lodged in her rectum. Even if they could pass this downtime by observing that box’s antics, it
was still obvious she preferred the pounding to the observing.
“Nah, can’t be that. I don’t notice any difference even though my INT went so it can’t be that big of a
deal.”
“You’re right, it really doesn’t matter for you. You’d need over 9000 of that Attribute before you get any
thoughts worth a damn.”
“As if! I have plenty of thoughts!”
“Any of them that don’t relate to fighting and/or fucking?”
“... No.”
“And that, is precisely why I keep telling you to just disappear and leave your dick behind.”
“Oh I’m definitely going to leave my dick inside a behind!”
“Ugh, that was teribleeeaaaah! *Slap* Aaah! *Slap* Aaah! *Slap* Aaahnnn!”
It would seem break time was over. Kora’s member had suddenly sprang back to life, allowing her to
abruptly resume conforming the succubus’s insides to the shape of her penis. The area was once again
filled with the echoing slaps their thighs made every time Kora plunged balls-deep into Xera’s asshole.
The succubus’s bitch-in-heat moans and yells accompanied them to form a sort of rhythmic, lewd
concerto.
Boxxy on the other hand was thinking hard about its latest experience. The spool-chest accomplished the
goals of conserving energy while traveling at high speed, but the inability to properly navigate and steer
under such conditions was a major drawback. It would need to keep its body upright and relatively
stable if it planned to do either of those things. Its thoughts drifted back to that cart, causing it to once
again contemplate whether it should form detached wheels after all.
It instinctively knew that would be pointless, but it was worth a shot. It picked itself up off the ground
and grew another, much smaller wheel. It attached it to the axle part in exactly the same way as the
carriage did, then ‘let go’ of it.
You have lost a part of your body. HP -25.
Forcefully detaching part of its flesh caused Boxxy to lose HP and Biomass. The wheel itself quickly
lost pigmentation and consistency and melted into a sort of unidentifiable dull-red sludge over the next
few seconds, making the whole exercise a waste of time and energy. Such was the downside of having
extremely malleable flesh. Once cut away it would quickly lose its assumed form and revert to what can
only be described as a thick, fleshy soup.
The Mimic was more or less aware this would happen, but it tried it anyway. It actively challenged its
instincts in order to get better acquainted with its body. It waited for several seconds for its HP to
recover to full, just in case, then tried it again, this time attempting to hold onto the wheel without
holding onto it.
You have lost a part of your body. HP -25.

It failed, as expected. Simply touching the flesh of the wheel was not enough, it needed a medium
through which to transmit nutrients and commands to it. It had to be attached and detached at the same
time. Both a part of it and something else entirely. Was such a paradox possible?
Or rather, was stressing over this really that big a deal? Boxxy could survive just as well without ever
needing to use wheels. Sure they might be convenient, but that was only on mostly flat terrain.
Objectively speaking, the box had absolutely no reason for wanting wheels. They were, quite simply
put, not necessary to its survival in any way, shape or form. In fact, given how it lost quite a bit of HP
and nearly threw itself into a ravine, they were more of an enemy than an ally.
But the Mimic did not give up. It was a creature born of patience, to the point where it was actually
incredibly stubborn and would very rarely change its stance on something. The last time it did that was
when the object of its desire ended up causing a magical disaster that wiped out an entire city in an
instant. It would take a downside of that grand a scale to make it give up on experimenting with those
wheels.
And so Boxxy entered a cycle of growing a wheel and trying to detach it without detaching it, watching
it melt into sludge, wait a short while to recover HP and start all over again. That lasted for about thirty
minutes before it stopped to take a small break. Yet another normally suicidal amount of strawberry jam
was devoured to maintain its Biomass.
While there was no progress on the wheel front, at least it was starting to enjoy the fruit-based
condiment somewhat. The taste was still pretty bland, but the thick consistency of it was oddly pleasing.
It reminded it somewhat of the only piece it managed to rip off that Fleshmaiden and how it reverted
into a tasty viscous goop that was a lot denser than it seemed to be. If there was ever such a thing as jam
made out of flesh, it would be that. It even remembered finding a piece of her stuck between its teeth
later, which was a pleasant surprise. How could something so goopy be so sticky? It was almost like it
wanted to become a part of-
“... Huh.”
Struck with a burst of inspiration, the Mimic spent the rest of the night fiddling with and refining the all-
important wheel-to-axle joint. After numerous failures and having to replenish its Biomass many times,
it finally achieved a halfway working prototype.
It had created a limb that was completely unlike anything else it or its familiars had ever seen before.
The middle part of it was a solid disc with a radius of about 6 centimeters. 25 centimeter long spokes
then out of it to form the rest of the wheel. The connecting joint between it and the axle-leg was also
very different from its previous attempts. The completely unnatural hinge was covered by an equally
unnatural wet bulge - a ball of writhing red flesh at least 10 centimeters in diameter. It tightly hugged
both parts of the solid inner part of the wheel, creating a vacuum tight seal that was also slippery enough
to allow the wheel to turn with minimal friction.
And turn it did.
Boxxy lifted its latest iteration above the ground and stretched out a tongue tentacle. It grabbed one of
the spokes and gave it a good yank. It spun around smoothly and silently around its axis. Nothing tore
up and the wheel didn’t wither. Except that the tentatively named ‘flesh jam’ started leaking around it
and splattering everywhere. The exact mix for it needed to be refined, but that was more or less a moot
point.
The solution that Boxxy had managed to stumble onto was the process known as osmosis. It was a
mechanism that allowed nutrients to pass between the Mimic and its severed limb by using the ‘flesh
jam’ as a medium. It essentially kept the wheel ‘alive,’ even after the Mimic had severed the connection
to it. It was even able to send and receive nerve signals, allowing its owner to retain some feeling in it.
Satisfied with the slightly flawed result, Boxxy decided it was time for a field test. It made three other
wheels and returned to its box-cart form. The issue of propulsion was quickly resolved by sprouting two
short spider-like legs from its underside, much like how it had done earlier. It used them to push itself
forward along the cobblestone road. The wheels spun smoothly, clattering slightly at the small bumps
between the rough cobbles. Boxxy bent its axle-shaped limbs carefully, altering its course ever so
slightly. A lone eye on its side gave it perfect vision as to where it was going.
It had propulsion, navigation and steering.
“YEESHAAAAAAAAA!” it screamed as it rolled down the road at a near-walking pace. Its over-
eagerness had gotten the best of it several times already, so for once it was being careful. At least for
about 10 seconds or so. It began gradually building up speed as it used its two limbs to push itself faster
and faster. Pretty soon it was moving faster than it had ever done so before, and only using about half the
energy it needed to maintain its full speed. The joy of succeeding at a difficult task as well as the rush of
moving at such speed filled Boxxy with an overflowing feeling of glee. It almost made it want to shout
something about yabba-ing a dabba, whatever that was.
It kept practicing with its newfound mobility. Acceleration, abrupt turns and instant braking were all
made possible with the right use of its flexible spider legs. It could even hop into the air at speed to get
over rough portions of the cobblestone road. Eventually it realized that it had ended up straying a bit too
far from its familiars. Well, it could order them to catch up or resummon them on the spot, but it felt like
a good opportunity to get some more box-carting practice on the way back. Besides, it had eaten about
half of the preserved food it pilfered earlier, so its Storage was now empty enough to bring a lot of those
curious items it left behind.
“Get ready, we leave soon,” it commanded as soon as it got back.
The two demons who had been going at it all night finally remembered they still had a contract to fulfill,
so they stopped their antics and started preparing to hit the road. Kora just had to wipe her dick off in
Xera’s hair and pull her pants up, so she was ready in a flash. The succubus still had dried up mud and
cum stains all over her, not to mention she was completely insensate right now from being used a fuck-
toy all night. All things considered, she would probably need a minute to get herself ready.
The fiend on the other hand, was actually a bit curious.
“Hey Master, why were you trying to copy the cart all night?” she asked.
It was pretty obvious what it was trying to do given how it seemed to be obsessed with those wheels.
Even the two demons who spent the whole night fucking like crazy managed to figure out what its goal
was. The Mimic then explained it was developing a more energy efficient mode of transports for itself,
though perhaps not precisely in those words.
“So you want to travel without getting as tired?” confirmed Kora after the needlessly long explanation.
“Yes,” it answered.
“You could just rest on the cart and have me pull it around you know.”
“...”
“Actually if we did that, we could even bring all this stuff with us.”
“...”
“Not to mention that-”
*SNIKT*
“Gaaaaah!” screamed Kora. There was a mithril dagger in her left eye.
“Whyyy?! AARGH!”
“No reason,” came the casual reply. Boxxy wasn’t quite sure why, but something about Kora’s
suggestion ticked it off.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Guild END 184
1047/1047 (+2.3/
HP INT 184
sec)
920/920 (+1.1/
MP WIS 113
sec)
Skill List

Demonology 3 19%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Shadowbind
Singularity
(35) Science 6
A trio of trolls were rushing through the forest. These creatures were roughly 2 meters tall and
somewhat resembled apes due to their thick necks, short legs and powerful arms that were almost as
long as they were tall. A troll’s skin was a thick, brown hide that looked like it could take quite a lot of
punishment, and the numerous scars these three individuals had suggested that they put this to the test on
a regular basis. Short, brown fur could be seen covering their backs, shoulders and forearms, giving off a
rather pungent smell. Their faces were truly ugly, with massive foreheads, beady pitch-black eyes, large
flat noses and massive underbites that made their yellow, sharp teeth visible to all.
These three monsters, however, were not rushing towards some prey they caught a whiff of, but running
for their very lives. Swinging from branches, charging through bushes and jumping over rocks, all while
practically foaming at the mouth from fear. The agility with which they moved seemed to belie their
thick, hulking frames. After all, nothing motivates the body like the imminent threat death. Only it
would seem that mere motivation was not enough to escape the reaper.
“Mind Blast ~♪” came an oddly melodic voice from above. A light blue flash enveloped the head of one
of the ape-like creatures.
You have been stunned for 7 seconds.
It let out a pathetic yelp and then fell down on the ground as if it had momentarily forgotten how limbs
worked. A rectangular shadow then leapt down onto it and stuck two shining daggers into either side of
its skull, killing it instantly.
The other two trolls kept running without missing a beat. So what if one of their kin was just killed?
Stopping to fight that thing was suicide. They should know, some of the others had already tried and
failed horribly. The one to fall just now was the 10th victim and the two running were the last survivors.
A few minutes and a couple of Mind Blasts later, the last of the trolls were wiped out. No matter how
much their fear aided in their escape, the smaller, lighter and more versatile Mimic had the clear
advantage in this obstacle-ridden terrain. Also, its AGI Attribute was much higher than its quarry, which
was a big contributor towards its speed advantage. It chucked the two corpses into its Storage and went
back to the shallow cave these monsters had been inhabiting until recently.
Trolls were a species of monster that was extremely common throughout the world. It had many variants
that depended on their environment. Subspecies such as Cave Trolls, Forest Trolls, Magma Trolls, Ice
Trolls, Zombie Trolls and even Bridge Trolls all had their own unique characteristics and varied wildly
in strength. However, three things held true among all trolls.
The first two traits they shared were their tough hides that resisted physical blows and the high-speed
regeneration that could heal wounds many times faster than other creatures. Indeed, trading blows with a
troll that was of equal or higher Level was tantamount to suicide. The best way to kill one was to exploit
their universal weakness - magic. Fire or acid were particularly effective, but taking advantage of this
weakness would often leave very little of the creatures behind. That was simply bad business. After all,
troll hides could be fashioned into sturdy, albeit heavy, leather armor and their blood was a substance
with many arcane and alchemical uses.
In fact, that same blood was the whole reason for this little detour.
Boxxy came across a monster dragging the bloodied carcass of what appeared to be a wild boar while
traveling along the road. Xera immediately identified it as a troll, which wasn’t particularly impressive
considering their appearance was general knowledge to any civilized being above the age of 5. Which
was a good thing, too, because that denomination did not include the 3 month old Mimic. The animate
chest and its two minions then chased after their target until it led them to its den - a shallow cave it
shared with 11 of its kin.
So, all things said and done, Boxxy now had 12 mostly intact troll corpses it could harvest for blood.
Since its goal wasn’t to just kill and eat them, it had to avoid riddling them with wounds like it usually
did to its targets.
Well, statistically speaking, that statement wasn’t quite right. The vast majority of this monster’s victims
were vaporized by a dungeon core going through critical meltdown, but ‘riddled with wounds’ was
definitely second place on that list, followed closely by ‘ripped apart’ and ‘torn asunder.’ All of those
methods would cause massive blood loss, however, which would be counterproductive considering its
goal. In the end it had to settle for disabling them with magic and piercing their skulls, minimizing the
holes through which they could bleed out. Surprisingly, it ended up having to use Mind Blast rather than
Shadowbind to do so.
Mind Blast
School: Domination
Type: Targeted
Cost: 200 MP
Range: 40 meters
Effects: Assaults the target’s consciousness directly, stunning it for 5 seconds.
Shadowbind
School: Ruin
Type: Targeted
Cost: 100MP
Range: 25 meters
Effects: Chains of darkness wrap around the target, restricting movement for up to 10
seconds.
Grows in power in dark places or at night, gaining up to 50% additional effectiveness
depending on the environment.
The latter seemed to be more powerful at a glance. It had a lower MP cost and a longer effective
duration, at least on paper. The problem was that these chains were more fragile than the Mimic thought,
seeing as how those Trolls broke free of the physical restraints within a few seconds. Using Power
Overwhelming or taking advantage of the darkness would be needed if it planned to restrain such
physically strong monsters with this Spell. However, the former would consume too much MP and the
latter was out of the question in this daylight. Even then it might not be enough to tie down these trolls.
Mental attacks, on the other hand, were incredibly effective. Those monsters may have been powerful in
body, but they were pathetic when it came to mental fortitude. Or defending against magic in general.
And thus the Mimic learned an important lesson. Mind Blast was effective against opponents that relied
on brawn, and Shadowbind looked to be more useful against Caster-type enemies that typically had
weaker bodies. Well, even if someone who was proficient in both might and magic showed up, then they
would just have to be sliced up the old fashioned way.
Thankfully, these opponents could be taken down without spilling much of their blood, though it took
some time. Kora’s blunt force attacks were particularly useful since they didn’t cause any external
bleeding, but it still took her a lot of effort to overwhelm their defenses. That is, at least until BOxxy
started using Dark Infusion on her.
Dark Infusion
School: Domination
Type: Targeted
Cost: 75 MP
Range: 10 Meters
Effect: Increases your target’s STR, AGI, DEX and INT Attributes by 20% for 30 seconds.
Your target will be stunned for 5 seconds once the effect expires or is dispelled.
The stun component of this Spell has no effect on Undead, Demons and Golems.
This Spell actually boosted those four Attributes by 28% thanks to the effects of the Domination
Mastery Skill, which was currently at Level 4. The duration of the power-up was still 30 seconds, so it
would be safe to assume the stun that followed it was equally unaffected by the related Mastery. Well,
having it become more powerful rather than lasting longer or being more efficient was in-line with other
Warlock Spells and Skills. The upshot in physical ability Kora displayed made Boxxy extremely curious
as to just how powerful it would get if it were to use Dark Infusion on itself.
However, that seemed to be impossible. Domination Spells, Dark Infusion included, had no effect on the
caster. After all, that entire school of magic is centered around forcing the caster’s will onto others, so
something like affecting one’s own mind was just impossible. Still, even using it on just Kora proved to
be more than effective. Especially when one considered her other Skills.
Idiotic Strength
Description: Fiends are by nature demons with more brawn than brains, but this trait is
noticeably more pronounced in Pit Fiends.
Requirements: Be born as a Pit Fiend
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effect: Increases the effects of the STR Attribute by 5% per Level of this Skill.
Reduces the effects of the INT Attribute by 5% per Level of this Skill.
Although this seemed like an underwhelming Skill, it was well suited to someone like Kora. She was a
demon who fought entirely with physical means and didn’t really need to spend MP in order to pummel
something into dust. Therefore, the already tiny MP pool becoming even tinier was a moot point. Even
her active Skills didn’t care she had under 150 MP at Level 29.
Second Wind
Description: Fiends are by nature too stubborn to die.
Requirements: Level 10 Fiend
Type: Active
Cost: 0 MP
Range: Self
Effects: Instantly recovers 25% of missing HP.
Increases the HP recovered by this Skill by 20% per Level of this Skill.
This Skill may not be activated more than once every 24 hours.
Demonic Carapace
Description: Fiends are by nature incredibly thick-skinned.
Type: Active
Cost: 50% of max MP
Range: Self
Effects: Reduces all incoming damage by 30% for 10 seconds.
Increases the duration of this Skill by 10% per Level of this Skill.
Second Wind was an enviable Skill, one the Mimic badly wanted for itself. However, it would seem to
be impossible for anyone other than a fiend to use. Curiously enough, it was possible to bypass the 24
hour usage restriction on it if Kora died and was re-summoned. This was most likely because Skills were
bound to the body and giving the demoness a new body would also give her a fresh, unused copy of this
Skill.
Demonic Carapace on the other hand was a Skill that appeared after the dungeon core meltdown caused
the Mimic’s Level to skyrocket. Activating this Skill caused Kora’s entire body to temporarily become
covered in gray metal scales that glistened with an unnatural red sheen. The material appeared to be the
same substance used by her Demonic Armaments Skill.
Demonic Armaments
Description: Fiends are capable of manifesting physical arms and armor during a
summoning.
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Conjures Devil Steel weapons and armor when summoned to the physical realm.
Increases the performance of items created by this Skill with each Level of this Skill.
This was the source of Kora’s gauntlets and sabatons. Things like her clothes or Xera’s outfit and staff
served no practical purpose other than decoration. Indeed, the succubus’s ‘weapon’ was completely
unnecessary for her Spell casting and she would be just as deadly without it. The only reason she even
bothered with it was simply force of habit. It also served as a fake-out since most people believed her
magic would wane if the staff was destroyed and waste time and energy breaking it in half. As expected
of a conniving, backstabbing succubus - even her ‘weapon’ was a lie.
Truthfully, it was entirely possible for familiars to wield equipment made by and for mortals, but very
few Warlocks saw the need to do something silly like giving additional gear to their demons. While it
would make them more effective, it would also mean that those items would most likely be lost when
the demon was slain in combat. Which happened a lot. Especially fiends that excelled at close combat.
Correction - they had no other method of attack except close combat. Which is probably why all of them
came equipped with their own arms and armor..
Boxxy returned to the former troll den while reviewing what it knew about its minions. Even if it lacked
common sense, the Mimic’s battle sense was rapidly developing. It had to be well versed in the strengths
and weakness of all participants in a fight if it wanted to secure victory, so analyzing its familiars was
something it did quite a lot during the downtime when they were traveling. Kora, one of the minions in
question, was currently busy handling the 9 troll corpses the Mimic left behind, relieving them of their
blood. Well, it’s not like those trolls were going to need it anymore.
“Drain these too,” it commanded while taking out the 3 troll corpses in its Storage.
“It’s fine if a few extra bits get into the stuff, right?” asked Kora while wringing out a troll’s arm as if it
were a wet cloth. The viscous red blood that poured out of the dismembered appendage seemed to have
ripped up tissue, hair and bits of bone in it.
“Yes.”
“Are these the last ones, then?”
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck! This blood-wrangling thing is really fucking dull! Ah, it would go faster if Master buffed
me up again! So… can you do that?” she added with a hint of anticipation in her voice.
“Okay.”
Boxxy saw no reason to deny her request since its MP was almost back to full and she would be doing
all of the work anyway. The knock-off Xera appeared instantly as if she had been hiding inside the chest
the whole time.
“Dark Infusion ~♪!” came the unnaturally cheerful voice.
A black mist enveloped Kora in an instant. It seeped itself into her skin, turning it several shades darker.
Her already well-defined muscles bulged out even more as her entire body became one size wider,
straining the thin fabric of her white top and hotpants. The already skintight clothing dug into her flesh,
conforming perfectly to her form. It was at a stage where the shape of her genitals as well as her rock-
hard nipples were clearly visible to anyone who so much as glanced in her direction.
“Ohh yeaaaah!” she said while rubbing her hands all over her body. “This stuff makes me feel amazing!
Like I can beat the shit out of a steel golem with three arms tied behind my back!”
She then went back to squeezing the blood out of a dead troll with great gusto. The syrupy red liquid
(and other miscellaneous bits) that poured out of it was collected inside a wooden barrel. That barrel was
originally filled with strawberry jam, but that particular substance was already devoured. Quite
thoroughly at that. Boxxy may have actually developed a liking for the stuff seeing as how it literally
licked the barrel clean. As for the liquid that replaced it, it was going to be used for performing demonic
rituals in order to increase the proficiency Level of Demonology. Getting it all the way to Level 8
seemed like it would take a long time, but it was well worth the investment. Having an extra familiar
was going to be a huge boon considering both of its current minions were quite excellent. Just looking at
Kora’s Status actually made the Mimic a little bit envious.
Koralenteprix
Caonthioxxaa
Guild END 198
1230/1282 (+1.9/
HP INT 42
sec)
144/178 (+0.3/
MP WIS 33
sec)
Skill List
Demonic Armaments 5 50%
Second Wind 4 15%
Demonic Carapace 2 73%
Bloodlust 4 94%
Brutal Fervor 2 70%
Idiotic Strength 3 60%
Brawling Mastery 4 64%
Especially that high STR Attribute. That was pretty much double what the Mimic had. Even without
Dark Infusion she was just under 200 STR. Looking at the Attributes alone left little doubt that Kora
would be able to deal more damage than her master, at least at close range. Well, not unless
Assassination or Ruin magic came into play, but even then those would only provide a burst of
destructive power while Kora could unleash a nearly endless barrage of fists. Comparing itself with
Xera, who was a specialized Caster, would yield a similar result of the familiar being more powerful
than the master.
“Ah… Master! It ran out! More please!”
“Dark Infusion~♪!”
Boxxy was steadily starting to feel the downside of splitting its Level and Attributes between martial
combat and magic. Using both at the same time was pretty much impossible, after all. Crystallize Magic
helped, but that was a temporary solution that lasted only as long as it had Spell Crystals. It was
theoretically possible to prepare more of those while in combat, but the Mimic might as well just cast its
Spells directly at the enemy to preserve MP. The Assassination Skill was pretty much the opposite -
using it continuously in a fight was desirable, but impossible.
In short, Boxxy’s combat effectiveness would deteriorate rapidly as a battle went on. A lot of its damage
was front-loaded, after all. While it was true such things weren’t much of a problem right now, that
would change rapidly if it came face-to-face with another worthy opponent like that steel grate or the
Fleshmaiden. The Mimic was starting to understand it would need to rely on its familiars a lot more than
initially anticipated, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Both of them could keep fighting for a long
time and could easily be used as sacrifices to cover its escape should the need arise. Well, they had to do
at least this much considering how much work Boxxy put into training the related Skills. Even this little
detour was more or less for the sake of strengthening them anyway.
“Huuu… Master? More?”
“Dark Infusion~♪!”
“Master, I found some more trolls,” reported Xera through the thought-link. “There’s roughly 6 of them,
about 2 kilometers south of where you are.”
The succubus was currently under orders to seek out other potential prey from the sky, although that was
mostly an excuse to get her away from the troll den. If she were to use her fire magic, then the only thing
left of those trolls would be ash and cinders. Even a 3 month old box knew you couldn’t get blood from
those. The question was, did it really need to go all that way?
“Arms, are you done yet?”
“Pretty much, this is the last one,” answered Kora.
Her titular arms were currently twisting and squeezing a troll as if it were a ripe orange. Only with blood
and guts rather than juice and pulp. It wasn’t the ideal way to drain a creature of its blood, but it
definitely seemed to be effective.
“How much blood?” asked Boxxy.
“Barrel’s almost full.”

That would be nearly 60 liters of troll blood. Admittedly there were a few bones and other miscellaneous
bits floating inside, but it was good enough.
“Snack, leave them and come back. I need you for the first ritual.”
“Yes, Master.”
The first ritual on the list was a ceremony called ‘An Offering to Nagnamor.’ It was actually pretty
straightforward, requiring only some troll blood, a sharp knife and a pure maiden. Boxxy wasn’t quite
clear on what a ‘pure’ maiden was supposed to be, but Xera was a woman who wasn’t currently
poisoned or diseased, so she should do.
Probably. Possibly. It’ll likely be close enough. Yeah.
(36) Science 7
“Uhm, Master?” said Xera with more than a hint of worry in her voice. “Are you sure you want to be-”
“Be quiet! I’m busy!”
Boxxy really did not have the luxury to converse with a Snack right now. This was its first time making
occult sigils and it needed to focus. Even if the Demonology Skill provided the knowledge of how these
sigils should look like, actually drawing them turned out to be a surprisingly difficult task. Especially
when using thick, sticky troll blood as the paint and the uneven, grassy ground of the forest as the
canvas. At least it had a decent brush, courtesy of the ransacked caravan from a few days ago.
First it made the 4 and a half meter wide circle of blood, which was pretty straightforward. Then it stuck
a wooden stake right in the middle, tied Xera to it and smeared her face with yet more blood. Then it had
to draw four rather large symbols on the ground. They were quite squiggly and complicated, and
messing up even once meant that it would have to create the ritual site from scratch.
Kora was doing her best to simply watch the Mimic work without uttering a peep. It was easier said than
done.
“Pfft! Ksuksuksu!”
Laughter welled up every time she glanced at the ‘pure maiden’ tied to the stake and she had to try her
best to keep quiet, lest her master tie her up instead. She wasn’t quite sure what this ritual was supposed
to do, but at the very least it was bound to be interesting. Especially considering how messed up the
preparation was. Xera was thinking much the same, although she wasn’t looking forward to the
ceremony as much. Mostly because she had a feeling something profoundly stupid was about to take
place, with her as the center.
Boxxy kept preparing for the ritual for about 10 more minutes before it was done. The patterns it drew
on the ground matched perfectly with those depicted by the Demonology Skill, so it looked like this part
of the preparation was done. All that was left to speak out the incantation and kill the sacrifice. The
incantation itself was rather long and had a bunch of difficult words, but at least it was confident that it
could stab someone through the heart without missing.
“... Huck!”
Boxxy remembered demons didn’t actually have hearts. It understandably felt a bit cheated - all that
hard work and it was all for naught. Stupid demons, they should’ve told it sooner they didn’t have
hearts! Of course, it completely ignored the fact that it never even asked them and just one-sidedly
decided it was their fault. Ah, but there might be a way around this.
“Snack, can you grow a heart inside your body?”
Xera was a shapeshifter much like the Mimic, so she should be capable of doing at least that much,
right?
“No, Master. My shapeshifting only affects my outside appearance.”
“... So can you grow one on the outside?”
“Umm… Maybe? I’ve never tried…”
“Then try it now!”
The succubus, who had her hands and feet tied behind her back against the wooden pole, looked down at
her breasts. Well, she was trying to look at her stomach, but that was kind of impossible considering the
sheer size of her cleavage. A small red pimple sprouted out of her tummy and grew rapidly in size until
it became a sort of messy lump. It seemed that the succubus was struggling to replicate the organ in
question.
“No no, that’s wrong,” said Boxxy after a while. One of its tongue tentacles extended out until the moist
tip was right in front of Xera’s face. It then grew out slowly and steadily to form a perfect replica of a
standard human heart.
“Make one like this.”
“Uhm… can you do that again?”
Xera spent the next half hour carefully mimicking the Mimic until she was able to replicate the vital
organ to a satisfying degree. Honestly, she was a little irked that her master was better than her at this
stuff, but it couldn’t be helped. Hearts were one of its favorite snacks while Xera had never really seen
one.
“Good,” said Boxxy after confirming her external heart was in order. It was even beating, though it only
pumped air. “Okay, now be quiet and stand still.”
Next came the verbal part. It would be rather difficult to pronounce these words under normal
circumstances, so the Mimic’s giant lipless mouth was bound to mess it up. Thankfully, it already had
just the solution to that problem. The pseudo-Xera made her appearance yet again, forcing the succubus
to stare ‘herself’ right in the eye with no option of turning away or objecting. The Mimic moved closer
to the original and stopped so close to her that their nipples were almost touching. Of course, it didn’t
help that the albino Xera was stark naked, either.
Kora was watching this scene from outside the circle with an odd look on her face. Of course she had
seen that half-human, half-box, half-spider form multiple times until now, but this was the first time she
had seen it so close to the original. It really was a perfect replication of Xera’s face and body, if one
ignored the coloration. The odd sight consequently brought up the thought of her fucking not one, but
two succubi at once, followed by a rather questionable reaction.
“I have the weirdest boner right now,” she said to nobody in particular.
Boxxy ignored her completely since it was busy mentally preparing itself. Once it felt confident enough
to start, it coughed a few times to clear its newly made throat and started speaking with a clear, crisp
voice.
“Praesent gravida at ipsum in cursus. Phasellus urna ipsum, maximus et velit vel, sodales pharetra
purus.”
A cold gust of air swept through the ritual site.
“Maecenas varius dui vel enim finibus consequat. Morbi id cursus libero.”
The wind started twisting and spinning around, just outside the circle of blood. The dust and sand it
kicked up made it seem like there was a miniature tornado with Xera in the center.
“Donec scelerisque ligula non odio vulputate blandit. Cras lacinia elit at massa bibendum feugiat.”
Boxxy’s voice seemed to grow deeper with each spoken word and seemed to echo unnaturally
throughout the area. Almost as if a second voice was speaking alongside the Mimic.
“Sed congue vulputate faucibus. Fusce tincidunt commodo nibh quis elementum.”
The four bloody sigils on the ground started boiling and hissing, releasing a thin red vapor that got swept
up in the bizarre air current.
“Maecenas at ante ut dui semper varius. Cras condimentum euismod lorem id egestas.”
Boxxy raised an iron dagger above its head, gripping it with both arms. The red smog started flowing
towards it, seeping into the pure-white metal and tainting it with a bright crimson sheen.
“Aliquam mollis, sem quis viverra egestas, mauris nulla porta odio, in euismod nisl sapien sit amet
justo.”
Once it had absorbed it all, the dagger started vigorously draining the Mimic’s MP. It started glowing
brighter and brighter as it absorbed every last drop of Boxxy’s MP within the span of a few seconds.
“Sed ornare dolor erat! Quis placerat augue dignissim et!”
The Mimic slowly lowered the mana-imbued weapon and pointed it at the external heart of its familiar.
“Praesent ultricies Nagnamor!”
Uttering the final three words, it thrust the dagger forward, piercing the succubus’s heart completely.
“Wait!” screamed Kora in a panic. “Did you just say Nagnamor?!”
But it was too late, whatever the fiend was trying to say got lost completely in the wailing and screaming
of the succubus. A bright red light poured out of her wound, as well as her eyes and mouth as she gave
voice to her suffering. Her bound body started rising gradually in the air, uprooting the wooden stake she
was tied to and lifting it along with the rest of her. She reached an altitude of about 4 meters while the
light pouring out of her kept growing in intensity until it rivaled the sun.
The earth shook, the winds blew, the trees caught fire and the clouds ran away. It all ended abruptly
when Xera’s body exploded with a white flash and a huge bang. The shockwave was almost as strong as
a Dark Explosion, only it covered a much wider area. Both Boxxy and Kora were thrown back and
tumbled along the ground for several meters. When the Mimic regained its footing, it immediately
turned its attention to the source of the explosion.
Xera was gone. In her place was a 7 meter tall humanoid creature. It had massive black goat hooves for
feet, with thick, gray fur covering its legs up to its knees. Chalk-black metal greaves covered its thighs,
adorned with what appeared to be countless skulls. Its gauntlets, bracers, shoulder pads and chestplate
all had that same macabre design. A long, relatively thin tail protruded from its rear and ended in a tuft
of gray hair, much like a lion’s. A pair of gigantic wings much like Xera’s sprouted from its back.
Its head was a wide, flaming skull that had a protruding snout and jaws filled with sharp teeth. Overall,
the head looked more like a dragon than a human. One thick, short horn adorned the tip of its snout
while two more protruded outwards from the back of its head, curving in towards each other as if to
form a giant circle of pitch-black bone. The unquenchable flames that poured out of its nostrils, eyes,
mouth and the back of its head threatened to burn this world to ashes.
And most terrifying of all was the gigantic glaive it held in one hand. A single swing from that weapon
was enough to cut down dozens of men. Four blood-red sigils - exactly the same as the ones the Mimic
had drawn earlier - adorned the length of the blade, emitting an ominous-looking crimson fog.
“WHO DARES CALL UPON ME?!” it roared, spewing lava-like drool from its mouth.
The creature- no, the demon looked around for the one who performed the ritual, but the only things
around were a bewildered pit fiend, a barrel of blood and a wooden box.
Boxxy had fucked up. The knowledge from Demonology stated this ritual would temporarily bring forth
an unbound demon from the Beyond, but it said nothing to Boxxy about it being this fucking terrifying!
Therefore, it tried its absolute best to chest like it had never chested before!
“WAS IT YOU, INSECT?!”

However, it was all for naught. The giant demon completely disregarded the trembling fiend and pointed
its massive weapon directly at the Mimic. Fighting this thing? Bad idea. Running away? Nope, not
gonna happen considering the difference in size. Sitting and hoping the big fiery scary thing went away?
That was just denying reality. So the flabbergasted Mimic did the only thing it could think of. The same
thing many of its victims had done.
“Yes, it was me. Please don’t kill me.”
That’s right, it would beg and grovel for its life.
“HAH! HAHAHAHAHA! IT IS GOOD THAT YOU KNOW YOUR PLACE! TELL ME, LITTLE
BUG, WHAT DID YOU HOPE TO GAIN FROM THIS COMUNION?!”
“Um, get stronger?”
“AH! SO YOU’RE AFTER POWER, HUUUH!?”
“... Yes.”
“I SEE! YOU SOUGHT TO MAKE MY STRENGTH INTO YOUR OWN, DID YOU?!”
“Well no, I just-”
“SILENCE!”
The demon screamed with a voice that seemed to extend to the far reaches of both heaven and earth.
“YOU FACE NAGNAMOR! OVERLORD OF THE FLAMING LEGION!”
“Is that so?”
The Mimic replied with a casual tone that was completely ill-fitting with the situation. It seemed to
realize something that completely calmed it down.
“TRIFLING BOX! YOUR ARROGANCE WILL BE YOUR UNDOING!”
Nagnamor raised his glaive with both arms and prepared to strike down the upstart chest. The Mimic
had no hope of survival if that house-sized weapon hit it head on. It was dead meat however one looked
at it!
“RRRRAAAAR!”
*WHOOSH*
The mass of steel moved so fast it seemed to vanish from its old position and appear just centimeters
away from the Mimic’s faux-wood shell. The wind pressure of the strike alone was powerful enough to
knock over and uproot several trees in the surrounding area.
Yet Boxxy was perfectly unharmed.
“... WHAT?!”
Nagnamor stared dumbly at it. The flames in his eye sockets flickered a few times as if it was blinking
in disbelief. He raised his weapon and once more swung down with all his might, but the result was
pretty much the same. The third time did not pan out so well either.
“Sit down,” commanded the Mimic.
“DO NOT PRESUME TO GIVE ME-”
*SLAM*
Nagnamor’s gigantic ass met the ground with a massive impact that caused a small tremor to travel
through the ground. He did it completely involuntarily, as if it wasn’t his own body.
“... WHAT?!”
“Punch yourself.”
*SLAM*
The giant demon’s massive armored fist then made impact with his own skull, sending plumes of flames
scattering about. He quickly shook his head to recover a bit from the blow.
“Again.”
*SLAM*
The second blow made his jawbone crack.
“And again.”
*SLAM*
And the third one broke off the horn on his snout.
“IM… POSSIBLE…” he muttered.
The Offering to Nagnamor was not that of a life, but a host. A physical body which the powerful demon
could possess in order to manifest itself in the physical realm. He would always appear in his true form
and at the height of his power, but the amount of time he could maintain this transformation depended
entirely on how much MP was used during the ritual. The mana that Boxxy provided as the summoner
was enough to allow the Overlord to maintain his physical form for 3, maybe 4 minutes.
So then, what happens if the body he possessed was contractually bound to serve someone? Indeed, the
Mimic realized two simple things. First of all, it had been talking to this ‘Overlord’ though the thought-
link it shared with its familiars. Not only that, but the notification that Xera had been banished never
actually appeared. Trying to view her Status simply showed a screen with garbled nonsense and
unknown symbols, but that wasn’t of particular concern.
Because the physical form of Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila had been taken over and transformed by
Nagnamor, Overlord of the Flaming Legion. It was technically still the same body.
“I own you.”
And the stipulations of the summoning contract still applied to it.
(37) Science 8
*Ring-ring*
It would appear that Nagnamor could only maintain his physical form for about 2 minutes with the near
1000 MP the Mimic supplied during the possession ritual. Once that was up, he would crumble into dust
and disappear.
*Ring-ring*
That seemed to be the nature of how this particular ritual worked - the demon called forth from the
Beyond would have tremendous power, but his body would deteriorate rapidly after a short while. The
other two Offering-type rituals the Mimic knew about would probably be the same.
*Ring-ring*
Still, even if it was temporary, a high-ranking demon’s servitude was simply a means to an end.
Performing that particular ritual did wonders for its Demonology proficiency and it had plenty of troll
blood leftover, so it repeated the summoning 3 more times until now.
*Ring-ring*
Xera seemed to want to complain vehemently about it each time and even Kora was trying to get their
master to stop performing it for some reason. As for Nagnamor, he was understandably the most pissed
off of all and complained the loudest, both figuratively and literally. However, all of them were ignored
completely as the stubborn box did whatever it wanted.
*Ring-ring*
But the one thing that could not be ignored was that constant ringing noise inside the Mimic’s mind. It
had been going on for the last hour or so, pretty much ever since the first time Nagnamor’s physical
body turned to dust. The familiars, Nagnamor included, could be ordered to shut up easily enough, but
that obviously wasn’t going to work here.
*Ring-ring*
This was different from a simple sound. It was as if something was poking at the monster’s brain, trying
to get its attention.
*Ring-ring*
Well, it didn’t seem like it would just go away on its own and even a creature of near-infinite patience
could only take so much damned ringing. So it made the inevitable decision to answer it.
*Ring-ring*
*Click*
“Yes?”
“Oh finally!” came the gruff, raspy voice from the Beyond. “Hey buddy. It’s Carl from Demons ‘R’ Us.”
This was the first time Demons ‘R’ Us had contacted the Mimic directly. Admittedly, this was only the
third time the Mimic had spoken to them, but that was besides the point.
“Hi Carl.”
“So listen, I’m calling about the whole Overlord Nagnamor thing. We’ve been getting some troubling
complaints and I need to get your side of the story. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“I’m busy.”
“I won’t stop ringing until you answer me, by the way.”
“... Alright, I’m listening.”
“How exactly did you summon the Overlord into the physical realm?”
“I did the ritual.”
“Which one?”
“With the squiggles and the chanting and the stabbing.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Pretty much all demonic ritual involved at least one of those things. A lot of the time it was all three at
once.
“It was the offering thingie.”
“So it was the Offering to Nagnamor after all, huh?”

“Yes, that.”
*Taktaktak takataktakatak*
“And how did you fulfill the ‘pure maiden stabbed in the heart’ part of the ceremony?” asked Carl.
“I told Snack to do it.”
“I’m sorry, Snack?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s that?”
“My familiar.”
“Um, which one?”
“The one with the hair and the legs.”
“Haah. The blue or red one?”
“Blue.”
*Tak tak tatatak takatak*
“Okay and how do you suppose a succubus qualifies as a ‘pure maiden?’”
“She’s a female that wasn’t poisoned or diseased. She was also clean. Before the blood, at least.”
“Oh wow… Okay, it’s starting to make sense now.”
The thing about magic was that it relied heavily on the mind. Spells had a very precise formula to them,
so different people would get very similar results when casting the same one. Rituals and such, however,
were more freeform and could be easily influenced by one’s perception and preconceptions. In other
words, if the Mimic who didn’t know any better believed with all its might that Xera was ‘pure,’ then
she would be ‘pure.’ At least for the sake of completing the ritual.
“Leave it to those fucking idiots to leave in a loophole like that,” mumbled Carl under his breath.
“Hm?”
“Ah, nevermind that. What about the heart part?”
“Made Snack grow one.”
*Taktak tak ta-*

“Huh? But succubi shouldn’t be able to change their insides to that degree!”
“Yeah. Had to show her how to make one from her skin. Because she’s stupid.”
“Wai-wai-wait, you ordered your familiar… to grow a heart on the outside of her body?”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit! I honestly have to say I’m impressed! I never would’ve even thought of that!”
*Taktak tak tak tatatatak tak*
“Okay,” continued Carl, “and what was your purpose in summoning Nagnamor in the first place?”
“I wanted Skill proficiency for Demonology.”
“What, just that?”
“Yes.”
“No kingdoms you wanted toppled or ancient beings of terrible power to suppress?”
“Nope.”
“... Hold please.”
*Boop*
An odd sound started playing inside the Mimic’s head. It wasn’t like anything else the monster had ever
heard before, but it was actually pretty pleasant. Ah, this must be that music thing it vaguely knew
about! Who knew sound could be so tasty?! It sat there enjoying the tune for about 5 minutes before
Carl came back on the line.
*Boop*
“I apologize for that. Uhm, can you send me your Status, please?”
“Okay, sending.”
“Ah, I see you got a na- Boxxy T. Morningwood?! Pft! Hold please! Kuhaha-”
*Boop*
Well, this was unlike Carl. Usually the demon was pretty quick and to the point about business. It’s not
like Boxxy had anywhere to go, though. It was currently gathering up mana for the next ritual. And the
music was pretty tasty anyway.
*Boop*
“Fuuuu, again, sorry about that mister Morningw- *Cough* Morningwood.”
“Just Boxxy’s fine.”
The Mimic didn’t particularly mind being called ‘mister Morningwood,’ but Carl seemed unable to say
it with a straight face for some reason. If he wasn’t going to say the name properly, then he shouldn’t be
saying it all.
“Right then. See here Boxxy, I’m gonna be straight with you. You can’t summon Overlord Nagnamor
using your demon as collateral anymore.”
“Why not?”
“It violates part of the summoning contract. The one where you promise to safeguard your familiar’s
immortal soul against harm.”
Come to think of it, Xera was talking about her ego being consumed by Nagnamor or something like
that. The Mimic didn’t quite see how that was an issue, so it just kept doing what it wanted like usual.
“I know you probably don’t understand,” added Carl, “so I’ll clarify. Cramming two demons into the
same physical vessel like that? Worst case scenario both of them could get fragmented or malformed.
That wasn’t what you were trying to do, right?”
“No.”
“Good, cuz that’d be bad.”
“How bad?”
“We’d have to kill you.”
“That’s bad.”
“Indeed.”
“I understand. I’ll stop using Snack to summon Punchy.”
“Punchy?”
“Yeah. The big one with the head and the arms. He punches himself real good,” said Boxxy with a hint
of admiration.
“Uh-huh. So listen, there’s one more thing I need to talk to you about. I don’t know what you made the
Overlord do over there and I have no intention of prying, but he’s threatening to quit being an officer in
the Demon King’s army if he so much as smells you again. We want to avoid that, so we’re prepared to
offer you a deal.”
“A deal?”
“That’s right. You have to agree that you never perform the Offering to Nagnamor ever again, regardless
of who or what your sacrifice is. In return, we’ll provide you with a one time boost of Demonology
proficiency up to Level 5.”
“Okay. I accept.”
“Alright. Hold please.”
Of course it agreed. Getting Demonology Levels was the whole reason Boxxy was doing this whole
thing in the first place, so getting what it wanted with less work was not a bad thing. Besides, it took a
whole lot of time and preparation to summon Punchy and it only lasted a few minutes. Even if the
performance was excellent, his mileage was pretty bad.
“There all set. I’ve added our agreement to your summoning contract. You should be getting your
compensation shortly.”
“I got it.”
“Good, that’s great. Fuuu. Hey listen, thanks for agreeing to that. I gotta say, it’s so much easier working
with you than my regular clients.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’re uncomplicated and straightforward. It’s a breath of fresh air compared to those edgy
idiots I have to work with usually. Always with the stupid comments like ‘You shall not pass!’ and ‘You
have no power here!’ It’s like those retards didn’t even properly read the summoning contract!”
Carl spent a few more minutes complaining about other Warlocks. Boxxy didn’t particularly mind since
it was fairly interesting listening to him.
“What I’m trying to say is, it’s honestly a breath of fresh air working with someone like you. This whole
thing would’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t for the actual Demon King breathing down my neck. Anyway,
sorry for that little rant, I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately.”
“It’s alright.”
“Fuuuu. So, just so we’re clear - do not ever use that ritual again. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And don’t use your familiars as sacrifices ever again, either! That’s the important thing here! We
wouldn’t give a flying fuck if your rectangular ass died out there, but if a demon bites the big one
because of your antics then even killing you 100,000 times wouldn’t be enough payback! Understood?!”
It was important to keep in mind that the summoning contract was indeed a partnership and not slavery.
Generally what happens to a demon’s physical form didn’t matter to an immortal being in the grand
scheme of things, but endangering the integrity of their soul was another story. It was the one thing that
must never, under any circumstances, be tampered with. If that clause was violated then the Warlock
getting killed would just be the beginning of his punishment. What followed next would be… Well, let’s
just say oblivion would be a much more preferable option.
“You’re lucky we caught this thing early!” added Carl. “Another ten or so more rituals and the soul of
Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila would have suffered irreversible damage!”
“... Carl, is my contract in danger?”
“Nah, you’re fine. It’s not like you were doing it on purpose. Besides, you cooperated readily and both
of your familiars testified as to your, uh, character. Therefore, the higher ups have agreed to let you off
with just a stern warning.”
It would seem that all things said and done, Demons ‘R’ Us were going to take Boxxy’s actions as a
simple misunderstanding rather than malicious intent.
“I see. Thanks, Carl.”
“Sure, just try and avoid pissing off my boss any more, yeah? Otherwise he might seriously terminate
it.”
“How do I do that?”
“Ah, that’s actually pretty easy. You just keep doing what you do, only without the two things we talked
about just now. Like, for real, don’t. And don’t take so long to answer if we’re the ones calling you,
okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good, good. Haaah. ‘Kay, bye!”
*Click*
Well, that conversation was educational. Boxxy nearly stepped on quite the landmine there due to its
own ignorance, but it would seem things have more or less worked out.
“Alright Snack, you can get down from there. Arms, untie her.”
“Oh thank fuck!” said Xera. “I really don’t know how much longer I could take sharing a body with that
insufferable asshole!”
“Hey come on,” complained Kora while she untied the succubus from the stake. “Uncle Naggy isn’t
that bad.”
“Yes he is! The whole reason he wanted a ‘pure maiden’ in the first place is because- Wait, uncle? He’s
your kin?!”
“Yeah. He’s eldest of my dad’s 49 siblings. I only met him once or twice though.”
“Wow, that kind of makes things a lot worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“The first thought he had when he saw you was how he’d like to, and I’m quoting his head here, ‘split
that fine ass on his dick.’”
“Oh! That’s pretty high praise coming from an Archfiend!”
“It is?”
“Of course!”
“...”
“Oy! Don’t give me that disgusted look! It’s a fiend thing, okay?!”
“We’re leaving now,” said Boxxy, putting an end to their little argument. “There are things I need to
get.”
Even if they had leftover troll blood, that one ritual was all the Mimic was really equipped to do. They’d
have to find components, not to mention sacrifices, to enact some of the other rituals. Of particular
interest was a ceremony that was meant to call forth ‘Unholy Wealth,’ whatever that was. However,
they’d need quite a few things to pull that one off. Not to mention it still lacked knowledge about the
Warlock Job in general.
It was time to see about taking up residence inside a city.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Guild END 190
1079/1079 (+2.6/
HP INT 185
sec)
925/925 (+1.1/
MP WIS 117
sec)
Skill List
Demonology 5 0%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Shadowbind
Singularity
(38) Interlude Justice Demands Retribution
Emperor Joseph Frederick von Einhart the Third leaned back in his high chair and cursed under his
breath. The subject of the documents on his desk was more than a little upsetting. It’s a good thing his
retainers and servants were forbidden from entering his study without permission, otherwise he would
have to bottle up his emotions to maintain the image worthy of an emperor. An especially difficult task
for a young man barely out of his teens, but one that was both his birthright and his responsibility. His
father had passed away suddenly a year ago due to illness, so the young lad had been suddenly thrust
into the spotlight, regardless of his will or intentions. As ruler of the human-dominated Lodrak Empire,
one of the three great nations on this continent, he could never be allowed to show weakness.
Still, he looked around the room, as if that would somehow relieve him of the burden of his post. The
heavy wooden desk in front of him was completely bare, save for a few writing utensils and the
aforementioned report. The afternoon sun shone in from the window behind him, providing ample light
with which to read said documents. The floor was covered by a soft, dark gray carpet and the stone walls
were covered by tapestries and banners - relics of the past.
To his left and right were tall bookshelves, filled with the lore, knowledge, poetry and history of his
ancestors. The stone busts of five of those ancestors adorned the top of the shelves, looking all stern,
stoic and regal, with well-kempt beards and stern expressions. A far cry from the baby-faced, blond-
haired young man that was currently sitting in their chair. Looking up at the flat ceiling revealed an
intricate mosaic that depicted several more of those dead Emperors during their crowning moments of
glory, reminding Joseph just how insignificant his rule may turn out to be.
The young emperor sighed. None of those dead men were going to help him calm down. If anything,
they seemed to press down on him, increasing the already immense pressure on his shoulders. He
secretly dreaded having all of his forefathers stare at him day and night, but wouldn’t dare suggest
having the busts removed or the ceiling painted over. There were many in the royal palace that thought
he was unworthy of succeeding his late father and should be replaced with a more capable regent.
I’ll show them, he thought to himself. How dare that scum underestimate me!? I’ve been preparing for
this position my whole life! So what if it came earlier than expected?! I’ll teach those cretins a thing or
two about speaking out against the Emperor!
Joseph sighed again. Such thoughts were neither productive nor entertaining. He turned to the damnable
booklet on his desk once more. He really did not want to read through it again, but he had to commit
every last syllable to memory. His young mind had been schooled in the ways of politics and
statesmanship ever since he was 6 years old, so there’s no way he wouldn’t understand the grave
significance of the event it was concerned with. That didn’t help his mood, though. Even if the logical
mind understood he had to read it, his emotions demanded he burn the file and be done with it.
Just the title of it was enough to ruin his mood.
A report on The Calamity of Monotal by Spymaster E. G. Allen
He had heard about it, of course. Every soul in the Empire had by now, and the news would likely
spread to the whole continent within the month. He flipped it open and started reading through it. At
least Edward, the Spymaster, for not dressing up the facts with pointless words and analogies like the
rest of his court. Though perhaps if anything needed some flowerful language, it was this.
The city of Monotal is no more. Just as early reports had stated, the city has been completely wiped out
approximately two weeks ago, on the 8th day of this month. Nothing of the city remains, save for a large
crater and an ever-swirling cloud of dust. The estimated death toll is at least 8,000 souls - the entire
population of Monotal.
“Sweet Teresa’s tits…” mumbled Joseph.

Only when he was alone could he allow himself to say such thing. An Emperor blaspheming upon the
names of the Gods a good way to earn the ire of their faithful, after all. This common sense went double
for the followers of Teresa the Hammer, Goddess of truth, order, justice and retribution. In all honesty
though, who could blame the man? This report confirmed that the worst case scenario he dreaded with
his entire being had indeed taken place. Four sentences in and he already felt ill, but he pushed on
regardless.
The Calamity has also rendered all the soil within 6 kilometers of the epicenter completely infertile. The
Druids and Shamans we consulted said restoration is impossible and the land will be left barren for
centuries. Arcanium investigators say the cause is the same as the ever-swirling green dust cloud, a
magical anomaly they’re calling the Rift. It’s playing havoc on the environment and poisoning the
ground and the air around it with some unknown form of magic. Approaching the Rift causes one’s body
to rapidly wither and decay, making it nigh-impossible for living beings to get near it. Arcanium
investigators say they’ve never seen anything like it, but are currently following a lead that suggests it’s
somehow linked to the fabled Calamity of Tol-Saroth.
No wonder they’re referring to both events as calamities. According to the history books, Tol-Saroth
was an elven Warlock said to have lived about 430 years ago. The records claimed he was responsible
for making an entire human fort disappear overnight through some terrible magic ritual. The exact
details of the account have been mostly lost to time and the event has been mostly dismissed as being
blown way out of proportion by historians of the past.
However, even lies have a hint of truth within them, and it’s the duty of the organization known as the
Arcanium to determine fact from fiction. If those eggheads claim that there’s a chance that the two
Calamities are somehow connected, then there’s a good chance that may indeed be the case.
Joseph shook his head to clear it of idle thoughts and turned his attention back to the report.
We have detained and interrogated 32 individuals that had witnessed the Calamity from afar- 4 hunters,
3 bandits, 2 merchants, 10 adventurers and 13 travelers. Their first-hand accounts all state they saw
was a bright white light coming at them from the direction of Monotal. Over half of them had been
rendered blind by the event. The Arcanium currently has them under quarantine, since the eyes of all
victims glow with an unholy green light, much like that of the Rift. Neither alchemy nor magic have been
able to heal their sight.
What followed then was a transcription of all 32 interviews wherein they recount that horrible day.
Oddly enough, none of them had direct line of sight to Monotal, nor were all of them looking in that
direction. Indeed, three of them were adventurers exploring a cave in the wilderness, yet they still went
blind despite being underground. It would seem the Arcanium believes them to have been within the 6
kilometers of the city, and the facts support this theory.
Of particular note is a bizarre scene my scouts found along the Imperial Highway. They found what
appeared to be the site of a bandit attack, but a closer inspection revealed it was something more. A
small crater was in the middle of the road, filled with dust and ash that we believe to have once been
people. It is highly likely they were used as sacrifices for some obscure ritual.
Investigating the area around this site led us to an old fort that had been abandoned after the conclusion
of the Great War 300 years ago. The place was in ruins and looked to have been used a base by a group
of bandits. However, the keep’s central tower appeared to have been knocked down only recently and
excavating the dungeon underneath it revealed a malnourished and badly injured human prisoner. He
was barely alive and highly delirious, likely gone mad from the living hell he had been put through, but
his interrogation still revealed some useful information before he was executed for his crimes.
This man had been a part of a small-time group of bandits that called themselves ‘The Redcaps.’ He
admitted it was their group that initiated an ambush upon a merchant convoy on the day of the Calamity.
They had engaged the adventurers protecting the convoy in battle and seemed to have the upper hand,
but were interrupted by the appearance of a tall, green-haired, red-skinned, four-armed demon. It is my
belief that this demon is the same one reported by the Hero. As for the final fate of those adventurers, it
is clear they, along with the rest of the bandits, had been turned to dust.
The Spymaster then went on to describe what he believed to be the sequence of events that led up to that
point. To sum it up, the bandits and adventurers at that ambush site were sacrificed in order to create a
weapon of mass destruction, likely the same one used in the Calamity of Tol-Saroth. That mysterious
red crystal was then escorted by its creator and a certain four-armed demon through the main gate of
Monotal, where they encountered heavy resistance in the form of the Hero of the Hammer, Bernard
Samson, and his four companions.
Emperor Joseph had met Bernard personally and had a favorable impression of the valiant adventurer.
How could he not? The mantle of Hero could only be granted by the Gods, and that valiant young man
had been chosen as the champion of the Goddess Teresa herself. He had been given the noble task of
protecting the weak and bringing monsters, evildoers and criminals alike to justice. His ultimate task had
been to become strong enough to lead an expedition into the Blighted Lands to the far north and destroy
the terrible being that called itself ‘The Boneshaper.’ It was a Quest that would no doubt go down in
legend.
And yet that ended abruptly thanks to the Calamity. Bernard was caught up in it and lost his life. He was
able to resurrect at the Temple of Teresa, here in the capital, by the grace of the Goddess. Truly a miracle
only a Hero could pull off. However, Teresa’s divine protection did not extend to his companions, who
were now forever gone. In fact, Joseph suspected the Hero himself had never truly come back either.
The vibrant, energetic person the Emperor once knew was gone. In his place was someone who had lost
everything near and dear to him, a hollow, wretched man with eyes like a dead fish and no purpose in
life. The monotone voice he used to describe the events of two weeks ago betrayed he truly wished he
had died along with his childhood friends, and has reportedly tried to commit suicide at least twice since
then. Humanity had lost a Hero that day, and from his testimony it was crystal clear who was at fault.
“Fucking twigs,” cursed Emperor Einhart, his young heart seething with rage. “This is all their doing!”
The prime suspect in this whole incident was an elven Witch, one who sacrificed dozens, possibly
hundreds of people to create that horrible weapon. She had made her intentions crystal clear to everyone
around them when Bernard had cornered her and was just about to subdue her. The crazy bitch then set
herself on fire, cackling madly about how ‘The Elven Dominion shall rise again!’ while she burned
alive.
“Those insufferable, inferior fucking terrorists! They’ll pay. They’ll all pay! Them and all their fucking
kind!”
Of course he knew blaming this calamity on the entire elven race was ludicrous. Attributing the acts of
an individual to an entire people was something only a madman would do. Granted, Joseph was mad,
but it was more of the ‘I want to break something’ type of mad, rather than the ‘I’m going to make my
horse a Baron’ mad. He never liked those elves. Even while his father was alive, he kept hearing of their
so called ‘freedom fighters.’ It was always his suspicion that those fucking twigs were somehow
responsible for his father’s untimely demise. Truthfully, he had wanted to invade their pitiful country
and wipe out their entire race ever since he became Emperor, but his advisors and nobles were firmly
against such action.
“Well. We’ll see how those geezers feel about our ‘neighbours’ when they find out exactly how much
we’d lost thanks to them.”
The elf-spawned Calamity had caused the death of over 8,000 men, women and children. It left behind a
stretch of poisonous, barren wasteland that was nothing more than a festering wound in the heart of the
Empire. Even going so far as to crush the spirit of the first human Hero to appear in over a hundred
years. The aftershocks of this catastrophic event would probably be felt for years, decades even.
Things had always been uneasy between the Ishigar Republic, the last remnant of the ancient Elven
Dominion, and the human-dominated Lodrak Empire, that caused the fall of said Dominion. To say
these two nations and their people had bad blood between them would be an understatement. But this
unforgivable act of terrorism? There’s no way a single Witch was able to pull off a masterstroke like that
without significant backing.
In other words-
“This is a declaration of war, isn’t it?!”
(39) Gainful Employment 1
The city of Erosa, of the Lodrak Empire, stood on the banks of a river known as the Whispering Canal.
Named after its calm waters and predictable currents, this body of water flowed in from the Sawblade
Mountains to the north and kept going in a relatively straight line until it flowed out into the ocean. Its
sprawling delta some 5 kilometers south of the city had formed the massive Whispering Marshes that
spanned an area of about 450 square kilometers.
To the West of Erosa were the Troll Woods, named for the dominant species of monster that lived in
those parts. The depths of this sprawling forest were mostly unexplored, but it was still a valuable source
of high-quality lumber and magical ingredients. The numerous small villages that dotted its outskirts
dedicated their time to farming and tending to the fertile soil, but had to deal with the very real threat of
monster and bandit attacks.
The city itself was located in the South-Western corner of the Empire. Going beyond the Whispering
Marshes or through the Troll Woods to the west would lead one to the shores of the Shimmering Ocean,
at the edge of the continent. The relatively nearby Sawblade Mountains ran northwest-by-southeast
through the middle of the Empire’s territory, all the way to the western edge of the continent.
With the mountains to the north and northeast and the Shimmering ocean towards the south and west of
it, this province was simply known as Cradle Valley. The only easily accessible land route in and out of
this place lied was to the east of the city of Erosa along the imperial highway. This wide cobblestone
road continued north out of the city and ran between the Whispering Canal to the east and Troll Woods
to the west. Following this road north for about a week would lead travelers to the city of Montal.
This Cradle Valley was, simply put, one of the weakest and poorest areas of the Empire. Being mostly
isolated from the heartland meant that traders, merchants and travelers barely went through these parts.
Although the city of Erosa was actually flourishing, this was mostly due to its geographical position near
the entrance to the Valley. This was a far cry from the rest of the province, which was sparsely populated
with only two cities, 6 towns and 31 villages. Its total population was a mere 55,000.
Or at least that’s what it should have been about two weeks ago. The Calamity of Monotal that killed
over 8,000 of the empire’s citizens was one thing, but the aftershocks of the event were still underway.
Rumors spread of a foul green mist that spread outwards from the former city - a thick miasma that
poisoned the very ground and air. The subsequent investigation by the emperor’s spymaster had revealed
the depth and breadth of this Calamity to the crown and the young emperor had passed a decree than the
crown would spearhead an effort to contain and repair the damage to the land.
The Empire’s response to this catastrophe would have been far slower if it wasn’t for Bernard Samson -
the Hero of the Hammer and Teresa’s Chosen. Having lost his life in the Calamity, he revived at the
Temple of Teresa in the capital the very same day, allowing him to relay the dire news of this disaster
before the proverbial dust had actually settled.
However, the only reason the spymaster’s investigation could be carried out so swiftly was due to his
team utilizing the half-lion half-eagle creatures known as griffins. Riding the large winged beasts
allowed them to pass over the highly inhospitable and treacherous Sawblade Mountains and reach the
site of the disaster within the span of a few days.
Such a method was simply not economically feasible when one considered the sheer amount of
manpower and raw materials that needed to be transported in order to properly address and contain this
situation. Simply organizing and transporting all of that was bound to take weeks, possibly months, and
there was no guarantee they would be able to actually do much to salvage the area. And even if they
could, then it would be a question of how much time they would need to actually carry out any solutions
they came up with.
In other words, the crown was unable to properly reassure the populace. Unrest and fear spread like
wildfire throughout the Cradle Valley.
“What if the wind spread that poisonous miasma around?!” said some.
“What if some strange new illness spread because of this?” questioned others.
“That place is cursed! The undead will rise in great numbers and spread throughout the land!” was a
popular, but misinformed opinion.
As a result, over 5,000 people had already migrated out of the province. The region’s total population of
55,000 had already fallen to just under 42,000 and was expected to get much worse. It was already at a
stage where the lords and nobles had serious doubts the region would ever truly recover.
There were, however, those who profited immensely from this. Namely adventurers in the 40-to-60
Level range. The city of Erosa that normally held about 10,000 residents at any given time had suddenly
found itself bloated with hundreds upon hundreds of adventurers who came to profit off the event.
After all, it wasn’t just the people that were looking to abandon this valley. All manner of monsters and
wild animals had also began pushing south and east, away from the Cataclysm. Bandits also became a
bigger threat as more and more hapless villagers went on long journeys while unable or unwilling to hire
protection.
Under such circumstances, it was really no surprise that adventurers found themselves privy to an
unnaturally large volume of Quests involving monster subjugation or working as armed escorts. And of
course, overseeing all of this, were all the various guilds that each individual belonged to, but the one
that made the most money off other people’s suffering was, as usual, the Mercenary Guild.
Their office was a wooden two story building on a busy road near the northern gate of Erosa. This
organization had the rather unorthodox policy of running a bar and restaurant at all of its offices and
often doubled as an inn. While other guilds also offered goods and services to their members, they
focused on seemingly less frivolous things, like selling potions, crafting materials, weapons, armor and
reference materials.
However, this guild knew its members well. The stereotypical mercenary was a drifter, someone
constantly on the road and with no roots of their own. Having a safe place where they could enjoy a
warm meal, a cold drink and a clean, soft bed was more than enough. And while they could get those
things elsewhere, it was often accompanied by distrusting looks or busybodies poking their noses where
they don’t belong. Such things didn’t happen at the Mercenary Guild. The rooms they offered all had
locks and nobody asked any personal questions.
This attitude was probably why the restaurant on the ground floor was so quiet right now, despite there
being over 30 people in it. While some of them were exchanging information and a few others were
recruiting temporary teammates, the vast majority of them ate their breakfast and minded their own god
damned business. The most that could be heard is soft murmur and the clanking of spoons and forks.
*Creak*
The wooden front door swung open slowly and an enormous figure over 2 meters tall walked into the
building. He wore a heavy black cloak that obscured most of his body and his face and hair were
wrapped up in a dark blue cloth to make a makeshift mask that left only the area around his eyes
exposed. What little could be seen of the skin on his face was rather pale and his irises were a piercing
yellow color that seemed to notice every little detail around him. The feet that poked out under the hem
of his cloak wore a pair of sturdy-looking brown leather boots that were a size or two larger than your
typical adventurer, much like the rest of him.
Just looking at his tall figure and wide shoulders made it obvious his body was well-built. A physique
well suited to close combat Jobs that relied on muscle power and stamina, such as a Warrior, Berserker
or Paladin. Well, his presence in this guild made it crystal clear that last one wasn’t the case. Paladins
were way too self-righteous to be caught dead in a place like this, not to mention they knew nothing
about subtlety, a far cry from this stranger.
He moved along the wooden floorboards without making any of the heavy footsteps one would expect
from a man of his stature. He also carried himself with a sort of grace that made it clear he wasn’t just
some brawler. Indeed, his odd demeanor had allowed the more observant mercenaries gathered here to
deduce he was of an agility-based Job, like a Ranger or Rogue, perhaps even one of His Majesty’s Spies.
The fact he was doing it seemingly unconsciously was a telltale sign that his Job Level was beyond 25,
meaning he wasn’t a Novice, but a Journeyman. It was also possible he had broken past Level 50 and
reached the rank of an Adept.
The people in the guild all stared at the newcomer as he walked across the restaurant, towards the bar at
the far end of the hall.
“What, it’s just him again?” said one of them dismissively under his breath.
The elf that spoke up stopped gawking and resumed minding his own god damned business. His
breakfast, which consisted of a cup of tea, 2 grilled sausages and a bowl of gruel, was far more
important than some dark figure.
Most of the others had much the same reaction and went about their morning routine. People like him
were rather common among mercenaries, after all. Granted, that guy’s size made him stand out a bit
more than usual, but this was hardly his first visit to this place. He always seemed to come in during
breakfast or diner, yet never actually ordered any food.
The wrinkled old dwarf attending the bar wore a long-sleeved off-white tunic and slightly baggy dark
gray pants, ending in a pair of town shoes that were beige in color. He had a thick brown beard with
streaks of gray in it and his head was almost completely bald. The barman/receptionist put away the
glass he was pretending to clean and turned his attention to the newcomer.
“Ah, Mister Morningwood,” he said in a strictly professional manner. Several people that overheard him
giggled or snorted as they failed to suppress their laughter.
“I take it your Quest is complete?”
The tall figure opposite him nodded once. The bartender ducked momentarily under the counter and
came back up holding an aquamarine-colored crystal ball, about the size of a child’s head. It was set into
a circular wooden base like a plaque or pedestal, though its function was to keep the thing from rolling
around the place rather than show it off. He placed it on the counter, right in front of the other, much
taller gentleman.
“You know the drill,” said the dwarf.
Mister Morningwood nodded again and stretched out a hand from under his cloak. It was fittingly large
and bandaged in such a way as to cover his palm and the back of his hand, leaving his thick pale fingers
free to move about as they pleased. He placed his palm on top of the crystal like he was trying to grip it.
“Confirm Quest,” he chanted with a deep, clear voice and the ball flashed a few times in response.
Boxxy T. Morningwood has completed a Quest: Slay 10 Murk Dwellers.
Both men at the bar saw the same notification in their heads.
“Confirm Quest,” repeated the man without taking his hand off the crystal.
Boxxy T. Morningwood has completed a Quest: Slay 5 Ogres.
“Confirm Quest.”
Boxxy T. Morningwood has completed a Quest: Deliver the Steel Ingots.
“Confirm Quest.”
Boxxy T. Morningwood has completed a Quest: Night Watch.
“Very good, Mister Morningwood, I believe that’s everything,” said the aged dwarf behind the bar. “I
will prepare your compensation immediately,” he added, then disappeared into a back room.
The receptionist would probably be a little while, so Boxxy decided to make use of its time and walked
over to the Quest Board. It was a large wooden notice board that took up most of the wall to the right of
the bar and had a large number of parchments stuck to it. He gave it a once over, looking for any suitable
work an enterprising young Mimic could do in a day or two. Killing other monsters, standing guard at
the city gate or ferrying goods were the types of Quests it preferred since they were simple and
straightforward. However, none of those types of commissions were available to it. Most of the notices
left on the board were related to escorting people, collecting ingredients or odd-jobs.
Acting as an escort was out of the question. Boxxy had a tough enough time acting human without
having to also babysit a number of them over a period of several days. It was more than that though. The
thought of escorting people and protecting them was, simply put, ridiculous. That was like asking a
butcher to make sure a pig doesn’t get slaughtered.
Almost exactly like that, actually.
Odd-jobs were also out. Those also looked to involve a level of interaction that the Mimic was not
willing to undertake, not to mention the ratio of time taken to gold earned was really bad. In the end, he
monster-cum-mercenary reached out and grabbed a parchment detailing a collection Quest. The notice
peeled off the board with little resistance and was then placed on the bar counter.
The receptionist returned a minute later with eight leather pouches in his hands.
“Here are your deposits,” he said while placing four of them side-by-side, “and these four are your
rewards. Would you like to confirm the amount?”
Boxxy nodded and reached out to feel the weight on each of them. The unmistakable clack of gold they
made when shaken was like music to its fake ears. The monster-in-disguise used its magical perception
to peek inside the pouches and make extra sure that the agreed-upon amount was all there. The Mimic
nodded its dummy head at the old dwarf and put away seven of the pouches under its heavy cloak. The
last one, however, was placed on top of the parchment it took from the Quest Board earlier.
“Ah, another one?” exclaimed the bartender. He picked up the pouch and looked over the notice, then
nodded.
“Very good, Mister Morningwood.”
He then set the parchment back down on the bar and placed the crystal ball from before on top like it
was a glorified paperweight. Boxxy placed a hand on top much like before. It glowed slightly and fed a
stream of information into the Mimic’s mind.
Collect 120 KG of Bouncewood Bark

Difficulty: ??
Time Limit: 4 days
Deposit: 100GP
Reward: 100GP
Progress: 0/120
Description: Deliver 120 kilograms of Bouncewood Bark to the Mercenary Guild in the
city of Erosa. Bouncewood trees may be found in the Troll Woods west of Erosa and are
easily recognizable due to their smooth and black surface.
The deposit was something unique to the Mercenary Guild. They were an organization that allowed
pretty much anyone to accept Quests from their Board, no questions asked. However, such individuals
would have to leave behind a certain amount of gold for every Quest they took. If the part-time
mercenary accomplished their task, they would get their deposit back in full, along with the Quest’s
completion reward. Should they fail or disappear never to be heard from again, then the guild would re-
post the Quest and keep their deposit for themselves.
That way the guild either had a satisfied customer in the face of the one who posted the Quest in the first
place, or they had a lump sum of gold with which to settle any damages or grievances that resulted from
the failure of the Quest. They even had the authority to withhold part of the deposit even if the Quest
was technically complete.
The Mercenary Guild would make a profit no matter what happened.
There were of course a significant number of Quests that were not made available to outsiders. Non-
members also did not have the backing of the Guild should things go awry with a client or the
authorities, but such trifling matters were of little concern to Boxxy. The Mimic could get paid without
having to subject itself to an Appraisal examination, and that was all that mattered.
“Accept quest,” it chanted.
Both the crystal and the parchment glowed with a soft yellow light for several seconds. The tracking-
type magic then enveloped Boxxy and a message appeared for both it and the receptionist.
Boxxy T. Morningwood has undertaken a Quest: Collect 120 KG of Bouncewood Bark.
“Will that be all?” asked the wrinkled old dwarf while putting away the crystal and the parchment
behind the counter.
“No,” answered Boxxy. “Selling.”
Its arm reached out from under its cloak once again and placed what appeared to be a rose flower made
out of steel razors and wires. The receptionist picked it up carefully, making sure not to cut his hand on
the numerous sharp edges that jutted out from it.
“Identify.”
Bladeblossom
A disposable weapon made by a rookie Artificer. Pulling on the wire at the base of the
Bladeblossom will trigger its mechanism, which launches a high number of spring-loaded
blades in all directions. This particular item is of superior construction, allowing it to inflict
additional damage despite being made out of common materials.
Estimated Value: 24GP
Boxxy had placed three more of these things on the counter by the time the receptionist was finished
appraising the first one. The dwarf then quickly verified those as well then made an offer.
“Alright, I’ll buy the four of them for 70GP.”
The man-shaped monster on the other side of the counter simply nodded in response. The dwarf then
quickly produced the money and handed it over to complete the transaction. With its business for the
moment concluded, the Mimic simply turned away and went out of the building. One of the human men
that had been silently staring at the cloaked figure since it walked in here walked over to the bar and
took a seat on the stool.
“Hey Grog, who was that?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
“Mister Morningwood,” came the casual answer. “He showed up about a week ago and has been
working hard ever since.”
“What do you think his deal is?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Though I do kinda like the guy, to be honest.”
“What, really?”
“Sure. He’s quiet, efficient and doesn’t try to haggle with me like the rest of you mooks. He’s basically
the ideal mercenary in my book.”
“Oh… Right. Yeah, you have a point. I don’t like him one bit, though.”
“Hah! Why? Jealous he’s been scooping up all the work?” asked the dwarf with a small chuckle.
“No! Well a little, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Something about him just doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay, granted, the fellow is a bit creepy, but-”
“No no no, Grog. Not creepy. Terrifying. My hair stands on end whenever I’m in the same room with
that guy.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing,” said his ginger-haired companion while sitting on the bar
stool next to Torel. “There’s a thick stench of death about him. Just looking his way makes some small
part of me want to run for my life.”
“Ah, you two are just imagining things. I mean sure he’s got that ‘mysteeeerious’ and ‘inteeeense’
atmosphere about him, but he’s no different from most of the other part-timers I’ve seen. Besides, has he
ever shown even the slightest sign of hostility?”
“N-no… I guess not,” admitted Torel.
“Well, maybe he hasn’t shown any hostility, but I definitely fucking felt it!” claimed the other human.
“Hah! Look at you!” said Grog, mockingly. “You’re actually scared of the big guy in the heavy cloak!
You’re way too green if you let superficial stuff like that get to you.”
“But what if he’s actually a criminal?! Some mass murderer or psychopath?!” insisted Torel.
The dwarf shrugged his shoulders in response.
“Ain’t none of my business. Ain’t none of the Mercenary Guild’s business. And unless he does
something to you, it ain’t none of yours, either.”
“Well… what if he has a huge bounty on his head?!”
The dwarf stopped organizing his bar and sighed.
“Then it would be the Bounty Hunter Guild’s business. Look lad, I like you, so let me offer you some
advice on the house. Do not mess with that part-timer.“
“...”
Torel briefly considered the elderly bartender’s words. Of course the dwarf was right. There was no
legal profit to be made from poking one’s nose into some suspicious individual’s private matters. Yet
some part of Torel didn’t want to let this go.
“And just so we’re clear,” added the bartender, “neither me nor my bosses are gonna be responsible if
someone finds you dead in an alley, alright?”
“Y-yeah, okay. You’ve made your point. I’ll keep my head down.”
Those last few words really struck a nerve with the young man. Not because he was afraid that scenario
would happen, but the far more terrifying prospect that it wouldn’t.
Something was telling him they wouldn’t find him at all once ‘mister Morningwood’ was done with
him.
Boxxy walked through the streets of Erosa with purpose. The new Quest it picked up meant it had to
visit the ancient dense forest that was visible on the horizon, but that could wait. It had more pressing
matters to attend to. As it walked along the city’s crowded streets, however, it once again noticed a
pattern. Humans were shying away from it, giving its tall, cloaked figure a wide berth. All things
considered that might be the natural reaction to meeting someone tall, dark and masked, but then again,
it was only humans reacted this way.
Dwarves, elves, beast-kin and lizard-kin had a much more subdued reaction. They got out of its way and
avoided running into it on the street, but their behavior showed they treated the figure as nothing more
than a face in the crowd. Humans on the other hand practically leapt out of its way with an apprehensive
look on their face, even going so far as to let out a yelp when they suddenly noticed its presence.
It wasn’t just pedestrians, either. Human merchants also seemed unwilling to do business with it and a
few outright denied service to it. ANd while nonhumans businesses treated it with a certain amount of
suspicion, that was immediately dispelled when the gold was brought out.
Boxxy had no idea why any of this was happening, but it was clearly not a good thing. Mimics like itself
were creatures that wanted to hide themselves in plain sight and wait for unwitting prey to draw close,
then strike. Walking around in the open with so many pairs of eyes following its conspicuous form was
more than a little stressful for Boxxy. Having humans actively avoid it like that simply drawed a lot
more attention to itself than it could calmly deal with.
Thankfully, it reached its next destination without much incident. It stood in front of a small single-story
building on the busy market street. The sign above the heavy wooden door read ‘Fizzy’s Fidgety
Widgets.’ There was a large glass window to the left of said door that was too dirty for anything but
traces of sunlight to pass through. It pushed the door open with a pale hand and went inside.
*Ring-a-ding-ding-ding*
The interior of the shop was not to different from the general store Boxxy had visited several times
before. Immediately to the right of the door was a mostly bare beige wall that had little going for it other
than a random picture of what looked to be an orange tabby cat. There was a large wooden L-shaped
counter to its front and left, with several shelves filled with various contraptions and parts on the far
wall. A half-open door was visible in the far left corner from where the mimic was standing. Weird
grinding and whirring noises were coming from the workshop on the other side of that door.
Boxxy closed the door behind it, which caused the door frame to ring the little bell overhead for the
second time. It breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief. Being indoors and away from the dozens of prying
eyes outside made it feel far more comfortable. No, it was more accurate to say it was a lot less
uncomfortable.
“Just a minute!” came a slightly squeaky voice from further inside the shop.
The door in the corner opened up all the way and a creature that was about the height and build of a
9-year old human girl walked out from within. She had a plainly cute face with pink hair tied in twin
pigtails. A pair of large leather-bound safety goggles covered her large green eyes. Her brown overalls,
gray work shirt and heavy leather gloves were dirtied by many black splotches of oil. There was a steel
wrench with numerous scratches in her right hand.
This woman was Cornie Fizzlesprocket, or Fizzy for short. She was a gnome and the owner of Fizzy’s
Fidgety Widgets.
“Oh! If it isn’t Boxxy!?”
The Mimic returned the greeting with a nod, which seemed to be a satisfactory response.
“Alright, gimme a sec,” said the gnome while she put away her wrench and took off her gloves and
goggles.
It was amazing how much it could get done just by nodding and gesturing. It’s not that it couldn’t speak,
it’s just that it needed to work on its communication skills when it came to talking with strangers. The
last time it tried to hold a conversation it almost got arrested for asking a street vendor if she was tasty. It
had no idea what this ‘sexual harassment’ thing she kept yelling about was, but it decided it would speak
as little as possible ever since.
“So what’cha here for, big guy?” asked Fizzy while walking up to her customer on the other side of the
counter. Most people would struggle to see anything other the top of her head, but Boxxy’s towering
stature meant they could maintain eye contact easily enough.
“Lessons and materials.”
“What, already? Did you practice what I taught you last time properly?”
The Mimic nodded and brought out another Bladeblossom, then placed it on the countertop. Fizzy
climbed a small step ladder so her large head and tiny upper body were above the counter and took out a
magnifying jeweler’s monocle and a small screwdriver out of her overalls. The gnome then began
inspecting Boxxy’s handiwork.
“Not bad,” she commented while rolling the device around in her small fingers and poking at it with her
screwdriver. “Triggering mechanism is put together well, springs are coiled properly and the blades
won’t clash into each other when activated.”
She kept commenting on the device’s construction while taking it slightly apart.
“You did a great job on the overall assembly,” was her final verdict. She carefully set the slightly
disassembled Bladeblossom down on the counter and put away her monocle.
“Honestly, it’s surprising you’re able to do detailed work like this with those large hands of yours. I only
taught you how to make these three days ago and you’re already this good! You should be past Level 2
of the Job by now, right?”
“Yes.”
“...”
They stared at each other in an awkward silence.
Oh right, thought Fizzy, this guy only answers what I ask him and nothing more.
“Uhm, what Level is your Artificer job now?”
It was a bit odd that she had to specifically ask all these rather obvious questions, but that wasn’t
necessarily a bad thing. A good Artificer had to do exactly what was required of them. Nothing more,
nothing less.
“Four.”
The gnome blinked her huge eyes a few times then smiled up at her student.
“Hmm? I’m sorry, I think I misheard that. Could you repeat yourself?”
“My Job is Level four.”
“Holy- Four?! But you only started a week ago!”
The cloaked figure tilted its masked head.
“So?”
“So? SO?! It takes most people 2 months of practice to get up to that Level! Just how many- Wait,
didn’t you say something about materials? Did you already use up all the parts you bought last time!?”
She got a nod in response.
“B-b-b-but there were enough bits in that toolbox you bought to make 100 of these!”
“Yes. And?”
“Well-! I mean-! How did you assemble them so fast!?”
If the person in front of Fizzy really did reach Level 4 of the Artificer Job, then it’s highly likely all of
his creations were as well-built as the sample she just examined.
“Show me how you put one of these together!”
“No.”
Boxxy didn’t really want to do that since it would mean revealing it was a Shapeshifter. If this truth got
out, then it would no longer be able to stay in town and take advantage of the various goods and services
that only civilization could provide it with. So if Fizzy were to somehow catch wind of it, she would
have to be… dealt with.
“Come on! I’m super curious!”
The persistent gnome, however, wouldn’t give up so easily.
“No.”
“Pretty please?!”
“No.”
“I swear I won’t spill your secret!”
The Mimic hesitated for a brief moment. If this little thing did that, then surely it would be okay.
However, it then remembered Xera’s helpful hint for blending into civilized society.
Everybody lies.
“No.”
The little gnome was getting more and more petulant.
“I have to know! I need to know!”
She slammed her tiny fists into the counter with more force than one would expect from a tiny body like
that. It actually shook the wooden counter somewhat, which caused the Bladeblossom that was still on
top of it to clatter against its surface.
*Click*
“...”
There was the briefest moment of silence before Fizzy and Boxxy hit the deck as fast they could.
*SHKRA-PRING*
40 tiny blades shot out from the steel rose-looking contraption in all directions. Some stuck into the
ceiling, others into the wall, a couple broke the window and a number of them hit the various metal bits
and pieces strewn about the shop.
“YEOOW!” screamed Fizzy. One piece of shrapnel had ricocheted off something and stabbed her in the
back of the arm, which started bleeding profusely.
“Son of a bitch, that hurt! Oh no, Boxxy!”
The realization that there was another person in the shop dawned on her in the next instant. The thought
her carelessness might have killed someone sent her practically flying up to the counter in order to check
up on her customer.
“Hey! Are you… oh… kay…”
She tiny gnome had lucked out and only been hit once, but the towering figure that was also in the shop
was not as lucky. It had failed to duck out of the way in time and its head was hit by two blades. One in
the forehead, and another in the eye. It casually stood up and reached a pale hand up to those foreign
objects, then pulled them out without uttering so much a peep.
“What… are you?” mumbled the dumbfounded gnome.
That’s when she noticed the viscous yellow blood oozing from the wounds. The gnome’s already large
eyes became the size of dinner plates. Only monsters had disgusting blood that like that.
“GUA-Hrmhp!”
She tried to call for help, but was silenced when Boxxy lunged forward over the counter and put a hand
over her mouth. The flesh of its palm and fingers swiftly reformed into a gag that kept the gnome from
mustering anything other than an extremely muffled scream. She struggled, kicked and clawed at it
while tears welled up in her eyes, but she was unable to so much as injure her assailant.
The Mimic climbed over the counter and got closer to its still thrashing captive. A tendril shot out from
under its cloak and picked up a steel chain that was nearby. This was quickly wrapped around the tiny
prisoner, binding her hands and feet together.
“MMmmf! Fmmph!”
Fizzy watched in abject horror as her freedom was robbed from her. Next the person- no, the monster in
front of her produced some cloth scraps and lodged them in her mouth and throat, forming a more
permanent gag. It then casually carried her off into the back room, further away from any prying eyes.
This room was about the size of the storefront and was quite frankly a mess. A tiny table had been
turned into a workstation on the right, and a plethora of tools lined the wall around it. Numerous crates
and boxes all filled with various parts and pieces were strewn about haphazardly. A small hearth and
anvil were in the far right corner of the room, the place where the captive gnome forged any custom
parts she couldn’t acquire for herself. A pile of iron, copper, bronze and other common metal ingots lied
next to it. The far left corner had a set of stairs leading upwards, most likely into the gnome’s bedroom,
and between it and the door were a line of cabinets stuffed with failed inventions, ruined prototypes,
broken contraptions and other random scrap.
“Hey! Are you alright in here?!”
A man’s voice came from the storefront. It would appear someone noticed the commotion and stepped
inside to check. The ginger-haired young man saw the devastation caused by the Bladeblossom as well
as what appeared to be bloodstains on the counter, but didn’t see a person, living or otherwise.
“Oh gods!” he exclaimed. “Hello?!”
A pink haired female gnome leaned out from behind the door in the back. Only her large head and upper
body were visible.
“Yes hello!” she yelled back with an oddly chipper voice.
“What happened here?!” he asked, gesturing at the walls and ceiling.
“Accident.”
“I see blood! Was anyone hurt?!”
“Nothing serious.”
The young man thought something was off about that gnome’s tone of voice, not to mention her attitude
was a little bit suspect. She was way too happy considering her shop was just wrecked.
“... You sure you’re okay?”
“Fine, yes.”
There was also the weird sense of dread the young man felt when she looked into her large yellow eyes.
“I see. That’s good.”
However, if she says she’s okay, then she’s okay. Even if she looks like a kid, she’s still an adult that can
take care of herself. Probably.
“Sorry for intruding.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’ll be going then.”

“Bye ~♪!”
“Ah yes… goodbye…”
Well, that response was definitely weird. The young man simply concluded that the rumors he heard
saying all gnomes had few screws loose wasn’t entirely fictitious.
He left the store and went about its day, trying his best to put the incident out of his mind. After making
sure nobody else was coming to investigate, the imitation Fizzy hid itself from view, slamming the door
to the back closed. As for the actual Fizzy, she was already in a state where she was earnestly hoping she
had gone mad. A myriad of scenarios appeared in her head when she was bound, gagged and dragged
into her own back room by what appeared to be a male stranger, but none of them were even close to
this.
What appeared to be a man that who stood at over 2 meters tall was revealed to be a chest that was 40 by
50 by 90 centimeters in size. It had grown legs on one end, a head on the other and arms from its top and
bottom, near the head. The heavy cloak and baggy clothes underneath did a good job of obscuring its
chest-shaped, uh, chest.
When the good samaritan just now called out across the shop, it abandoned its veneer and reverted back
to a chest in an instant, with eight nightmarish legs sticking out of the bottom. Its lid opened up all on its
own to reveal two rows of terrifying, jagged and misaligned teeth. A massive red tongue then stretched
out of its maw and licked the bound and gagged gnome across her face and hair. She pointlessly
struggled against her bindings and rivers of tears flooded out of her eyes when she reached the
conclusion she was about to be eaten, but that assumption also proved to be wrong.
The fleshy red tongue morphed before her very eyes. Its tip had morphed into a twisted reflection of
herself, absolutely perfect aside from the stupid grin and yellow eyes. The Mimic then poked its new
‘body’ through the crack in the door and made her last hope of being rescued go away by using a few
words with a voice that was not her own. Once that was done, it undid all its transformations and sat
down in front of her.
And just waited.
Fizzy hyperventilated. Her throat never once stopped trying to scream, her eyes didn’t even dared to
blink. But right now, she felt more terrified than she had ever been before. Not because there was a
monster in front of her. Well, there was that, but her biggest fear arose from how… ordinary it looked.
She knew full well what a mimic was and had little doubt the creature in front of her was undoubtedly
one of those. And yet, it didn’t look out of place. A random wooden chest laying around haphazardly in
the middle of her workshop where it would undoubtedly get in the way was bound to be an eyesore,
right? So then how come it seemed like this chest was always there?!
A monster was sitting right in front of her, and yet some part of her didn’t find that odd.
It was at this moment the gnome desperately wished she truly had gone insane.
Just when she was about to discover new depths of terror, the front door’s bell rang out.
It slammed shut and a set of footsteps could be heard along the wooden floor. Fizzy struggled and tried
to scream with renewed vigor, desperate for something, anything to save her from this hell. The
footsteps drew closer and the door to her workshop creaked open. A woman dressed in a nun’s habit
walked in like she owned the place.
“Mmph! Hrlf mmfff!”
The nun looked at the gnome, then at the chest, then back to the gnome, then at the chest again.
“Really now,” she said in a clearly displeased tone of voice while looking at the out-of-place-yet-not
wooden box. “This is the third time already!”
“...”
The gnomish tinkerer went quiet for the first time since she was captured.
“Of course I can fix it, but you need to be more careful. Her brain’s going to turn to mush if I keep
wiping her memory.”
“...”
The nun walked over to the captive woman and placed a slender hand on her head.
“Mmmmph! MMMMPH!”
The gnome started struggling valiantly once more, but try as she might, there was no escape for her. Her
skills at constructing gadgets had caught the interest of someone who barely even knew what
compassion, mercy or kindness even meant.
“Sleep,” chanted the nun.
Fizzy’s consciousness began to slip away from her. She instinctively tried to stay awake, but her world
turned dark. The next thing she knew, she was screaming while climbing over the counter.
“Hey Boxxy! Are you okay?!”
“Fine,” said the well-over-2-meter-tall adventurer. It looked like he had gotten off unscathed from that
unfortunate accident just now.
“Oh thank god! I’m really sorry about that! I don’t know what came over me! An Artificer of my Level
setting off a Bladeblossom like that, it’s inexcusable!”
“It’s okay.”
“No, I insist I make it up to you!”
“Then teach me.”
“You’re sure? Even after what I did?”
Boxxy nodded. This girl was still the best (and only) Artificer trainer in town. She was the one
that taught the Mimic the Artificer Job in the first place.
“Alright!” she exclaimed, her voice full of vigor. “I’ll make sure to teach you everything I know! Free of
charge, of course!”
She leapt down from the counter and headed towards her workshop in the back, but stopped
momentarily at the door.
“Huh? That’s weird…”
The completely shut door. The one she never fully closes because she can’t hear the door bell otherwise.
“Well, whatever,” she said dismissively, then waved her guest over. “Right this way, Boxxy! Let’s see
how well you handle blast powder!”
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Age 3 months AGI 162 CHR 50 Artificer 4 72%
Guild END 236 PER 20
1348/1348 (+3.4/
HP INT 217
sec)
1085/1085 (+1.6/
MP WIS 162
sec)
Skill List

Metal Mimicry 2 76% Ruin Mastery 8 27%
Summon Familiar 7 42% Domination Mastery 5 75%
Power Overwhelming 6 30% Shield Mastery 3 32%
Demonology 6 25%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Shadowbind
Singularity
The front door to Fizzy’s Fidgety Widgets opened up with a ringing noise and a humongous cloaked
man exited out of the store and into the street. Looking at the sun’s position, it seemed to be late
afternoon, maybe 2 or 3 hours from sunset. The Mimic and the gnome had spent most of the day inside
Fizzy’s workshop as the hyperactive little mechanic eagerly showed off her skill at construction. As
expected of a Level 56 Artificer, her dexterity and precision were the real deal, and Boxxy eagerly
soaked up all of her teachings. Of course, it also closely observed her hand movements with its magical
perception and made sure to memorize them so that it can replicate them later.
The disguised monster surveyed the street. It would seem foot traffic had died down quite a bit while it
was inside, which was good and bad at the same time. Good, because it meant fewer eyes in its
immediate vicinity would be on its conspicuous form, and bad because its 220 centimeter high form
stood out like a sore thumb and was even more noticeable from a distance. So all things said and done,
nothing much changed, did it? Deciding it didn’t want to spend any more time exposed like this, it
hoisted the large hemp bag in its hand onto its shoulder and trudged off towards its ‘home base.’
This bag was filled with yet more toolboxes and parts it purchased from Fizzy. The reason it had to carry
it around like this instead of sticking in its Storage was that it had to open its maw in order to access that
pocket dimensions. It could manage doing so discreetly when it came to small objects like a
Bladeblossom or a satchel of gold, but fitting those bulky toolboxes in there would undoubtedly blow its
cover.
As for the cost of this new purchase, it came out to a whopping 1,170 GP. A naturally greedy creature
like that severely disliked parting with that much shiny gold at once, but it was for the sake of advancing
its Artificer Job, so it couldn’t be helped. Besides, it was also a form of investment.
Most Artificer-made devices were difficult to put together since they required specialized parts, tools
and know-how, but the final product was extremely simple to use. As a side-effect, the value of such
gizmos would go up immensely when compared to the cost of the raw materials to make them.
Take for example the 100 Bladeblossom kit the Mimic had purchased three days ago. The raw materials
to produce all those spring-loaded single-use devices only amounted to about 150 GP. Fizzy had then
used her workshop to transform the metal ingots into tiny blades, springs, wires and other necessary
parts. The final kit she sold Boxxy cost a whopping 650 GP, which consisted of 50 GP worth of tools
and 600 GP worth of parts. And yet a single well-made Bladeblossom that Boxxy made could be sold at
15 GP. So wouldn’t it be able to make almost 3 times as much gold as it spent on the parts themselves?
Well no, no it wouldn’t. Reality is not rosy enough to fulfill such wishful thinking.
Of the first 30 devices that Boxxy made, 12 were complete failures, 14 were of poor quality and only 4
were of standard quality. And while the next 70 were at least of standard quality, only 22 of them were
high-quality ones like those it sold at the Mercenary Guild. Then there were small things like setting off
a bunch of them for testing purposes or setting several of them aside for future use. Even if it did make
100 high-quality Bladeblossoms, it would be hard pressed to find anyone willing to buy so many at
once.
Either way, the number of items it actually had when everything was said and done was far from 100. It
then started taking them apart and putting them back together in order to get more Levels. However, not
all of the components could be retrieved so easily. The sturdy blades were mostly fine, but the more
delicate internal parts got dented or broken from the repeated strain and were rendered unusable pretty
quickly.
All things said and done, Boxxy had actually assembled a total of 165 Bladeblossoms before it stopped.
Right now it only had 21 well-crafted ones and 6 standard ones left in its possession. It was no longer in
a position to recoup its losses even if it were to sell all of those, but that was fine. The main purpose
spending that much gold, which was to increase its Artificer Level, was already accomplished.
Besides, that money spent would eventually come back to it since it was an investment. Which in
Mimicanese meant that when Boxxy was done with this city, it would kill the gnome, absorb her body,
steal all her money, take every single ingot, spring, sprocket and nail in her workshop and then have
Xera burn down her house for good measure.
The Mimic kept walking through the city streets in the vague direction of the southern gate for about 25
minutes. It then turned off into a less populated side road, then later into a series of alleyways until it
reached an old, run-down stone building in the middle of the slums. This place was likely a warehouse at
some point, considering how large and spacious it was. Boxxy went inside through what was once its
loading bay.
Rotting boxes, bits of rubble, a couple of wrecked carriages and other useless junk was lying strewn
about the place. It was also home to a small community of 16 wretched vagrants. They were so pitiful
that the only successful Cadaver Absorption one of their bodies yielded gave a boost of just 2 END.
Merely a drop in the lake that was the Mimic’s HP at this point.
The monster in question proceeded towards a doorway that led further in the back. This appeared to
have once been an office at some point. The old desk, wooden cabinet, broken chairs and old, musty
bookshelves the Mimic found when it first entered the place suggested as much. All that garbage had
been thrown out since then, though. The room was now completely empty except for two dead bodies on
the floor, a rusty iron trunk in the corner and a red-skinned, four-armed demon that sat on top of it with a
bored expression.
“Oh, hey boss,” said Kora when she noticed her master approach.
She lifted her well-toned ass off of her impromptu chair and stretched her stiff body. The gigantic fiend
that towered over even Boxxy’s current form was deemed way to conspicuous to accompany it around
town. She was therefore ordered to guard this place and keep out of sight. Well, the former was hardly
necessary. This run-down old building held no significance to the Mimic other than being a quiet spot
where it could focus on its work.
“We heading out soon?”
“After sunset,” answered Boxxy while setting down the heavy bag it was carrying around.
Now that it was away from prying eyes, it quickly undid its human-like transformation and assumed its
favorite spider-chest form. Having to keep its real body tilted on its side all day while masquerading as a
person was considerably uncomfortable and slightly disorienting. It had gotten used to it over the last
week, but it much preferred its spider legs after all.
“What’s all this?” asked kora while pointing at the sack.
“Parts. Those two the intruders you mentioned?”
“Hm? Ah yeah. Just some pathetically weak bums. One of them keeled over the instant he saw me. No
fun at all.”
The fiend pouted slightly as to indicate her displeasure, but her master completely ignored her and
skittered over to the bodies. It hadn’t gotten a chance to eat anything worthwhile all day.
*CRUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH*

The dead men were thus quickly devoured and any blood stains were instantly licked up out of habit.
These pathetic weaklings were better utilized as food rather than trying to absorb them. Even then they
were mostly skin and bones and wouldn’t be nearly enough to satiate Boxxy’s monstrous hunger, but
would at least keep its belly from rumbling for the moment.
It then went back to the sack it brought in and opened it. Three metal toolboxes were retrieved from the
inside - a gray one, a red one, and a blue one. They were approximately 30 centimeters wide, 20
centimeters long and 15 centimeters tall. These containers looked pretty much like miniature chests,
which the Mimic found to be oddly endearing, maybe even a little bit cute. It put the red and blue ones
inside its Storage and opened up the gray one using two of its spider legs as elongated fingers. A number
of smaller boxes and compartments lined the inside, each holding a number of metallic bits necessary
for hand-held Artificer devices.
“Oh!” exclaimed Kora. “You’re building stuff again, huh? Can I watch?”
“Sure.”
Boxxy sat firmly on the ground and narrowed its focus. Its eight arachnid limbs were not retracted inside
its body, however, but instead bent forward towards the toolbox. The four at the very front had their
pointed tips split in two as if they were organic tweezers. The Mimic then applied Metal Mimicry to the
other four and transformed them into a set of miniature steel tools. More specifically, they turned into a
hammer, a pair of wire cutters, and two screwdrivers.
Two of the tweezer-like fingers grabbed a part each from the toolbox and held them in place while two
of tool-tipped limbs put them together. Then the other set of tools and pincers did the same, then the first
repeated their action. The eight stick-like limbs began moving about frantically, gradually picking up in
speed, but always moving with the utmost precision.
Those practiced movements almost made the whole thing look too easy, as the monster was simply
throwing the bits into a pile that assembled into something all on its own. In truth, this was simply the
result of the Mimic’s DEX Attribute and its magical perception working in unison to make sure nothing
is out of place.
And it truly did not take long before it accomplished its task.
You have created a Bladeblossom of superior quality.
“Heh, that’s neat,” commented Kora.
Her boredom from standing guard all day had more or less went away by now. The fiend found
watching her master work to be surprisingly fun in and of itself. Even if she had no idea what was going
on, it was hard to deny that seeing something assembled before her very eyes at high speeds was quite
entertaining.
As for the Mimic, it had already moved onto the next item. The day-long training session with Fizzy led
it to learn quite a few things and was eager to become a Level 5 Artificer so it can get started on those
properly. Its Artificer Level was very close to that threshold, but it still needed to make 10 or so more of
these contraptions before it reached that goal.
It put it away and immediately started on the next one.
Just like Fizzy had informed it at the beginning, this Job increases in Level much slower than what the
Mimic was used to. The reason for this was that Artificer was a type of Production Job, rather than being
a Monster one like Mimic or a Caster such as Warlock. This meant that, rather than fighting monsters, it
could only gain XP by manufacturing related items and objects. Using said creations in combat simply
increased its Mimic Job.
You have created a Bladeblossom.
Well, it made sense in a way. It’s not like a villager would become a better farmer if he went about
hitting people over the head with his radishes. He had to work the fields, care for livestock and churn
butter. Blacksmiths had to make, maintain and improve weapons and armor and Cooks had to make lots
of delicious food. What happened with said items or whether anyone would eat that food did not matter
as far as the Job was concerned. And an Artificer was no different.
Therefore, raising a Production Job was a naturally slow, arduous process. The only upside was that the
relative speed of creation stayed mostly constant. In other words, it took roughly the same amount of
time to get from Level 1 to Level 5 as it did to get from Level 50 to Level 55. That is, provided one had
the right materials and schematics with which to work with. The relatively simplistic Bladeblossoms, for
example, would stop providing XP once Boxxy’s Artificer Job hit Level 5 and it would need to move
onto something more advanced. Much like how combat-oriented Jobs would not grow properly if one
only fought the same type of low-Level enemy, so did Production Jobs require their own set of Level-
appropriate challenged in order to improve.
Well, all things said and done, this monster’s crafting speed truly was something else. The reason Cornie
Fizzlesprocket was so shocked at her student’s growth earlier was because she still thought of it as a
human. While it wasn’t exactly unheard of for geniuses in certain fields to appear from time to time,
seeing one right before her very eyes was something she never thought would happen. In fact, her initial
conclusion about how her student progressed so quickly was that it was somehow cheating.
Which wasn’t far from the truth considering the Mimic’s multiple tooled limbs, its extremely detailed
magical perception and rather impressive DEX Attribute. It could assemble a Bladeblossom in under 3
minutes, which was nearly 8 times faster than what its gnomish teacher was capable of. Any other
rookie Artificer who was just starting out would probably take about 2 hours of slow, meticulous work
to make a single one of those. And even then whether it would actually result in a satisfactory product
was highly questionable.
Physical capabilities were hardly the entire reason for this level of efficiency, however. It was also a
matter of the Mimic’s mindset. It quite honestly equated the work of Artificers to be shapeshifting
applied to an object. Both practices boiled down to combining basic elements into something that was
greater than the sum of its parts. It’s just that one used flesh and bone while the other relied on springs
and sprockets.
In fact, from Boxxy’s perspective, the act of assembly was actually much, much simpler than
shapeshifting its body around. Growing a working human eyeball for the first time or creating an organic
wheel from scratch were, objectively speaking, already far more complex than something
straightforward like a spring-loaded blade dispenser. And once it had the proper process down, its
excellent muscle memory could reconstruct its creations with ease. Even those problematic wheels took
less than 2 seconds to form after enough practice. Therefore, assembling a contraption of this small scale
was, honestly put, a trifling task. Another thing that spoke volumes of its ability was that its creations
were of a higher quality than normal.
Well, most of the time anyway. It was only natural that handmade items would come out with some
variations between them. An errant twitch from the craftsman, some misstep in the timing or an unseen
flaw in the components and materials could all cause the quality to deteriorate. Conversely, performing
the right motions with high-grade materials would result in a fittingly superior product.
It was around the time that Boxxy was on its 10th creation of the afternoon that its missing familiar
reappeared.
“I have returned,” reported Xera as she walked into the old office.
The succubus was still disguised as a nun in service so Teresa, the Goddess of justice and truth. The
delicious irony of that form was the main reason she chose to use it. The secondary reason was that it
seemed to entice her demonic lover to perform far more brutal acts of sex upon her person. The tertiary,
and actually practical reason, was that people treated her with far less suspicion than they should have.
“Oh, hey cum-bucket,” said Kora when she saw the succubus arrive.
“Hey. What’s our master doing?” asked Xera, pointing at her Master.
“The boss is building more of those metal flowers.”

You have created a Bladeblossom of inferior quality.
“Huck!” cursed the Mimic. It got a bit over-eager and its product suffered for it. Still, these things were
just a matter of course so it quickly moved onto the next one.
“Ah, I see,” said the succubus.
She walked closer and looked curiously at its tooled limbs. They moved around almost like a blur. It was
as if the Mimic had become a machine itself.
“Heh, that’s neat,” commented Xera with a curious face.
“I know, right?”
“Hmm…. I really hope that it finishes its business with the gnome soon, though. My Dreamweaver Skill
is bound to mess something up if I have to keep using it on the same target.”
Best case scenario, the gnome would become a complete amnesiac or fall into a coma. Worst case
scenario, all the memories that were locked away would come crashing back and the monstrous trio’s
cover would be blown wide open.
“What’s that gnome like, anyway? Haven’t seen anything but dark alleys and homeless bums for the past
week.”
“She looks like a little kid, with a large head and pink pigtails.”
“A kid huh? How tall are we talking?”
“About… this big,” answered the succubus while indicating the small gnome only went up to her upper
thigh.
“Hmm… Say, do you think that if I stuck my dick in her pussy all the way it would come out of her
throat?”
“... That’s not how anatomy works, you moron.”
“It isn’t?”
“Of course not! Mortals have all those mushy organs in their torsos, you know!”
“Oh, right. I can just push past those with enough force though, right?”
“Whuh? But- Oh! I see. Well, um, hnnn, I guess that could work.”
“You just got turned on at the thought of being speared all the way through by a massive dick, didn’t
you?”
“No! … Well, maybe a little.”
“Uh-huh?” questioned Kora while raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, a lot.”
“You really want to be dicked to death, huh?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. You really should look into growing a bigger-”
“Quiet!” commanded the Mimic, causing both demons to shut up instantly.
Their constant prattling was easy to ignore normally, but what Boxxy wanted to do right now was
concentrate and listening to those two flirting was really not helping in that regard.
“...”
The two demons then silently watched it work for a few more minutes.

Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a level 5 Artificer! DEX +2. WIS +2. PER +2.
Proficiency level increased. Clockwork Expertise is now Level 1. DEX +2. PER +2.
Knowledge of gears, cogs, sprockets and springs poured into the Mimic’s mind. Now it could finally
build something other than those entry-level Bladeblossoms.
Clockwork Expertise
Description: A measure of an Artificer’s ability to handle and construct clockwork-based
gadgets and gizmos
Requirements: Level 5 Artificer
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Grants knowledge of clockwork-based creations.
Increases the effectiveness of clockwork-based creations by 5% per Level of this Skill.
As for the Skill itself, the reason it appeared immediately was because that’s how Production Jobs
differed from combat-oriented ones. They had a linear progression path as opposed to the more
branching structure Boxxy was used to. At least until Level 50, at which point Boxxy would be able to
evolve the Artificer Job into one that was better suited towards its needs.
Another quirk the Mimic learned about Jobs during its stay here was that apparently none of them
granted additional Skills at the so-called threshold Levels of 25, 50 and 75. Reaching the absolute
highest Level of 100, however, would unlock a superbly powerful Ultimate Skill that was completely
unique to the individual. That sounded so incredibly tasty that it caused Boxxy to salivate like crazy
every time it remembered that piece of trivia.
As for exactly why Skills were limited at those 3 specific Levels, it was unknown. The information Xera
had dug up suggested this was simply the way of things and Boxxy was willingly to accept that.
Technically speaking, neither its Mimic nor its Warlock Job offered a new Skill choice at Level 25, and
the same would happen again once Artificer reached that stage.
Now that its immediate objective was complete, the Mimic turned its attention to Xera.
“Snack, what did you find?”
The demonesses was under orders to keep looking for information or items that the Mimic deemed
necessary. The fact she had returned meant she must have found something.
“I have… acquired one of the materials you required for your ritual, Master.”
Boxxy’s mood immediately shot up upon hearing those words. It did indeed tell the demoness to
immediately return to it should she find any of those items.
“Give it to me!”
“Yes, Master.”
The succubus that was still masquerading as a nun stood in front of the Mimic and lifted up the hem of
her habit. She rolled it up past her knees, up her thighs and all the way to the hips. It should come as no
surprise that the perverted demon was not wearing anything under it. Her vagina was on full display, and
a trickle of clear liquid was dripping down her thigh.
“Mmmm…” she moaned. “Haah, haah, haah! Hnnnngg!”
Her abdominal muscles tightened, and then-
*Pop*
-a small black sphere that was about 5 centimeters in diameter came out of her exposed genitalia. It
bounced twice along the filthy wooden floor and rolled slowly towards the Mimic, stopping only a few
centimeters from where it was sitting. The gem-like ball was oddly shiny, and not just because it was
covered in Xera’s juices.
The fake nun straightened out her habit and looked at her Master with slightly glazed eyes.
“One contaminated Holy Pearl as requested, Master.”
“Very good!” exclaimed Boxxy.
If sentient chests could smile, then that’s undoubtedly what Boxxy was trying to do with that toothy look
it had. This was very good indeed. All that was left was to obtain a Midnight Ruby, an Elixir of Avarice
and then wait for a night where all three moons were in the sky and it could finally perform the Ritual of
Unholy Wealth.
After having stowed away the once-pure Holy Pearl, Boxxy brought its attention back to the gray
toolbox on the floor. It opened up its maw and retrieved the blue toolbox from earlier, setting it down
next to the other and opening it up. This one also had numerous bits and pieces, although the majority of
them were various sizes of cogs, sprockets and gears, complete with some wound springs, an assortment
of screws and a collection of metal plates. Just the right ingredients to build designs that relied on
Clockwork Expertise. The last remaining toolbox it bought from Fizzy, the red one, held the ingredients
and components for creating explosives, although that would have to wait until Artificer Level 10.
Kora and Xera watched on in silence as their master prepared its many-tooled limbs and once again
began assembling a device. However, this was something vastly different from the Bladeblossoms it had
mass produced until now. To begin with, the metal plate that would serve as the base of the contraption
wasn’t circular, but rectangular. Not to mention that it was significantly larger at about 15 centimeters
long and 3 and a half centimeters wide. Its ‘hands’ also moved much slower than before as it punched a
few holes into the thin plate and then started screwing gears into it.
The reason for the loss in speed was simple - this was its first time handling these delicate components
seriously. It did get some practice on working with clockwork contraptions in its teacher’s workshop
earlier, but that was while using the clumsy fingers of a human. Therefore, it took things slowly until it
grasped exactly what needed to happen. Boxxy always learned by doing rather than listening, after all.
Still, it’s not like it didn’t listen to Fizzy’s instructions. Quite the contrary, it absorbed every little
insightful detail she revealed, either through her words or actions. Where to apply pressure, how much
of it to use, what parts needed additional oil, how much strain the delicate gears could take before their
teeth broke and other useful tips that could only be gleaned from experience. After all, the knowledge
derived from the Clockwork Expertise Skill only related to schematics and blueprints rather than
practical application.
Proficiency level increased. Metal Mimicry is now Level 3. STR +2. END +2. All
Attributes +1.
Working with new parts also demanded new tools. And while it did technically have access to those, and
paid good money for them, they were much easier to handle if the Mimic simply grew them by using its
newest shapeshifting-related Skill. As for the higher-than-average Attribute boost, this was something
else that Boxxy realized a bit too late.
It would appear that, on average, higher tiered Skills provided additional Attributes whenever they went
up in Level. This realization made the Mimic feel a bit scammed in that respect since it had already used
a precious unlock point on a Level 1 Skill instead of a Level 30 Skill. Well, it wasn’t a huge loss since
Cadaver Absorption was there to fill the gap.
Now was not the time to get complacent, however. Boxxy had spied on a team of adventurers in the
field, and what it saw was worrying. Those four people were said to have attained Level 70 recently,
which was comparable to the Mimic’s total Job Level, and yet they completely outperformed it. Not
only was their teamwork something else entirely, but each individual was also immensely powerful.That
is when Boxxy realized the biggest, most damning difference between itself and adventurers.
Namely their gear.
Magic weapons, sturdy armor, enchanted jewelry and potent potions. Each item they had provided them
with some Attribute bonus or other special effect that allowed them to fight toe-to-toe with monsters.
The Mimic had to get gear of its own if it hoped to stand up to such things when the time came, and
that’s when it ran into its first hurdle.
Enchanted gear costed money. A lot of money.
Money was exchanged for goods and services - that was simply how civilized society worked. And
although the monster had some starting capital, it wouldn’t be nearly enough for its needs. Of course, it
could always attempt to loot said magical equipment off their dead bodies, but would it really survive an
encounter with those people? No, no it would not. It had complete confidence it would lose if it ever had
to fight that particular team of adventurers, regardless of whether or not it got a successful ambush off.
And so it found the Mercenary Guild and started taking on Quests. Its small fortune swelled to about
2,400 GP and then it went shopping. Potions were easy enough to obtain from merchants and peddlers.
In fact, the Mimic currently had 10 of them, although they were of varying quality. The 4 most potent
ones it had could instantly restore up to 300 HP, but were also quite expensive at 190 GP. What’s with
that exorbitant price considering 50 HP potions only cost 16 GP?!
Well, as it turns out, Alchemical products had side effects. After all, the difference between medicine
and poison was mostly in the dosage. Consuming too many potions in a short amount of time would
inflict a condition known as ‘potion sickness.’ Exactly how much a body could take varied between
individuals, and the Mimic found out its limit was about 5 potions per day. Any more than that and its
body would be wracked with immense pain and it would suffer a penalty to its Attributes until it
recovered. Therefore, it was better to rely on a small number of potent elixirs rather than chug down
buckets of the cheap stuff. It may be expensive, but being poor and alive was preferable to being rich
and dead.
Having solved its medication needs, the Mimic then moved on to check out the prices of enchanted arms
and armor. It didn’t see a single piece that was cheaper than 800 GP. Some of the armor pieces went up
to as much as 5-digits, though Boxxy did its best not to read the actual numbers as they were clearly
beyond its means. Well, the good news was that the mithril daggers and enchanted knife it had appeared
to be of decent make and would net it a mouth-watering 3,400 GP if it sold them. The bad news was that
the most vital piece of equipment - namely armor - was out of the question.
It wasn’t just the cost, either. That could easily be resolved if Boxxy put enough work in, but most armor
was made to fit humanoid shapes. Oh sure, the Mimic was capable of disguising itself as one, but that
was still a disguise. It was an unfamiliar form that was extremely awkward to fight in and played havoc
with the sentient chest’s sense of balance and direction. Any enemy that could be taken down by that
shape was hardly worthy of being considered an opponent.
And that’s when it found out about Artificers. About how they could build weapons and gear to solve
any multitude of problems. Transforming shields, repeating crossbows, multi-purpose projectile
launchers, metal boots that allowed flight, gadgets that rendered one invisible, weapons that outright
shot lightning - the list of fascinating inventions went on and on and on. But perhaps the most alluring
part of that was the ability to create truly original works that were custom-tailored to fit the needs of
their creator. Even if said creator was a violent box with a penchant for sticking pointy objects into
fleshy things.
Of course Boxxy was intrigued. Using cheap tricks and unexpected maneuvers to confuse and befuddle
its opponent was its way of life, so the possibilities it saw within the Artificer Job were truly delicious.
Granted, most of this information it got second-hand from Xera, but it could easily confirm the details if
it visited the best (and only) Artificer trainer in the city. Which is how it met Cornie Fizzlesprocket and
obtained the Artificer Job from her, for a fee of course. Well, it also had to have her memory wiped since
it got over-excited and licked her face with a clearly inhuman 1-meter long tongue, but that’s besides the
point.
But would such a moronic chest really be capable of constructing and using all this complex machinery?
The Artificer Job and its derived Skills afforded all the knowledge and expertise necessary to create all
those wondrous devices. Provided one put in the time, effort and resources to raise them properly, of
course.
This course of action was precisely what the Mimic had decided it would do, and was also the reason
why the only noises that could be heard throughout the abandoned warehouse’s old office for the past
hour were the clacking and scraping sounds of an Artificer immersed in their work. And the fruit of its
labor was what appeared to be a metal dagger handle with a slot where the blade should be.
You have created a Retractable Blade of inferior quality.
Well, that was more or less what it was, though. Boxxy opened its mouth and a pale humanoid arm
stretched out of it. The Retractable Blade was then partially absorbed by this arm, sinking into the skin
just above the wrist. And then Boxxy activated it by trigger the small switch hidden inside the arm’s
flesh.
*SNIKT*
A 10 centimeter long steel blade popped out just above its wrist and over its knuckles.
“Holy shit!”
“Woah! Hey, that’s pretty cool!”
The two demons that had been sitting quietly until now let out surprised voices. Xera was momentarily
startled while Kora was actually impressed. Of course they saw the assembly start to finish, but they had
no idea what this blade-in-a-box was supposed to actually do until they saw it with their own eyes.
*SNIKT*
The blade disappeared as instantaneously as it had appeared. Boxxy thought this was a good start, it
could use something like this. Well, it could obviously achieve a similar result just by applying its
shapeshifting Skills, but that wasn’t the point. Doing such things would not increase its Artificer Level,
after all. Still, it wondered how good this thing would actually be as a weapon.
“Snack, come over here and stand still,” it commanded.
The succubus, having no choice in the matter, did as ordered and stood before her master while still
disguised as a nun. She had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen, anyway. And indeed, just as
she’d deduced, her master swung that freakish arm towards her chest. She envisioned a scenario where
the blade would pop out at the last moment and strike into her with added momentum and force.
*SNIKT*
You have suffered a deep wound. HP -122.
“Guheh! Heeeh! Hnnnn!”
Which was precisely what had happened. The specially-designed iron blade skewered her left breast and
pierced her torso. If she had a heart, it would undoubtedly be stabbed clean through. But since she
didn’t, she could just revel in the delicious sensations of being penetrated by something long and hard.
Boxxy on the other hand was slightly disappointed. This amount of damage was quite terrible. Was it
because this weapon was, technically speaking, not a dagger? They were quite similar, but very different
at the same time. Maybe the reason for this subpar performance was because the device was flawed?
There was a slight delay between the triggering mechanism being activated and the blade popping out.
The Mimic briefly thought back on the last hour and determined that it probably bent the main lynchpin
during assembly. That was the most likely cause for this defect. The rookie Artificer decided to take the
thing apart and see where else it messed up.
*SNAP*
However, attempting to pull the weapon out of the demon’s torso caused it to break off, leaving the
succubus with a large metal fragment sticking out of her left boob. Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen.
It would appear that Boxxy also shaved away too much material from the brace that connected the
handleless knife to the rest of the contraption.
“Ahhhn, haaaa!”
Xera was, understandably, still in pain. And she was, less understandably, still enjoying it. That’s when
the Mimic had a flash of inspiration. It made a fist and punched the succubus in her wound, driving the
blade even further inside her.
“GYAAAH! Haaaahn!”
Your target has suffered internal injury. Target HP -71.
She fell over backwards while screaming, her blood flying everywhere. The Mimic loomed over her
while holding one of the cheaper healing potions it had. The succubus looked up at it in between wails
of pain and pleasure, but had no idea what was about to happen. Surely that selfish master wasn’t about
to offer her healing?
Contrary to her expectations though, that was precisely what happened. Boxxy poured the magical liquid
directly onto the wound. Doing so would concentrate the potion’s effect on that part of the body, at least
according to the old elven apothecary that it bought it from. It would seem the knife-ear wasn’t full of
shit, though since the bleeding gash closed up almost instantly.
With the foreign object still inside.
“AAAAAARHH! ARRRGHAA! AAAAAAAAH!”
The test subject started screaming her lungs out. These were no longer lustful half-moans, but the
undeniable wailing of a woman being tortured. She thrashed about wildly as her body tried to bond with
the metal blade that clearly didn’t belong to it. There was not much HP damage, but the pain she felt was
like every nerve in her torso was being forcefully ripped out.
Another tip that old Alchemist gave Boxxy was to make sure that no foreign objects like shards of glass
or arrowheads remained in the wound before applying the potion directly to an open wound. Drinking
the potion would cause it to work from the inside out and push said objects out of the body all on their
own. However, pouring it over the wound would result in what Xera was currently going through.
“Stand up,” commanded the Mimic.
The wailing succubus did an effort to follow this order, but every single movement she made caused
bolts of pain to shoot through her chest, all the way into the back of her head. The white hot sensation
made her stumble over and fall down to the ground, which only aggravated her condition.
“RAAARHG! AAAAHARGH!”
She wailed like a banshee was having all her teeth and nails pulled out simultaneously.
The Mimic figuratively nodded to itself. If the pain was debilitating enough to physically keep its
familiar from following a simple order, then it was a very good use of a disposable blade and a cheap
potion. Well, whether the creature could actually perform this trick in combat was another question
entirely, but it was good to have options.
“Force Dismissal.”
Xera’s screaming and thrashing stopped immediately and her body went limp and lifeless.
Your familiar has been dismissed.

Her physical form disappeared within seconds, as did any bodily fluids she left behind. Such as the
blood that oozed out of her wound, or the transparent puddle of sticky liquid that poured out from
between her thighs. All that was left behind was the broken-off Retractable Blade. The Mimic
nonchalantly picked it up and examined it. It was still in near-pristine condition so it could undoubtedly
be reused. Satisfied, it sat back down in its little work area, summoned back the succubus and went
about dismantling the rest of its first clockwork-based gadget.
Kora, having watched the whole thing start-to-finish, was more than a little disturbed. Of course, she
dared not question her sadistic box of a master and simply thanked her lucky stars it wasn’t her turn to
be its test subject. However, she did get a bit curious about that whole ordeal.
“Hey, Slagathor,” she called out. But the succubus gave no response and kept staring idly at the Mimic.
“Oy! I’m talking to you!”
*SLAP*
She hit her compatriot across the face with a strike that was more of a punch than a slap. That seemed to
do the trick as Xera looked away from the Mimic and stared at the fiend with the same glassy eyes and
satisfied smile she had ever since being re-summoned.
“Hmmm? Whaaat is it?”
“You’re acting weird. Weirder than normal, I mean. Did your rotten head break even further?”
“Hee hee hee… Maaaybe ~♪!” answered Xera in an uncharacteristically cheerful voice. It almost
sounded like she was half-singing.
“... Okay seriously. What’s going on? Do I have to call Demons ‘R’ Us?”
It didn’t matter to Kora how much physical torment her co-contractor went through, but the fiend would
immediately take action if her fellow demon’s immortal soul was in danger.
“Oh, nooooo ~♪! Nothing like thaaaat ~♪! I had just forgotten how, nnnn, thorough my Master can be!”
This was the first time in a long while she had been abused to that extent. It was far more exhilarating
than anything Kora had done to her. Of course the fiend broke her bones and bruised her body during
their extremely violent sex sessions, but she still cared for Xera as a fellow demon and treated her like a
person, at least for the most part.
Boxxy, on the other hand, completely saw her as a tool, a thing. It regarded her as nothing more than its
possession, something to be used and thrown away as its owner saw fit. There was no doubt within the
succubus’s mind that the only reason she wasn’t still on the writhing in agony on the floor was because
Boxxy wanted to retrieve its component from inside her. That or she was simply being too noisy for its
liking.
Of course the Mimic didn’t literally see her as an object. It still understood that demons were living
beings with feelings and emotions of their own. It just didn’t give a damn about them and ignored them
unless they inconvenienced it in some way. And the one who understood this the most was none other
than Xera.
In short, Kora was good, but she paled in comparison to Boxxy. Nobody could make the succubus’s
twisted heart race quite like her one and only Master. Well, metaphorically speaking, that is.
“... I swear, you are getting creepier by the day,” commented Kora.
Xera did not respond. She simply kept staring at her master work on its little contraption while humming
a random tune.
The Calamity that wiped out Monotal could be said to have served as a sort of wake up call for the
Empire’s complacent nobles. Take for example the Lord in charge of Erosa. In the past he had been quite
stingy with the city’s defensive budget, although the same could be said of many of his peers. However,
that changed practically overnight when the grim rumors surrounding Monotal were confirmed to be
true.
Money was poured into the guardsmen responsible for Erosa’s security. Equipment was ordered and
delivered, salaries were raised and training and recruitment drives were started. The lord even went as
far as authorizing so-called ‘power Leveling’ trips for his men. This was a practice whereby an
individual would pay a group of powerful adventurers to act as babysitters. He or she would attack
strong monsters and inflict some modicum of damage, and the bodyguards would then swoop in and
clean them up.
While it was true that this method led to a dramatic increase in one’s Job Level and any related
Attributes, it also meant that their Skills and Masteries would be left woefully undeveloped. There was
also the very real problem that such ‘hollow power’ would often lead one to become overconfident since
their battle sense and combat experience were flawed. So while ‘power Leveling’ was effective, it was
also quite frowned upon by the adventuring community.
Still, the province was in a state of emergency. The lord had to take drastic measures to make sure that
not only was Erosa kept safe, but that its citizens also felt safe. As a result of such drastic measures, the
city’s security force experienced an explosive grown in both quantity and quality. It went from about
200 guardsmen that had an average Level of 20 to 400 well-armed soldiers with a Level of at least 35
within the span of 6 days.
Patrols were tightened and security checks were beefed up. There was even an anti-intrusion
enchantment placed along the walls that would trigger an alarm should someone or something fly over
them. It caused quite a few problems until it was calibrated to ignore most common birds, but that was a
minor hiccup. There were, of course, more major hiccups. Many of the newly hired guards, for example,
didn’t particularly care for the people and simply wanted to get paid. There were even a few bad apples
who tried their hand at smuggling or absconding with their issued weapons and armor, but were quickly
rooted out.
The overall result of this initiative was still quite positive despite these problems. The commoners were
reassured their taxes were well-spent and those adventurer types that poured in from all over the country
were less inclined to stir up trouble. It was too early to tell if it had any sort of effect on the crime rate,
but that was unlikely.
While patrols within the city’s walls increased, the slums were mostly ignored by law enforcement and
its residents were still treated as nothing more than a statistic. Nobody with any actual power would
really notice or care if a bunch of them went missing. They were too busy focusing on external threats,
rather than internal ones. So while there were a few more guards keeping order on the street, the vast
majority of them stood guard at the gates, kept watch from the city’s ramparts or patrolled the immediate
area outside the stone walls.
And tonight was no different. There was a regiment of 14 guards standing at attention at the city’s
northern entrance, even though the sun had set long ago and the vast majority of the town’s population
was fast asleep. 8 of them were outside the walls while the remaining 6 kept an eye on the inside. And
one of those 6 noticed a pair of shadows approach him from the street.
“Who goes there?” he called out.
His colleagues immediately raised their guard at his words. The torches that surrounded the area around
the gate bathed their surroundings in a warm yellow light, but it was still hard to make out people’s faces
until they got closer.
“It is I, my child,” called out the smaller silhouette with a clear, calming voice.
The image of a humble nun in service to the Goddess Teresa gradually became clearer with every step
she made. She wore a plain, dark gray habit with the image of a small golden hammer embroidered on
either shoulder. Her face was easy on the eyes and, although she looked to be in her early 20s, carried
herself with an undeniable sense of grace and humility.
“Ah, sister Lyo?” said the guard after he recognized her. “Going out to gather Moonblossoms again?”
“Indeed, my child. I am afraid the orphan in my care is still suffering from night terrors.”
Moonblossoms were a kind of herb said to bestow sweet dreams to anyone who drank tea made from its
petals. The catch was that the flower withered quite quickly and, as suggested by the its name, only
bloomed under the moonlight.
“And, uh, mister tall, dark and gruesome there will be your escort?”
The guard pointed towards the person following behind the nun. He was a heavyset man that stood at
over 2 meters in height. The heavy cloak he wore concealed both his face and his body. This highly
suspicious individual never spoke, and merely nodded his head deeply in response to the guard’s inquiry.
“Are you certain you will be fine with just him?”

“Do not fret, my child. He is most capable.”
“Well yeah, I know it’s not the first time you’ve hired him, but I can’t help but worry sending you out
there with a shady guy like that.”
“I appreciate your concern, but please be at ease. I trust my dear cousin with my life.”
“Ah, your cousin is it?”
If the good sister said it was so, then it must be the truth. Hammerites like her abhorred lying, no matter
the circumstances.
“Apologies, sister Lyo. I just can’t help but worry. I, uhm, heard about the break-in at the temple.”
Someone had snuck into the temple of Teresa and absconded with one of the Holy Pearls kept there.
Pretty much the entire city knew, even though it was discovered only this afternoon.
“Indeed, a very horrid affair,” said the nun with a hint of sadness in her voice. “I pray the misguided soul
who took that sacred treasure see the light of Her Truth.”
The nun raised her right hand up to her face and kissed the tips of her middle and index fingers, then
pressed them to her forehead and then to her heart. Many of the guards present there repeated the
religious gesture. Its meaning could be loosely interpreted as ‘let my mouth speak the truth in my mind
and heart.’
The well-meaning guard then ordered his men to make way for the devout nun and her companion. They
guided them respectfully through the heavily guarded door on the side of the gate and kept a watchful
eye on them as they made their way into the night, beyond the city’s walls.
“I don’t like that guy.”
One of the men stationed outside the wall spoke to his colleague once the two travellers were out of
sight.
“Yeah I know. Something about him just rubs me the wrong way. Gives me the creeps, you know?”
“What? Oh yeah, I guess there’s that, too.”
“What were you talking about, then?”
“Ah well, I guess I’m just a bit jealous.”
“... Huh?”
“I mean he gets to keep a cute girl like that company for the entire night. You know - just the two of
them… under a moonlit sky... away from prying eyes…”
The other guy raised his hand, gesturing for his colleague to shut the hell up.
“I am going to pretend I didn’t just hear you insinuate that sister Lyo was having an immoral tryst with
her cousin.”
While not all religious orders made vows of chastity, it was a widely known fact that the Hammerites in
service to the Goddess Teresa did indeed take such vows.
“Yeah right! How’d you know they haven’t done it?”
“Because, you idiot, that’s fucking wrong. On many levels. Besides, Teresa’s the goddess of truth!”
“So?”
“So, do you honestly think She’d let anyone get off easy if they dared break an oath made in Her
presence? They’d get branded with the Taboo Skill for sure!”
The effects of that Skill were, simply put, to alienate the bearer from all religious orders and pious
believers. It was basically the gods’ way of marking those who actively and knowingly went against
their will. It was pretty much a death sentence in some of the more... fanatical villages.
“Oh, right,” said the younger, ruder guard. “That was a thing, wasn’t it?”
“Hey you lot!” called out someone from on top of the gatehouse. “Be quiet down there and pay
attention! If someone or something sneaks past us it’ll be on all our heads!”
“Yes sir!” replied the two undisciplined guards and resumed their duties. Tensions were indeed high
since the Calamity of Montal, so they could not afford to be careless. Which was slightly ironic
considering the mastermind responsible for that disaster had just slipped by them.
Actually, it would be more accurate to say it slipped under them.
Let’s just say all those guards and magical security measures were no match for a Mimic with a
penchant for digging and too much free time on its hands. Or is that tentacles? Tongues? Legs?
Regardless of Boxxy’s confusing anatomy, it had simply made a tunnel that went under the western
section of the wall. The entrance was near its hideout in the slums and the exit was some distance away
from the wall and was impossible to spot at a distance. Of course, the heavy security measures weren’t
in place when it first got here and could leisurely climb over the wall. But that was then, this is now.
Attempting something like that after that detection enchantment was placed was sure to cause an alarm.
Trying to get past those security checkpoints was also quite troublesome.
Granted, the subterranean route wasn’t its only option. There also existed the possibility of infiltrating
the city by walking along the bottom of the Whispering Canal. That deep, narrow river provided Erosa
with fresh drinking water and ran right through the center of the city. Going through the drains built into
the city’s thick stone walls was a rather obvious choice, but Boxxy had to give up on that path.
The water was crystal clear for the most part, so anyone and anything would be able to spot it moving
along the bottom. There was also the very real worry of running out of breath. The fact that the wall’s
drain had not one, not two, but a series of four metal grates protecting it had very little to do with that
decision, okay?
Having passed through its tunnel, the Mimic emerged into the night under the cover of darkness. Since
the west side of the city wall had no gates, it only had to worry about the people patrolling on top of and
around the wall, but the distance between them and it was already more than 60 meters. It also made
sure to cover its faux-wooden body in imitation grass and leaves in order to blend in with the knee-high
grass that surrounded the plains to the west of the city.
Boxxy scuttled along towards the Troll Woods in the distance, but made a slight detour. It noticed a nun
and her towering escort in the fields and decided to scout them out. It approached them silently under
the cover of Stealth and stalked them for a bit, sizing them up. The woman that was busy picking
flowers didn’t seem to be particularly threatening, but the Mimic knew better than to underestimate the
humans around these parts. Based on her religious vestments, it was very like she was the holder of a
Priestess Job, although her Level could not be guessed at.
Her escort was clearly a threat, however. Shining full plate could be seen under his cloak, while what
was probably the handle of a greatsword stuck out from behind his head. Obviously a close combat
profession, and although his Level was equally unknown, he was giving off a very dangerous feeling.
Not to mention that his gear looked particularly shiny and, as Boxxy found out recently, shiny things are
expensive. Owning expensive things meant he must have the money to buy them, which in turn meant
he was probably successful adventurer. And successful adventurers were no pushovers.
Eventually the Mimic decided against attacking the two and skulked away towards its initial destination.
If either of those two were alone, then it would definitely ambush them. However, if they were together
and it failed to take down the healer on the first strike, then its chances of winning that fight became
close to zero. At that point it would have to either retreat or lose its life. So, rather than gamble on the
uncertainty that were adventurers, it would much rather hunt far more predictable prey like its fellow
monsters.
Having made it to the edge of the Troll Woods about an hour later, the Mimic forcibly dismissed and
both Kora and Xera, who were currently still in the city, and summoned them to its new position as
backup. It briefly considered doing this to get a drop on those two potential targets earlier, but decided
against it. The Summon Familiar Skill was quite flashy and using it in the open fields just outside the
city wall was a good way of getting itself noticed.
The three of them set off into the thick woods, looking for a Bouncewood tree. Well, that only took
about 5 minutes since the Mimic was already familiar with their shape. It just hadn’t really bothered
with them until now. The tree’s surface was black and smooth, just like the Quest said, and the reason
for that was that their bark was essentially a form of natural rubber. Its appearance was also closer to that
of an oversized palm tree rather than a pine tree, although that little detail was well outside the purview
of the Mimic’s understanding of botany. The combination of the strange plant’s bark and shape made it
bouncy, stretchy and resilient, which made it an interesting component that looked to be useful to
Artificers. Therefore, Boxxy decided it would collect a few extra kilograms for itself, in addition to what
was necessary for the Quest.
However, it soon found out exactly why this seemingly easy Quest had not been taken by someone else
earlier.
Stripping away that bark was hard. It was impact resistant to the point where Kora’s punches and kicks
had absolutely no effect and merely bounced off it for the most part. Trying to put her entire weight and
power behind a double haymaker punch also proved to be useless. While her blow was a magnificent hit
that would snap most trees in half, this one simply bounced away while making a weird
*BOIOIOIOING* sound. It swayed back and forth a few times before returning to its original position
without suffering so much as a scratch.
Xera could, of course, set fire to it, but burning the bark they were here to collect pretty much defeated
the purpose. In the end Boxxy had to transform the tip of its tongue into a handaxe using Metal Mimicry
and start hacking away at it. The tough material ended up denting and dulling the handaxe surprisingly
quickly even though it had the toughness of real steel. It wasn’t much of a problem though since Boxxy
could easily reshape it back to full sharpness without much effort.
It still took the Mimic almost fifteen minutes of frantically hacking away at the incredibly annoying and
relatively thin Bouncewood tree until it fell over. The tree’s cross section revealed that 70% of it was
nothing but rubber bark, much to Boxxy’s surprise. No wonder it was so resilient! It spent the next 30
minutes or so harvesting the bark, making sure to get big pieces of it when possible. Those guys at the
Mercenary Guild were bound to withhold part of its deposit if it tried to turn in 120 kilograms worth of
rubber scraps. They’d already done that 2 days ago when it turned in 10 troll hides that were riddled
with holes. That dwarven bartender named Grog was even able to tell they were left behind by some sort
of irregularly shaped bite marks, though he wasn’t able to determine what monster they belonged to.
Which was good considering the monster in question was standing right next to him.
Once the tall palm-like tree trunk was stripped of its bark, the Mimic started putting it away into its
Storage. Once it had stowed away the last of it, it double checked its Quest status.
Collect 120 KG of Bouncewood Bark

Difficulty: ??
Time Limit: 3 days 8 hours
Deposit: 100GP
Reward: 100GP
Progress: 0/120
Description: Deliver 120 kilograms of Bouncewood Bark to the Mercenary Guild in the
city of Erosa. Bouncewood trees may be found in the Troll Woods west of Erosa and are
easily recognizable due to their smooth and black surface.
Well, that was odd. Usually the Progress that tracks the completion of a Quest’s objective would update
in real time, and Boxxy was quite sure it stowed away at least 200 kilograms of the stuff. It was quite the
dense material, after all. Ah, but technically speaking the objective was to deliver the stuff, not just
gather it. Otherwise it could legally get paid and then still keep the stuff for itself, huh? Those
Mercenary Guild pencil-pushers sure knew how to avoid leaving obvious loopholes in their Quests.
Since its business with this place was concluded, the Mimic decided to leave the forest and go back to
town before dawn came. As for its bound demons, they really wouldn’t fit in that narrow passage and
had to be re-summoned every time Boxxy crossed the wall. It was a bit annoying but it was better than
trying to sneak a 250 centimeter tall pile of rape and muscle through a small army of armed guards.
Therefore, once the three of them were clear of the forest, it ordered its contracted demons to stay put
and do as they pleased. They would only slow it down, anyway.
Having received their orders, the two familiars immediately carried them out. Of course, in their case
‘do as they please’ translated loosely as ‘fucking like animals.’ Kora seemed especially eager since she
hasn’t gotten any much alone time with Xera lately. She immediately pushed the succubus down to the
ground and thrust her engorged length all the way inside the blue-skinned slut’s asshole, then began
pistoning in and out of it while grunting. Xera also got quite into it, going so far as to grow a horsecock
of her own. She sandwiched it between her truly monstrous breasts and started performing fellatio on
herself with great gusto. Well, the two of them were bound to attract the attention of some wild beast or
monster if they kept making lewd noises like that, but that was entirely their own problem.
As for the Mimic, it was already on its way. The Troll Woods were on a significantly higher elevation,
which meant that getting here from the city involved walking uphill for about an hour. Going back,
however, was a gradual downward slope, which meant that the Mimic could roll almost the entire way to
town by using wheels instead of legs.
The shapeshifting chest had already improved greatly upon its original design for the organic wheel. The
complex limbs with a diameter of 60 centimeter now took only about a second to fully grow from
scratch and no longer leaked like they used to. Granted, the ride along the uneven dirt was hardly
comfortable, but it was hard to argue with its speed. It drastically reduced the time for the return trip,
allowing the Mimic to cross the distance between the Troll Woods and Erosa in a mere 20 minutes.
Well, it couldn’t keep going all the way, though. Even it understood that no amount of tall grass would
be able to hide a chest rolling along at high speeds, so it made sure to cross the last 2 kilometers on foot.
On its way back, it once again spied the nun and her protector out in the wilderness, in the same area
they were a few hours ago.
However, it would seem the two of them had moved on from their flower-gathering mission onto
something else entirely. Something the Mimic had been witness to many times in its shorts life.
Something its familiars did with disturbing regularity.
“Haahn! Yeah! Harder!”
In other words, the tall escort was currently lying on top of the nun and ‘escorting’ his dick inside
her anus while she moaned with her face buried in the dirt. Well, technically speaking, doing it in the ass
didn’t count as far as chastity vows were concerned. It was still a clearly immoral act that left both of
them naked and distracted. With their backs turned towards a monster.
Honestly... It’s like they were begging to be stabbed.

Boxxy T.
Morningwood
1366/1366 (+3.4/
HP INT 218
sec)
1090/1090 (+1.6/
MP WIS 165
sec)
Skill List
Summon Familiar 7 45% Domination Mastery 5 75%
Power Overwhelming 6 30% Shield Mastery 3 32%
Demonology 6 25%
Clockwork Expertise 1 50%
Spell List
Ruin Domination

Ebonfire Delirium
Shadowbind
Singularity
“See?! I smeggin’ told you so!”
The young and much-too-green guard showed a wide smile. He was obviously rather proud of himself.
Or full of himself, depending on one’s point of view.
“Fine!” shouted the older guard in frustration. “I admit you were right!”
Those five words almost felt like someone stabbing him in the gut with a pitchfork. And guardsman
Thomas had hands on experience with that particular sensation. It was indeed as unpleasant as it
sounded.
“Now would you kindly shut the fuck up about it?”
“Hah,” scoffed the rookie, “I’ll shut up when you pay up!”
“... Alright. Here.”
Thomas reached into his pocket and brought out a King piece, which was an extra large gold coin worth
50 GP. He passed it resentfully to the cocky youngster.
“Hope you choke on it.”
“Haha! C’mon man, don’t be so bitter. It was fair game and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. I still say you cheated somehow.”
The two guardsmen had made a ‘friendly’ bet. The younger one, Shaw, insisted he could do a backflip
while wearing the full plate armor that had become standard issue for all of Erosa’s guards. The squirt
could barely even move in it properly when he signed up 5 days ago, yet he still pulled it off like it was
nothing. The gains from power-Leveling were indeed frightening.
After their bit of fun concluded, the two resumed keeping an eye on the empty streets just inside the
city’s northern gate. Of course, such frivolity was normally looked down upon, but these men
understood that a little bit of excitement was sometimes necessary to keep the mind alert. That held
especially true during these boring night shifts, and the four guards stationed nearby agreed completely.
But still, they had jobs to do, so they kept the distractions to a bare minimum.
About an hour or so later the sky started lighting up, signifying that dawn was fast approaching and with
it would also come Thomas’s replacement. However, rather than being elated, the middle-aged guard felt
a sense disquiet. Sister Lyo, who he had known for several years, had went out on another trip to gather
Moonblossoms.
This had been going on for about three weeks now and had pretty much become a routine. She always
said she stuck around the relatively safe grasslands immediately to the west of the city and always had
that tall stranger with her for protection. Tonight was the first time she identified him as her cousin,
though. Well, it’s not like Thomas actually asked her about it, either, so he had no grounds to complain.
Still, they were taking too long. Usually they’d only be gone for a few hours, but that time had long
since passed. And this happened right after Thomas had asked her about needing extra protection. If they
turned up missing or even dead - No, he couldn’t think that way. He had to believe they were alright,
that they merely got caught up in something and would return shortly.
However, sister Lyo and her bodyguard did not return before the end of his shift. His replacement came
to take over his post at dawn and Thomas was then supposed to return to the barracks. Part of him
wanted to stay and keep an eye out for her, but that wouldn’t really solve anything. Not to mention that
he would get in deep shit if he failed to check in his arms and armor on time. He’d heard what happened
to some ‘deserters’ that tried to pull a fast one and abscond with the expensive items, and unlike those
people, Thomas liked his head attached to the rest of his body.
He trudged off towards the barracks in the middle of the city along with the rest of his shift-mates. Shaw
still had a cocky grin on his face due to winning that 50 GP bet and was already bragging about how he
would spend it all at the nearest pub. Thomas had no such desires right now, he was way too tired and
had too much on his mind to deal with those rowdy rookies. Having young blood like them around was
reassuring in case shit went down, but their attitude could use some adjustment. As for an old dog like
Thomas, he simply had to do the things he could.
Which right now amounted to checking in his gear, reporting the missing persons and getting some
shuteye. Even if he was worried about the young nun, he would surely not be the only one. The temple
was bound to organize a search party once they found out one of their own had gone missing.
But some part of him still clung to the hope that sister Lyo and her cousin would-
*Wooosh*
“Ugh!”
A shadow passed over Thomas, sending an unnatural chill down his spine. Turning around he spotted a
large, cloaked figure walking along in the middle of the mostly deserted street. An extremely tall, heavy-
set figure.
“Hey… Hey!” he called. “Hey you! Big guy in the cloak! Stop right there!”
The over 2-meter tall man froze and steadily turned around to face him. His head was wrapped in a blue
cloth and the heavy black cloak obscured his form. What little could be seen of his face was sickly pale,
and his yellow eyes seemed to lick over Thomas, as if tasting him. He was also carrying a heavy-looking
bag in one arm that bulged out slightly from beneath his cloak.
The guardsman blinked a few times in surprise. This clearly wasn’t the cousin from last night, what the
hell was he thinking? Sure, the size was similar, but that was pretty much it. Even if he couldn’t see the
face it was quite clear this wasn’t the same person.
“I apologize, my mistake. Carry on, citizen.”
The stranger nodded in response and went about his way. Thomas watched the hooded figure
absentmindedly until it disappeared inside the nearby building belonging to the Mercenary Guild. Now
that he thought about it, didn’t that guy seem incredibly suspicious after all? That bad feeling he gave off
was-
Thomas shook his head to shake off his errant thoughts. His tired, worried mind was probably playing
tricks on him. To think he accosted a random pedestrian like that. Having decided that getting some rest
was his top priority, he jogged up the street to catch up to his younger colleagues and continued on his
way towards the barracks. Once there he checked in his gear, reported the absence of sister Lyo and her
bodyguard, crawled into his bunk and slept the sleep of the dead. Just as planned.
He woke up about 6 hours later at high noon and immediately got up, then went to have a combination
of lunch and breakfast. Luckfast. Once his hunger was properly satiated and his hazy mind cleared up,
he went out of the barracks and into the keep proper. He was there to see his direct superior and ask him
if there’d been any sign of sister Lyo. Thomas was the one who filed the missing person’s report when
he came back to the barracks earlier this morning, not to mention he was one of the last few people to
see her alive. He felt he had to at least see this through to the end.
The guardsman climbed up the stone steps inside the keep, up to the third floor. He walked down one
hallway, then another and finally a third before reaching his destination.
*Knock knock*
“Enter,” came a clear voice from the other side of the door.
Thomas then quickly opened it and walked inside.
The office itself was nothing extraordinary, just a desk, a few chairs and a whole lot of cabinets. And
sitting behind that desk was a slightly overweight balding man with a goatee scribbling along on a piece
of paper. The out-of-uniform guardsman walked up to the foot of the desk and saluted.
“Lieutenant Porkins, sir! Guardsman Thomas requesting a moment of your time, sir!”
The man with the oddly fitting name put down his quill and looked up.
“Guardsman Thomas, eh?”

“Yes, sir! I’m here to inquire about the missing person, Lyo Rosero, sir.”
“Are you?” asked Porkins while raising an eyebrow. “Hmm, this is good. Excellent timing, actually. I
was just about to have someone send for you regarding that matter. Come, have a seat.”
He gestured at the empty chair opposite the desk, which the simple guardsman respectfully took.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now then,” said Porkins while putting away the document he was working on. “As I’m sure you’ve
already guessed, the temple of Teresa immediately organized and sent out a search party in response to
your report. They’ve been scouring the area north and west of the city all the way to the Troll Woods,
but there has been no sign of her or this cousin of hers.”
“Nothing at all, sir?”
“No, guardsman. Not a trace of her or that swordsman. It’s like they disappeared in a puff of smoke.”
This was unusual. Thomas was sure that Lyo was at least a Level 40 Priestess and it was quite obvious
that armored juggernaut of a bodyguard would not go down easily. There ought to be at least some signs
of a struggle if a fight broke out.
“That is… unsettling. Sir.”
“Indeed. Tell me, guardsman, how long have you known the young miss Rosero?”
“About 4 years, sir.”
“And were you two close?”
“Not particularly, sir. I’d say we were more than acquaintances, but not quite friends. Sir.”
After all, a gate guardsman and a nun have very little interaction aside from seeing each other in passing
every so often. Thomas was a somewhat devout man so he made sure to treat clergy her with extra care
and respect, but that was about the gist of it.
“And her cousin?”
“Only seen him a few times these past few weeks, sir. We haven’t even exchanged words. I didn’t even
know he was her cousin until she mentioned it last night, sir.”
“Did she actually say that, though?”
“Pardon, sir?”
“What were her exact words, guardsman?”
“...”
He thought back to that memorable meeting, trying to remember the details. Well, it was more or less the
only highlight of the night, so that wasn’t difficult.
“Ah… I believe her exact words were ‘I trust my cousin with my life,’ sir.”
“And you didn’t feel the presence of Taboo after she said that?”
“No, sir.”
She was a Hammerite sworn in service to Teresa. If she had told a lie back then, then Thomas was sure
he would’ve instantaneously felt the Taboo from her. Merely looking at someone branded with that
heretic’s mark of a Skill made his skin crawl. A truly disgusting, unsettling feeling, as if looking at a
cockroach.
“I see… But she did not explicitly state that the man present there was her actual cousin, did she?”
Porkins had a point. Lyo had stated that she trusted her cousin. Not that the man next to her was her
cousin.
“... Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Granted.”
“What the hell is going on? Sir?”
The lieutenant’s tone of voice suggested he had some misgivings about this missing person.
“Hmm, I suppose if anyone deserves to know, it’s you. You are involved in this after all.”
Porkins leaned forward and put his elbows on top of the desk.
“I had a meeting with the bishop from Teresa’s temple a few hours ago. We had words at length about
our missing nun. It would appear she had been acting strangely these last few weeks, ever since this
stranger showed up. Our investigation of her personal effects this morning revealed she did indeed have
a cousin, but that person should be living on the other side of the country right now.”
In other words, while she didn’t lie, she didn’t exactly reveal the truth either.
“The thing is,” continued Porkins, “I can forgive her for wanting to keep her affairs private. I always felt
that was a bit unfair towards those people. However, her disappearance yesterday happened with
some… interesting timing.”
“Timing, sir?”
Porkins nodded.
That’s when Thomas finally realized what the lieutenant was getting at.
A valuable treasure disappeared from the temple of Teresa. A nun that served in that very same temple
left the city several hours afterwards and disappeared without prior notice and with no trace. She even
had a hunky, well-armed bodyguard with her. Someone she misled others to believe was her relative.
And all this happened during a time of civil unrest caused by an incomprehensible disaster, which was
bound to drive sane people to do stupid things out of their misguided fear.
“Ohhh… shit,” cursed Thomas.
It didn’t take a genius to connect those dots and paint the picture of a disillusioned nun robbing her
temple and running off with some unrequited lover.
“A whole cartload of it,” confirmed Porkins. “Just keep your conclusions to yourself, guardsman. We
really cannot afford to have people start questioning the temples. Or even worse - having the Goddess
herself question us.”
The overweight officer sighed and sat back in his high chair. He rubbed his temple, suggesting this affair
was giving him no end of troubles.
“Our official stance at this point is that they’re merely missing persons, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Of course Thomas understood why such things had to be done. He didn’t like it, but it was a necessary
measure. Besides, he felt like he had no room to comment, after all, that suspect slipped away under his
watch. Was he perhaps too trusting for this sort of work? No, that’s not it. If he couldn’t even trust the
word of a Hammerite, then he’d probably be a failure as a human being.
“Good. Your cooperation is appreciated, guardsman. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Thomas stood up, saluted once more, and then exited the office. He passed by the lieutenant’s new
assistant on the way out and exchanged greetings, although his gaze lingered on her for several seconds.
That was a bit uncharacteristic of him, but he couldn’t help himself. Something about that girl just
seemed to demand his attention. It was probably the combination of her beautiful face, enormous rack
and plump ass.
Wait, was that why the lieutenant hired her a few days ago? Nah, couldn’t be. Porkins was a happily
married and dutiful man. If he hired her, then it was probably for her ability rather than her looks.
… Probably?
Thomas shook away the improper thoughts. His superior officer’s personal life really wasn’t high on his
list of priorities. He still had a lot of time to waste before his next shift started, so he simply went for a
walk around town. He rarely had the chance to just relax these days since he was either on duty or
drilling the new recruits. They could’ve at least bumped his pay if they were going to dump those kids
on his shoulders. Ah, but they did technically up his pay a week ago, didn’t they? Guess he had no more
room for-
*Woosh*
“Ugh!”
There it was again! That vague feeling of panic which caused the hair on his neck standing on end out of
nowhere. Looking back he once again saw that looming cloaked figure - the one he mistook for Lyo’s
‘cousin.’ The off-duty guard watched curiously as the figure walked off, leaving him keenly aware that
this bizarre sensation was not just his imagination. But what was it, then? The feeling he gave off was
distinctly different from Taboo, yet equally unpleasant. Maybe some other strange Skill he had? Come to
think of it, he was one of those Mercenary Guild types and what little could be seen of his skin looked
terrible. Maybe it was a curse of some sort? Or some strange disease? Would it really be safe to let
someone like that walk around town?
“It wouldn’t hurt to be prudent…”
He decided to follow the man, just in case. However, that guy’s huge stride was a bit difficult for
Thomas to follow without breaking out into a light run. He followed him for a good 10 minutes before
his target finally reached his destination - a dirty storefront with a broken window. He put a bandaged
pale hand on the door and pushed it open with a slight ringing noise, then stepped inside.
Thomas looked over the store’s exterior. The sign over the door caught his attention.
“Fizzy’s Fidgety Widgets?” he read aloud. “Huh. I’m sure I’ve heard about it before…”
Erosa was a sprawling city. Even someone who had lived here his whole life would be hard pressed to
say he knew every store in town. In fact, Thomas only knew about 4 of them since he visited them
regularly. And 2 of those were pubs! So how come he knew about this one? It definitely didn’t seem like
the type of place he would shop at.
However, the curious guard didn’t have time to collect his thoughts as the masked man from earlier
came out less than a minute later.
“Come again!”
A squeaky voice came from inside, just before the door shut closed. The man once again walked off
with wide strides, only this time he was carrying a blue metal toolbox with him. Was that his purchase?
Thomas kept stalking the figure for almost 15 minutes, but ended up losing him when he started ducking
into some alleys towards the slums. Well, that was to be expected. Those narrow, twisting paths almost
seemed designed to shake off pursuers. This seemed like the end the line.
The diligent guard wouldn’t be dissuaded so easily, though. Something felt horribly off about that guy
and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t a threat. When did such a person even arrive here? Thomas was
sure he’d remember a conspicuous shape like that if it ever passed through the gate! Ah, but then again,
that only accounted for one of two entrances into the city, didn’t it? Not to mention that Thomas usually
pulled the graveyard shift with minimal foot traffic anyway.
So what about this suspect of his? What sort of person was he? When, exactly, did he show up around
town? These were all very good questions, and the truth could usually be gleaned by asking those who
interacted with the suspect on a daily basis.
Well, the Mercenary Guild protected all their employees’ information, so visiting them without a
warrant was pointless. This courtesy also extended towards any outsourced employees it did business
with. And those people were pretty damn good at doing business.
Come to think of it, that masked man also stopped by a few street stalls to buy a disturbing amount of
meat, didn’t he? Ah, but those vendors were probably complete strangers, judging from their startled
reactions when he loomed over them.
Then the only place left was that store, huh?
He retraced his steps there and stood in front of the door. Again, he was sure he had heard that bizarre
name somewhere, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Well, thinking about it out here wasn’t going to
get him anywhere. He pushed open the door and went inside.
*Ring-a-ding-ding*
The inside of the store was, to put it simply, pure chaos. There also appeared to be a series of dents and
cracks in the floor, ceiling and walls.
“Just a minute!”
The squeaky voice that came out from the slightly ajar door in the corner was also quite familiar. The
gentle whirring and grinding noise from beyond died down and a tiny person with a huge head and pink
pigtails stepped out.
“Did you forget something, Bo- Oh. Sorry, wrong person.”
Her cheerful voice turned deadpan and monotone when she lifted the goggles from her eyes and noticed
the man in her store was not the one she expected. That seemed to jog Thomas’s memory. Wasn’t this
the place that gnomish inventor was supposed to live? Ah, but the person from those rumors was an old
coot, which meant this must be the daughter. What was her name again?
“... Cammy Fizzlespunk, right?”
The gnome closed her eyes and let out a long, drawn out sigh.
“Well, at least you got the initials right. It’s Cornie Fizzlesprocket, but you can just call me Fizzy.”
“Right… sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. You humans never get my name right anyway. Well, most of you don’t, at any rate.”
The gnome set down the tools in her hands, took off her gloves and goggles and assumed her position
behind the counter.
“So, what can I help you with?”

“Ah, I actually want to inquire about the tall gentleman in the heavy cloak that was here half an hour
ago.”
The gnome’s eyes instantly narrowed to a point.
“Who’s asking?”
“City guard.”
“You don’t look like no guard.”
“That is, I’m off duty…”
“Uh-huh. Well, Mister Off Duty, if you’re not going to buy anything, then leave.”
“I’ll, uh, I’ll buy information! About the man-”
“Get out.”
“Huh?”
Fizzy brought out a weird device. Its main body was that of a thick metal tube, dyed black. It had a
crossbow-like grip and trigger on one end and short metal rod tipped with a tiny blue-colored ball
sticking out the other end of it. It had a number of weird metal protrusions sticking out of it. She was
holding it with two hands and pointing the rounded end directly at her rude visitor.
“But I-” stammered Thomas.
*Click*
*Whururururrr*
Various bits and pieces on the device lit up and tiny arcs of electricity extended out from the rounded tip.
“I said out,” said the gnome in a clearly threatening manner.
Thomas wasn’t sure what the device was, but surely even a gnome wasn’t nutty enough to attack
someone in broad daylight, right? He raised his hands in the air trying to show he bore no hostility.
“Please calm down, ma’am. I just want to know when-”
*Bzzzt*
A flash like a miniature tendril of electricity flew out of the device and zapped the fingertips on
Thomas’s right hand.
“Ow!” he yelled, recoiling from the sudden jolt.

You have been electrocuted. HP -10.
“You won’t get another warning shot,” said Fizzy, still keeping the device trained on him.
*Click*
*VVVVVVRRRRRRRR*
The thing in her arms started making a seriously worrying noise and the light show became even more
intense.
“Out,” she repeated. “Now!”
“Okay! Okay! I’m going!”
*Ring-a-ding-ding*
*SLAM*
Fizzy kept pointing the weapon at the door for several seconds to make sure that the nosy bastard had
indeed gone away. She flipped the little lever on the side, changing its setting from ‘stun’ to ‘shock’ and
finally to ‘off.’ Her Lightning Thrower spooled down and went quiet. There was also the ‘vaporize’
setting, but that might break the device. There’s no way she could allow such a thing to happen. She
stared at it solemnly, almost reverently, then ran a finger across its slightly warm chassis.
“Dad…” she muttered. “Sorry about using Zapster on a worthless guy like that. I kind of lost it when
that suspicious goon started asking questions about my star pupil.”
A small smile spread on her lips.
“I bet you would’ve loved meeting Boxxy. That guy is an enigma wrapped in a riddle with a side order
of mystery, but I can tell he’s a man who adores machines. Not to mention he’s just as clever as any
gnome. Heh, he might be cleverer than you are!”
Tears started leaking down her face.
“... than you were.”
She hugged the weapon and began sobbing quietly.
“I miss you and Lark so much. *Sniffle* Why? Why did you have to go off on that stupid trip? Why did
you have to listen to some shady merchant’s promises?! *Sniffle* Idiot! So what if the store is
struggling?! *Huck huck* You’re far more important than some stupid human and his money! *Huck
huck* Moron! *Huck* Blockhead! *Huck* Stupid!”
Rory Fizzlesprocket was a Level 70 Arclight Artificer. He and his son, Lark, had left to visit the city of
Monotal three weeks ago, aboard a merchant’s private caravan.
The same caravan that had been reported to be wiped out on the outskirts of the former city.
“Why did you have to leave me alone?”
Cornie wept while hugging the last memento of her dearly departed father and brother. It was hardly the
best use for a delicate piece of machinery, but what choice did she have? Those worthless humans
couldn’t even bring her a body to mourn.
Erosa’s officials had put forth their utmost effort to keep the matter concerning a certain nun’s
disappearance a secret, but that proved to be in vain. It was now 8 days after that event and pretty much
the entire city of Erosa knew about it.
A nun in service to Teresa abandoned her vows, stole a Holy Pearl from the temple and eloped into the
night with a stranger.
The cat was out of the bag. There was no way to contain the spread of such scandalous rumors once they
had found their way into the general populace. This worrisome notion had just the right mix of fact and
fantasy to make people unable to judge whether such a thing was true or not. The purported guilty party
was nowhere to be seen and neither the temple nor the guards could in good conscience deny they were
not.
And so, rather than let them fester, the office of the city guard decided to take action. Bounty posters
were made and a generous reward of 2,000 GP was offered to anyone who brought forth news that
would lead to the capture of Lyo Rosero or her accomplice, a man that was identified as Alden
Crawford. There was also an ongoing investigation to find out who leaked this particular information,
but that was little more than a token effort. Word of mouth was an extremely unreliable trail to follow.
Which is exactly what the person responsible for maliciously spreading that rumor was counting on. In
fact, they were also the one who manufactured this now wide-spread untruth, not to mention the actual
perpetrator behind the Holy Pearl theft that set this whole situation into motion. And this person did all
of this with an evil, shit-eating grin on her face. Truly a rotten piece of garbage that enjoyed watching
humans flail about in their ignorance. As expected of a succubus that had a monster for a master.
Xera always hated that stuck-up bitch of a Goddess called Teresa. Pretty much any succubus who knew
of that deity had the same opinion. These conniving seductresses were basically the antithesis of
everything that Teresa stood for, Her natural enemies. This sentiment was echoed by pretty much all of
demonkind, including fiends. It was Kora’s completely unbiased opinion that this so-called ‘Hammer
Goddess’ simply needed a good hammering, right in Her divine pussy. As for Xera, she had far more
realistic goals and simply stuck to toying with that Goddess’s flock, which included the vast majority of
humanity. These mortals sometimes prayed to other Gods as well, but their worship of Teresa was by far
the most widespread and common.
So when the opportunity to screw with Her Divine Frigidness presented itself, the succubus leapt on it
with truly demonic fervor. And the results were, to put it in her master’s words, really tasty. Not only did
she make the populace of an entire city doubt one of Teresa’s clergy through a widespread lie, but she
also framed them for a crime that the succubus committed. Add in the notion that she did all this just to
bounce on some man’s dick and you had the perfect concoction that was sure to make that suck-up twat
throw a hissy fit if she found out.
After all, the Gods were not omnipotent, nor were they omniscient. They drew power from the faith of
their followers, but it could also be said that they seemed dependent on them. The question regarding
what would happen should a God or Goddess lose every last one of their believers had been a widely
debated topic among the faithful.
Would these deities simply disappear? Or would they instead be left powerless and lose their divinity?
Or perhaps garnering faith was simply a way for them to enhance their already formidable power? Such
secrets of the Gods were very well kept, but their behavior throughout the centuries made one thing clear
- they wanted to be worshipped. Which in turn meant that causing people to doubt Them on a large scale
would be a good way to rattle their gilded cages.
Realistically speaking, though, Xera’s careful manipulations were unlikely to catch the notice of a big
shot like Teresa. She had millions of worshippers, so losing 10 or 20 thousand was unlikely to catch her
notice. It still felt good though. Besides, the succubus had other, more practical reasons for forging and
spreading that rumor. It served as a good smoke screen to obscure the activities of her and her master,
not to mention she found it fun in and of itself.
Spreading such a thing was surprisingly easy, as well. These humans sometimes put too much trust into
their superiors. And while that trust was usually well placed, it didn’t account for a devious demoness
worming her way into their command structure and poisoning their minds. That lieutenant in particular
was easy enough to sway with but a shake of her hips and a kiss on the lips. He eagerly hired her as his
new assistant, which put her in a good spot to both ferret out information and spread misinformation as
she pleased.
As far as that rumor was concerned, though, her involvement was to simply use her Dreamweaver Skill
to implant the suggestion that ‘sister Lyo can not be trusted’ into the subconsciousness of a few key
humans. Of course, this wouldn’t be possible had her master not provided a great opportunity like this.
She had to admit, that chest had a way of causing chaos wherever it went. All she had to do was nudge
those mortals in a way that let them piece together the puzzle she wanted them to see.
After all, the greatest misunderstandings were those that men arrived at on their own.
The temples were, unfortunately, less prone to supernatural manipulation. Sneaking into the building
while pretending to be an out-of-town nun on a pilgrimage and absconding with one of their Holy Pearls
was easy enough, but anything further than that would be ill-advised. Priests and Paladins had Skills that
fortified them against mental attacks, such as Domination Spells or Xera’s Dreamweaver Skill, not to
mention the power to cleanse such afflictions from others.
However, that wasn’t to say these holy men and women hated demons for wanting to spread misery,
death and destruction. That was like hating a fire for spreading in the woods or resenting the rain for
causing a flood. Priests and Paladins were of course wary of unbound demons or those ordered to
commit atrocities, but such faults ultimately lied with their master. Many Warlocks and Witches that
chose to use the power of a summoned familiar only did so for noble reasons. It was hard to deny that
one could do great things if they correctly applied a fiend’s capability to protect others, a succubus’s
natural aptitude for magic, a beholder’s talent for sensing and scouting out threats, a hellhound’s
tracking and hunting ability or a stalker’s resourcefulness and flexibility.
There were, of course, those who misused or lost control of that power. Much like a bound demon’s
achievements were attributed to their master, so too would any crimes they commit be the sole
responsibility of the one holding the leash. A demon running wild was hardly that different from a
Rogue robbing everyone in town or a mad Alchemist dumping poison into the river. Therefore,
Warlocks that used demonic servants were not automatically reviled by the populace. For the most part,
anyway. They were not exactly liked either, but at least they didn’t have it as bad as Necromancers.
Well, that probably was irrelevant for Boxxy. It pretty much let its demons do as they pleased so long as
they produced results and didn’t inconvenience it.
“Responsibility? Guilt? What are those? Are they tasty? … They’re not? Then I don’t need them. Go
bring me tasty things!”
The Mimic that seemed to spread chaos and confusing by its very presence simply stuck to its routine
for this past week.
It visited the Mercenary Guild in the mornings to take on or turn in Quests. One would think this would
be an impossible thing for an illiterate monster like itself, but it really wasn’t. There were many
adventurers who could not read, and this flaw seemed ever more pronounced in the type of people that
frequented the Mercenary Guild. Which is why the notices posted on its Quest Board were made with
that particular tidbit in mind.
Quest postings always bore a small stamp that denoted the type of objective. Subjugations and hunts
were marked by a pair of red crossed swords, escorts were a blue shield, collection and gathering ones
had a green basket and so on and so forth. The difficulty rating was marked with an equally easy-to-
understand star rating and every mercenary worth their salt knew at least to read numbers, so there
would be little dispute as to the money that changed hands.
This arrangement allowed anyone to instantly pick out an appropriate assignment with a satisfactory
reward and bring it up to the counter. The bartender-cum-receptionist would then use the magic item
known as a Quest Logger to relay the contents of the specially prepared parchment directly into the
adventurer’s mind. The person could then confirm the details and choose whether they wanted to take
the quest or back out if it seemed too troublesome.
This convenient and simplistic flow completely eliminated the need to actually read any of the Quest
notices before taking them off the board. In fact, it was so streamlined that even literate mercenaries
sometimes skipped reading long-winded requests for themselves and brought them straight to the
counter.
After finishing its business at the Mercenary Guild, Boxxy would then move onto practicing its Artisan
Job, either by itself or by taking lessons from Fizzy. So far it had made a plethora of mechanical gadgets
that relied on Clockwork Expertise, such as a few high-quality retractable blades, about two dozen
simple clocks, two basic repeating crossbows, several ‘pick proof’ locks and a disturbingly high number
of music boxes. Selling these mechanical wonders proved to be remarkably easy, especially when it
came to the better-than-average door locks or the plainly entertaining music boxes. These sales were the
point where Boxxy recovered a sizable chunk of the money spent on parts, but was still suffering a
steady loss.
It was worth it, however. The Mimic’s Artificer Job had gone all the way to Level 12, which also
unlocked the next Skill in the series - Explosives Handling. Flashbangs and dynamite were the basic
explosives that could be made based on this Skill alone, but when combined with Clockwork Expertise
the Artificer could also give birth to nasty surprises such as time-delayed explosives, landmines and
tripwire bombs. There was even an evolution of the Bladeblossom called the Bladeboom. It worked
much the same way, only it used the far more potent power of Blast Powder rather than springs to form a
rudimentary fragmentation grenade.
But even though Boxxy was improving steadily as an Artificer, its Warlock Job was still stuck at Level
25 and looked to be that way for a while.
There existed two methods for raising a non-Monster Job’s Level cap. The first, easiest and most
commonly used method, was to find a suitable teacher. For example, in order to become a Level 1
Artificer, Boxxy had to find a another artificer that was at least Level 25 and had the Mentor Skill. Fizzy
was rather overqualified for this position, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Since she was a Level 56 Arclight
Artificer she could also break the Level 25 limit on the relevant Job, provided her Mentor Skill reached
Level 4 before that. One would then need to find a Level 75 teacher with a Level 7 Mentor Skill to break
past 50, and a Level 100 teacher with a Level 10 Mentor Skill to progress above Level 75.
So in other words, the Mimic had to find the appropriate Warlock trainer if it wanted to further its only
Spell-slinging Job. And therein lied the problem. The vast majority of combat-oriented Job trainers all
belonged to one guild or another and refused to teach anyone who wasn’t part of their organization. And
joining such an organization meant undergoing a full Appraisal to verify their capabilities. Needless to
say, they would probably not accept Boxxy’s application once they found out it was a monster in
disguise.
The other method for furthering one’s Job was much more difficult and was known simply as a
Breakthrough. In order to accomplish this, an individual had to diligently train all of that Job’s unlocked
Skills until they reached the maximum Level 10. A stringent and rigorous training regime would be
necessary to achieve such a feat and attempting this path was likely to take months, maybe even years of
hard work. There was also the hidden caveat that, while Leveling these Skills, it was highly unlikely for
an adventurer to progress in Job Levels, leaving them in a bit of a rut.
A fact which made many people shy away from this path. Why would they have to spend an exorbitant
amount of time like that on something that could be achieved in an afternoon with the help of a trainer
and a sack of gold? Breakthroughs were thus usually left behind for only those who couldn’t access a
trainer or were unable to muster up the training fee. Usually the former.
Thus, at least for the moment, Boxxy’s Warlock Job was stuck at being Level 25. Therefore, rather than
obsess about it, the Mimic decided to turn its attention towards improving the things it could. The
Artificer Job was progressing steadily, but seemed to require slightly more expensive components as
time went on. Fizzy herself confirmed that the necessary material costs would steadily climb due to the
scarcity or difficulty of obtaining such materials. Even with the discounts she gave her ‘star pupil,’ it
still proved to be a considerable strain on Boxxy’s wallets, and had no signs of letting up.
At least, not until the Mimic decided it had had enough and cashed in on its ‘investment.’
In the meantime however, its Mimic Job had actually stagnated for a while. Boxxy had spent perhaps a
bit too much time focusing on widgets and gadgets and not enough on murdering the shit out of things.
Both this, and its immediate monetary concerns, could be solved by completing Quests via the
Mercenary Guild. Which is why the monster was currently out here in the Whispering Marshes in the
middle of the night.
This area was a wide, depressing swampland that had formed as a result of the Whispering Canal’s
extra-wide delta. The deep and narrow river became shallow and wide and split up into dozens of outlets
as it approached the ocean. As a result, this entire area was perpetually wet, overgrown with reeds and
tall grass, and always seemed to have a thick mist that limited visibility. The main two gripes
adventurers had with this place, however, was that it smelled horribly and hid several annoying species
of monsters. The former wasn’t particularly a problem for a chest with no sense of smell, and the latter
was the main reason it was here in the first place.
The Mimic scuttled along slowly across the muddy ground using Stealth to minimize its presence. Its
normally narrow spider-legs were uncharacteristically tipped with small disks that increased their
surface area and prevent the monster from sinking into the soft mud. It then suddenly stopped and
planted all eight of its legs firmly on the ground and, for the lack of a better term, crouched.
The black slender limbs then uncoiled suddenly as Boxxy leapt up into the air, reaching a height of
about 3 and a half meters. The spidery limbs on its side disappeared back inside its body and four long,
narrow metal rods with pointed ends popped out from its underside. It fell like a brick into a nearby
puddle, driving the four oversized nails deep into the ground with a splash, a squish and a crunch.
The puddle the Mimic landed in erupted as a gigantic, 3-meter long gray lobster emerged out of it. It
thrashed about wildly, trying to shake off the stubborn box that had nailed itself to its back. But it
couldn’t, because Boxxy had already expanded the tips of its makeshift spears to form something akin to
fishhooks. It had already firmly anchored itself to the raging crustacean’s backside. Its unwilling mount
attempted to reach back and pry the damnable box out of its back, but its long, powerful pincers simply
could not bend backwards to that extent.
Boxxy opened its jaw and produced two fleshy tendrils, wrapped around its favorite shiny things - a pair
of mithril daggers take from a dead dungeon master. It swung them downwards in a wide arc, easily
penetrating the amphibian monster’s outer shell and gouging out its flesh.
You have inflicted a minor stab wound. Target HP -84.

Yes, a minor stab wound. Relatively speaking, stabbing something this large with daggers was like
stabbing a person with a nail. It would take far more than 2 strikes to bring down something that had
around 1,500 HP. Which is why the Mimic withdrew its daggers and struck again and again.

It didn’t help that it was hitting only muscle, rather than anything vital like a heart, neck, lung or skull.
Then there was also the fact that these things seemed to have some sort of defensive Skill that greatly
reduced physical damage, like a more powerful version of the Mimic’s own Natural Armor.

The oversized lobster didn’t exactly sit still, either. It thrashed about wildly, even going so far as rolling
across the ground in an effort to shake off its attacker. All that did was simply drive the stubborn box’s
steel legs deeper inside itself. It’s not like simple mud or water would do anything to discourage a killer
of Boxxy’s caliber.

Growing desperate, the amphibian monster reared up and threw its head back, then sprayed droplets of a
deep green liquid into the air. That corrosive acid then promptly rained down atop the violent chest
currently attached to the lobster’s back. But Boxxy had already retrieved a large rectangular bronze
shield that had a special anti-corrosive coating applied to its surface. It blocked most of the acidic
deluge, but some of it still splashed onto the Mimic’s body, melting parts of its flesh.
You have been burned by acid. HP -124.
Boxxy’s prey, however, seemed to be completely unfazed by this. Its own corrosive spit simply washed
over its gray shell as if it were water, but the relentless barrage of stab wounds didn’t slow down one bit.
So it kept spewing acid all over itself as much as it could.

The large crustacean’s four legs finally gave out. It collapsed in the shallow waters of the marsh, its
green blood flowing freely from the numerous holes in its lifeless body. The Mimic had no room to
celebrate its victory, however, and immediately retreated from the body. The spot where it had been
mere moments ago was then bathed by 4 streams of acid that shot out from beneath the surface of the
murky water that surrounded the body.
Such an attack might have worked against a lesser opponent, but this one came armed with a 10-meter
wide magical perception. It didn’t rely on simple eyesight to watch out for ambushes, and sneaking up
on it was highly unlikely. It was a bit ironic that a monster that instinctively relied on deception and
camouflage was so well equipped to deal with enemies that used the same approach.
Boxxy quickly skittered away from the scene, retreating with all due haste. It was confident it could take
down one of those things in open combat. Two were also doable if it put its Warlock Job to work,
although that would mean less XP would go towards the Mimic Job. Four of those, though? That was
simply too much. It was far better to apply hit & run tactics when fighting this particular species of
monster, at least in Boxxy’s personal opinion. Granted, that meant it would take a while to fulfil the
quota for its Quest, but it’s not like it had a time limit anyway.
Slay 20 Murk Dwellers

Difficulty: ???
Deposit: 50 GP
Reward: 400 GP
Progress: 7/20
Description: The population of Murk Dwellers that inhabit the marshes to the south of
Erosa has increased once again. Lord Osorlov has commanded that these creatures be
reduced in number.
Well, it’s not like it was its only method of fighting. It still had a number of special surprises waiting
inside its Storage, not to mention that Xera was currently circling overhead and would provide cover if
needed. It didn’t want to use either of those options unless necessary. Killing a Murk Dweller and then
escaping its inevitable backup was easy enough since they were horrible runners and had no chance of
catching the multi-legged chest. The succubus was there just in case something unexpected popped up.
*RUMBLE*
*SKREEEK*
And judging from that racket that was coming from the thick mist behind the Mimic, something did
indeed pop up. Although Boxxy would be hard pressed to call that unexpected considering it was
already looking for one of those.
Slay 1 Murk Dweller Queen

Difficulty: ????
Deposit: 50 GP
Reward: 600 GP
Progress: 0/1
Description: The population of Murk Dwellers that inhabit the marshes to the south of
Erosa has increased once again. Lord Osorlov has commanded that the source of this
infestation be culled.
The Murk Dweller Queen was, as expected, huge. About the size and shape of a two story peasant
house, closer to a crab than a lobster. Its shell was much harder and one swipe of its massive claw would
probably crush a person into paste. The Quest’s four-star rating basically said one would need to be a
Level 100 adventurer in order to take one of these down by themselves. This may seem like overkill
considering the Queen had only a Level of 65, but that assessment was pretty accurate. Because Queens
never fought alone, regardless of species.
*SKREEK*
She let out another loud screech that echoed through the marshes. It caused every Murk Dweller in the
vicinity to stir and wake up. Two dozen Murk Dwellers popped up out of the ground and started looking
for the intruder that dared to attack their mother.
So why did a creature that was a Level 39 Mimic, Level 25 Warlock and Level 12 Artificer go off
looking for one of these? Because it had a way of leveling the playing field, of course. But first it had to
make some preparations, before the Queen’s disgruntled subjects found it. The thick fog wouldn’t help it
in any way, either. Those Murk Dwellers seemed to have some way of tracking it that wasn’t reliant on
sight and were rapidly approaching.
That was fine though, Boxxy was confident it could manage as long as they were bunched up. It opened
its Storage and retrieve the apple-sized, twelve-sided Spell Crystal it had prepared in advance. It’s a
good thing that Queen showed up so soon, otherwise it would have wasted a focusing crystal. Those
things cost 120 GP and it didn’t feel like wasting that money by letting the Spell Crystal expire.
Thankfully, the Level 5 Crystallize Magic Skill afforded it a generous 30 minute window in which to use
it.
*SKREEE*
It would appear Queenie wasn’t wasting any time. Heavy footsteps and numerous splashing noises made
it abundantly clear that she and her brood were sent tremors through the soft ground as it approached the
Mimic’s location. A gigantic 8-meter tall and oddly cubic crab entered the Mimic’s magical perception.
That particular trait had expanded its active range from 10 to about 11 meters thanks the Artificer Job
and the Perception (PER) Attribute it gave on Level Up. It was a big help in ferreting out the hiding
lobsters, as well. And right now it was telling it that its target was far too close.
Boxxy broke into a run.
“Snack! Arms! Come to me!” it commanded telepathically.

“Yes, Master.”
“On my way, boss!”
Kora had been ordered to stay about half a kilometer away since that fiend was the complete opposite of
subtlety. She should still reach Boxxy pretty quickly given her physical ability and the size of her stride.
As for Xera, she swooped in from above not two seconds after being called and glided along the ground
on her demonic winds, just above the Mimic. It’s a good thing she had a telepathic link with it, or else
she might not have been able to find the box at all in this thick fog.
“Snack, take the sucky thing and use it! Make sure you get all the small crabbies!”
Boxxy stretched out its tongue and handed the completely pitch black Spell Crystal to its familiar. The
succubus grabbed hold of it and a rather troubling twinkle appeared in her eye.
“Do not get caught by the sucky thing! I will need your magic for the next part!”
“... Yes, Master,” she replied, with a hint of disappointment.
Her Master still wasn’t 100% sure about the nature of her eccentricities, but it had already noticed
how… enthusiastic she got whenever she handled items of great destructive power. The succubus gave
her wings a few powerful beats and ascended into the night sky. She was able to easily see the massive
shadow of the Queen pass under her. The gigantic monster had no trouble keeping up with the agile
spider-chest due to her massive gait, but her brood were still as slow as ever and trailed behind their
mother in a tight-knit group. She wasn’t sure exactly how many of them had gathered by now or whether
that would be enough, but orders were orders.
“Master, I’m going!”
“Okay.”
“Banana,” she chanted.
The pitch-black Spell Crystal in her hands shimmered slightly in response, indicating it had been
properly armed.
“1… 2… Now!”
She let the item fall out of her hands and then rapidly ascended. The crystallized form of the Mimic’s
Singularity Spell fell silently through the night sky. It landed squarely on top of the large Queen,
shattering open and releasing its contents. A miniature black hole appeared in the next instant and
started pulling everything towards.
The mud, the water, even the very air all got dragged towards a singular point. The Murk Dwellers
following their mother unwittingly entered its effective range and began floating helplessly up into the
air. Even the gigantic Queen was unable to break away from the sudden gravitational pull and had to
resort to digging her massive feet and claws into the dirt in an effort to remain grounded. Some of her
offspring did the same, but the vast majority of them floated upwards and coalesced into one gigantic
ball of floating crayfish. Since the event horizon of that black hole was next to the Queen’s head, it
almost made it seem like the giant crab had an afro hairstyle made out of smaller crabs.
Boxxy was also not quite exempt from the effects of this Spell. The distance between itself and the point
of impact was only 16 meters, while the Singularity had an effective radius of just over 20 meters. Still,
the pull was much weaker this far out, allowing it to also cling desperately to the ground and avoid
getting caught up in it.
However, while Xera did indeed manage to hit the vast majority of the ‘crabbies’ with the ‘sucky thing,’
none of them were actually dying. Oh sure, the ones at the very center of that floating lobster sphere
were getting crushed, the majority of their brethren were unharmed. The Singularity Spell did not do
much in terms of damage. That was fine though, it brilliantly did its job of both grouping up and
restraining those Murk Dwellers. The first part of its plan was done.
As for the second part, it simply had to open its Storage and start unloading a series of 8 brown satchels.
The Singularity caught the lightweight hemp bags the instant they left the pocket dimension and swept
them up into the air. They flew off and got lost somewhere inside the floating mass of angry crustaceans.
The sheer force of gravity, combined with the small and flexible nature of those bags meant they should
slip in between the writing Murk Dwellers and find their way into the middle of that!
“Snack! Light it up!”
Xera had, as instructed, managed to fly beyond the range of the Singularity in time and avoided getting
sucked into that crawling mess beneath her. She hovered just on the edge of Singularity's range and
pointed her staff downward while chanting her favorite Spell.
“Inferno!”
The towering pillar of magical fire illuminated the night and wrapped the entire floating ball-o-crab. It
clung to the monster’s bodies, continuing to burn away at them. However, while that was an effective
area attack, it wasn’t nearly enough to kill all those monsters. Nor was that the Spell’s main purpose.
*KABO-BO-BO-BOOOOOOOM*
The numerous Blast Powder explosives packed within those satchels were set off almost simultaneously.
The already large mass of fire expanded to become an even larger fireball as many Murk Dwellers were
ripped to shreds by a combination of shockwaves and shrapnel. The sheer force of the explosion sent a
large number of charred Murk Dweller bits and green, sticky blood scattering in every direction,
although only briefly. The pull of the Singularity’s gravity field quickly pulled everything back together.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a level 40 Mimic! All Attributes +2.
*SKREEEEEEEEE*
The Queen was, understandably, not entirely pleased with this development. Not only did that series of
explosions hurt like hell, but they also did a number on her brood. The shell protecting her upper body
was mostly in pieces, not to mention that the succubus’s magical flames clung persistently onto it.
“Snack, finish off the crabbies, I’ll get the big one!”
“Yes, Master.”
The Singularity’s effects ran out a few seconds later and the Queen, along with the few surviving Murk
Dwellers, was finally released from her magical prison. She angrily swung down a massive claw
towards the one who was doubtlessly responsible for all this. That infuriating half-spider, half-box,
half… human?
“Mind Blast ~♪!”
Your target has been stunned for 3 seconds.
The massive crab recoiled and wavered mightily as the Domination Spell assaulted her consciousness,
making her claw miss her target by a wide margin, hitting nothing but soggy swampland.
“Frostbite ~♪!”
Six icy fangs flew out from Boxxy’s sides, three from the left, and another trio from the right. They drew
an unnatural horizontal arcs as they flew through the air, almost as if someone had thrown a bunch of
boomerangs. They struck the Queen’s vulnerable upper body from both sides like a pair of icy jaws.
Your target has been pierced by ice magic. Target HP -319.
Granted, they didn’t do much. That big-ass monster was sure to have mountains of HP at its disposal and
barely even flinched. The relative size between her body and those projectiles was pretty much like
prodding a person with a toothpick.
That was fine, however. Boxxy could fire off as many of these as it was necessary.
Frostbite
Requirements: Level 7 Warlock, INT 50, WIS 30
School: Ruin
Type: Projectile
Cost: 75 MP
Range: 25 meters
Effects: Launches an array of 6 icy fangs that converge on a single point.
Grows in power in cold places, dealing up to 50% more damage depending on the
environment.
This Spell was one of the more efficient ones in the Mimic’s limited repertoire. Its damage was
comparable to a Dark Explosion at only a fraction of the MP cost. The chant was also really short, to the
point where it could be completed even faster than a Shadowbolt.
The problem with it was aiming. The odd path those projectiles took, not to mention their relatively slow
speed, made it substantially difficult to hit a human-sized opponent if they were standing still, or
downright impossible if they were moving around.
But for a target that’s as big as a barn, that wasn’t much of a problem. What was important here was that
it needed to be whittled down steadily.
The third barrage of projectiles also hit true, but it would likely be the last one. The Queen starting
moving around again, a clear inclination it had recovered from the-
Jet black flames poured out from under the Queen’s shell.

“Magma Cannon!” rang out Xera’s identical voice from besides Boxxy.
A dinner-plate-sized patch of mud next to her feet lit up with a bright red glow. A glob of molten lava
then launched itself out of the ground, accompanied by a gust of steam and smoke. It drew a heavy arc
through the air before splattering across the Queen’s face.
*SKREEEEOOOK*
She definitely felt that one, but it would seem she had already recovered from the Mind Blast. She
ignored the Ebonfire enveloping her being and raised a claw, preparing to take out both Boxxy and Xera
with a single swing.

Your target has resisted the Spell.
The Mimic tried to stop her once again, but it was no good. This opponent’s mind had already sealed
itself off due to the repeated assault and would take time before it loosened its mental guard. The giant
pincer was swung sideways, closing in on the Mimic from the side. But it wasn’t worried, because its
backup had finally arrived.
“ORRRA!” yelled Kora as she leapt in the path of that wide swing.
The crab’s claw slammed into her double cross-arm block. It was a heavy blow as expected, but fiends
were no pushovers. Kora grit her teeth, tensed up every muscle in her body and stood firm. Her powerful
legs dug two narrow trenches into the soft ground as she was pushed back for about a meter, but that was
it. She had successfully parried a monster that was easily 3 times taller than she was. She then
immediately hit the claw away with a double straight punch that left a sizable dent in the limb’s hard
shell. It even caused the Queen to lose her balance and stumble backwards, buying the trio a few
seconds of time.
As expected of the stupidity-powered strength of a fiend.
“Snack, crabbies?” asked the Mimic.
“Dead, Master. This is the last one.”
“What do I do, boss?” asked Kora with a hint of anticipation. Boxxy turned to her and bonked her
lightly on the head with its staff.
“Huh?”
“Dark Infusion ~♪!”
“Ohhhh, there we go!”
The fiend let out a gasp of pleasant surprise as Boxxy’s Spell took hold of her. A dark, malicious aura
enveloped her body, causing it to overflow with power.
“Kill it,” commanded Boxxy.
“Fuhahahahaa! Say no more! Grit your teeth, Crabzilla!”
She coiled her legs and leapt at the towering Queen’s upper half. Her well-toned body did a half spin in
the air, allowing her to plant a fierce dropkick right between the monster’s eyes. The toothy smile on her
face was so wide it almost looked like it was about to break. Of course Kora was ecstatic. It’s not every
day she gets to fight an opponent bigger than her and she got a dose of her favorite power-up to boot.
And being able to throw down like this after two weeks of mostly babysitting a ruin made the occasion
all the more sweeter.
“Snack, support her.”

“Understood. What will you do, Master?”
Boxxy’s imitation of Xera disappeared and three tongues holding daggers took her place. Its MP
reserves were already nearly dry. As expected of a Warlock’s magic.
“I’m killing it,” it answered, simply.
The battle that broke out from that point on lasted for another 10 minutes. Not only did the Queen
appear to have nearly bottomless HP, but it was supported by many defensive Skills. She also started
spewing a rain of acid once her mouth and face had recovered enough halfway through the fight. Boxxy
and Xera were able to avoid it easily, but Kora was caught unawares. She had to activate Demonic
Carapace and Second Wind in rapid succession to survive that deluge of corrosion. The subsequent gusts
of acid she was able to mostly avoid by reading her opponent's tells.
Xera mostly circled around out of harm’s way while pelting the monster with magic whenever she
could. She also had to use the Purge Spell on the other two several times as the Queen released
poisonous clouds around her. Her newly-acquired Magma Cannon Spell seemed quite effective, but she
had to land on the ground to use it. A spray of acid from a stray Murk Dweller blindsided her when she
was doing so. The attack didn’t kill her outright, but cost her the use of her wings, which drastically
eliminated her mobility. She was crushed under the Queen’s claw a few seconds later.
As for Boxxy, it kept alternating between bombarding the Queen with magic and crawling all over while
stabbing away at her flesh. It even threw the last remaining bombs it had inside some of her deeper
wounds. It was a far more desperate struggle than it anticipated, but it managed to triumph in the end.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a level 41 Mimic! All Attributes +2.
“YESSHAAAAA!” it screamed into the night sky.
It danced a dance of triumphant joy on top of the massive corpse of its defeated foe. It had thrown nearly
900 GP worth of explosives and consumables at this thing, but it had succeeded in its task.
“Huff! Huff!” panted Kora as she leaned against the gigantic carcass. “Huff! Yeah! Take that! That’ll
show you to mess with me! Huff!”
The fiend was acting tough, but she was barely able to hold on. Both of her left arms were completely
melted away by the acid and huge chunks of her torso and legs were missing. The Mimic took its fair
amount of punishment as well, but was able to pull through splendidly thanks to the incredibly delicious
SKill it managed to unlock mid-battle.
Mend Flesh
Description: A shapeshifter’s mastery over their body affords them a uniquely deep vitality
Requirements: Level 40 Monster Job, Shapeshift, INT 150
Type: Toggled (ON)
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Restores missing vitality at a rate of 100 HP/sec.
Consumes 100 MP for every 100 HP restored.
Reduces the MP consumption of this Skill by 3% per Level of the Shapeshift Skill.
Increases the HP recovery rate of this Skill by 20 HP/sec per Level of this Skill.
This seemed to be the same thing that Fleshmaiden kept using to keep herself alive despite losing sizable
chunks of her body to the Mimic’s attacks. Having the same ability made Boxxy’s survivability shoot
through the roof. It was honestly like a dream come true. No longer would it have to rely on potions or
dodging attacks like crazy in order to pull through grueling fights. Or so it thought until it got a bit
cocky when it took the Queen’s acid splash head on and lost about 850 HP in an instant. It had to
hurriedly drink 3 of its more expensive potions in order to get its health back to a safe Level.
But that was then, this is now. And the Boxxy right now had one thing on its mind - dinner. It opened its
maw wide and started chowing down on the mountain of fresh meat underneath it. And it was truly tasty,
for it was the taste of victory. It crunched and munched at the corpse, burrowing in deeper and deeper
like some sort of flesh-eating parasite.
Once it had eaten beyond its fill, it let out a satisfied burp. Tonight was a truly splendid night. Could it
even get any better? Of course it could. There was still that one thing that would make it a perfect
evening!
“Kadahah Akhsohsohn!” it chanted, full of anticipation.
Countless purple tendrils shot out in all directions, embedding themselves inside the walls of flesh and
blood around it. The mountainous body shriveled up at truly frightening speeds over the next 2 seconds
as Boxxy’s Skill greedily slurped it up.
“...”
It honestly didn’t know what it expected.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood

1449/1449(+3.7/
HP INT 233
sec)
503/1165 (+1.9/
MP WIS 194
sec)
Skill List
Assassination 8 2% Clockwork Expertise 3 85%
Storage 7 23% Explosives Handling 2 10%
Cadaver Absorption 6 65% Shapeshift 8 36%
Biomass 5 97% Stealth 7 43%
Natural Armor 6 72% Sword Mastery 6 65%
Metal Mimicry 4 53% Projectile Mastery 5 1%
Mend Flesh 2 40% Dagger Mastery 8 13%
Demonology 6 27% Shield Mastery 3 68%
Spell List
Ruin Domination
Ebonfire Delirium
Shadowbind
Singularity
Rather than being discouraged at how unreliable Cadaver Absorption was proving to be, the Mimic
quickly reminded itself it wouldn’t even have the Warlock Job or either of its deeply useful familiars
without it. The Skill provided it with the occasional Attribute boost and it even lifted Shield Mastery off
a dead adventurer, not to mention that time it acquired Dagger Mastery. Indeed, the Skill was undeniably
potent. Unreliable and random, but potent. Besides, tonight was still a pretty good night. It gained 2
Levels, the immensely delicious Mend Flesh Skill and earned itself 1,000 GP for completing both
Quests. Therefore, the fact that Cadaver Absorption once again failed to gain anything from a powerful
creature was really nothing to worry about.
Yep. It was fine. It didn’t bother the Mimic.
“HUUUUUCK!”
It bothered it. It bothered it a lot actually, but it was too late to gripe about it now. Then it remembered
all those explosives and potions that it had to go through during the fight and its mood got even worse.
Was tonight really that much of a profit? It decided that yes, yes it was. Maybe not so much on the
monetary side of things, but it kept telling itself that life would be much easier from now on.
“Hey Boss,” called out Kora. “You okay?”
“Fine,” answered Boxxy.
That was actually the truth. Now that both the thrill of victory and the disappointment of losing a gamble
were gone, it was actually left quite… serene. Peaceful, even. Almost like-
“Ack!”
The Mimic quickly shook itself vigorously. That was close. It was so tired that it almost fell asleep right
then and there. This place was far too dangerous to do that sort of thing, not to mention exposed.
Deciding it had better get a move on, Boxxy briskly walked out of the gigantic pile of black ash - the
remains of the Murk Dweller Queen - and started checking the bodies of the lesser Murk Dwellers. A
good bunch of them were turned to goop thanks to that explosion, but there were still quite a few of
them left lying around that were mostly intact. It then started systematically using Cadaver Absorption
on them, one after the other.
And was met, as expected, with a string of failures. Its fickle mood quickly started turning sour once
more. It still kept using the Skill on one corpse after the other though, wouldn’t want them to go to
waste. Some small part of it considered whether it should store some of these bodies for breakfast, but
quickly decided against it. Objectively speaking, their meat was pretty bad. Something in their green
blood made it taste considerably foul. It wasn’t poisonous, just… disgusting. Without the ‘taste of
victory’ around to smooth things over, it really didn’t want to-
Proficiency level increased. Aci? Spray is now Level 3. END +9. INT +9.
“Oh!” exclaimed Boxxy.
A brand new Skill popped up out of the second-to-last corpse. It actually pulled through in the end,
didn’t it? Wait, something was off about that window just now. And what was this… odd sensation it
felt when it absorbed it? The Mimic quickly double-checked the Skill.
Aci? Spray
Description: 3͢Er̸ф̀г͠jfЯo͡fR҉ ͢ ͢P#́f̨l̸B̀>̴taQg̷ ;;;
Requirements: OVERRIDDEN
Type: Sustained
Activation Time: 1 second
Cost: 80 MP/sec
Range: 7.999999999999994 meters
Effects: Emit a spray of co̶rŗo̴s̶isi͠s͘ísi̸ve͘ aci?.
Increases the volume and potency of the released aci? by 10% per Level of this $ḱil̢l̵.̷
“...”
Okay.
This was new.
Actually no, it wasn’t entirely new. The Mimic had already seen this sort of incomprehensible gibberish
and weird squiggles once before. Back when it had summoned Nagnamor using Xera as a host, to be
more precise. Attempting to view that Archfiend’s Status gave it a list of garbled nonsense that seemed
quite similar to this one. Perhaps it was somehow related? It had better double-check just to be sure.
1-800-7355-9687-7685
*Beep ... Beep … Bee-*
*Click*
“Hello,” answered the familiar, raspy voice. “You have reached Demons ‘R’ Us, my name is Carl and
I’ll be your liaison for today.”
“Hey Carl. It’s Boxxy.”
“Oh! Good to hear from you, buddy! What can I do for you today?”
“I got this weird Skill and I need some help.”

“Is it directly related to your summoning contract, bound familiars, the Beyond and/or eldritch
abominations of terrible power?”
“... No.”
“Then that means our company doesn’t support it. Sorry, buddy, you’re on your own.”
“But I saw the same weird thing back when I had Punchy!”
“Punchy? Oh right, High Overlord Nagnamor. You… didn’t summon him again, did you?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
The Mimic was quite confident it would know if it accidentally summoned a towering fire-breathing
demon hell-bent on destruction and carnage.
“Then how it is related?”
“The Skill, it’s all weird. Just like Punchy’s Status back then.”
“Is it? Hmm…I think I need to consult my manager, please hold.”
*Boop*
Ah, there it was again, that oddly soothing music. Boxxy’s fascination with these tasty sounds was the
reason it made so many music boxes for Artificer practice. It couldn’t quite get the sound to be this
good, though. At least, they sold moderately well, to the point where the Mimic could make a decent
profit on them. Not to mention that it felt oddly happy to be making something chest-shaped for once,
even if it was just a toy.
*Boop*
“Sorry for the delay, Boxxy. Send me your Status and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay. Sending.”
“Got it. And which Skill seems to be the issue?”
“It’s the Aci-square Spray.”
“... What? Do you mean Acid Spray?”
“Maybe?”
“Uh-huh… One moment, please.”
*Tak-a-taktak tak taktaktak*
“Oh, I think I see the issue. That sort of thing happens when you see a Job or a Skill that’s outside of
your understanding.”
“So… it’s normal?”
“Well, I don’t know how normal it is for a Mimic to have a Skill from outside its species, but Monster
Jobs aren’t too far apart so it’s probably fine. You still understand most of it, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d say you’re good. The Skill’s description and whatnot should clear up later, so don’t worry
about it.”
“I see. Thanks Carl.”
“Hey, no problem. Glad you actually had a simple problem for once. Anything else I can do for you
today?”
“N- Actually yes. Can I speak with Snack like I do with you?”
“Err…”
“My familiar.”
“... Oh, right, the succubus. Well, it’s possible, but she’d have to give you her soul number. And don’t
order her to tell you her soul number, okay? That could be grounds for contract termination. Especially
with succubi, they’re quite touchy when it comes to that sort of thing.”
“I see.”
“Why do you need to speak to her anyway?”
“Just curious if I could.”
That was it, nothing more, nothing less. After all, it was personally acquainted with only four
demons. One of them was Carl and he was easy to reach through Demons ‘R’ Us. Snack or Arms could
just be summoned if they were banished, or contacted telepathically if they were present. As for Punchy,
well, Boxxy had already made a deal to stay away from that guy. And it really didn’t want to break off a
deal with a demon.
“Thanks, Carl. You were a big help.”
“That’s what I’m here for, buddy. Buh-bye.”

“Bye.”
*Click*
The Mimc double-checked its Skill List and it noticed that ‘Aci? Spray’ was now properly called ‘Acid
Spray.’ It would seem those squiggles really were just a problem with its perception of the Skill. The
contents of the Skill’s window were still a bit messed up, but Boxxy had all the relevant information it
needed to spit acid just like those overgrown lobsters.
Ah, but it could actually do one better. Being a shapeshifter allowed it to instantly grow the relevant
acid-producing gland wherever it pleased. It could shoot jets of that nasty stuff out of its mouth, its
tongue, or even the tips of its arachnid feet. The liquid refused to fly further than 8 meters, though. The
corrosive spray seemed to evaporate into thin air the instant it went beyond that threshold. It also seemed
like only one acid gland could actually spit the stuff out at any given time, so growing a lot of those at
once turned out to be a disappointingly wasted effort.
Still that acid was quite devastating - something the shapeshifter had experienced first hand. Being able
to use non-physical means of attack without resorting to chanting magic was quite useful in and of itself,
although Boxxy needed to be careful not to get splashed by its own juices. Unlike Murk Dwellers, the
Mimic’s chest-y shell was not acid resistant. Ah, but even if it did injure itself, it would heal in seconds
thanks to Mend Flesh, so it probably wasn’t that big a deal.
Having concluded its business in the marsh and, after forcefully dismissing Kora for whining about her
missing limbs or some such, Boxxy made its way back to the outskirts of Erosa. It went into the city
through its secret tunnel, crawled into its hideout, summoned both of its familiars for protection and
finally allowed itself to sleep.
When Boxxy woke up, the day had already arrived and was just before noon. The time right now was
11:34 AM according to the Mimic’s own hand- or rather, tentacle-made clock. As usual, its weekly dose
of sleep lasted for almost 9 hours, but waking up feeling refreshed and full of energy was in itself pretty
tasty. It quickly donned its disguise and set about its day, albeit with a late start. First order of business
was to get paid.
It walked the now familiar streets and went inside the Mercenary Guild. The place was practically
deserted, unlike at breakfast. In fact, the only ones present here were the dwarven receptionist and what
appeared to be a male elf nursing a headache in the corner.
“Ah! If it isn’t the illustrious Mister Morningwood!” called out Grog as the Mimic approached his bar. It
replied by simply nodding in response. The dwarf put away the glass he was pretending to clean and
turned to properly face his customer.
“What can I do for you today?”
“Quests.”
“Hmm, don’t tell me you’re giving up!”
“No. I’m done.”

“Done? You mean you already killed all those crabby bastards?”
“Yes.”
“Hah. Hahahahaha!”
The aged dwarf burst into a hearty laugh.
“Hey!” called out the elf in the corner who was still nursing his hangover. “Keep it down, Grog! My
head’s about to burst!”
“Ah, sorry Lint. It’s just that mister Morningwood here has just made me a whole lot of gold!”
“Gold?!”
Boxxy’s eyes shone fiercely at the G-word.
“Oh!” exclaimed Grog. “Now there’s a look I can relate to! Don’t worry, just a friendly wager between
me and some of the lads on whether you’d make it back.”
He smiled widely, not surprising considering it was plainly obvious which side of the wager he had bet
on. There was more to it than that, though. Grog’s personal opinion of the hard-working Boxxy T.
Morningwood had only improved during the past week.
“Let’s make it official, shall we?”
The dwarf reached behind the counter and brought out the Quest Logger, placing the crystal orb on the
counter. He then promptly confirmed that Boxxy T. Morning did indeed complete the two Murk Dweller
related Quests that were accepted the day before. He excused himself and went into the back room to
prepare Boxxy’s payment as per usual and came out with two particularly heavy satchels and two much
smaller pouches.
“Here you go, mister Morningwood,” he said while setting them down on the counter. “Please confirm
the amount.”
Boxxy nodded and opened up the bags. It quickly confirmed the full 1,100 GP was there and hid the
bags underneath its cloak.
“Oh and,” said the bartender, pulling out a 50 GP coin and sliding it across the counter. “This is for
being a good sport about the wagers. I made a killing off you, so I felt it was only fair to give you a little
something. No hard feelings, ey?”
“Holy shit!” screamed Lint from the corner. He got up from his seat and started running across the
restaurant with his hands in the air.
“Grog’s giving away money! A storm is comiiiing!”
He then promptly ran upstairs, likely to hide under his bed covers.
“Storm? It will rain?” asked the Mimic with a hint of worry in its voice. It did not like storms.
“Nah, nevermind him. He’s just being overly dramatic.”
“Okay.”
Boxxy gladly pocketed the extra gold and wordlessly left the Mercenary Guild. That Grog was a good
sort. The Mimic would make sure to savor him later. But before (or even if) such a time came, it had to
restock its supplies. Hmmmm, come to think of it, why was it spending all this money in the first place?
Surely it can just take what it wants, right? Now that it had Mend Flesh, couldn’t it take all those
crummy guards and loot the city however it pleased?
No, those were dangerous thoughts. Its MP was not bottomless, but it still hurt to get so much tasty gold
only to spend it almost immediately. It only had 1,404 GP with today’s payment, which was not a lot.
Well, at least it wouldn’t need potions any more, right? No, there were potions that restored MP rather
than HP, surely those would be a wise investment, right? Actually those seemed to be slightly cheaper
than their healing counterparts. Then there were the enhancement potions called elixirs.
Gah, why was earning money so much more difficult than spending it?
Well, first things first. It stopped by the same elven apothecary it always visited and bought four blue-
tinged potions for 95 GP each. The Alchemist claimed they filled 200 MP per dose, so they would serve
very well in an emergency. Boxxy also bought two of those 300 HP potions, just in case. The old elf
even gave him a discount on those, at only 175 GP each instead of 190. This put Boxxy in a very
amiable mood. Everything was going its way, today!
Next on the shopping list - explosives. Those were very handy to have in a pinch and their non-magical
nature made them more reliable than those Spell Crystals, though perhaps not as flexible. Having made
up its mind, it idly walked towards Fizzy’s Fidgety Widgets, arriving without much incident. People on
the street were giving it frightened and/or curious looks, but that was pretty much an everyday
occurrence. One would think they’d get used to seeing it around town by now…
*Ring-a-ding-ding*
It entered the familiar shop as per usual.
“Ack! Hey B-Boxxy!”
However, Fizzy was actually at the counter instead of working on her projects in the back. She seemed
to be fiddling with some wires beneath it.
“You’re here, um, early!”
Her eyes darted between her visitor and the door in the back. Was it really early though? If anything, the
Mimic’s actually on the late side.
“Ah well, no time like the present! Wait right there, I have something I want to give you! Just, just sit
right there, okay?”
Boxxy nodded, which sent the gnome running into the back room. Well, it’s not like waiting around for a
bit was a problem. Normally it had to wait until she came out of the back anyway. She came out from
her workshop almost immediately, though. The gnome ran around her counter and clambered up on the
small step ladder.
“Here, this is for you!”
She held out a small metal ball. It was about 5 centimeters in diameter and had a deep groove running all
around its circumference. Like it was two hemispheres that were bolted together. Well, that was pretty
much what it was. There was also a rather large button on the top.
“It’s, uhm, a gift for, uh, for being such a great student! Yeah!”
This was unlike the usual Fizzy. Normally she’s far more precise with her words, but seemed a bit
unable to properly form sentences in front of the Mimic. She also seemed to be avoiding eye contact for
some reason. Not that Boxxy cared for such things anyway.
It reached out with its left arm and snatched the metal orb from her open hand. The gnome seemed to
recoil slightly from the sudden action, but the Mimic was far too enthralled by the shiny object it had
been presented with to care about her. No wonder it had such a lustrous sheen, the surface of it was
coated with gold. Peering inside the device with its magical perception revealed it appeared to be an
Artificer contraption rather than a simple ball. Well, that much would be obvious by the big red button
on the side.
“What’s this?” it asked, brimming with curiosity.
“Like I said, it’s a gift! It’s, err, a prototype toy! Yeah! It’s super fun! Just push the button and you’ll
see!”
The Mimic then promptly did as instructed and pressed it with its thumb.
*Click*
Huh? Why did Fizzy duck under the-
*BAZZZUZZUZUZUZUZZZT*
Blue arcs of electricity shot out from the device and into Boxxy’s being.
“SKHRAAAAHHRG!”
It let out a purely inhuman scream as the current rocket it to its very core.

Your Skills have been disabled for 4 seconds.
Losing control of its body, the 220 centimeter figure fell on the floor. No, it would be more accurate to
say it collapsed in on itself. The fake limbs and head dissolved into a sort of red, slightly pulsating meat
paste.
“Hah… Hahahaha!” laughed Fizzy. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t crazy! I kept telling them those dreams
were far too real to be just my imagination! Well who’s crazy now, eh?! Hahahaha!”
It would seem she had been subjected to Xera’s mind wipes one too many times. The Mimic didn’t have
the luxury of deducing that though. Right now it was barely even conscious, unable to move even a
single muscle fiber. Even its magical perception seemed blurry. Fuzzy even.
“Snack!” it called out telepathically. “Come to the gnome shop right away!”
But there was no response. It didn’t feel its wounded body healing, either, despite leaving Mend Flesh
toggled to ON. Ah, the window did say something about Skills being disabled.
“Now, you’re mine! And you’ll pay for toying with me! For scheming behind my back!”
The gnome leaned back behind the counter and pulled a lever, the same one she had been fiddling with
just moments ago. A large number of steel rods shot out from the wooden floor, tearing it to pieces in the
process and extending upwards all the way into the ceiling. The disabled monster was now surrounded
on all sides, trapped inside a circular cage about 3 meters in diameter.
“We’ll see how the city guards deal with you!”
The gnome leapt over the counter and ran out into the street. This was not good. Very not tasty!

Your Skills are no longer disabled.
“Snack!” it tried again.
“Yes, Master?” came Xera’s reply.
“Come towards the shop and find the gnome!”
“Did you mess up with-”
“Now!”
“Ack! Yes, Master!”
The monster tried standing up, but couldn’t properly control its extremities. Its entire body was numb,
like it was not its own anymore. This was the first time it ever felt such a sensation. Or rather, such a
lack of sensation.
Your flesh has been mended. HP +120.
Good, that was working again as well. However, this appeared to be the worst case scenario. Therefore,
the Mimic made the decision right then and there to run. No matter how weak those city guards looked,
there were over 500 of them. Not to mention all the formidable adventurers in town!
Now that its wounds were healed up it felt its body recover more or less completely. It discarded the
cheap clothes it was wearing and stood up properly on its spider-legs. It took a step towards the edge of
its prison, but immediately shrank back. Those steel bars had electricity running along their length. Blue
arcs jumped between them intermittently, making it painfully obvious that anyone who touched them
would be zapped.
Boxxy didn’t want to touch them, didn’t even want to get near them. Its normally quiet instincts were
screaming at it not to get shocked. That electricity was bad. Very bad. Just looking at it made the Mimic
want to hide in the deepest, darkest hole it could find.
“Ah!”
It finally understood. This was its elemental weakness, its vulnerability. Much like how undead would
be made brittle and crumble easily when bathed in flames, so too would shapeshifters lose control of
their ever-changing bodies when exposed to a strong electric charge. It would seem Fizzy had done her
homework and prepared a trap specifically created to capture the Mimic.
But she did not know that it could spit acid.
The chest opened up and a fleshy tongue wiggled free of it. A small opening appeared on its pointed tip
and a green liquid sprayed out of it. It clung to the steel pipes and started eating away at them with a
steady hissing noise. This would work, but it looked like it would take some time.
“Master, I see the gnome!” reported Xera. “She’s shouting at a group of guards and pointing towards
your location!”
Right. This was way beyond salvageable.
“Leave her and come to me.”
Next it forcefully dismissed Kora from the warehouse and started summoning her back while the acid
was eating away at its prison. But that’s not all it did. The corrosive liquid leaked down between some
cracks on the floor, causing sparks and smoke to come out from there moments later. The Mimic used its
magical perception to confirm that some wires under the floor were melted completely through.
It really should have been more suspicious of those when it noticed them earlier, but it had grown
complacent.
Kora’s summoning finished several seconds later. Using a big chunk of its MP like this was perhaps not
the smartest idea, but it needed all the help it could get right now. Besides, it had just gotten a bunch of
potions to help with that should the need arise.
“What was-! Eck!”
The fiend let out a stupid sound when she saw her master in a cage.
“Boss?! What the fuck?”
“Break this thing!”
“Ah! Alright!”
Her four muscled arms gripped a steel bar each and pulled on them all at once. The metal, already weak
from the acid, creaked and groaned and gave way, breaking off completely at their weakest points. Kora
flexed her muscles and widened a gap large enough for the chest to exit sideways, which it did with
great relish.
This event really wasn’t doing much to help with the Mimic's grate trauma.
Having been released from its prison, it immediately leapt over the counter and started unlocking the
metal safe hidden in the floor. It already knew the combination since it spied on Fizzy opening it a few
times. Inside were several satchels of gold, a few gems and a weird metal tube-shaped device. It was in a
hurry so it quickly tossed everything it could into its Storage without counting it.
“Master! The guards are right outside the shop!”
“Haaaah,” sighed the Mimic. Now it would have to murder God knows how many people until it
reached the gate, probably wasting even more of its limited resources along the way. And now that its
identity was out in the open, it would probably struggle to recover from those losses.
And today was going so well, too!
(48) Interlude That Nagging Feeling
It started, as many revelations often do, with the simplest thing.
A single door that should have been ajar, wasn’t.
Gnomes were often creatures of habit, and Cornie Fizzlesprocket was no different. She woke up at
precisely 6:41 AM every morning. She then rolled around in bed until 7:01 AM before getting up. Her
morning routine of getting dressed, doing her hair up and eating breakfast was over and done with by
7:24, and she opened up her shop at exactly 7:30.
She spent the majority of an average day tinkering away at some project or another. On the rare occasion
that a customer visited, she would yell out at them that she would be ‘just a minute’ and exactly 60
seconds later would emerge from the back room to do business. At 12:45 PM she temporarily closed up
shop for lunch until 1:24 PM and resumed her business hours until 7:44 PM. She spent the next 30
minutes cleaning up the store and organizing her workshop, before having dinner at 8:50 PM. She was
in bed by 9:15 and fell asleep by 10:43 PM.
That last bit of her routine was a rather recent addition, however. Normally she’d be able asleep by 8:54
after a long day of hard work, but she no longer had anyone to help out with chores. That and she spent
nearly an hour and a half gently weeping and sobbing in grief over the very recent loss of her father and
brother - her only remaining family. Alone in the dark with only her thoughts and memories for
company, she cried herself to sleep nearly every night for the past 12 days.
People say these wounds heal with time, but how much more time would she need to feel such pain?
Weeks? Months? Years? She wanted specifics, an exact date and time when it would finally stop hurting,
but nobody could give her a clear answer. ‘It’s not a set amount of time’ they would say. ‘It just
happens’ they would shrug. A clearly unscientific approach that endlessly infuriated Fizzy. If she had a
clear goal, then she could grin and bear it while silently counting away the seconds to that release inside
her head.
Literally.
As an Artificer, Cornie was in possession of the Tick Counter Skill. It was an invaluable ability that
allowed her to precisely measure the passage of time inside a corner of her mind. Using this Skill also
allowed her to accurately gauge the interval between two events. It was precise enough to let Fizzy tell
the difference between 2 seconds and 2.05 seconds if she put her mind to it. This was an invaluable Skill
for building machines that had many moving parts that had to work together.
It also had the side effect of allowing her to tell what the time was without having to look at a clock.
Granted, it wasn’t flawless, but it was still accurate to within 10 seconds of the actual time - quite
enough for one’s day-to-day needs. So imagine her surprise when one day she realized her internal clock
was 9 minutes slow. The gnome deduced it was probably caused by all the distress she had been through
lately. It was a Skill that relied heavily on one’s mental state, so things like that could happen. Therefore,
Fizzy simply calibrated it to match the clock in her bedroom and thought nothing more of it.
But then, 3 days later she realized this internal clock of hers was 5 minutes slow. She corrected it again,
but the very next day it was behind once again, this time by 6 minutes. Her father always used to say
that ‘once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, third time’s a pattern.’ So after the fourth time it
happened she became considerably worried. Was she going mad? Was the Skill on the fritz? Or perhaps
every clock in her house was afflicted by some strange, identical defect?
The first one was a frightening possibility. The second was impossible and the fact she even considered
that third scenario only made the first seem more likely. So she thought back on the days where she had
been, for lack of a better term, missing time. And a pattern did indeed emerge.
It was all on days she was visited by her mysterious new pupil, a gigantic man that went by the slightly
odd name of Boxxy. But it wasn’t every single visit, either. Was that man really responsible? Cornie
didn’t want to believe it, she refused to accept that a person who was thoroughly amazed by something
simple and innocent like a wind up toy would harbor any sort of malicious intent.
But then again, the door that should have been ajar, wasn’t.
Fizzy remembered that on the third and fourth times she noticed a ‘time skip,’ the door that connected
her storefront and the workshop in the back had been firmly closed. She never shut that door. Ever. Not
only did it block the sound of the entry bell, but it was much too big for her. It was designed for humans,
after all. A gnome like Fizzy had to reach up and even tip-toe a bit to grab the door handle. It was
inconvenient, awkward and annoying to close and open that damned door. So she never did. The fact it
had been closed on those days and those days only was her physical evidence that something or
someone was messing with her.
And, of course, the only present in the shop during those times was Boxxy.
She was deeply conflicted. On one hand, she had grown rather fond of this amazing pupil who eagerly
soaked up all her teachings. It was even to the point where she chased off a rat who came asking
questions. The innocent gnome did not want to believe that her only ray of happiness, that awkward yet
brilliant stranger, was somehow scheming something behind her back. But how? She thought long and
hard on those days, but just could not remember anything else out of place.
That’s when a creeping thought wormed its way into her head. It’s not that she couldn’t remember, but
that she was not allowed to remember. That her mind was being influenced somehow. And, of course,
this immensely disturbing thought reared its head when she was rolling around in bed. She obsessed
over it until well past midnight before sleep overtook her.
And that is when she had a nightmare. Of Boxxy unraveling into a collection of wood, tentacles and
teeth that held her down, tied her up and dragged her off. That’s when a woman appeared, a simple
village girl that had a plain appearance. She shared a few words with the monstrous creature and then
placed a hand on the gnome’s head.
That’s when Fizzy woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and out of breath. After calming down and
realizing it was still the middle of the night, she tried to dismiss it as just her mind playing tricks on her.
But then she had another nightmare. One where a Bladeblossom was set off accidentally and her student
was injured without uttering a peep, despite being stabbed in the face and leaking sickly-looking yellow
blood. It then leapt over the counter and once again bound, gagged and dragged her off. A woman
appeared again, but this one was completely unlike the village girl in every way. She was a nun, with an
entirely different voice and face, but she behaved in much the same way, right up until she put a hand on
the gnome’s head.
Fizzy woke up screaming once more. This wasn’t her imagination running wild. It was way too real,
way too detailed and much more terrifying than any nightmare she’d ever had. Dawn had come now.
She immediately got up and ran off into the street to find a guard.
Then she remembered she was still in her sleepwear, so she sheepishly ran back inside, got dressed, and
started having second thoughts. What if this was her imagination after all? What if she blamed an
innocent man and was even more ostracized by the human community? Her mind remembered that
‘guard’ that dropped in asking about Boxxy, and she went and threatened him with a Lightning Thrower.
Gnomes already had a bad reputation for being nutty, what if there was some inkling of truth to that
stereotype? What if she was the crazy one after all?
But, there was a way to find out. A way to prove to the world, and to herself, that she was not insane.
She ran into her workshop and started throwing together an orb that would discharge electricity when a
button is pressed. A small, carefully calibrated charge that wouldn’t do much to a human besides
zapping them, maybe cause some numbness at most. There was no danger of Boxxy dying from this. He
was bound to be a strong adventurer, considering the amount of money that suspicious individual spent
on Artificer supplies while maintaining the image of a pauper.
That was, of course, assuming she was wrong and he was not what her nightmares said he was. If the
true identity of Boxxy T. Morningwood was indeed that of a shapeshifting mimic, then the jolt would be
far more devastating. Cornie was knowledgeable about electricity due to her Job, and she knew full well
that it would make a shapeshifter’s body go haywire. She completed her Stun Orb (tentative name) in
just under 2 hours, then stared into its shiny golden surface.
What would she do after she presented it to that man? In the off chance she was wrong and he came out
unfazed, then she could play her ‘gift’ off as a malfunction and offer a discount for the trouble. The real
problem was what would happen if her nightmares were indeed reality and her only pupil turned out to
be a monster? Would she be able to actually… kill it? Would she be able to bring herself to do that sort
of thing?
She shook her head to chase away those dangerous thoughts. Monsters were cruel, heartless and thought
nothing of others. This was the simple, harsh truth of this world. And although one could argue that is
simply their instinct, it is also true that intelligent monsters exist out there. Beings who knew full well
what they were doing, yet continued to act in much the same way. They chose to hurt others.
There were, of course, rare rumors of oddball monsters that chose a different path. They told of creatures
that did not harm innocents and secluded themselves away from the so-called ‘enlightened’ races such
as dwarves, humans and elves. Individuals who peacefully led their lives away from conflict and
civilization.
However, not a single documented case of such a ‘hermit’ existed. Such things were widely believed to
be nothing more than a myth. A ludicrous story that made no sense along the lines of saying that the
moons were made out of cheese or claiming that purple was not a color, but a state of mind.
So what was Fizzy to do? She may be Level 56, but she was not a fighter. Sure she had high DEX, INT,
WIS and PER thanks to her Job and Skills, but she knew no Spells, had no idea how to swing a sword
and her END was truly pitiful. If a fight really broke out, then she would surely be eaten. And just how
powerful could that alleged monster truly be?
That’s when she remembered her father’s security measure, the ‘Insta-Cage’ hidden beneath the
floorboards. It had always been there, but it never got used on account of nobody being stupid enough to
stir up trouble in the middle of the city. Especially not inside a poor-looking Artificer shop like this one.
But it was still there. And knowing her old man, it would probably still work. The only problem was she
had serious doubts simple steel would hold back that monster. So she closed up the shop and started
modifying the trap. The gnome worked away frantically throughout that entire day and most of the
night, but still wasn’t finished. Her work continued undisturbed on the second day, and then, at noon of
the third day after her revelation, she was finally finished electrifying the cage. She was in the middle of
double-checking all the connections and preparing herself mentally for the encounter when the door
swung open.
Gnomes were creatures of habit, even in seemingly stressful conditions. And Fizzy had a habit of
unlocking the front door every morning, and locking it only when the sun started setting. Which is why
Boxxy was able to easily enter the place as if nothing was wrong.
It was honestly a miracle the target of her suspicions didn’t visit during those two-and-a-half days she
was busy, otherwise her confrontation would have ended very differently. And considering the events
that followed, many people would argue that would have been preferable.
(49) Chaos 1
A squad of 20 armed guards marched steadily down the city street. The rhythmic, clanking noise their
plate armor made with every step gave off the impression of a stampede of steel. A female gnome with
pink pigtails that went by Fizzy was accompanying them.
“I swear to Teresa, pipsqueak,” complained the squad leader, “if I find you’re messing with us and-”
“I. Am not. Messing with you!” insisted the gnome. “I really did capture a mimic in my store!”
“Right, right, so you say,” said the old soldier while readjusting his steel helmet. Looking down at that
gnome any longer was going to give him a crick in his neck.
“Hey sarge,” called out one of the guards, “do we really have to do this?”
“Yes, we do, moron. A citizen demanded our help, so we’re helping. Whether there’s any credibility to
these claims of hers is another thing entirely.”
He tossed a dubious look at the citizen in question.
“I already told you I’m telling the truth!”
“We’ll see about that,” said the sergeant without even trying to hide the doubt in his voice. “This the
place?”
“Yeah, that’s it. It should be locked up inside.”
The fully armed squad of soldiers stood in front of the store the little gnome had led them to. Perfectly
quiet and completely ordinary aside from the strangely flashy sign that read ‘Fizzy’s Fidgety Widgets.’
The squad leader pointed out to three of his men and ordered them to enter the store and check it out.
The slightly undisciplined guards idly walked over to the door and opened it. Peering inside, the man at
the front saw a dirty counter and a pair of gray metal fists flying towards his face.
“ORA!”
“Ge-hut!”
Kora’s powerful twinned punches sent him flying into the other two men that were with him, knocking
them all down to the ground. The fiend then made a small jump and put her heels, combined with her
entire body weight, right onto that man’s broken face. His head splattered against the cobblestone road
as if it were an overripe tomato.
“To arms!” shouted the sergeant, doing his best to rally his men. “Rogue demon on the loose! Prepare to
subdue it.”
“Urah!” replied the guards in unison, drawing their weapons and assuming a formation.
The gnome screamed and ran for cover. The other civilians followed her example. They all scattered and
started running for their lives the instant they saw the grotesque scene of a man having his head crushed.
As for the perpetrator, she didn’t even skip a beat. Kora crouched down, grabbed the other two men at
her feet and tossed them into the rest of the armored platoon. They crashed into their squadmates, nearly
knocking them over.
*CRASH*
Something flew out of the door’s dusty window. Something wooden, rectangular, and multi-legged.
“HRRRAAAAAKKH!”
It let out an unearthly sound, somewhere between a hiss, a growl and a scream.
“Reform the ranks!” shouted the sergeant.
The guards in front quickly formed a shield wall while those in the back prepared to cast magic or pulled
back their bowstrings. And while their attention was focused on the new threat, Kora threw a Mass
Panic Spell Crystal towards their front line. It shattered open, and magic-induced fear gripped all the
soldiers caught in its effect.
“Lion’s Courage!”
One of the backliners, a Priest, quickly chanted a Spell to combat this effect. A blue wave spread out
from his position, dispelling the Mass Panic from his squadmates.
“Fireball!”
“Ice Spear!”
“Sniper Shot!”
The rest of the rearguard unleashed various ranged attacks and magic on the rapidly approaching Mimic.
“Demonic Carapace!”
Kora leapt in front of her master and activated her defensive Skill. Gray metallic scales instantly covered
her red skin, mitigating a significant chunk of that barrage. Boxxy jumped onto her back and wrapped its
legs around her waist, shoulders and chest, firmly attaching itself to her like an oversized backpack.
Now that it no longer had to worry about its footing, the Mimic could focus on other things for the
moment.
“Hark Inhusion!”
Like chanting.
“OOORRRRRRAAAH!” roared Kora as the power of the (slightly misspoken) Dark Infusion Spell
surged through her once more, filling her with a temporary burst of strength and speed. She ran forward,
crashed into the guards' disorganized front line and went on a rampage.
“This isn’t happening,” mumbled Fizzy.
The gnome had ducked into a small alley between two buildings during her panic earlier. However,
rather than doing the wise thing and running, she simply stood there and stared in horror at the scene
some 20 meters away from her.
A towering four armed demon was fighting a bunch of guards. Her heavy fists dented their plate armor
and crumpled their shields. The metal scales that protected her body had fallen off and she received
multiple wounds from those in front of her. But rather than following common sense and growing
sluggish, her movements actually became sharper. Faster. Deadlier.
The gnome had no way of knowing this, but these were simply the effects of the demon’s Side Job. As a
Level 14 Berserker, Kora had two of the Job’s Skills available to her - Level 5 Bloodlust and Level 3
Brutal Fervor.
Bloodlust
Description: A Berserker’s thirst for battle knows no end
Requirements: Level 5 Berserker, STR 20, END 20
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Killing a target with a melee attack increases all damage dealt by 5% for 1 minute.
This effect stacks up to a maximum of 10% per Level of this Skill.
Brutal Fervor
Description: Nothing gets the blood flowing like an open wound
Requirements: Level 10 Berserker, END 50
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Increases the effectiveness of the AGI and DEX Attributes by 5% for every 2% of
max HP missing.
This effect stacks up to a maximum of 15% per Level of this Skill.
Berserkers thrived on battle. Hungered for it. These personifications of bloodshed and violence fought
without regard for their own safety until either they or their enemies were dead. It was a truly reckless
Job with a high mortality rate. Very few of the people who took on the role of a Berserker actually lived
long enough to fully develop it. Kora was no exception, either. Her reckless behavior got her killed with
rather frightening regularity. However, unlike the fleeting existence of mortals, she was a demon. A
being that could be brought back to life as many times as her master wished. And she took full
advantage of that fact by embracing what it meant to be a Berserker. She stood covered in wounds and
neck-deep in enemies, but not showing a single sign of backing down.
“This isn’t happening,” repeated Fizzy.
Something far more dangerous, far more terrible was clinging to the back of that incarnation of violence.
A chest-shaped monster with three red tentacles growing out of it, gripping a bloodied longsword in
each one. Anyone who dared approach the fiend from the rear got sprayed with acid and then slashed up.
Anyone who dared to attack it from range simply saw the fiend abruptly turn around and take the hits for
it.
It was plainly obvious that, rather than covering the demon’s back, the Mimic was simply using her like
a shield.
“This. Isn’t. Happening!”
The overwhelming shock of seeing the terror from her dreams lay waste to a squad of fully armed
guards gripped the gnome’s heart in terror.
“Oh, but it is.”
Then came the cold, emotionless female voice directly above her. Frozen in fear, she could not even
look up, too afraid to confront what was undoubtedly another of that thing’s minions. She felt the oddly
familiar sensation of a slender hand being placed on her head.
“Sleep.”
It took about 2 minutes for Boxxy and Kora to completely dismantle the guards. Even if they were
around Level 35, their actual combat abilities were closer to Level 25 - an unfortunate downside of
power leveling. Still, killing even one of them seemed to take a while, at least until Xera joined in
halfway through the battle. She rained red-hot flames and molten magma on the ground-based troops.
Granted, she almost died from getting hit by one Spell, but her firepower was still a great help, even if it
only served as a diversion and deterrant.
“What now, Master?” asked the succubus while holding the gaping hole in her stomach.
“Where is Fizzy?” replied Boxxy telepathically.
“Over in the alley.”
“We’re bringing her with us.”
“... We are?”
“Yes. I want her Artificer training.”
Even now it still wanted to continue its training. It wasn’t sure when, or even if, it would be able to find
another suitable Artificer.
“... Understood, Master.”
Xera limped off towards the alley where she stashed the comatose gnome while Boxxy surveyed the
empty streets. The civilians had already abandoned the area and the street was deathly quiet, at least for
the moment. That would likely not last though, as more guards were sure to be on their way.
“Here she is, Master.”
The succubus returned less than a minute later, holding the person that was unfortunate enough to catch
her Master’s attention. The Mimic wasn’t sure whether it was even possible to convince her to teach it
again even though its cover was magnificently blown. Snack’s sleepy-time magic tricks seemed to have
failed and allowed the gnome to regain her memmories, just like the succubus had cautioned it. Well,
bringing the small, pink-haired woman was still worth it. She had more value alive rather than dead, but
the Mimic could just kill her and attempt Cadaver Absorption on her if she refused to... cooperate.
The materials necessary to put together various Artificer gadgets and gizmos would not be a problem,
ethier. Boxxy had already taken the liberty of cramming as many bits and pieces from the gnome’s
workshop as would fit into its Storage.
“Get her over to the south wall without drawing attention,” it commanded.
“At once, Master.”
Not three seconds later and the succubus had assumed a variant of her village girl disguise. Her hair was
a mess, her clothes were dirty and the skirt had been ripped. The gnome in her hands had been wrapped
by a thick blanket to conceal her shape, completing the image of a distraught mother carrying her sickly,
slightly big-headed child to safety.
“I will be off, Master.”
Xera bowed slightly and trotted off towards the south.
“What about me, boss?” asked Kora.

Boxxy quickly confirmed she only had 240 HP remaining out of 1,512.
“Did you use Second Wind?” it asked.
“Yeah.”
As expected. There’s no way this reckless demon survived that many wounds without tapping into her
only means of HP recovery.
Second Wind
Description: Fiends are by nature too stubborn to die
Type: Active
Cost: 0 MP
Range: Self
Effects: Instantly recovers 25% of missing HP.
Increases the HP recovered by this Skill by 20% per Level of this Skill.
This was not good. It wanted to use her as a diversion to draw attention away from itself and Snack
while they made it over the wall. And she wouldn’t make much of a diversion if she got killed in 5
seconds.
Thankfully, it could easily solve this problem. First it chugged two of its newly brought mana potions to
replenish most of its missing MP. It then dismissed Kora and started re-summoning her. Doing this
would not only restore her back to full HP, but bypass the cooldown period on Second Wind.
“Over there!” came a shout from the north.
It would seem guard reinforcements had just arrived from one of the adjacent streets. And the first thing
they saw after turning the corner was a brightly glowing chest.
“By the Goddess!”
And then they realized that it was standing in the middle of the 25 or so bloodied, charred, pummeled,
mangled, melted, decapitated or otherwise completely decimated bodies of their colleagues.
Followed immediately by the appearance of a four-armed, red skinned demon.
“T-to arms, men!” screamed the person who appeared to be in charge. The guards responded by drawing
all of their blades, much like the first group of them.
“Attack them, then draw them north,” ordered Boxxy.
“Hehehe! You got it, boss!”

Kora ran off towards the guard while screaming her lungs out. The men and women in her way
immediately turned their attention toward the rapidly approaching threat and seemed to completely
forget about the glowing box.
“... Eh?”
Xera had just been killed.
Someone must have seen through her disguise, but surely she would have reported if that were the case,
right? Or did she get taken out in a single hit? It wanted to ask her the details, but it couldn’t summon
her under these circumstances. It would surely draw attention to itself, not to mention that it would lack
the MP to do so in the first place, even if it did drink both of its remaining mana potions. If only there
was a way to speak to her without-
The soul number thing Carl mentioned! That would have been immensely useful right now, but Boxxy
completely neglected to ask her about it!
Silently cursing its own complacency it quickly assessed the situation. One of its familiars got taken out
and another was currently engaged in combat. The south wall was the closest one from its position, but
had some unknown enemy in its way. Guards would be pouring in primarily from the north since the
city’s keep was located in that direction. All things said and done, east seemed like the monster’s best
chance of getting out of the city of Erosa.
So the monster abandoned all pretense of being a chest, sprouted spider legs and scuttled off into the
alleyway, making a beeline for the edge of the city. Some of the guards saw it move, but that was of little
concern since Kora would block them. Boxxy checked on her HP and determined she should be able to
buy it at least a minute, plenty of time to get some ground between it and-
-her remaining 1,132 HP disappeared in an instant.
Now was the time to panic.
The Mimic scuttled along the alleyways even more desperately than before. No, walking was too slow, it
needed to get away from whatever was picking off its minions. And it needed to do so right. Fucking.
Now! It quickly transformed its eight spider-feet into a set of four organic wheels and propelled itself
down the tight spaces between the buildings. It used its flexible body to make twists and turns that
would be impossible otherwise, bouncing off walls to round corners and jumping over debris and
garbage that stood in its way.
It then broke out onto another of the city’s main roads and turned south. Whoever or whatever was
behind the deaths of its minions was no longer in that direction, meaning the Mimic had a clear shot at
making it beyond that wall.
“Waaah!”
“What’s that?!”
“Mom can I ride it?!”
“Holy crap, what?!”
It rolled through onlookers and pedestrians who probably had no idea why or how a treasure chest was
rolling down the street. And they were in its way. The monster managed to avoid colliding into most of
them by ducking and weaving, sometimes jumping over them without slowing down. However, it
couldn’t avoid all of them. After all, it was rolling around at a speed comparable to that of a horse in full
gallop, albeit at a much smaller stature. Some collisions were inevitable.
Your target has suffered blunt force trauma. Target HP -103.
It ran over an old woman who didn’t get away in time.
It rolled over a puppy crossing the road, crushing it to death.
It smashed into a random adventurer’s knee before he could react.
Regardless, none of those things could drastically slow it down. It was moving at high speeds and had a
mass of nearly 100 KG. It was quite heavy considering its relatively small size, meaning it could smash
through any civilians who got in its way with ease. And of course it kept two eyes wide open all the
while. One in the front to watch out for obstacles and one in the rear to check for anyone that might have
been following it.
The rear was clear, but there was trouble brewing at the front.
“Stop that thing!”
A row of guards stood in its way, and it could make out the tall stone wall just beyond them. It just had
to get past these guys and it would be out of the city, at which point it could keep rolling down the
imperial highway going east until it was truly out of sight. But first it had to clear the way since those
humans had formed a shield wall in its path.
It momentarily slowed its speed, and popped open its lid. The albino Xera-on-wheels made her first ever
public appearance. Every single person on that street stared slack-jawed at the bizarre sight of a naked,
large-breasted albino lady rolling down the street while holding a staff. Well, they stared at the sight of
those outrageous breasts, at least. Every man, woman and child had their eyes drawn to those pale
mountains of flesh.
Boxxy didn’t care though. It simply used its magic to force open the way. The shockwave that erupted in
the middle of the guard’s line knocked them on their asses, allowing the Mimic to roll through them
unhindered. It quickly retracted Xera’s upper body and sped up towards the base of the city’s walls. All
that was left now was to-
*TWACK*
A black boot kicked the Mimic from the side, sending it flying off-course and smashing into nearby
building. The monster smashed clean through someone’s living room and flew out of the street on the
other side.
You have suffered major blunt force trauma. HP -1,142.

Proficiency level increased. Natural Armor is now Level 7. END +6.
It crashed into a nearby vegetable stall, sending plant matter and splinters everywhere, much to the
distress of the stall’s vendor. The man immediately gave up on screaming about his cabbages and made
the very wise decision to run away immediately.
“Kreh! Kphogh! Skraktktkt!”
The badly injured Mimic let out a series of guttural noises. Having been kicked through a building, it
was understandably in an extremely sorry state. What was once a faux-wood chest with wheels was now
a mangled mess of flesh. Its shell had been splintered, its wheels torn off and its yellow blood oozed
forth from multiple wounds.
And there went the last of its MP. The almighty Mend Flesh Skill that gave it so much trouble in the past
was simply not able to do much for its owner given the current situation.
“Hoooh, still alive?”
Boxxy heard a man’s voice, directly from above itself. It sounded very close, as if the person was
leaning over the creature. However, its magical perception was not picking anything or anyone.
“Good,” it said, “I was afraid I overdid things with that little love tap.”
It was a calm, collected voice. Oddly soothing and terrifying at the same time.
The Mimic immediately tried to move the moment its consciousness had stabilized. It grew a set of
spider legs in an instant and tried to stand up, but immediately fell to one side.
“Don’t move, beast.”
“Rakh!? Hrak!?”
“Come now, you can do better than that. I saw you grow an entire person just now.”
“...”
Taking the hint, Boxxy opened the mangled remains of its upper jaw and formed a human-like head out
of its badly wounded tongue, which naturally assumed Xera’s form.
And then, when that head opened its eyes, it finally saw him.
An old man with a leather hood stood mere centimeters from the wrecked Mimic, with arms crossed
across his chest. His face held two deep scars - one across his left cheek and the other on the right side
of his forehead. His hair had turned gray from age and his skin was heavily wrinkled, yet he seemed to
exude a sense of youth and vitality as if he was in the prime of his life.
The armor he wore was a set of thick-looking dark gray leather with a pale blue tabard draped over his
chest. A leather sling with several pouches on it was draped over his shoulder and two short weapons -
daggers by the look of things - were sheathed on the left side of his waist. The lithe-looking legs ended
in a pair of plain-looking black boots. The left one had a smudge of yellow on it.
“Ah, there we go,” he said with an extremely stern expression. “So, you can understand me, right?”
“... Y-yes.”
The Mimic stammered. It was afraid. This man was completely and utterly beyond Boxxy’s
comprehension. Not only did he nearly kill it in one blow, but he also completely eluded the monster’s
magical perception. Only its eyes were able to track him, and even those seemed to want to naturally
slide off the man and look elsewhere. But it didn’t dare do such a thing.
“Good. It’s a start. Do you have a name, beast?”
“... Yes.”
“... And? What is it?”
“Boxxy T. Morningwood.”
“Morningw- Haah.”
The man sighed and put his right palm over his face.
“What’s the T stand for?”
“Trap.”
“Of course it does… Well then, Boxxy. I suppose since you gave me your name I will give you mine. I
am Edward Allen, Spymaster to his Majesty Emperor Joseph Frederick von Einhart the Third.”
He went down on one knee and stared deeply into the Mimic’s face, which caused the monster to recoil
and shiver in fear.
“And I will have you answer some questions regarding that four armed demon.”
Edward
Gordon Allen
Human
Species STR 245 LCK 120 Rogue 100 MAX
(Ascendant)
Sex Male DEX 964 MNT 82 Spy 75 MAX
Occult
Age 103 AGI 645 CHR 172 59 55%
Alchemist
The Gilded
Hand
4030/4030
HP INT 377
(+7.5/sec)
1885/1885
MP WIS 300
(+3.0/sec)
Skill List
Name Level Proficiency Name Level Proficiency Name Level Proficiency
Assassination 10 MAX Kidnap 10 MAX Elixir Expertise 4 54%
Open Hand Essence

Misdirection 10 MAX 10 MAX 5 19%
Technique Extraction
Sleight of
Evasion 10 MAX 10 MAX Serum Expertise 5 94%
Hand
Illusory
10 MAX Lip Reading 10 MAX Purification 3 43%
Blade Style
Smoke
Dual Wield 10 MAX 10 MAX Stealth 10 MAX
Cloud
Disarm Trap 10 MAX Disguise 10 MAX Pickpocket 10 MAX

Vitality 10 MAX Obfuscate 10 MAX Lockpick 10 MAX
Silver
Blade Finesse 10 MAX 10 MAX Mentor 10 MAX
Tongue
Uncanny Silencing
10 MAX 8 43% Sense Energy 10 MAX
Dodge Gaze
Hemorrhage 10 MAX Shadowstep 9 12% Dagger Mastery 25 MAX
Find Disperse
10 MAX 7 76% Projectile Mastery 25 MAX
Weakness Magic
Turn the
10 MAX Wiretap 6 53% Bow Mastery 6 85%
Blade
Nerves of
10 MAX Herbalism 10 MAX Brawling Mastery 10 MAX
Steel
Cheat Death 10 MAX Mixology 10 MAX Sword Mastery 10 MAX
Honorable Potion
10 MAX 7 32% Axe Mastery 2 30%
Thief Expertise
Poison
Air Step 10 MAX 10 MAX Shield Mastery 5 43%
Expertise
The Eyes of Alchemical

1 MAX 8 13% Mace Mastery 3 23%
Truth Fortitude
Martial Art List
Illusory Blade Style Open Hand Technique
Backstab Thousand Palm Thrust
Riposte Eye Gouger
Cheap Shot Fire Cobra Claw
Shadow Clones Paralyzing Strike
Twin Fangs Shining Finger
Phantom Knife Flow Disruption
Hundred Needles Sky Cleaver
Fan of Knives Wind Thrust
Backbiter Rising Dragon

Soul Sever Quivering Palm
(50) Uncertainty 2
Boxxy woke up abruptly and violently, flailing around as usual.
“Hrrmmpf!?”
Or at least it tried to. In the next instant, it was made painfully aware of two solid metal clamps that
were bolted onto its imitation wood surface. They completely encircled its body as if it were a barrel and
prevented the lid from opening up. The monster’s automatic HP recovery seemed to have restored its
health, but it would appear that it also caused its flesh to fuse somewhat with the metal bolts that held its
bindings in place.
Those were hardly all of the restraints, however. It was also suspended in mid-air by a total of four short
chains that attached those metal clamps to the roof of a 2 by 2 by 2 meter cage. The series of vertical and
horizontal bars were made out of an ominous-looking black metal and, judging from the low buzzing
and blue sparks that occasionally leapt between them, were currently electrified. It was a good thing the
Mimic stopped struggling, lest it accidentally sway into the metal and zap itself for no reason. Looking
at its new prison more closely, it noticed a small metal box attached to the outer side, with several wires
coming out of it. That was likely the source of that electrical charge.
Now that it had properly regained consciousness, it came to remember the situation it was in. That man
called Edward had defeated it completely with a single blow. After introducing himself, he then poured
some strange liquid onto the Mimic which made it pass out. And now it was here.
Where was here, though?
The room the cage was sitting in seemed to be a large jail cell, probably inside the local keep’s dungeon.
The walls, floor and ceiling were nothing but plain stone bricks. For some reason, there was an empty
wooden chair directly in front of-
“Finally awake?”
“MMFFGH!”
Right, that old man was able to completely elude the Mimic’s magical perception. The voice came from
somewhere in front, so Boxxy grew a yellow cat-like eye in its traditional place. And indeed, the man
‘appeared’ before him once again, sitting cross-legged in the chair right outside the cage. He looked
into the blinking eye and took it as a sign that the monster was, indeed, awake.
“Very good. Now then, do grow back that head so we can have words. I’m sure- Oh, you already grew
one. Nevermind.”
Indeed, Xera’s flawlessly sculpted face appeared out of the Mimic’s front in less than a second. It looked
like someone had cut off her head, shaved it clean and glued it onto the chest. The man’s eyes seemed to
focus onto the pseudo-succubus’s pointed ears that were normally hidden by her long, straight hair.
The Spymaster took out a small leather-bound notebook and opened it up on a blank page. He pulled a
Never-ending Quill™ out of nowhere and scribbled ‘Erosa Mimic interrogation’ at the very top as a sort
of title.
“Let’s begin, then. First of all, why use that appearance?”
He gestured at Xera’s pointy-eared face.
“It’s easy.”
“Easy how?”
“I know it the best.”
“Uh-huh.”
He wrote down ‘elf witch connection?’ on the first line.
“And who is it you’re imitating?”
“Snack.”
“Haah,” sighed Edward. This was only his third time speaking to a monster capable of both reason and
language, so he had forgotten that one had to let go of certain expectations when speaking to such
creatures. Some would argue he should just put the squeeze on his suspect, but he knew from experience
that torture was not a viable method of gathering information. His way of interrogating prisoners was
much faster, more reliable, and far less messy, although it did require a certain amount of patience.
“Who is Snack?” he asked.
“My thing.”
Make that a lot of patience.
“Where is Snack right now?”
“The Beyond.”
“So it’s a demon? Then how come it’s called Snack?”
He was keenly aware demons usually had long names that were impossible to say correctly without
hurting one’s tongue.
“Very tasty, but not very filling.”

“... Right, and what species of demon is she?”
“Succubus.”
“So that face you’re showing me… belongs to a succubus?”
“Yes.”
The Spymaster quickly crossed out ‘elf connection?’ and wrote ‘perverted box’ next to it.
“Then what of the red-skinned four armed demon that was reportedly with you? Is she your ally?”
“Yes.”
He quickly added ‘knows 4-armed demon’ to his notes.
“What is your relationship with it?”
“She is my thing.”
He circled the words ‘perverted box’ and underlined them.
“How is she your thing?”
“Contracted.”
“... You’re the summoner?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re a Warlock?”
“Yes.”
“...”
The man stood up and walked off somewhere, outside the Mimic’s sight. There was the sound of a door
opening and some distant voices were heard, but Boxxy couldn’t make out anything legible. Edward
returned moments later and took his seat.
“Who taught you how to summon her?” he continued.
“Carl.”
“Does he have a last name?”
“Don’t know.”
“Uh-huh, and where is this Carl?”

“...”
The Mimic hesitated for a moment. Where was that guy? Was he really in the Beyond? He seemed to
have access to something physical that made clacking noises, so he could be in the material realm too,
right?
“Answer me!” yelled Edward. His powerful voice alone seemed to rock Boxxy down to its very core.
“Ack! I don’t know!”
The Spymaster wrote down ‘Carl - warlock mentor??’ in his notes and circled it.
“When did you contract this fiend?!”
“22 days ago! I think!”
“You think?!”
“It was dark! Inside!” explained the scared monster. “Not sure of actual day! Please, no more yelling!”
“...”
The Spymaster regained his composure at the sight of the Mimic swaying back and forth in fear while
shaking the pale white head sticking out of it. It was oddly pathetic, almost innocent in some weird way.
Edward had gotten a bit overly excited when the monster said 22 days ago. After all, that was the same
day the Calamity happened.
He wrote in ‘fiend contract - before or after CoM?’ in his notebook.
Of course, he wasn’t simply taking the monster’s word on all this stuff. Edward was in possession of an
Ultimate Skill called The Eyes of Truth. It let him pierce the veil on any deception and easily see
through both disguises and lies. That’s how he was able to instantly see through that succubus’s disguise
the day before. It was a powerful ability well suited to his line of work, but he kept it a secret from the
rest of the world for three reasons.
The first reason was religion. If the temples knew he had obtained a Skill that was so in tune with the
Goddess Teresa herself, he’d probably get all sorts of religious nonsense he wanted no part in forced
onto him. That wasn’t to say he was not a pious man, but that sort of thing was bound to attract
unwanted attention and interfere with his work.
The second reason was politics. Nobles were creatures that lied even when they said ‘good morning.’ If
they knew of Edward’s flawless lie detector then they would likely plot against him or his office, which
in turn would just open up more pointless work for the Spymaster to deal with. Putting down uppity
nobles was simply too much of a bother.
The third reason was practicality. If word spread of his Ultimate Skill, then that would make it much
harder to use. People might choose their words carefully or only allude to the truth. Erosa’s troubles with
that nun and her ‘cousin’ were a prime example of how one could skirt the truth.
Speaking of which.
“What of the disappearance of sister Lyo Roseta? Are you connected with that?”
“Who?”
“The nun that purportedly stole the Holy Pearl.”
“I don’t know such a person.”
This was, of course, the truth. Boxxy did know of a succubus that stole a Holy Pearl, but it knew
nothing about a nun doing something like that. The old human stared at it for a few seconds before
jotting down a note saying that case was probably unrelated. Having warmed up sufficiently, he moved
onto the meat of the matter.
“What do you know of the Calamity of Monotal?”
“What’s a Monotal? Is it tasty?”
“... You don’t know about that place?”
“No.”
The gears started spinning in the Spymaster’s head. That statement was not a lie, but it didn’t mean it
was true, either. Perhaps it never even found out the name of the place?
“Have you ever been inside another city before coming here?”
“Where’s here?”
“Erosa.”
“What’s an Erosa? Is it tasty?”
The Spymaster took a deep breath.
“It’s the city where I captured you.”
“Oh.”
“...”
The two stared at each other for a while.
“So have you ever been to another city or not?”
“No.”
“Where were you before coming here?”
“On the road.”
“Haaah… Where did you live before moving to Erosa.”
The Mimic paused for a moment to consider this question. Did it actually live anywhere? It had been
pretty much homeless ever since it got out of the dungeon, so technically speaking...
“Litigar Dungeon Complex.”
“So, you were born in that dungeon?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you leave it?”
“Got hungry.”
‘Sweeper?’ was swiftly added to the list.
“Have you seen the human city near that dungeon?”
“Yes.”
The old Spymaster’s eyes lit up. Now they were getting somewhere.
“That place is the city Monotal.”
“Oh.”
“So you know of it after all?”
“... Yes.”
“Did you know it was destroyed?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know it was gone?”
“Saw the smoke cloud.”
“Did you have anything to do with that?”
“No.”
The monster just lied for the first time in this interview. Of course it lied. Right now its life rested
entirely in the hands of this man, and it did not want to openly admit to knowingly murdering thousands
of his kind. It may still be more or less a moron, but even it wasn’t that stupid.
As for Spymaster Allen, he was actually inwardly delighted. He had finally gotten a real lead on that
troublesome case.
“Were you the one who destroyed it?” he asked.
“No.”
This one wasn’t a lie. A fact that immediately put a damper on the man’s rising mood.
The Mimic believed from the bottom of its soul that it did not destroy a city. After all, it was that giant
shiny ball that vaporized the city. Of course, it was impossible to claim it was completely unrelated to
that incident.
“Did you order your familiar to ddestroy it?”
“No.”
It ordered Arms to roll a ball into a city. The destruction sort of happened after that.
“Did you order anyone to destroy that city?”
“No.”
“Are you affiliated with an elven witch in any way?”
“What’s an affiliated? Is it tasty?”
“Oh for fuck sake!”
*CLANG*
The Spymaster finally lost his cool and ended up leaping out of his chair and punching the obsidian
cage. It rattled and even bent slightly from the impact. It also reacted like any electrified surface would
when something conductive made contact with it.
*BDZT*
“Gah!”
“Mother fucker that stung!” he cursed as he shook his zapped fist.
Relatively speaking that jolt was completely insignificant, but painful things were painful. Edward took
a few deep breaths to calm himself. The answers were not an issue - he just had to ask the right question.
Deciding to change up his approach, he reached into his tunic and took out a rolled-up parchment.
“Okay, look, do you know this person?”
He unfurled it in front of his prisoner, revealing the expertly drawn image of a stern-looking middle-
aged elf woman. She had short, spiky hair and a deep vertical scar across her left eye. This was an
artist’s rendition of the culprit thought to be the main perpetrator behind the act, courtesy of Bernard
Samson’s testimony.
“No.”
Again, not a lie.
“... Is this succubus - this Snack - also your familiar?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell her to disguise herself as an elf?”
“No.”
The man kept going back and forth exploring the possibility of the succubus pretending to be his
suspect, but couldn’t get any confirmation. Of course he couldn’t, Boxxy had no idea that Xera had went
and done something like that. As such, Edward was completely unable to grasp the connection between
them and had to drop this line of questioning. He also considered the possibility of this succubus acting
on her own, but he had no way of confirming that, either. At least, not for the moment.
“Do you know how the city was destroyed?”
“Yes.”
The man took a deep breath. These endless questions were getting on his nerves. Normally his Silver
Tongue Skill would have his prisoners spilling their guts all on their own, but it seemed like it was
ineffective on this particular monster.
“How was the city destroyed?!”
“It blew up.”
“AAARGH!”
*CLANG*
*BDZT*
“Gah!”
This was incredibly infuriating. Something about this moronic box just immensely ticked off the
Spymaster. It was partly his own fault, though. He had briefly forgotten that his Ultimate Skill was not
almighty and that open-ended questions like that last one were the Skill’s weakness. He had to stick to
concise questions whose answer could be a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ if he wanted to get anywhere.
So after rebuilding his composure yet again, he briefly thought back on what he knew.
He had caught a rampaging monster that, against all odds, seemed to be somehow connected to that
Calamity. The key to that event was bound to be buried somewhere in its dim-witted mind, but Edward
lacked the information necessary to ask the right questions. It had also shown to be capable of lying in
order to protect itself, so simply asking about the ‘how’ and ‘why’ was likely pointless.
What about a slightly different approach that didn’t rely on mere words? Granted, he highly doubted it
would work on a monster, but it was still worth a try.
The Spymaster silently left the room, leaving Boxxy all on its own. One would imagine this would be
the Mimic’s perfect chance to make a break for it, but it did no such thing. It remained perfectly still,
suspended inside an electrified cage. Of course it wanted to escape, to break free and get away from that
dangerous being that called itself a man, but it had no way of doing so.
Boxxy’s MP was currently 0 and automatic MP recovery had been disabled. The reasons were unknown,
but this was its current reality. It had to admit whoever or whatever was responsible knew what they
were doing, as Boxxy couldn’t do anything to escape without MP. Storage was inaccessible, Acid Spray
was unusable, Mend Flesh was disabled, Metal Mimicry wouldn’t function and Spells were right out.
The only Skill that still had a use was Shapeshift, but that wouldn’t let it break out of this specially
prepared cage.
How come it was always those insufferable grates that got in its way?
Several minutes passed in total silence before Boxxy once again heard the sound of a metal door
opening in the distance.
“Please don’t! I didn’t do anything!” came a familiar, squeaky voice. “You can’t do this to me!”
“I can, actually,” answered Edward’s voice, “You are my prisoner, after all.”
He appeared before Boxxy once more, carrying Fizzy by the scruff of her neck as if she were a large
bag. The gnome’s work clothes were gone, replaced by a rough-looking brown poncho that covered her
torso and upper thighs. It looked less like a piece of clothing and more like an old potato sack. This
appeared to be the only thing she was wearing, seeing as how her arms and shoulders were bare and her
legs were completely exposed from the thighs down. Her bruised ankles and wrists were cuffed by cast
iron shackles and bound together by sturdy-looking chains that rattled forebodingly.
“Nooo!” she screamed the moment her eyes met Boxxy’s. “No! Get it away! Please!”
She struggled desperately, waving her arms and legs all over the place and shaking her head.
“Quiet down, prisoner,” said Edward.
“But! That thing! It’s evil! Get it- GET IT AWAY! OOF!”
She was thrown roughly to the ground, landing just centimeters away from the cage.
“I said shut up. Before I make you.”
The gnome whimpered in pain and curled up into the fetal position. ‘This isn’t happening!’ was repeated
inside her head over and over ever since she woke up in her cell. Nobody would even tell her why she
was here, let alone hear her side of the story.
“Better. Now then, you in the cage. Do you know this girl?”
“Yes.”
The calm, oddly monotone voice made the gnome freeze and caused her manic thoughts to grind to a
halt.
“Is she important to you?”
“Yes.”
“... In what way?” asked the old man in spite of himself.
“Teacher. Betrayer.”
Fizzy looked up at the suspended monster despite herself. She wanted to retort somehow, but the words
wouldn’t come out of her throat. Objectively looking at it, that was exactly what she was. This also
meant this monster, despite everything, trusted her in some way. There could be no betrayal without
trust, after all.
As for Edward, his mind was already putting the puzzle together. Of course he was well aware of what
this gnome was capable of. The Appraisal check she went through while unconscious made it clear as to
exactly what her Job and Skills were.
“Hmm… So she taught you the Artificer Job?”
“Yes.”
“Was that all she taught you about?”
“Yes.”
“Does her teaching relate in any way to the Calamity of Monotal?”
“No.”
“C-c-calamity?!” stammered out Fizzy. Her thoughts started running wild again.
“Oh?” asked Edward, smoothly shifting his focus towards the gnome on the ground. “You didn’t know
that this mimic was somehow involved in that?”
“No! I had no idea!”
“Hmm, come to think of it…”
The man’s voice trailed off as he began searching through his notebook. He found the entry concerning
the site of a smashed up caravan that had been found on the imperial highway between Monotal and
Erosa.
“Ah, here we go. Rory and Lark Fizzlespricket. Your family, I presume?”
The gnome’s eyes went wide when her deceased father and brother were mentioned out of the blue.
Anger flared up in her heart for him besmirching their family name like that, but she quickly quelled it.
Pointlessly antagonizing her captor was a really stupid idea.
“... Yes,” she answered weakly.
“Interesting. You know, we never actually found any of the bodies. You wouldn’t know anything about
that would you.”
He considered the possibility of them being somehow connected and faking their deaths to go
underground. Surely they must have mentioned something to their only living kin if they had such
designs.
“Of course not!”
Operative word being ‘if.’
“What about you?” asked the Spymaster, turning around towards Boxxy. “Did you have anything to do
with a 3-wagon caravan along the imperial highway north of here?”
“Yes.”
Fizzy’s eyes became even wider. She turned her gaze back to the Mimic in complete shock.
“Was this after the Cal- the destruction of Monotal?”
“Yes.”
He was convinced they were talking about the same thing. All merchant traffic going in and out of Erosa
was logged, and that convoy was the only one that fit both the timing and the description. Well, they
took a while to confirm this since they never found one of the wagons, but the personal effects recovered
from the scene left no doubt as to the owner’s identity.
“So you were at the site of that ambush?”
“Yes.”
“Did you come upon it before it was attacked?”

“No.”
“After the attack?”
“No.”
“Ah, so you happened upon it while it was already under attack?”
“Yes.”
He scribbled some more details in his notebook while Fizzy listened in intensely. She was so nervous
she felt like her heart was lodged in her throat.
“Did you kill everyone there?”
“No.”
She relaxed a bit.
“But you killed some of them?”
“Yes.”
Then panicked.
“Did that include two male gnomes?”
“No.”
Then came relief.
“So they’re still alive?”
“No.”
Followed by grim acceptance.
“Then where are their bodies?”
“I ate them.”
That instantly turned into rage.
“YOU BASTARD!” she screamed, unable to handle this rollercoaster of emotions.
A plain looking boot forced her down to the cold stone ground. It mercilessly pressed down on her back,
squeezing the air out of her lungs. It was as if a mountain had just sat down on top of her, robbing her of
the ability to speak or even breathe properly, although it did little to stem the flow of tears streaming out
of her eyes.
Of course she knew they were dead. Even if the bodies were never found, she just knew. But hearing
that this creature had brazenly eaten them felt like the ultimate insult to their memory.
“So they were dead when you found them?”
“Yes.”
“What about the adventurer escort? Did you kill them?”
“Yes.”
“Bandits as well?”
“Yes.”
“You ate all of those people, too?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they were there.”
“...”
That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Boxxy was a monster, a creature that attacked others without
warning and for little reason.
The metal door outside of the Mimic’s field of vision opened up once more, followed by numerous sets
of footsteps. A squad of several armored guards stood in front of the Spymaster and saluted him
respectfully.
“Spymaster Allen, sir!” said the one with the extra-shiny hat. “We’re ready for you.”
“Ah, very good. I think we’re about done here. Show this creature to the site, I will be there shortly. And
do be careful with the cage - don’t want to lose any fingers.”
“Yes, sir!”
Edward picked the gnome off the floor and left the jail cell to give the men enough space. Four men
walked into the room and stared at the bizarre creature with a look of clear apprehension. One of them
went over to the box that was stuck to the side of the cage, unlocked it, and then flipped the switch
inside, powering down the electrical current coursing through the metal bars.
The cage was then picked up and carried out of the dank cell and towards the surface.
“... Where are they taking it?” asked Fizzy with a quivering voice.
Edward roughly dropped her on the ground once more.
“Nowhere that’s of any concern to you, prisoner.”
Fizzy sat up and glared at the man.
“Why am I even here?!”
“You seriously don’t know?”
“No. Nobody has told me anything about it!”
“Why it’s because you have to pay for your crimes, of course!”
“What crimes?!”
“Let’s start with gross negligence that led to the death of others.”
“... What?”
“Your incompetence sent that creature into a murderous rampage that not only cost the lives of at least
20 of the city’s protectors, but also caused a riot that resulted in the death of 15 civilians.”
“Wuh… what? You’re pinning that thing’s behavior on me?!”
“Are you saying your rash actions did not set that chain of events into motion?”
“B-b-but-but what was I supposed to do?! Some monster was messing with my brain!”
“Did you not think to hire adventurers?”
“...”
Of course, it was painfully obvious now that someone else pointed it out. Even if she was worried the
guards wouldn’t believe her words, there’s no way adventurers or mercenaries wouldn’t believe her
gold. Dealing with monsters was their specialty, after all. If one thought about things logically then-
No, she refused to believe it. Any citizen in her shoes would have gone to the guards. After all, hiring an
adventurer wasn’t something that could be done in the span of a few minutes, and she didn’t know
whether she’d truly need one until she sprung her trap and verified Boxxy’s identity.
“I’m not buying it!” she insited. “How is any of that negligence?!”
Edward completely ignored her protests and continued his little speech.
“You also taught it a Job without verifying its identity with an Appraisal. You also failed to register
yourself as a Mentor and did not apply for the appropriate teaching license.”
Okay, he had her there. All of those things were, technically speaking, illegal. However, such
misdemeanors were hardly worth jail time.
“Fine! Then I’ll pay my fine and-”
“And it is the result of my observations that I hereby declare you guilty of colluding with a monster to
spread chaos within His Majesty’s territory.”
This human just let out the most ludicrous thing she had ever heard with a completely deadpan voice.
Fizzy instantly understood that her imprisonment was never a matter of guilt or innocence, but simply
this man’s whim. And she couldn’t do anything about it. After all, if someone in power wanted a
commoner, especially a non-human like her, thrown in prison, then they could make up any myriad of
reasons and nobody would bat an eye.
“Why?” she asked. “What do you want from me?!”
“Ah see, we have a good old-fashioned war brewing, and I would very much like your assistance with
the war preparations.”
As wondrous as they were, the vast majority of an Artificer’s creations were weapons. Instruments of
death and destruction that could be used by anyone after a bit of training. They were a profession that
was bound to be in high demand whenever military affairs were concerned.
“You can’t make me do that!” insisted Fizzy.
“Oh, but I can,” answered Edward. “You’re a convicted prisoner. Military service is your sentence.”
The gnome’s heart sank.
Her father always believed Artificers could be more than merchants of death. That their craft can be
used for the betterment of life, rather than simply ending it. He dedicated his life’s work towards that
noble goal. All of his research and experiments were simply meant to create devices of convenience and
nothing more. And while he did create a few weapons, those were only meant as a ways of self-defence
and were designed in such a way as to stun and incapacitate, rather than kill. He was no pacifist, but that
did not mean he wanted to be a murderer, even if it was by proxy.
A naive and foolish ideal that Fizzy believed in with her entire being.
“Don’t worry,” said the old man with a rotten smile on his face. “I’m sure you’ll work it off after a few
decades of hard work!”
He then tossed her inside the cell Boxxy was just a minute ago and shut the door, then walked off after
the other guards.
(51) Instability 3
The Emperor’s Spymaster walked out of the dungeon and into the courtyard of Erosa’s central castle.
The ground was hard-packed dirt with not a scrap of vegetation, save for a small flower garden in the
center of the wide open space. It was surrounded on all sides by magically reinforced stone walls and
was home to three buildings.
The one directly behind the Spymaster was the dungeon, a flat-roofed stone structure with two above-
ground floors and one underground level. Only the top floor’s cells had windows, and even those were
way too tiny to call them that. The narrow vertical slits in the dull gray wall were way too tight for a
person a squeeze through with their head intact, and they were further sealed off by three horizontal steel
bars. Not even someone’s arms could squeeze through those. These were the so-called ‘VIP rooms,’ and
there were 20 of them in total. The dungeon’s total capacity was a little over 80 cells, though realistically
speaking only about 30 of them were in use at any given time.
The building to the far right was the keep itself, the last line of defense should the city get attacked. It
had its own set of walls and stone turrets and was largely used to house the local Lord and his staff. The
Lord had recently added two large blue banners on either side of its main gate, engraved with the image
of a griffin in flight. This was the Empire’s crest and served as a constant reminder of its glory.
The last key structure directly in front of Edward was the city’s central barracks. It was an old
horseshoe-shaped building with an angled roof that was roughly as big as the dungeon, except that it had
a 3rd floor. This was the city guard’s headquarters which housed about 60 guardsmen. The other 450 or
so were stationed at 12 buildings scattered around the city and did most of the actual patrols and
peacekeeping. This place was mostly used for administrative duties and also served as the guard’s main
training facility. The most eye-catching part of this place was the 17-meter tall white tower that housed
the city’s Arcaneum department.
That was Edward’s destination.
The Arcaneum was the organization in charge of magical study and research. Although Jobs and Skills
came ‘pre-packaged’ with their own magic and Spells, that did not mean it was impossible to develop
new ones. It was considerably difficult, time-consuming and expensive, but it was definitely possible.
That was their primary function. The secondary function of the Arcaneum was to investigate, document
and, if necessary, contain the bizarre and illogical.
In a way, it was an oddly fitting place for Boxxy’s upcoming Appraisal. Initially the Spymaster had
foregone inspecting his monstrous prisoner’s Status because he thought it a waste of time. After all, it
was impossible for an enlightened mind to properly assess a monster’s natural Job and Skills.
‘Enlightened’ was the general term used to collectively refer to the civilized races of this world - those
that flocked together, hid behind walls and achieved their goals mostly through wits, intelligence and
tools. They had a completely different way of thinking and understanding from the predominantly
violent and highly instinctive monsters they shared a world with. It was a gap between their mental
states that was impossible to bridge with simply the Appraisal Skill. Attempting to use this on a monster
would simply fill the appraiser’s head with a garbled mess of gibberish that made no sense whatsoever.
Basic information such as HP, MP, Attributes and age were the normally the limit of halfway useful
information.
As it turned out, however, this box had two Side Jobs. It was both a Warlock and an Artificer in addition
to being a Mimic. Which is why the Spymaster suddenly found himself very eager to find out exactly
what it had been up to.
He walked into the Arcaneum tower and went into its basement. This served as a ceremonial chamber
used to perform the various rituals and rites that the tower’s residents required. It was a wide open space
with a size of about 10 by 15 meters and had an abnormally high ceiling at almost 4 meters tall. Several
stone support columns dotted the inside and rows upon rows of bookshelves lined the walls. Tomes,
parchments, paints, bushels of dried herbs, bowls of powdered substances, chunks of ores, jars of
pickled monster parts and a plethora of other resources, ingredients and reagents were all lined up and
waiting to be put to use. Plain-looking chandeliers adorned with white magical lights dangled from the
ceiling. They bathed the subterranean chamber with so much light that it appeared to be brighter than it
was outside. The floor itself was a dull gray stone foundation, much like the dungeon. A significant part
of it was charred, scratched, cracked or otherwise dirtied with various dried up substances - likely
remnants of past rituals.
Edward looked around and spotted a group of 5 individuals in the far corner, huddled around the
familiar black cage. He approached them at a brisk pace, eager to move his interrogation of the monster
onto the next step. He gave the order to prepare this space the instant he realized his prisoner was a
Warlock, but it took a while to have those wand-twirlers leave this place. It was necessary for what he
planned to do, however.
“Sir!”
The four guards that escorted the monster to this spot saluted him respectfully when they noticed his
approach.
“Thank you, guardsmen,” he returned the salute. “That will be all. Leave us, and inform the rest of the
Arcaneum we are not to be disturbed.”
“Yes, sir!”
They quickly made their way out without uttering a single peep. They didn’t quite know who this
stranger was, but none dared to speak up against him. They were told he was their superior in both rank
and ability, which was all they needed to know. Besides, it was common knowledge around the keep that
he had subdued that vicious creature with a single blow. He was so terrifying that they didn’t even dare
to joke about which one was the real monster.
Edward waited for those men to leave the basement, then turned to face the last person remaining in the
chamber. She was a rather short and petite woman with shoulder-length black hair and yellow eyes. Her
face was youthful and plainly cute, but her ice cold expression was severe enough to send chills down
one’s spine. Her outfit consisted of an armor set and tabard that were nearly identical in design to
Edward’s, clearly marking her as one of his subordinates.
“Zone, are you ready for the Appraisal yet?”
The woman nodded her head. “Get to it then, and give me the short version.”
The female operative walked up to the caged monster, which studied her curiously with its out of place
head. She unlocked the powered-down cage and walked into it. She reached out over its head and placed
a hand on its lid, an act which caused Boxxy quite a bit of distress. It instinctively wanted to lash out and
hurt this woman, but an overpowering glare from that man quickly erased any such rebellious thoughts.
Besides, it’s not like it would hurt, right? Adventurers did this sort of thing all the time, after all.
The woman called Zone opened her mouth and quietly chanted two words.
“Full Appraisal.”
Boxxy immediately felt an extremely disturbing sensation. It’s as if countless tiny insects came out of
her hand and spread out across its surface, then burrowed into its faux-wood shell. The invisible bugs
that weren’t actually there enveloped it completely, crawling and tasting it all over. A few seconds, the
woman started reporting on its Status with a quiet, monotone voice.
“Name - Boxxy T. Morningwood. Greater Mimic, 3 months old. HP at 1,524. MP at 1,210. Monster Job
- unknown. Assumed Level 45 to 50 based on the number of unknowable Skills. Level 25 Warlock.
Summon Familiar 7, Power Overwhelming 6, Demonology 6, Crystallize Magic 5. Level 12 Artificer.
Clockwork Expertise 3, Explosives Handling 2. General Skills consist of Stealth 7, an unknowable Skill
assumed to be Shapeshift and a total of six Mastery Skills, ranging from 3 to 8.”
Having finished her duty, she took a hand off the chest. The disgusting sensations permeating Boxxy’s
body stopped instantly, leaving it with a feeling of somehow being violated. It was not a tasty feeling.
“Hmm… It’s quite tough for its Level isn’t it?” mused the Spymaster. “I’m starting to see how it could
kill 20 of those guards so quickly. Also, a total of over 75 Levels in 3 months? Well, all things
considered that’s perhaps even a little low. Zone, is that there?”
“Yes. Butcher of Humanity Perk is present.”
“So it was that after all, huh?”
The Slayer series of Perks that were received upon killing hundreds upon thousands of beings of the
same species. The first rank of these was awarded after one had killed 500 of a specific species, and was
known as ‘Slayer.’ Getting that kill count up to 2,000 would upgrade the perk into a ‘Hunter.’ Racking
up 5,000 would turn one into a ‘Butcher,’ and 20,000 would turn them into a ‘Natural Enemy.’ However,
although these Perks did raise one’s prowess when fighting a specific species, they also had an
additional side effect that was not readily apparent.
Much like Taboo, the Slayer series of Perks altered the way others perceived the holder, and it grew
stronger with each one of the Perk’s upgrade stages. In this monster’s case, humans would feel an
instinctive fear that caused them to shy away from it. Edward himself felt it, although it took him a
while to notice since his Nerves of Steel Skill dulled the influence of external mental influences like
that. It wasn’t until he had spoken to this creature for a few minutes that did he start feeling beads of
cold sweat forming in his palms for no apparent reason. It affected him even though he had reached Job
Level 100 and Ranked Up to become an ascendant - a stronger, faster and smarter variant of a human.
“I should have just started with the Appraisal…”
He felt foolish for thinking it wouldn’t yield any useful information. He trusted his common sense and
wasted his own time, but it was hardly a bad call. After all, who would’ve thought this simple creature
would be capable of gaining not only one, but two non-Monster Jobs. The Artificer one had clearly been
taught by that gnome, which meant that the Warlock one was likely taught by some equally naive
Warlock trainer. Most likely this Carl person.
Still, after interrogating both its mind and its body, he was finally convinced. This creature was the
culprit behind the Calamity. He wasn’t sure how this simple being eluded his Eyes of Truth earlier,
though. No, actually being simple and straightforward like that was why it gave him so much trouble in
the first place. Regardless, it was clear beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was guilty. There was
simply no other way it could have killed 5,000 people in just 3 months. Edward himself was personally
familiar with just how high a number that was. He himself was only a Slayer of Humanity and a Slayer
of Elfkind, despite having performed assassinations and carrying out raids on criminal hideouts for over
60 years.
That was fine by him though. Perks like that were more like stigmas than achievements. In fact, the
same could be said about most of those things and could in some extreme cases be even more damning
than a Level 10 Taboo Skill. They were evidence of one’s past actions that would be easily laid bare
with Appraisal.
And yet he held off having one done on this Mimic until he deemed it was absolutely necessary. After
all, a Full Appraisal could only be performed once every 24 hours. Guilds could afford to have multiple
Scribes on their payroll, but Edward could not risk any of this information leaking out. He only brought
one subordinate with him that was capable of performing a Full Appraisal, so he had to be prudent with
its usage.
And now that it was done, he would take full advantage of it.
“Zone, does it have any other Perks?”
“Yes, five in total. One unknowable. The others are Arcane Assassin, Butcher of Humanity, Collateral
Damage and Grand Theft Arcana.”
The unknowable was something related to being a monster. Collateral Damage is… well, as expected of
something that blew up an entire city. Arcane Assassin was something that one of his other subordinates
possessed and made sense considering it was a Warlock with Stealth. It might even have Assassination,
but if the source of that Skill was a Monster Job then it would also be an unknowable.
That last one, however, was not one he was familiar with.
“Grand Theft Arcana?”
Zone’s eyes stared off beyond the horizon as she focused her attention othe Mimic’s Status screen that
was still in her mind.
“Awarded for taking a dungeon core out of its dungeon. Reward is a plus 10 to all Attributes. The
subject has performed this feat once.”
“Such a thing can happen, huh? I see, so that’s what that was.”
When the Hero, Bernard Samson, described the giant orb thought to be the source of this calamity, it
painted the image of an oversized dungeon core. The nearby dungeon had been completely caved in
from the force of that blast, so there was really no way to verify if its core was still there. But now he
had all the proof he needed.
Not that Boxxy had any idea that its deed had been exposed. It was still immensely nervous, however. It
had just been through its first and highly unpleasant Appraisal, the thing that it had determined must be
avoided at all costs. It was afraid of what would happen to it, of whether this terrifying human and that
similarly dressed woman would just kill it off on the spot. Still, it held onto something vaguely
resembling hope. They clearly wanted something from it, otherwise they would have killed it already. It
was the same reasoning the Mimic itself used when it tried to run away with that gnome in tow.
“Interesting,” said Edward while holding a fist up to his chin. “Very interesting indeed. We’ll have to
bring it back to headquarters so we can finish extracting the details from it. We might even be able to
avoid asking Arcaneum for assistance.”
And it looks like it was right and its life had been spared, at least for the moment. If they were
transporting it somewhere, then that might present an opportunity to escape.
“In the meantime, let’s make sure it doesn’t try to pull anything. Zone, get rid of those two Jobs.”
The head swiveled around to stare up at the black-haired woman still next to it in a panic. Was such a
thing really possible?!
“What if the Warlock Job is involved?” she asked.
“Irrelevant. We just need its memory. Do it.”
Judging from their exchange and mechanical way that woman was moving her hands toward it, the
Mimic quickly concluded that Job removal was indeed what she was trying to do. It felt a new type of
fear, one it hadn’t felt in a long time. Not of death, that particular sensation it had already grown
accustomed to thanks to Edward. This particular sensation was something it had experienced when its
connection to its dungeon home was severed.
It was the fear of the unknown.
That wasn’t all, though. It also felt anger, rage even. How dare these damned humans attempt to separate
it from what was rightfully its own? Did they even know how much time, effort, money and murder it
had to go through to get those Jobs to their current state?!
Desperate and cornered, it lashed out. A dozen fleshy tendrils sprang forth from its surface and instantly
wrapped around the woman’s hands, feet and neck. Now that it had a hold of a hostage, it just needed to-
“Hnng!” it groaned. “Eh? … HNNNNG!”
It tried to spin her around, pin her down and threaten her, but it couldn’t. She didn’t budge a muscle no
matter how much it pulled on her limbs. In fact, it was the one that was getting pulled closer to her, even
though it definitely should have been heavier. It was as if Boxxy was trying to pull down a mountain.
Zone had stopped her movements for a moment at the unexpected assault, but did not seem to mind
them. In fact, she did not seem to even notice them anymore. As if this monster’s utmost effort was little
more than a joke to this woman. In fact, judging from the tiny smile her normally expressionless face
had, that was most likely the case. She placed her hand upon the chest once more, completely
unhindered by its ‘restraints.’
“Job Removal: Warlock.”
A trio of previously inert runes etched into the stone floor under the cage lit up in response to her quiet
words. A white light flowed forth from them and enveloped Boxxy, drowning out the creature’s senses
and assaulting its consciousness.
Proficiency level decreased. Crystallize Magic is no longer available. INT -10. WIS -10.
Proficiency level decreased. Demonology is now Level 5. WIS -2. MNT -2.
Proficiency level decreased. Power Overwhelming is no longer available. INT -24.
Proficiency level decreased. Summon Familiar is no longer available. INT -14. WIS -7.
MNT -7.
Your Warlock Job has been removed. INT -50. MNT -50. END -50.
It was over in an instant. The mental strain of having its Skills removed at once rendered the monster
unconscious. Its tendrils uncoiled themselves from Zone and hung limply down to the ground. When it
woke up, it would find that all the knowledge it had regarding magic and demons was now gone,
obliterated from its mind as if it was never there to begin with.
Well, almost all of it.
“Odd,” said Zone. “Demonology won’t go below Level 5.”
“What? Why not?”
“Unknown.”
“But the Warlock Job and its other Skills were successfully removed?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…”
Edward had made sure to brush up on his knowledge of the Warlock Job ever since he heard demons
were involved in the Monotal case. He had already deduced the presence of Summon Familiar and
Demonology well before this Appraisal, although he had no idea why this Skill refused to go away.
“Good enough,” he stated. “Demonology is practically useless on its own anyway.”
The monster would probably retain the knowledge of demonic rituals, but the Skill’s main function was
to upgrade Summon Familiar, which was no longer in its possession. The contracts it had with those two
demons would have been severed as well.
“Do the next one.”
“Job Removal: Artificer.”
Proficiency level decreased. Explosives Handling is no longer available. DEX -4. WIS -4.
Proficiency level decreased. Clockwork Expertise is no longer available. DEX -6. PER -6.
Your Artificer Job has been removed. DEX-24. WIS -24. PER -24.
A window flashed inside the Mimic’s mind, but its owner was currently out for the count.
“Done. No abnormalities,” reported Zone.
“Good,” said Edward while staring absentmindedly at the unconscious monster. “Very good indeed.
Looks like we’re done here.”
“We are?” asked Zone. “What about the elf connection?”
“Non-existent. As expected, it was either a fluke or an accident rather than an elven conspiracy.”
Of course the Spymaster never quite believed the elves were actually responsible for something like the
Calamity of Monotal. He kept his mind open to the possibility, but a man of his experience was able to
easily spot that the young Hero had been deceived. And now that he finally met and spoke with the
perpetrator, he was convinced.
To begin with, those cowards of the elven-populated Ishigar Republic to the north would never dare
incur the wrath of the militaristic Lodrak Empire. Their territory may be larger than the Empire’s at a
glance, but was far behind when it came to matters of military strength. And while such acts of terrorism
were right up their alley, they were also far more competent than the farce at Monotal. If an agent of
theirs was indeed responsible for the Calamity, then there’s no way they’d ever allow it to be traced back
to them. They take their spying and skulking in the shadows very seriously.
Then there was the matter of these supposed perpetrators’ choice of target. Considering the destructive
potential of this Calamity, hitting a place like Monotal made very little sense. That city had very little
strategic or economic value in the grand scheme of things. If they truly had the capability and the
intention of wounding the Empire in such a way, then they would have gone after a more valuable
region. Heck, might as well blow up the royal capital and gouge out the heart of the Empire while
they’re at it. It was what Edward would have done in their position.
In fact, it’s what he was planning to do to them at this very moment.
“Sir, requesting permission to keep suspect as a pet.”
His subordinate’s bizarre question made Edward’s scheming grind to a halt. The black-haired woman
was gently stroking the unconscious Mimic’s imitation wood surface with a tiny smile on her face.
“Really, Zone? This again?”
“Affirmative.”
“Haah. Alright, I’ll bite. Why?”
“I have determined it is quite cute.”
This problem child always had a twisted sense of aesthetics. This wasn’t the first time she made the
ludicrous request of keeping a murderous monster around as a pet, either.
“Also, there is a high chance that it likes me,” she added.
“I highly doubt that. It just tried to take you hostage, you know.”
“It did? When?”
“You know, when it wrapped those tentacles around you?”
He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. His subordinate tilted her head in confusion.
“That wasn’t a hug? But it was so squishy and warm...”
Edward sighed again. Did she really not notice? While it’s true that the monster had no chance of
overpowering her outrageous STR Attribute, that didn’t mean it was being nice. Honestly, how come she
was this ignorant even though she had Ranked Up? It really just boggled the mind.
“No, Zone, it wasn’t showing affection. It tried to hurt you.”
“I don’t mind. I promise I’ll discipline it. Therefore-”
“Forget it. We’ll be disposing of that thing once Hook is done rooting around in its mind for the
Calamity method.”
The man with the codename Hook was a subordinate of Edward, much like Zone. His Main Job was that
of Psionic, a rare occupation that utilized mind-based Skills and Spells in combat. Their Domination
magic that was far more powerful and versatile than anything a Warlock had access to. Something like
sifting through that monster’s memories to get the details surrounding that event was child’s play for a
Psionic of Hook’s caliber.
And once Edward had gotten what he wanted out of it, he would execute it.
“...”
“Don’t give me that pleading look, Zone. You know we can’t risk the truth of the Calamity leaking out.”
The elves destroyed a human city and murdered thousands of humans.
This was the ‘official’ story he fed to that immature and hot-blooded Emperor. It wouldn’t be long
before that lie was propagated throughout the Empire and spoon-fed to its citizens. With the entire
country’s disdain and distrust towards the elves rising, it would be the perfect opportunity to finally
engage in open warfare and wipe those twigs out from the face of this world. Once that was over, the
Empire would be able to gobble up or vassalize the remaining nations, securing its dominion over the
continent.
Some small part of him, actually wanted to thank that moronic Mimic. Not only did it provide them with
a plausible reason to get the populace to support this war, but it was also going to provide them with a
weapon of mass destruction. If the Calamity could be replicated and weaponized, then even world
domination would be within the Empire’s grasp.
Or at least, that’s the way he would manipulate that juvenile Emperor into seeing things. As far as
Edward was concerned, all these wars on the horizon were nothing more than a way for him to further
his Jobs and Skills. He was so close to achieving a second Rank Up that he could almost taste it, but a
man of his position found it difficult to raise Spy Skills during such peaceful times. He was so close to
achieving a Breakthrough, and then he just had to diligently work at becoming a Level 100 Spy, at
which point he would achieve his second Rank Up.
Of course, one could argue he should have picked an easier Job, but he had no time for such things. His
lifespan may have been extended after he became an ascendant, but even that felt like it was about to run
out. However, once he has evolved from an ascendant into an immortal, he would have all the time in
the world to work towards achieving the ultimate Rank Up.
Until then, however, he had to be prudent, patient and careful.
“Now go fetch those guardsmen and tell them to drag our friend back to its cell. Prepare both it and that
gnome for transport back to the capital. I want them out of here by tomorrow, understood?”
“Understood.”
(52) Fluctuation 4
“Teach!” yelled Boxxy.
“No!” replied Fizzy in an equally high voice. “Don’t wanna! Go away!”
“I want to! But cage!”

The Mimic swayed inside its personal prison as if to make a point. Not too hard though, the highly
untasty glowy stuff was back.
It had been in a rage ever since it woke up 30 minutes ago and found itself back in the cell, minus 2
Jobs. It was still coming to terms with its more… limited brain capacity. After all, it had lost about a
third of its INT and a good chunk of WIS. Its mental processes had regressed back to what they were
three weeks ago - just after the Calamity that started this whole mess took place.
And it did not like that, not one bit.
“Teeeach!” yelled Xera’s misplaced head again.
It wanted to reclaim what it once had. The Warlock Job, it had no idea where it would get it. The first
time was a total lucky fluke, it was highly unlikely for that to happen again. At least Artificer could be
recovered easily enough as long as that insufferable gnome granted it the Job again.
“Please! Just leave me alone!”
She was, understandably, not particularly willing to do so. Fizzy had not even come to terms with the
horrible reality of her unjust imprisonment when those guards came back and left this terrifying box in
the same cell with her. She begged the guards to be put in a different place, but those humans just stared
at each other awkwardly before locking them in together and silently walking away.
A man bearing His Majesty’s royal seal had given them an order, and they carried it out. Nothing more,
nothing less. Even though all of them sympathized with her, none of them were willing to risk incurring
that man’s wrath.
“HHHRRAAAHRG!” roared the Mimic. “Teach! Me! Art fisher!”
“Oh shut up already you fucking idiot!”
*CLANG*
*BDZT*
“Ow!”
Why did she kick the cage just now? She knew full well it was electrified. Maybe the real idiot was her
after all?
“Okay, look!”
The gnome decided it would be probably better to just explain.
“You see these shackles?!”
She lifted her bound arms for emphasis.

“These are mana-sealing shackles, you dimwit! Not only do they disable its recovery, but they also drain
any MP left over! And I can’t activate my Mentor Skill without MP! Therefore, I can’t give you the Job
even if I wanted to!”
“You lie! Betrayer! Liar! Un-tasty, vile thing!”
“You have that same stuff bolted onto you, moron! You don’t have your MP, either, right?!”
“... No.”
“So if you understand then please just shut the fuck up!”
“...”
And it did indeed go quiet. The gnome stared at it, her small shoulders going up and down as she
steadied her agitated breathing. She really should have just said that stuff at the start. Boxxy was always
good at listening to her direction so it probably wouldn’t ask again. Alas, once she did indeed calm
herself down, she was once again gripped by anxiety and uncertainty.
She just yelled and insulted a monster that could gobble her up in one mouthful. That realization was
more than enough to cause her to back off into the far corner of the cell and lie down in the fetal
position, facing away from her cellmate. At least this arrangement was entirely temporary. Those guards
said something about moving both of them the next day, so all she had to do was grin and bear it until
they were separated.
And then continue grin and bearing it. For years. While she was forced to build war machines. And
would likely be whipped and beaten if she did a poor job of it. Hell, she might just be whipped and
beaten regardless of how well she did. Would they even release her once her sentence was up? Would
that sentence even end?!
“How fast?”
Fizzy looked over her shoulder at those words. The Mimic had completely regained its composure and
was currently asking her something with a determined face.
“... How fast what?”
She found herself answering despite herself.
“How fast does MP go away?”
“How can you not know?”
“Was not awake.”
“... I think it was 50 per second or something like that.”
“...”
It went quiet once more. The pale-faced head retreated back inside its shell, leaving the monster’s
appearance as a simple, suspended chest. It would appear it had no more desire to speak with her, and
Fizzy wasn’t exactly looking for a conversation partner right now.
Okay, she was. She desperately wanted someone to at least hear out her troubles, but she wasn’t going to
get a shred of sympathy from that creature. Why did she have to share a cell with this horrible monster
that had caused her so much pain in the first place? First it… Huh?
She sat up and looked at it curiously. Did it actually do anything to her?
No, no, no, Boxxy had clearly stated it was responsible for the death of her brother and father! That was
more than enough reason to hate it, right?! Wait, that’s not right. During the interrogation it mentioned it
at the scene of their deaths, but it claimed it didn’t kill them, but merely… ate them. Still, desecrating
the dead like that was surely deserving of scorn, right? Not to mention it went on a murdering spree and
wiped out both the bandits that killed her family and the adventurers that failed to protect them.
In other words… it got revenge for her, didn’t it? Anyone and everyone that was responsible for those
two’s untimely demise was sitting somewhere at the bottom of that monster’s gullet.
“Argh!”
She screamed and rolled around on the ground. What the hell was she thinking?! There’s no way that
monster would’ve let them live! It would have definitely finished them off if the bandits hadn’t gotten to
them first! Then there’s all the times it wiped her memory for no reason!
Ah, but that was technically to protect its identity, wasn’t it? Wait, how come it did that instead of just
killing her? If Fizzy had simply talked to it rather than betrayed it, then they would definitely be in her
workshop practicing their craft rather than sitting in jail and awaiting some dismal fate.
If anything, Boxxy was technically her benefactor considering how much business it gave her. Fizzy’s
Fidgety Widgets was never a prosperous shop, but the unfortunate gnome was struggling to keep it
afloat all on her own. The vast majority of her clients had cancelled their orders once they found out
those two were no more, so she was really in a pinch about how to maintain her father’s legacy.
“... Boxxy, can I ask you something?”
The Mimic was currently trying to organize its fractured mind, so it didn’t feel like engaging the little
gnome in the corner. The all of the knowledge pertaining to magic and almost everything it knew about
demons vanished in a flash of light. Its knowledge of cogwheels, gears, sprockets, springs and
explosives was also likewise gone with the wind.
No wait, it wasn’t all gone. Those one-on-one tutoring sessions with Fizzy were still in its memory. The
conversations with Carl and most of the memories it had concerning its familiars were still there. The
information Xera had gathered for it before it got captured was mostly intact as well. Perhaps it could
recover from this after all?
“Why did you want to become an Artificer?” asked Fizzy.
It would seem she had taken the monster’s lack of response for silent confirmation it would speak with
her, when in truth it was just ignoring her. If it could magnificently ignore a couple of demons having
violent sex for 6 hours straight, then some nosy little gnome as no trouble at all. But still, perhaps there
might be merit in speaking with her. She might yield some more useful information, and it would need
all the help it could get if it was to break out of this place.
Xera’s bald face appeared from the chest’s front. The gnome didn’t even flinch at the bizarre action.
“Machines are tasty.”
“... What?”
“Machines are tasty.”
“You... eat Artificer-made tools?”
“No.”
“But you think they’re tasty?”
“Yes.”
“How can you claim they’re tasty when you don’t want to eat them?”
“Because they are.”
“... What’s with that inane reasoning?”
“You don’t think art fishers are tasty?”
“... Um, no?”
“Then why teach art fishing if you don’t think its tasty?”
“...”
The gnome decided it would be better for everyone involved if she just minded her own business. She
laid down in the fetal position once again, but with one small change. This time she lay down while
facing the Mimic and quietly stared it. Boxxy seemed to mirror that sentiment and returned to its mental
cataloguing after making its head disappear. The cell remained silent for the rest of the day and evening,
save for the footsteps of the odd guard patrol, Fizzy’s own breathing and the gentle hum of the
electrified cage. The mentally exhausted gnome ended up focusing on that last one. It was a familiar
sound that reminded of a better, happier time.
After all, that cage was something she had personally made over 6 months ago by the behest of the local
Lord, a man named Osorlov. Her ears and Tick Counter Skill told her the electrifying mechanism wasn’t
functioning as efficiently as it should be. Those humans had probably ignored her advice regarding and
neglected doing proper maintenance or stored in sub-optimal conditions. She even gave them a manual
and everything. Well, all that meant was that the charge wouldn’t persist as long, but that still meant it
should last for at least two weeks.
Fizzy eventually found herself lulled to sleep by that oddly comforting sound. However minor it was, it
still reminded her of a better, happier time. Perhaps it’s because of that noise that she dreamt about the
time she had an argument with her brother over what constituted as a ‘clean work environment.’ That
guy, how he managed to find anything inside that ‘organized chaos’ of his was a complete mystery. He
even had the audacity to get angry when Cornie went and tidied up the mess of tools and parts he made.
It got so intense that they nearly came to blows over it.
“Rise and shine you two!” came a guard’s voice, waking her up from that strangely happy dream.
“Ack! Wha-! Oh…”
She was back in the real world, much to her disappointment. At least she didn’t feel quite as depressed
about it as yesterday. Somehow, watching that Mimic quietly sit there made her strangely motivated.
Wailing and thrashing about wasn’t going to help her in any way. Also, she really didn’t want to lose to
the Mimic. If that stupid box could calmly await what Fizzy assumed would be a much more cruel fate
than her own, then the least she could do was not be a crybaby about it.
The guards escorted both her and the caged monster out of the dungeon and into the courtyard. Waiting
for them there were a duo of griffins. These winged monsters appeared to have the front half of an eagle
and the rear half of a janther. Their beak-tipped heads and long necks were covered in brilliantly white
feathers that turned to a dark brown around their chest and forelegs. The front two feet ended in birdlike
talons and were also covered in brown plumage. The rest of the creature’s torso as well as its hind legs
were like that of a huge cat with a golden coat that seemed to glisten in the morning sun. Their long tail
was tipped with a spattering of feathers.
Those banners visible off to the side really did not do these majestic beasts justice. The feeling they gave
off when met in person was completely different from some caricature. They even seemed to give off a
regal aura that made one instinctively want to grovel before them.
Well, that last bit could also be attributed to their huge size. Standing with their heads held high put their
eye level a good 7-8 meters off the ground. The massive wings that were attached to just above their
front legs unfurled to a wingspan of nearly 15 meters.
Strapped to each of their wide backs like a pair of oversized backpacks were two specially designed
cabins. One was made out of wood and had round glass windows - clearly intended to ferry passengers
while shielding them from the frigid winds that usually accompany high-altitude flight. It was highly
probably the temperature inside would be regulated to ensure maximum comfort. The other one was, for
lack of a better term, a giant steel box that was used to carry any cargo and/or luggage the air convoy’s
passengers may have.
“That’s how we’re being transported?!” asked Fizzy with an oddly enthusiastic tone. “I’ve always
wanted to ride a griffin!”
“Easy there, girlie,” said one of the guards escorting the two prisoners. “Don’t get your hopes up. You
and that thing over there are riding with the cargo.”
And there went what little optimism the female gnome could muster. Now she really felt like crying.
The two of them were brought before the gigantic beast that was currently lieing down. A large wheeled
ramp had been brought out to provide access to its back that was a few meters off the ground. The
guards dutifully escorted both prisoners up that wooden slope and unlocked the double doors that were
at the back of the windowless metal container. They swung open to reveal a largely empty space. Beams
of sunlight entered through a series of small holes along the sides of it, near the top, providing air and
little bit of light.
Boxxy’s cage was placed in the far right corner on a thin mat of Bouncewood bark. This was, ironically,
made from the same batch of materials that the monster itself had delivered. The cage was then strapped
securely to the floor using a number of ropes that appeared to be coated in some type of resin. They
wrapped around the cage’s bars were tied to specially designed hooks that poked out of the bottom and
sides of the container itself. Once it was properly secured, one of the guards re-started the cage’s electric
field. The floor mat and ropes appeared to have been specially prepared so as to not disperse the charge
through the rest of the metal container.
As for Fizzy, she was also put into a cage that was attached to the floor, although this one was
considerably smaller, probably intended for animals rather than people. It was more to keep her from
doing as she pleased rather than keeping her from being tossed around. After all, the flight would go on
for 2 days straight and would leave her and her alleged accomplice completely unsupervised during that
time.
The Spymaster was confidents Boxxy’s restraints would be sufficient. It lost the ability to use magic,
and even then a monster’s natural abilities demanded MP in order to function. Any shapeshifting tricks it
tried to use would be cut short by an electric jolt. In some ways, the gnome was far more likely to escape
her shackles. An Artificer would be able to take apart pretty much anything, provided they had the right
tools. Of which Fizzy had none. Still, Edward made sure she was locked up securely and not allowed to
run free.
At least he had the common courtesy to provide her with some basic necessities. A small cot filled with
hay to lie down on, thick blankets to shield herself from the cold, a number of water skins and dried
military rations for sustenance and a small bucket for her waste. This, wasn’t out of kindness or pity, but
necessity. He couldn’t put her to work if she ended up starving or freezing to death during the trip. That
latter one was a very real possibility since their course would take them above the snow-covered
summits of the Sawblade Mountain range to the north.
Once the prisoners were securely strapped in place and Edward personally inspected their restraints, he
left the cargo container and locked its doors. About an hour later they heard the griffins’ eagle-like cries.
Their temporary dwelling then started shaking violently to signify they were now airborne. The shaking
and swaying lasted for about 20 minutes while the creature gained altitude, but it seemed to be a smooth
ride after that.
Fizzy spent her time idly staring at the box in the corner. There wasn’t any particular reason for that,
though. There was simply nothing else around to distract her from her depressing thoughts. Plus, the
container would shake occasionally and cause the box to sway into the electrified cage and get zapped,
to which it reacted with a yelp and growl. It was oddly entertaining to watch.
The hours rolled by. Morning turned to noon, then to evening, then to night. The beams of clear sunlight
that poked through the holes near the ceiling and bathed the interior in a soft yellow light gradually
disappeared. They were replaced with much weaker moonlight that barely lit up the inside.
The gnome could not sleep though. The sound the winds made as they rushed into those holes and the
occasional shaking made such things pointless. That luxury carriage she saw was probably stabilized to
the point where its occupants would think they were on solid ground. Not to mention it would be
pleasantly warm. The blankets she was given were not quite enough. While she probably wouldn’t
freeze to death, it didn’t mean that she wasn’t cold. Those equally chilly rations and water she had to
consume didn’t help much either.
As for the Mimic, it did what most of its more simple-minded and less complicated brethren did. It sat
perfectly still while waiting for a good opportunity to come. It took a lot of patience, a good amount of
pain and having to give up two of its hard-earned Jobs, but that chance had finally come.
And Boxxy T. Morningwood would seize it without fail.
(53) Unpredictability 5
A prisoner escaping their bindings and making a run for it could often be traced back to a single act of
negligence. Edward Allen knew this better than most people, having been imprisoned and escaped from
said prisons many times in his turbulent youth and long career. Which is why he made sure to keep a
very watchful eye on the Mimic that held the answers to the Cataclysm in its box-addled mind. It was
denied freedom at all times and was given absolutely nothing, not even food or water. Its pathetic
attempt at restraining Zone served as a prime example of a situation that could’ve gone awry if it wasn’t
for that woman’s Status.
The Spymaster took every feasible measure to make sure the monster he captured would not be allowed
to break out. Those creatures were unpredictable and had unnatural abilities and Skills, but one thing
universally held true - they relied on MP. Once the mana-draining restraints were in place, all that was
left to do was to make sure its physical restraints were not lacking, either. Even in the odd chance it
somehow escaped those bindings, it would be unable to lay a tentacle on the electrified cage it was in.
The experienced Rogue had taken every precaution to make sure nothing would go wrong after Boxxy
was captured. Part of him even wanted to ride in the same container as the Mimic in order to keep an eye
on it, but doing such a thing was perhaps obsessing over things too much. In the end his subordinates
convinced him to spend the trip with them in the relative luxury of the lead griffin’s passenger cabin
while those prisoners were left to suffer in the cargo container in the back.
However, the singular act of negligence, the one thing that had gone wrong and would provide the key
to its escape had occurred just before the monster had been taken into custody. In the gap between
getting kicked through a building and having that knock-out potion poured onto it, the Mimic had
managed to withdraw a single mana potion from its Storage. It had originally intended to drink it, heal
up and run away with all due haste, but got incapacitated before it could do so.
That crystal vial had been rolling around under its tongue ever since then. In a way, Edward’s personal
attention had kept it from actually making a run for it. The Mimic then spent the next day quietly
observing its surroundings and learning about its restraints. It very nearly blew its one chance at running
away when it tried (and failed miserably) to take that black haired woman hostage.
But it stopped itself at the last moment. It persevered and waited, and now its time was finally here. It
was the cover of night, in the middle of the air, with nobody around to stop it. If that detestable human
was able to catch it even under such circumstances, then its chances of running away with its life were
truly zero to begin with.
First, it grew out a short, thick tentacle and pointed it at the small box that was electrifying its prison.
Next, crunched the potion and put its plan into motion.
You have used a Mana Potion. MP +200.
Acid started forming inside its appendage while the the Mimic accessed its Storage and took out the
other mana potion, its last healing potion and those two shiny daggers it liked so much.
Your magical power has been forcefully dispersed. MP -50.
The metal restraints bolted onto its surface that forced its mouth closed started glowing with a small, red
light right as the corrosive liquid gushed forth and splattered against the control box. The deluge did not
last longer than a second and a half, however. That small spurt was all the monster could muster before
what little MP it had managed to recover had run dry.
“Hm? Huh?”
Fizzy, who was currently preoccupied with trying to tear into an ice-cold piece of dried meat, heard the
splashing sounds coming from the corner and turned her attention to it, just in time to notice the fading
glow of its restraints. The dim lighting made it impossible to see what was going on, but she still peered
into the darkness.
*KKKHRRT BBZZZZZT PTSUN*
Several worrying noises came out of the control box and a thin column of white smoke rose up from
within, only to be swept up in the freezing draft that permeated the flying container. Boxxy slowly
stretched out a tentacle and touched the black bars of its cage without getting shocked. Although the acid
did nothing to eat away the sturdy bars themselves, it still did its job of messing up the delicate internals
of that control box.
Next would be the painful part. Breaking free of these restraints.

It gripped the two daggers inside its mouth and thrust them upwards, into the roof of its mouth.
“HRRRMPPH!”
The Mimic let out a muffled scream of pain as the two pure-white blades pierced its lid. It then gripped
the pointy ends carefully so as to not cut itself and took them out of its interior. The pure-white mithril
glistened ominously in the moonlight as it waited for its HP to recover and its wounds to heal.
“... What?”
Fizzy’s eyes were unable to completely pierce the darkness. She could just barely see the outline of a
Mimic that appeared to be holding two shiny things. It then raised those shiny things and thrust them
into itself.
“HNNNNNG!” it groaned.
The daggers dug into its faux-wood flesh, just under one of the places that its mana-draining restraints
had been bolted on and fused to it. It was only a surface wound, so the damage wasn’t great, but it still
hurt like hell. After about 30 seconds, it finally managed to dislodge one of the bolts that were keeping
the metal brace in place. It was removed from its hole and discarded onto the ground.
“Hnn! Hnn! Hnn!” it panted while thick yellow blood oozed out of its surface.
One down. Fifteen to go.
While it’s true mimics were shapeshifters, their chest-shaped shells were something they were unable to
morph. Growing various bits and pieces from its surface or altering its color or texture were about the
extent of what they could do with them. So something like splitting them open to ‘let go’ of those bolts
was impossible. This was something its captors appeared to understand well. It was also why it had to
resort to operating on itself in order to remove them.
Once its HP had recovered it moved onto the next one. Over the next hour it kept hurting itself in order
to free itself. One after the other the metal bolts keeping it firmly sealed came loose. As for the gnome,
she had no idea what was going on and merely covered herself under her blankets in an effort to block
out those horrible sounds.
Your magical power is no longer being suppressed. Automatic MP recovery has returned to
normal.
Now free of its magic-sealing restraints, the Mimic landed roughly on the floor of its cage. But it wasn’t
quite done. Next was its age-old enemy - the metal grating. Thankfully, its captors had revealed the
weakness of this once-formidable foe, so it was no longer worried or afraid of it. It sat patiently on the
ground, reveling in the sensation of not being bound so tightly anymore. Once its MP had recovered
naturally, it put its weapons and unused potions back inside its Storage. Then it stretched out a tentacle,
slipped it through the bars in the cage, used Metal Mimicry to recreate the cage’s key from memory and
unlocked it.
It triumphantly stepped out of the cage.
“Huhuhuhuhu,” it laughed. It threw its toothed maw open as wide as it would go. “Hashashashasha!
HAH SHAH SHAH SHAH SHAH SHAH SHAH!”
A hearty laugh to signify its victory through sheer perseverance. Freedom was truly tasty.
“Uuuu… What’s it up to now?”
Hearing the oddly cheerful noises her cellmate was making, the gnome peeked out from under her
covers.
Just in time to see a spider-legged chest that had broken completely free from its restraints.
“...”
She stared at it blankly like a deer in headlight. The monster opened its jaws to reveal two rows of
jagged, mismatched metal teeth, which promptly bit into the roof of her cage.
“No… NO!” she yelled. “Stay away! Please!”
The monster ignored her screams as it chewed its way through her wrought iron cage. They groaned and
creaked and cracked, but were no match for the monster’s Metal Mimicry reinforced jaws. The metal
rods were mercilessly torn and ripped out. Once it had made a wide enough hole, it reached its tentacles
inside the cage and coiled them around the struggling gnome.
“Nooo! *Sob* Don’t hurt me! Please don’t eat me!”
Continuing to ignore her pleas for mercy, it unceremoniously put her in its mouth and closed its jaws
around her.
Now that she had been taken care of, it moved towards the next obstacle in its path - the metal double
doors in the back of the container. Not that it proved to be much of a challenge. It simply sprayed the
area around the lock with acid until it gave way about 30 seconds later. They swung open and dangled
erratically due to the speed the griffin was flying at.
Boxxy stood and stared at the view before it with its frontal eye. The sky was clear without a single
cloud, providing an unobstructed view of the heavens. The griffin’s feather-tipped tail swung about
slightly with the beast’s every motion and its golden-furred rump obstructed the view of the ground
directly underneath, but the dark ground was still visible off in the distance. This exquisite scenery made
a profound impact on the Mimic.
It reminded it that it was actually in mid-air. A detail that seemed to have temporarily escaped Boxxy’s
mind.
That was hardly a problem, though.
The Mimic focused all the biomass it had remaining and sent it towards its rear. Two wide bat-like
wings grew out steadily. Yet another body part it had learned from its delicious Snack. It took a bit of
time to gather its courage and then took a running leap off the container and into the night while
unfurling its borrowed demonic wings.
Then fell like a rock.
It was currently a little heavier than it usually was, so it took a while for it to properly even out into a
glide. Full-blown flight was out of the question since the wingspan-to-weight ratio wasn’t very good, so
controlling and adjusting its descent was all it could do. Of course, it had already played around with the
idea before and had fallen and hurt itself plenty of times before it gave up on soaring through the sky
under its own power.
The two gryphons continued on their way at ludicrous speeds. Looks like its escape had gone unnoticed,
which was good. It had to wait until the sun was out before attempting this in order to maximize its
chances, otherwise they might have noticed its slow descent. Granted, it didn’t believe that simple
darkness would be enough to completely hide it from those people, but it was better than doing this in
the middle of the day. There was also the vague hope that some or all of them would sleep. Whether that
was indeed the case or not, one thing remained clear.
The Mimic was now free.
Its escape would probably go unnoticed until those people reached their destination. If it was lucky, they
would think it died on impact with the ground. If not, they’d probably organize a hunt for it. However,
they would have no idea exactly when and where this breakout occur. There would simply be way too
much ground to cover, and the monster would not simply stand still and wait to be found.
Not that Boxxy could actually piece any of this together. If it was a few days ago, it might have come to
these reassuring conclusions on its own, but right now it was preoccupied with not falling to its death.
After what felt like an eternity, the Mimic finally landed somewhere in the Sawblade Mountains. The
sparsely forested area it touched down in was on a rather steep slope. It withdrew its wings and carefully
surveyed its surroundings. Once it made sure nothing was coming after it, it finally relaxed a little.
Only a little, though. It had no idea where it was, what monsters lurked around or whether it could even
find food. Complacency had gotten the better of it for once again and cost it dearly. The first time this
happened, it very nearly died to a Fleshmaiden. This second time it again narrowly escaped death, but
had two of its Jobs forcibly removed, causing it to lose a huge chunk of its combat strength.
At least it held the key to recovering one of them.
It opened its maw and spat out something small, pink-haired and unconscious. It would appear the drool-
covered Fizzy had fainted from terror at the prospect of being eaten. After all, she was surrounded by
teeth and a fleshy tongue wrapped firmly around her to keep her from resisting. Contact with her
shackles slightly drained away at the Mimic’s mana, but it wasn’t enough to keep it from escaping with
her.
As for the reasons it saved her, it had two. The obvious one was that it wanted its Artificer Job back. The
second one was that it needed someone around to teach it things. Now that Snack was gone and Carl was
unreachable, it had nobody around to guide it through civilized society. Granted, it didn’t quite trust this
gnome, but it was the best source of information it could dig up on short notice. If it wasn’t for her
valuable input concerning those mana-draining shackles, it might not have managed to escape like it did.
Oh, that’s right.
It reached down with its trio of tongue-tentacles and started fiddling with the locks on the shackles. The
monster’s mind still held some memories from Fizzy’s Artificer lessons, not to mention it could clearly
grasp its tumblers through its magical perception. It didn’t take long for it to pick the lock on them.
Proficiency level increased. Lockpick is now Level 1. DEX +3. PER +1.
The gnome’s shackles slid off her hands and feet and fell to the ground with a small rattling noise, which
caused her to stir.
“Uuugh…” she groaned. “Hnn? Waaaah!”
She suddenly sat up screaming, throwing her eyes as wide open as they could go. In front of her was a
dark, creepy pinewood forest. Above her was the clear night sky. She was sitting on a steep and oddly
muddy slope. To her left was a wooden chest. To her right-
“AAAAAAAAHHH!”
She crawled backwards away from it, brought face to face with the monster that tried to eat her.
“Haah, haah, haah,” she panted. “You… didn’t eat me? We’re outside?! And my cuffs are- You freed
me?!”
A pale-skinned head appeared in an instant.
“Yes.”
“Why?! How?! What?!”
“Art fisher. Teach.”
“...”
Right. It wanted something from her. What other reason could it possibly have for letting her live?
“And … Will you eat me after I teach you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Not tasty.”
“...”
“Also, good teacher. Smart. Liar and betrayer, but good teacher. Therefore - teach, and will not eat.”
It would seem that her life was not in danger. That is, not until her usefulness ran out.”
“Wh-what about after I’m done teaching you all I can? You’ll kill and eat me then, right?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Need you.”
“You… what? You?! Need me?!”
“Yes.”
“What for?!”
“For stuff. And things.”
“And you’re willing to trust me? After all I did to you?”
“No trust. You liar and betrayer. But machines don’t lie. They’re tasty. Not like you.”
“...”
She stared dumbly at that pale head that bore a stupid, loopy smile. ‘Machines don’t lie.’ The wording
was a bit different, but that phrase was originally the same one her father liked to say. The same one she
passed onto her student.
Machines have no sin.
“Alright. I’ll teach you.”
No matter how much she debated the matter, what choice did she really have? She would either be
useful or get eaten. That was her world right now.
“Good,” said Boxxy with an even wider smile.
*Clap*
*Clap*
*Clap*
A sharp, loud noise repeated itself slowly for a total of three times. It seemed to pour in from all sides at
once.
“Well done! Good show!”
*Clap*
*Clap*
*Clap*
In the next instant, Fizzy and Boxxy both found themselves seated next to each other at a large square
dining table rather than on the forest floor. The table had dozens of plates with all manner of things,
although none of those seemed to be food. A tiny stone bridge, a human kidney, a small leather bag, a
hammer, a guitar, a legless fox and a small stone key, to name a few of the random objects gathered. The
scenery beyond the table was a huge white space that seemed to go on forever.
And sitting opposite them was a tanned, dandy-looking old man.
“Forgive the sudden intrusion,” he said with a voice that did not match his apparent age, “but I simply
had to congratulate you. That escape was a truly marvelous performance.”
“What?” blurted out Fizzy.
She then blinked in surprise, only to realize the man sitting at the table was now a purple goat with a
tophat.
“WHAT?!”
She blinked again, this time the goat turned into a floating kettle. Next time she blinked her eyes it was a
lizardman with dark glasses and a mohawk. She blinked once more only to see a green-skinned woman
in an evening gown and no face.
“...”
The thing in front of her took a different shape every time her eyelids covered her sight for a tiny instant.
She looked towards Boxxy, who seemed to have retreated its head and was currently chesting with all its
might.
“I think I’ve finally gone nuts,” stated Fizzy with an incredulous tone.
“Nah, you’re probably fine,” said the breakdancing gecko. “It’s just that you mortals have difficulty
perceiving me. Even the other gods have difficulty maintaining eye contact sometimes.”
“Mortals? Other gods?”
“Oh, right!” exclaimed the inside-out sock. “I believe introductions are in order.”
The bare-bones skeleton then stood up and took off its wings as if they were a book.
“My name is Bob, the God of Chaos.”
The inside-out elephant then sat back down on its nails and let a fish float onto his foot.
“And I have called you two here to make you an offer you will most likely not refuse.”
(54) Chaos 6
“Wait, hold on!” screamed Fizzy. “There’s no such thing as a God of Probability!”
“Masaka!” screamed Joseph.
“... What?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” apologized Mulder. “I thought we were playing ‘Scream random things that make no
sense.’ It’s one of my favorite games, you know.”
“I was doing no such thing!”
“Yes you were. I assure you I’m very much real.”
“Then prove it!” insisted the gnome.
“Try and say my name three times in a row.”
“Tyrone, Jose, Amy. Now wh-”
She froze mid sentence. The gnome was absolutely sure she was saying the name right, but it always
came out differently. Even thinking back on it now she was certain she was referring to the same entity,
despite that making no logical sense.
“Not convinced! You could still be messing with me! I won’t be fooled by some stupid illusions! I mean,
I’ve even never heard of a God of Uncertainty!”
The same oddity seemed to apply to his title, too. She went and called him the ‘Goddess of Chance’ not
‘God of Randomness’ as he introduced himself just moments ago.
Daniel smiled back at her from his brick.
“Just because you haven’t heard of me doesn’t mean I don’t exist. Just like syphilis. Or the brain-
sucking aliens from Ulk’Narob. I assure you not only am I real, but I’m perfectly capable of wrecking
your shit with barely even a thought if you don’t watch your mouth. Like so.”
*Snap*
Linda snapped her trees, causing the gnome’s head and neck to disappear, leaving behind nothing but
smooth skin between her shoulders. Her arms immediately went to grab her missing appendage, but
failed miserably. It’s as if it was never there to begin with. Her headless body started squirming and
flailing around, completely unable to deal with this situation.
*Snap*
Her head popped up from between her shoulders like it was a jack-in-the-box.
“Aaarh! Haah, haah, haah!” she panted.
“Are we clear, young Fizzlesprocket?”
“Haah, haah. Yes, crystal clear. Mister Goddess of Chaos, sir.”
“Much better. Now then, Boxxy. Ah, now that we’re face-to-face, this is a bit awkward. Talking to a
chest like this is a bit weird for me.”
The gnome nearly made a comment about how hypocritical that sounded coming from a basket with
legs, but held it back.
“Here, let’s try this!”
*Snap*
A finger-snapping noise was heard. The chest next to Fizzy flickered out of existence and a small naked
child appeared in its place. It had brown skin, snow-white hair, red eyes and appeared to be about 6 or 7
years old. The face was oddly androgynous, making it hard to tell if it was male or female, but it was
undeniably cute. It was making a sweet, innocent smile and had a thoroughly vacant look in its eyes.
“How’s that?” asked Kerry.
The child blinked a few times and stared at its fingers, then its lower body. Fizzy followed its eyesight
and ended up staring at its crotch almost involuntarily. She almost turned her face away in shame, but
realized that was a pointless gesture. After all, the child had nothing between its legs but smooth skin.
“Feels weird,” it said, with a fittingly neutral voice.
“Well, it’s only temporary, so please bear with it.”
“Okay.”
“B-Boxxy?” stammered the gnome. “Is that you?”
“Yes,” answered the child matter-of-factly.
She turned around to stare at the God of Anarchy with accusatory eyes.
“Ah, this is simply what the Mimic would look like if it were human,” explained Estel. “This is merely
an image I dredged up from its subconscious, so don’t look at me like that, okay? I swear I’m not into
little kids or anything, alright?! I’m a firm believer in the glory of large chests!”
Kishralbadaz the Inheritor stifled a giggle at its own bad pun. She then leaned forward, put her salamis
on the table and looked right at the Mimic. Which was impressive considering she had 3 and a half
heads.
“Anyway, now that that’s over with I can finally have a proper chat with you.”
“You know me?” asked Boxxy.
“This isn’t the first time we’ve spoken, you know.”
“It’s not?”
The Mimic was pretty sure it would remember if it met something bizarre like Russel before.
“Hmm, technically speaking, I was the only one doing the talking at the time, so calling it a conversation
would be hard. I also said some hurtful things, but I hope you’ll forgive me. I get just a little
bit ABSOLUTELY LIVID when some random box tries to steal my dungeon core for no god-damned
reason.”
“... Oh.”
It would appear the mysterious and slightly annoying entity behind that dungeon core had finally
revealed itself.
“And sorry for trying to blow you up like that. It was uncalled for and totally my bad.”
“It’s okay. Got many tasty Levels.”
“Hahaha, that you did. I must say, you genuinely surprised me that day. Not everyone would be willing
to blow up an entire city if the opportunity presented itself.”
“Blow up a city?!” butted in Fizzy. “You’re telling me this thing really did cause that Calamity?!”
“Uhm… Yes and no. It’s complicated.”
“And you don’t mind?!”
“Why would I?”
“Don’t you care that so many people died?!”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do!”

“Really? Then I suppose you mourned and prayed for every last one of those 8,235 souls?”
“Err…”
“You only selfishly mourned your own father and brother, did you not? You’d probably put the incident
completely out of your tiny mind if those two weren’t tangentially involved.”
“...”
Jack was right on the money. Even though Fizzy understood it was, objectively speaking, a horrible
catastrophe, she just couldn’t bring herself to truly care about some humans being killed off somewhere.
They were, after all, not her people.
“Now, do you have any more inane questions?”
“... Just one. Why this thing? What’s so special about it?”
“It’s consistently unpredictable, even before the big-bada-boom. I actually went and reviewed the
dungeon’s logs and found them to be quite entertaining. Here, let me give you some examples.”
The flagpole pulled out a small booklet and started listing through it.
“This thing survived its first two weeks on this world through a mixture of luck and ability. It took all
chances that the flows of chaos presented it with and latched onto them with all its might without any
hesitation. I respect that sort of thing, you know. A chance exists to be taken, after all.”
The three-eyed fork turned the page on the pamphlet it was holding in its bottles.
“It then absorbed the Warlock Job from a corpse. You know what the chances of it succeeding at that
were? 4,000 to 1! And it managed to pull it off on only the third try! Well, its current chance of
succeeding at that same outcome is closer to about 400 to 1, but that’s besides the point.”
He turned the pigeon upside down.
“And that magnificent stroke of luck was right after it broke out of the dungeon through what I can only
describe as dumb luck. I can’t say I’m not impressed. Then it sort of did its own thing outside the
dungeon for a bit, fought some people, yadda yadda yadda. Oh, it also gibbed a dwarf just as it
teleported away with a Portal Key! Her friends’ reactions when they saw a pair of disembodied legs
appear out of nowhere was really something else, let me tell ya!”
Lawrence rolled up the parchment and put it away inside his igloo.
“So that’s roughly the time when I started keeping an eye on it. And here’s the really amazing part. I
realized that I’d actually been sort of introduced to it before that Calamity stuff even happened! This
thing right here somehow managed to forward me its Status when making a demonic contract! Do you
know how many times that has happened?!”
“I don’t-”
“Never! It has never, ever happened! I have absolutely no idea how the fuck it actually did that, either!”
“Did I do that?” asked Boxxy with a stupid look on its face.
“Yeah,” said Nick. “Oh right, you wouldn’t know, but I’m actually Katorolomaongott’s boss.”
“Who?”
“Uhm… I believe he introduces himself as Carl to mortals.”
“You know Carl?!”
“Well, I don’t really ‘know’ the guy, he just works for me. All demons do, technically speaking. Even
the Demon King.”
“Punchy too?”
“Yep, that guy as well. You know, I was the one who created them in the first place. It started as a little
experiment that went really out of control. They’re selfish, uncooperative and don’t give a flying fuck
about mortals. Those kids, I’m so proud of them! Ah, I don’t often get to brag so I got a little
sidetracked.”
Frank reigned in his enthusiasm and proceeded with the meat of the matter.
“Point is, I wasn’t actually planning on making an appearance at all. Sort of ruins the fun if I do that. But
that’s when two particular demons started raising a huge fuss over ‘unlawful contract termination.’ I
mean, the fact your random acts of violence somehow got a fiend and a succubus to agree on something
is just mind boggling! So, all things considered, I decided I would help you out. And that’s why I
brought you here.”
“Then you’re going to make me a Warlock again?!”
Boxxy’s face looked like it was about to explode from excitement.
“No.”
And then sank into the depths of despair.
“I’m going to give you a chance. That’s the best I can do, and I’m only doing it because I like you. Also
it’s partly because that bitch Teresa cheated, and I don’t like that. Therefore, I’m going to even the odds
a little, as it were. So, without further ado-”
*Snap*
Defeat the lich

Difficulty: ??????
Time Limit: Until the God of Uncertainty gets bored
Reward: Your Warlock and Artificer Jobs will be fully restored
You will become the chosen Hero of the God of Chaos
Progress: 0/1
Description: There’s an undead lich hiding in these mountains. It has been raising its own
personal army of the undead in secret. Find it, defeat it, and claim victory for chaos.
“No rush,” said Chris reassuringly. “It’s a big undertaking so do consider it carefully.”
Boxxy understandably had a few questions about this proposition. The reward was pretty much exactly
what it wanted right now, but that difficulty rating of six turtles was more than a little odd.
“What’s a lich?”
“Oh right, you wouldn’t know. Umm. Basically a super-powerful undead being that commands hordes
of the dead. They also love throwing magical attacks at people’s faces.”
“Like Warlocks with skeletons?”
“Well… you’re not exactly right, but not exactly wrong, either.”
So it was a Spell-slinging opponent that had many familiars. Dangerous, as expected. Still, the Mimic
would probably end up accepting the Quest anyway. The reward was way too tasty to ignore. Speaking
of the rewards, though-
“Is being a Hero tasty?”
“Hmm… There’s a 64.255% chance of you finding it tasty.”
“What if I fail? Or give up?”
“Then you’ll just have to get those Levels back the old fashioned way.”
Okay, so there were no apparent downsides to this. Come to think of it, the quest didn’t ask for a deposit
like those Mercenary Guild quests, so that made sense. Having the option of simply giving up was the
last thing the Mimic needed to confirm before making up its mind.
“Okay. I accept.”
Boxxy T. Morningwood has undertaken a Quest: Defeat the lich.
Fizzy raised her arm as if a schoolgirl requesting permission to speak. It would appear she had finally
realized that rudely interrupting an actual God was probably not a smart idea. Especially not one whose
entire domain hinged on unpredictability and randomness.
“Yes, what it is, Fizzlesprocket?”

“Earlier you said the Goddess of truth and justice cheated. I find that a bit hard to believe.”
“Yeah she cheated! She got super butthurt her chosen Hero got one-shot by a box and revived him! If it
wasn’t for that, then this guy over here would still be running free! Well, at least for a while longer. The
trouble this thing gets up to really is something else.”
Nick turned his gills to face Boxxy once again.
“By the way, great work with that priestess from about a week ago. Oh man, you should’ve seen that
stuck-up bitch’s face when I showed her the image of her faithful servant taking it up the ass like a
champ! It got even uglier when I told her the one that killed her also stole a Holy Pearl and pinned the
blame for the crime on that dead nun! That really rustled Her jimmies, let me tell ya! She got so mad
that she threw a gigantic hissy fit, it was amazing!”
The sister Lyo incident was somehow staged by the Mimic. And yet that tidbit was somehow the least
surprising thing Fizzy had heard tonight.
“Haah, I will treasure that memory for a long while. Honestly, I think that prude just needs to loosen up
and get laid, but she doesn’t want to even hear it. Anyway, being the sore loser that she is, she went and
sent a ‘divine revelation’ to her oracle saying ‘The perpetrator is in Erosa.’ That’s why that Edward guy
was there a few days ago to begin with.”
“...”
The dumb smile that Boxxy sported instantly turned into a huge frown. The way it saw it, the whole
reason it was in this position was because these Gods were having some sort of internal dispute that had
nothing to do with it.
“Hey, you were bound to get found out eventually, so don’t put the blame on me, alright?”
“...”
It kept staring at it scornfully.
“Okay! Okay, I admit it was almost entirely my fault. I’m here taking responsibility for my rash actions
though, aren’t I?”
“But did not help with escape?” it questioned.
“‘Course not! I don’t wanna stoop down to Teresa’s level and resort to cheating! I mean yeah, I could’ve
set the Four Demonic Overlords loose in the city and create an opening for you to escape, but where’s
the fun in that?”
The Mimic thought on those words. It considered its implications and came to a singular conclusion
which it decided to share with this mysterious entity.
“I don’t like you.”

“Hahahaha! Well said, Boxxy, well said! That sort of straightforward attitude is exactly the reason I like
you! Tell you what, since I was slightly to blame for that, I’m going to make things a bit easier on you.”
Jacob turned his attention back to the gnome.
“You there, Fizzlesprocket. Since you’re just an extra, how about you make yourself useful and help my
friend here with its Quest?”
“What?! With fighting some mighty undead?! Nonononono! I have the combat ability of a flea! I have
no place on the battlefield!”
“I know, but I have a fix for that. I’ll just make you a Paladin! Nobody can kick bony butt quite like a
Paladin can! You even get to champion my name! That sounds fun, doesn’t it?!”
The God of Probability lifted an arm and went to snap its feathers-
“No, it doesn’t!”
-but was stopped by Fizzy’s outburst.
“I can’t accept such a thing!” she continued. “Why do I have to help this man-eating monster with
anything?! Besides, you’re way too shady!”
He stared at her intently with his meatball-tipped toes.
“... Roll a D20.”
“Huh?”
A fist-sized object fell down on the table in front of her, bounced a few times and rolled towards her
before stopping within arm’s reach. It was a wooden shape with 20 faces and numbers etched on each
side.
“Roll that dice. If you get 15 or higher, you win.”
The gnome swallowed audibly. This was a bit sudden, but it sort of made sense considering Craig’s
occupation. She picked up the so-called D20 and gave it a roll across the table with her short arms.
*Kotororororororrr*
And it landed on a 17.
“Oh, lucky you!” exclaimed Beatrice. “Congratulations! You win!”
*Snap*
A bright light briefly enveloped Fizzy.

Congratulations, you are now a level 1 Paladin! STR +2. END +2. INT +2.
The Faith (FTH) Attribute has been created through a special action. FTH +1.
The Luck (LCK) Attribute has been created through a special action. LCK +1.
Proficiency level increased. Champion of Chaos is now Level 1. FTH +2. LCK +2.
“What the hell?!” she protested. “I won the roll, didn’t I?!”
“Yes, you did.”
“Then how come you forced this on me anyway?!”
“Because I had already decided on it.”
“Then what was that roll about?!”
“To see whether I would shatter your fragile mind for daring to question my authority.”
“... Oh.”
“Good thing you won,” commented Boxxy.
“Yeah… Why me, though?”
“That’s the question everyone asks when things aren’t going their way,” said Lucy. “Why me? Why did
this happen? What did I do to deserve this? The answer to all of those is really simple.”
A single silver coin fell from above and bounced on the wooden table with a small sound, landing
squarely in front of Fizzy. She only had to look at it for a moment before comprehending its meaning.
“... There is no reason. Just the luck of the draw.”
Those words floated out of her mouth almost all on their own.
“Very good! See, you have a handle on this Champion of Chaos thing already!”
*Ding ding ding ding*
A small bell rang out of nowhere.
“And it would appear that is all we have time for. I guess I’ll be sending you two back to the physical
realm now. Just watch that first step.”
He raised his left thorax and prepared to snap his leaves for the final time.
“It’s a doozy!”
*Snap*
A pitch black hole opened up in the pearly white floor, causing Boxxy, Fizzy and the table to fall
through it. They found themselves high above the sky - higher than even the griffins flew - and were
currently plummeting downward. The sheer speed at which they were falling was well beyond any
reason, causing them to reach the ground within seconds and crash land into a couple of unconscious
bodies.
“HISSSS!”
“GYAAA!”
They both woke up screaming, as if meeting with the God of Chance was nothing more than a
nightmare. Although their current conditions left very little doubt in their minds that it was very much
real.
“Okhsy? Haht? Hasha!? Haaaaaaaaah! His ishn’t hakkehinh!”
The Mimic let out a series of confused noises while the gnome stared at it with a stupid expression. She
then looked at her hands, her legs, then back to the monster, then back to her own body. Satisfied with
her inspection, she then raised her face and both arms to the sky.
“Willie!” she shouted. “Wrong body! Not mine!”
“Oh, shit!” came a disembodied voice. “I fucked that up! Wow! Here, let me fix it!”
*Snap*
Boxxy’s vision blurred for a moment and the world seemed to spin around wildly for a moment, but it
ended up back in its own body. Fizzy must have went through pretty much the same, seeing as how she
collapsed on all fours and started pounding the ground.
“I almost! Became! A fucking! Box!”
She then raised a fist towards the heavens.
“You incompetent divine bastard! I’ll get you back for this!”
“Hey now,” came the voice once again. “I’ll look it over this once since I was at fault, but take it easy
with the blaspheme, alright?!”
“Fine, whatever!” answered Fizzy. “Then as your Champion can I just say I’d appreciate it if you took
things more seriously?!”
“This God thing isn’t as easy as it looks you know! I’d like to see you try and pull off a double Reverse
Astral Projection without messing something up. Anyway I seriously have to go now. You guys take
care.”
Silence once again dominated the forest. The two mortals quietly stared at each other, now fully aware
they were little more than a playthings for the God of Inconsistency.
“So… what happens now?” asked Fizzy.
“Time to teach.”
“Huh? Oh, right. You still want me to give you the Artificer Job.”
“No.”
The Mimic had every intention of fulfilling that Quest and earning back what was rightfully its own.
Therefore, it decided to do something that would be a lot more useful than waste time and resources on
pointlessly raising the Artificer Job.
“... Then what?”
“You have new Job?”
“Yeah. I’m a Level 1 Paladin now, apparently. I can’t teach you that one, though.”
The Mentor Skill requires her to have Level 25 in a Job before she could pass it onto others.
“No, mistaken. I teach you.”
“Oh please! What could you possibly teach me!?”
“How to fight like monster.”
The gnome swallowed audibly. This wasn’t going to bode well for her. Especially since she just heard
Bruce’s amused cackling somewhere in the back of her head.
(55) Chance 7
Fizzy and Boxxy trudged through the woods. It had been 5 days since their escape and subsequent
meeting with Reginald, the God of Impossibility. Right now they were mostly wandering around
aimlessly, looking for signs of either an undead incursion or some form of civilization that might offer
information. The gnome had already been relieved of her prisoner’s rags and had been outfitted with
whatever Boxxy had with it.
She held a steel dagger in her right hand and a small round buckler in her left, although they seemed
more like a shortsword and a greatshield due to her small stature. A slightly too-large chainmail shirt
covered her torso and hung low like a dress. This was even after Boxxy had shortened it for her. Of
course the gnome had made the wise decision not to ask whether those dark stains around the neck area
were indeed blood. Her undershirt and pants were something she threw together from a bunch of old
blue rags, while her feet were protected with makeshift shoes made out of metal plates, leather some
nails and a bit of wire.
The seemingly random things Boxxy had inside its Storage were almost like a treasure trove to an
Artificer. She was understandably surprised when she learned of the Skill’s existence, but quickly
understood its function. High-Level Merchants were said to have access to a similar Skill called Item
Box. As for why a Mimic had it, it was simply due to its chesty heritage. Regardless, it had let her throw
together some basic clothing. Her creations did little more than protect her modesty, but it was still
better than walking around while wearing an old potato sack.
Her weapon and shield were properly Blacksmith forged, at least. As for why the Mimic had given her a
dagger and a shield, it was simply the best thing for her after taking her Status into consideration.
Cornie
Fizzlesprocket
Arclight
Species Gnome STR 65 PER 141 56 38%
Artificer
Sex Female DEX 172 FTH 12 Paladin 13 85%
Age 22 years AGI 20 LCK 7
Erosa
Guild Craftsman END 84
Union
485/485 (+0.8/
HP INT 112
sec)
560/560 (+1.5/
MP WIS 154
sec)
Skill List
Clockwork Expertise 10 MAX Champion of Chaos 3 92%
Explosives Handling 6 86% Toughness 5 23%
Deconstruction 7 33% Strength of Faith 2 74%
Optics Expertise 4 76% Mentor 2 43%
Physics 7 4% Dagger Mastery 4 15%
Component Forging 6 63% Shield Mastery 3 62%
Tick Counter 5 22%

Upgrade 4 65%
Electrical Expertise 2 32%
Just like she said, her Artificer Job had left most of her physical Attributes completely undeveloped. Her
maximum HP immediately after getting the Paladin Job was a mere 197. It really was no surprise her
father and brother got taken out so easily despite being over Level 60. The upside was that her DEX
Attribute was reasonably developed, so a piercing weapon like a dagger made perfect sense, at least for
the moment. She would probably transition into something more suitable, like swords or maybe maces
in the future, but this would suffice for the time being.
As for Shield Mastery, it was to make sure she didn’t accidentally up and die. That wouldn’t be funny at
all if it happened. That Skill also had the effect of providing her with END and STR to raise her max HP,
which she needed badly. At least acquiring those Skills had proven to be easy, as the two of them had
started sparring immediately after their meeting with the God of Luck. Well, ‘sparring’ was perhaps not
the right word. It would be better to say the Mimic willingly became the gnome’s punching bag for a
while. The gnome looked to be a bit apprehensive at first, but seemed to actually enjoy stabbing the
monster somewhat. It allowed her to raise her Dagger Mastery to about Level 2 and a half, but it refused
to go higher than that. Still, it was a promising start in Boxxy’s opinion.
As for Shield Mastery, she simply practiced blocking the Mimic’s blows. Boxxy had to hold back
immensely so as to avoid killing her outright. It was honestly quite difficult considering the murder train
that was Boxxy T. Morningwood had only 2 speeds - walk and kill. At least it learned about controlling
its strength, so it also profited somewhat from those session.
But again, the Skill refused to go up above Level 2 and a half, much like Dagger Mastery. It would seem
there was a limit to how much one could learn from hitting the same target over and over and that actual
combat would be necessary for the Skill to properly grow. That was, of course, going to be tricky since it
implied that the gnome would have to fight for her life for real, and the monsters in this neck of the
woods were not pushovers.
“Meeeeeh!”
A hoarse, goat-like bleat rang out around Boxxy and Fizzy, interrupting their aimless wandering.
“Oh no… not again!” lamented the gnome.
That bleat meant two things. That they were about to be attacked, and that the gnome would be put in a
‘safe place.’ Which meant the Mimic promptly restrained her with its tongue tentacles and tossed the
clearly apprehensive gnome into its Storage.
“Meeeeeh!”
Another bleat came out, this one subtly different from the first. It was followed by two more before,
barely a second later, four humanoid figures leapt in from all sides, surrounding the half-spider half-box.
These monsters had the horned head and hoofed lower body of a ram or goat, with a human-like torso
and arms. Their entire bodies were covered with thick, brown fur and had most of their body mass
concentrated around their powerful legs. Their unsettling yellow goat eyes sized up the strange creature
between them and they pointed their makeshift bone-tipped spears at it in a threatening manner.
These monsters were officially known as satyrs, sometimes called goat-men. They always moved in
groups of 3 to 6 and mercilessly attacked everything that wasn’t their own kind. They sometimes even
fought and killed each other over simplistic things such as breeding rights. Quite violent for a bunch of
herbivores.
As for their Level, Boxxy had guessed it to be somewhere in the 40 to 45 range, based on their HP and
how much XP they gave when killed. Its estimate was pretty much right on the mark.
“Meeh!”
The one with the longest beard let out a short, sharp bleat and all four of the satyrs leapt at the monster
at once, clearly intending to skewer it with their weapons. This was their usual hunting pattern that
usually brought them victory over their target in an instant. As expected of the dominant species in this
region of the Sawblade Mountains.
However, their choice of opponent was bad.
Rather than take their combined attack, Boxxy chose to launch one of its own and jumped into the air,
right at the one that seemed to be in charge. The satyr seems to have expected this somewhat and
quickly readjusted his spear. The goat and the box collided in mid-air, and the Mimic was pierced clean
through its midsection.
You have suffered a deep wound. HP -326.

Ignoring the wound that would be gone in a few seconds, the Mimic’s steel-coated teeth bit deeply into
the satyr’s shoulders and upper torso, trapping his horned head inside its maw. The two entangled
monsters fell to the ground like that, with the toothed box refusing to let go of its victim. The other three
goat-men approached and attempted to stab the monster, but were forced back with a spray of corrosive
acid. They could only look on in horror as their trapped leader’s arms and legs flailed around while
Boxxy chewed on him mercilessly.
*Kachin*
The sound of metal on metal rang out as the sharp steel teeth lining the Mimic’s jaws closed completely,
separating the satyr’s head and part of his torso from the rest of him.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 43 Mimic! All Attributes +2.
Now that the leader was taken care of, the rest of the group were clearly losing their nerve. Being
splashed with burning acid didn’t help their morale, either. They didn’t quite turn tail and run, but they
were clearly hesitant to approach the Mimic.
Not that it had any intention of letting them go in the first place. These four had already opened the hurt-
box, and they would get what’s coming to them.
“HISSHAAARGH!”
It let out a guttural half-hiss half-roar to make them shrink back a little more, took out its two mithril
daggers and a steel sword, and got busy. The second satyr had his hands sliced off and his heart pierced
in rapid succession. The third one had his friend’s spear tossed at him, which hit him accurately in the
knee, causing him to fall over from the sudden injury. Boxxy then swooped in and swiftly made several
deep wounds in its other leg, crippling the goat-man for good. The Mimic then mercilessly nailed its
victim in place by driving its sword through the wounded creature’s stomach and into the soft ground.
The satyr struggled and cried, but couldn’t muster the strength to free itself from its position. The last
one turned around in order to retreat and fetch more of his friends, but the Mimic had already anticipated
this. It threw a huge rock that accurately nailed the back of the satyr’s head, causing it to fall face-down
on the ground. Boxxy then leapt on top of his back and grabbed hold of his arms and legs, subduing it
completely in the process.
It had taken less than 30 seconds to completely dismantle this failed ambush. Two of the satyrs lie dead,
one was bleeding heavily while quite literally nailed to the ground and the last one was pinned under
Boxxy’s weight. Thinking this was good enough, the sentient chest opened its maw and spat out Fizzy
from inside its Storage. The gnome fell roughly on the ground directly in front of it with a small thud.
“Gaah! Haah, haah, haah, haah, haah!”
She panted heavily, desperate to alleviate the suffering in her chest. The Mimic’s pocket dimension was
a horrible, claustrophobic space - completely devoid of light, with practically no gravity and, worst of
all, no air circulation. Boxxy had to forcefully fill it with fresh air every time it threw the gnome in there
for her own protection, otherwise she’d suffocate. Even then she only had enough air to last her a few
minutes at most.
“Meeh!? Meeeeeeh!”
The goat-like bleating from the pinned satyr drew Fizzy’s attention. She looked at the captive monster
with a difficult expression, because she knew what would follow. And indeed, just as before, a bald
pointy-eared woman’s head formed on the box’s surface and spoke to her in a demanding tone of voice.
“Kill.”
The gnome picked herself off the ground and warily approached the two monsters. This pattern was
already familiar to her. She knew full well that command was coming, but that didn’t make things any
easier. In some ways, it was the anticipation before the act that was the worst part. She screwed up her
courage, gripped her dagger with both hands and thrust it into the satyr’s neck with a small yell.
You have inflicted a shallow wound. Target HP -86.
It didn’t pierce very far though. Just enough to cause the goat-like monster to wail in pain and attempt to
thrash about, but the Mimic had it completely immobilized.
Fizzy withdrew her weapon and struck the monster again. And then again and again, over and over.
Pitch black blood gushed from the wounds and flowed freely. The satyr wailed and bleated desperately
as the inept Paladin kept hurting it. It’s not as if she was doing it on purpose, though. The kind gnome
fully understood Boxxy’s reasons for doing this, but she still wished to at least end it without suffering.
However, her weak body could hardly produce the strength necessary to do that sort of thing. It took
almost 2 minutes of abuse before the monster finally died with a final gurgle.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 14 Paladin! STR +2. END +2. INT +2.
“Huff, huff, huff, huff!”
The mostly unwilling executioner breathed heavily with a slightly dazed look in her eye. The Mimic
lifted itself off the satyr and went to fetch its still crippled friend. It took out the sword, wrapped its
tentacles around the goat-man and dragged him along the ground while ignoring his desperate cries of
pain. That poor creature was forced to watch as his kin was tortured to death and was clearly about to
suffer the same fate. Realizing this, he started clawing furiously at the ground in an attempt to get
away. But it was useless. It was brought before the gnome and pinned down exactly like his dead friend
right next to him.
“Kill.”
The mentally and physically tired gnome grit her teeth and did as instructed. What followed was,
unsurprisingly, a scene much like the first one. At least this one passed away fairly quickly since it was
already heavily injured.
Now that all hostiles in the immediate area were dead, Fizzy’s face broke out into a huge smile with
wide-open eyes. She raised both her face and her bloodied hands to the cloudy sky and heard her voice
barrel out of her throat.
“Victory for chaosss!”
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 15 Paladin! STR +2. END +2. INT +2.
Her mad expression vanished in the next instant, turning back to that tired face she had moments ago.
That outburst earlier was something completely beyond her control, a clear sign that the Goddess of
Uncertainty had a firm hold over her champion. Granted, Fizzy wasn’t unique in this. Every Paladin
started out with the Champion Skill of the deity he or she was sworn to. Paladins of Teresa, for example,
would be Champions of Justice. Paladins that served Axel, the patron deity of war and combat, would be
Champions of War. Those who worshipped Solus the Sun God would be Champions of Life. A Priest
would also have a Skill like this, except in their case they were Apostles rather than Champions.
And, of course, each of these Skill variants came with its own set of effects, but their main function was
to keep the faithful servants of a deity from straying too far from their path. Well, that was if one worded
it nicely. A more cynical opinion was that the Gods forced their worldviews onto mortals through these
Skills. It also kept these people from pledging their allegiance to another God. Neither of those things
were normally a problem though. After all, Fizzy was pretty much the only Paladin to have their Job
forced on them. The fact that she was strong-armed into serving such a random, ominous and unreliable
God did not make things better, either.
As for the Champion of Chaos Skill, she desperately wanted it gone. Hopefully before she became stark
raving mad because of it. That passive Skill ever-so-slightly warped her perception of the world around
her, sometimes giving her glimpses of things that would happen a second of two from now. Granted, this
seemed to be incredibly useful in combat as it allowed her to occasionally predict a monster’s
movements well in advance. However, it also had a very large downside. The Skill forced its holder to
randomly spout inane phrases like she did just now. At least this one was fairly coherent and wasn’t
some inane drivel like ‘Socks for the Sock God!’ or ‘Pickles are Yummy Yummy Yummy in my
Tummy!’ She didn’t even like pickles!
There was, of course, a way she could break away from the God of Chaos. All she had to do was to
willingly and voluntarily go through the harrowing experience of a Job Removal. This terrifying
ceremony was something only Administrative Scribes of Level 60 and above could perform. It was
heavily regulated by the government, which was why a certain Spymaster desperately wanted his own,
personal Scribe. Some Job Removals had to be kept off the books, after all. The majority of them,
however, were performed as punishments for violent-yet-powerful criminals since sentencing someone
to a forced Job Removal was often seen as a punishment worse than death. Boxxy had gotten off easy
since it only lost a Level 25 and a Level 12 Job, but those that had Jobs of Level 75 or above taken from
them either became mad or uncurably depressed, and almost always ended up taking their own lives.
Still, Fizzy was sure that wouldn’t happen to her. In fact, if anything was making her want to kill herself,
it was her current daily routine.
“No good,” said Boxxy.
Two words that the gnome really did not want to hear for the rest of her life.
“No good,” it repeated. “Still weak.”
“Haah, haah,” she panted. “I can’t help it! Haah. I’m a gnome you know! Haah. I don’t have a monster’s
body like you do! Haah. My people are physically weaker than humans, you know!”
It was a fact that Attributes only improved upon one’s base physical or mental ability. Even if the gnome
had 800 STR, she would still be only as strong as a human with about 500 STR.
“Not that.”
However, it would appear the Mimic was talking about something else. While it was true that gnomes
did not have as much muscle power as humans, they were superior in other ways. Their wits were
sharper, their hands faster and their kinetic vision was on a completely different level. Their physical
stamina left something to be desired, but that problem would solve itself with enough END. Boxxy’s
opinion as an expert in the act of murder was that a gnome was in no way a lesser fighter than a human,
as long as it applied itself correctly. And it was that part that the monster took issue with.
“You hesitate. You care. These are un-tasty, stupid things. Unnecessary. They dull the blade and weaken
your attacks.”
The sheer unwillingness with which the gnome did things was her biggest problem.
“I can’t help it! I was just a girl working on her gadgets until a week ago! You can’t expect me to do
cruel things like you so easily!”
“No. Cruel one is you.”
“... What?”
“You hesitate. You cause prey suffering. Should finish quickly. Not tasty if they struggle.”
Those words really struck a chord with Fizzy. Because they were right. The gnome’s unwillingness to
cause pain was, ironically, causing others undue pain. It really wasn’t a question of if these monsters had
to die. It was only a matter of how. During these past few days, she had realized that ‘good’ and
‘tasty’ were synonyms in Mimcanese, so she took the monster’s last sentence to mean that it would be
easier on everyone involved if she just got the killing over and done with. Something she begrudgingly
had to agree with, but had difficulty accepting.
Well, the monster actually meant that last bit literally. It found prey to have the best flavor if it had died
instantly, without struggling. It did unintentionally make a very valid point, however.
“Alright! Okay, I’ll do better next ti-”
“Liar!”
*SMACK*
It slapped her across the face with a spidery limb. No, it would be more accurate to say it kicked her in
the head.
“Aargh!” she screamed while stumbling backwards
“Said that yesterday!”
*SMACK*
This time it kicked her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her completely. She fell over forwards,
unable to even scream let alone stay on her feet.
“Do better now!”
*SMACK*
It hit her on the back with a downward strike that left a faint imprint of her in the moist soil.
“Not tomorrow!”
*SMACK*
“Worthless!”
*SMACK*
“Useless bug!”
*SMACK*
“Only good as food!”
*SMACK*
It kept hitting and insulting her while she curled up into the fetal position. She lied there, just taking the
abuse while quietly whimpering and not even thinking of fighting back. It would be over soon anyway.
It was all part of her new daily routine.
First they’d come across some monsters and Boxxy would instantly make the decision they had to die.
Fizzy would either be thrown into that dark and suffocating Storage space or be forced to fend for
herself. If the enemy was a Mountain Troll, a 4-meter long Strangling Serpent or a Twin-Tailed Wolf,
she had to fight them by herself. Those monsters were in the lower-end of the food chain around here
and were only about Level 20, but were still too much for her. Boxxy would have to bail her out, and
would then beat her for being incompetent.
If the opponent they came across was something tougher, like a group of satyrs or lizardmen, the Mimic
would mop them up and leave one or two alive for her to execute. It was all for the sake of raising her
Levels, yet she hesitated to hurt them every single time. And was then beaten.
In fact, beatings seemed to be about half of her day now. The Mimic always seemed to find some excuse
to hit her. If she was tired from all the walking and fell behind the monster too much, she would be
beaten for trying to escape. If she slept for any period of time over 6 hours a day, she would be beaten
for being lazy. If she dared question the Mimic’s methods, she would be beaten for being an ungrateful
little worm. Honestly, the only time she wasn’t in danger of being physicall abused was when she was
thrown into Storage.
Her diet consisted of whatever monster had been killed today or any berries she came across. Of course,
she had no idea what berries were edible or not and ended up getting food poisoning, which had to be
remedied with a healing potion. She was then beaten for wasting the monster’s precious potions like
that.
The beatings had become so common that she seemed to have actually grown somewhat accustomed to
the pain. They were so severe that her END Attribute had risen by 3 points so far, all through the
‘special action’ of ‘being beaten.’
“... What Level?”
Today, however, seemed to hold a pleasant surprise for her. Boxxy seemed to have cut her beating short
in order to question her.
“Huck, huck! Fif-fifteen!” she answered with tear-filled eyes.
“What new Skills?”
“J-just a second, okay? S-s-skill List: P-paladin!”
Just like at Level 5 and Level 10, she got an offer of two Skills. Of course, it was the Mimic who
decided which Skills she would take. So far it had ‘advised’ her to pick Toughness and Strength of Faith.
The former worked pretty much like the monster’s own Natural Armor, only it improved the
performance of any and all armor the Paladin wore rather than fortify her skin. The latter allowed the
Paladin’s melee attacks to draw on the power of their FTH Attribute in addition to their STR, especially
when fighting the undead. That God of Chance really had picked the right Job to assist Boxxy in the
lich-hunting Quest.
However, the Mimic had decided to make Fizzy amass as much FTH as possible for a completely
different reason.
Faith (FTH)
Increases the effectiveness of Holy Spells.
Slightly increases the chances of receiving divine guidance.
Divine revelations were mostly useless to it, but those Holy Spells were another matter. Purifications,
blessings, exorcisms and healing magic were deemed to be of the highest priority, so it only a matter of
course that it forced her to focus on Skills that would assist with that. And this time too, would be no
different.
Holy Scripture
Description: Only those in service to a God may borrow their divine power
Requirements: Level 15 Paladin, INT 40, WIS 20
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effect: Grants knowledge of a Holy Spell at Level 1, 3, 6, 8 and 10 of this Skill.
Increases the effectiveness of Holy Spells by 2% per Level of this Skill.
This kind of Skill was something the Mimic had heard about before, these so-called ‘spellbook Skills’
that bestowed magic not otherwise available from one’s Job. One could, in theory, study and learn these
Spells without the assistance of a Skill. However, doing so would take time, effort and resources that
neither Fizzy nor Boxxy were willing to devote.
Proficiency level increased. Holy Scripture is now Level 1. INT +2. FTH +2.
You have learned a new Spell: Holy Light.
“Okay!” whimpered the abused gnome. “I learned Holy Light now!”
“What does it do?”
“It- it heals the living and burns the undead!”
“Show me.”
“O- okay!”
Fizzy stood up and started chanting the Spell she had just learned while focusing it on herself.
“Holy Light!”
*Fwooom*
A radiant yellow-green glow gushed forth from her and enveloped her bruised and beaten body. The
warm light brought her immediate relief and seemed to give her a feeling of comfort, even if only for an
instant.
Divine power has healed your wounds. HP +145.
“How was it?” asked the Mimic.
“I f-feel better now.”
*SMACK*
“Not you. How much did it do?”
“Hun-hundr… 145 HP…”
“Weak. Did you get Mastery?”
The first few Levels of a Mastery were quite easy to get and would serve as a foundation.
“N-no…”
“Then use it again.”
“Holy Light!”

Proficiency level increased. Holy Mastery is now Level 1. FTH +4.
“I- I got Holy Mastery now…”
“Cast it again.”
“Holy Light!”
“Now?
“... 160 HP.”
“Still too weak,” declared Boxxy. “Must level the Skill. Cast it again.”
“B-but I’m already at full HP!”
*SMACK SMACK*
It bludgeoned her with just enough strength to injure her for 154 HP.
“Cast. It. Again.”
The gnome whimpered and stood up, preparing to heal herself once more.
It would seem that this tiny paladin’s hardships were just beginning.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Sex N/A DEX 197 MNT 97
1337/1337 (+3.5/
HP INT 153
sec)
MP 765/765 (+1.5/sec) WIS 153

Skill List
Mend Flesh 4 23% Domination Mastery 6 32%
Acid Spray 4 42% Shield Mastery 4 12%
[Demonology] 5 0%
(56) Not A Chapter Ellc Live Reading Stream
Howdy folks, just a quick announcement.
About two weeks ago, one of my readers asked this gentleman on Twitch to read the prologue and first
chapter of this story on his stream. The vod can be found here and the reading in question starts at
1:08:00. He does a really nice job of it especially on the Mimic's hissing noise.
I've sent him an e-mail and he has agreed to also read out Chapter 2 this Sunday, on Jan 1 at 5 PM CST
(11 PM UTC+0). I hope you will join me on his channel for a bit of fun. The guy will read and voice act
anything you folks might want to request, so be sure to check his channel out. Just please be respectful
and carefully read the submission rules on his Twitch homepage.
Hope to see you guys there.
(57) Unforeseen Consequences 8
The black-furred, twin-tailed wolf lunged at its prey with its mouth wide open. The sharp fangs within
attempted to bite the small, pink thing in half. It was so tiny that it could probably run between the
wolf’s legs while standing completely upright. Actually, there was no ‘probably’ to that assessment,
seeing as how that’s exactly what the gnome did. Rather than compete with the wolf in a contest of raw,
physical strength, she dove under its ferocious bite and rolled forward. The wolf let out a yelp of pain as
it felt something cold and sharp rip through its leg muscles. It jumped to the side in order to put some
distance between itself and that tiny thing, landing a good 3-4 meters away from its previous position.
But when it turned around in the next instant, it failed to see the pink-haired gnome. After a moment of
confusion, it once again felt the painful sensation of its body being carved up from below. It yelped and
leaped away once again, but the same thing happened a second time. After the third, the beast realized
that its afternoon snack was somehow able to keep up with it, despite its clearly superior speed. It gave
up on trying to leap out of the way and decided to simply flatten it with its body weight. After all, it was
a tiny thing that looked like it would snap under the beast’s body mass.
Fizzy rolled out from under the wolf just as it tried to pin her down. Its relatively massive body missed
her completely and landed right on top of the dagger she had lodged in the soft dirt. The simple beast
once again let out a yell as its own weight drove the steel blade deeper than the gnome could ever do by
herself. It was a telling blow, but one that could only be done by disarming herself. That was okay
though, she had a backup weapon. No, it would be more accurate to say the dagger was the warm-up
weapon. She reached behind her back and gripped the metal handle that was poking from behind it. She
gave it a twist and a pull to release it from its holding clamp and brought it to her side, holding it firmly
with both hands.
Now that the twin-tailed wolf was brought down to her eye level, she ran around its huge body. The
pint-sized Paladin’s eyes and weapon both shone with a bright yellow-green light just moments before
she took a batter-like swing. The illuminated mace-like object in her arms smashed against the monster’s
head before it could muster enough strength to pull itself up off the ground.
You have inflicted major blunt force trauma. Target HP -246.

Proficiency level increased. Mace Mastery is now Level 4. STR +4.
The wolf once again yelped pathetically. That blow cracked its skull and smashed its jaw.
*THWACK*
You have inflicted major blunt force trauma. Target HP -307.

Proficiency level increased. Divine Wrath is now Level 3. FTH +3. STR +1.
The bloodstained hunk of metal was swung downwards a second later, splattering the wolf’s head
against the ground with a wet, disgusting noise. Bits of brain and blood splashed onto the gnome’s face
and hair, but she didn’t seem to care. In fact, she lifted her weapon above her and took one more swing
at the beast’s flattened head, just to make sure it was dead.
*THWACK*
The former wolf’s head turned into a bloody pulp. Satisfied, she lifted her improvised weapon and
wiped it clean as best she could against the beast’s fur. She waited a while for the glow to fade, then
inspected it for any dents or damage.
No matter how one looked at it, the thing in her hands was nothing more than a simple wrench. This
lump of steel had, much like the other tools from her shop, been enchanted to preserve its durability.
Fizzy had never used this tool for its intended purpose before, though. While a human-sized Artificer
would probably find it easy to use, it was much too big for the gnome’s tiny stature. Not to mention it
was much too big and clumsy to help with the type of things an Arclight Artificer would be interested in
making. An Automata Artificer would probably find it useful, since their projects tended to be much
larger and clunkier in scale. The only reason it was even available in Fizzy’s Fidgety Widgets was
because it came as part of a tool set.
As for how this thing found itself in her possession, it was because Boxxy had randomly picked it up
when it hurriedly looted her shop. Fizzy was, oddly enough, not the least bit upset she had been robbed
blind. Some part of her probably thought she deserved that for setting this whole chain of events into
motion, but for the most part she was a little bit glad. Her father’s Lightning Thrower didn’t get left
behind, and she had actually found a use for this stupid hunk of magical steel. Not to mention that
Boxxy had let her assemble a few small gadgets with the random parts inside its Storage.
After noting that the wrench had a tiny new dent on one side of it, she sheathed it behind her back and
turned her attention back to the wolf. She walked over to it and, with a bit of effort, rolled it over on its
side, then retrieved the steel dagger stuck in its belly. She then proceeded to carve up the meat that
would probably serve as her dinner.
Her body moved mechanically and with practiced ease as she cut in the wolf’s flank. The once bright
and attentive green eyes now seemed dull and lifeless while her bruised face maintained an emotionless
mask. She was already desensitized to the sight of blood and gore, and had already adapted to her new,
more violent daily routine.
This was the 16th day since her escape from the Spymaster and also the 16th day since her position as
‘Boxxy’s thing.’
“Good.”
The Mimic in question commented from somewhere behind Fizzy. Its sickeningly sweet voice never
failed to send chills down her spine. She stopped what she was doing and sheepishly turned around to
properly face the monster that could snap her in half at a moment’s notice.
“Ah,” exclaimed Fizzy. “Aaaah!”
Followed by a scream as realization hit her.
“I-I-I wrecked its head! I’m so sorry Boxxy! I di- didn’t mean to! Honest!”
She immediately started apologizing. She knew full well the Mimic needed the head intact to absorb the
corpse. How could she not? That murderous box had absorbed nearly 70 corpses right in front of her.
She was, understandably, somewhat disturbed to find out this is what Boxxy meant when it said it ‘ate’
her father and brother.
Only somewhat though. Her newly acquired, more pragmatic worldview understood that something
would’ve come along and eaten them eventually. She simply took solace in the knowledge that their
murderers, as well as the people who failed to protect them, had paid for their respective crimes.
“Please don’t hit me!” she pleaded.
“Okay.”
“R-really?
“Yes.”
The gnome had become a splendidly dirty fighter in the Mimic’s expert opinion. She mostly attacked
from blind spots and used her smaller stature and ability to somewhat predict her opponent’s movements
to confuse and befuddle her opponent. This was the first time she had managed to bring down such a
large creature without taking a single hit, so the monster was quite pleased with her progress. She might
actually be useful in the coming battle if she kept this up.
“Good kill,” it added.
“Th-thanks!”
She chanced a weak smile. This was the first bit of actual praise she had gotten in two weeks.
“Any gains?” asked Boxxy.
“Mace Mastery and D-D-Divine Wrath went up.”
“Paladin Level?”
“Still 23.”
This level of growth was quite rapid, but it still felt slow to the Mimic. It wanted to have this gnome
reach Level 25 so that she could have the option of teaching it the Paladin Job at any given time.
Boxxy was at first apprehensive as to whether it would be a good idea to get this Job. Its biggest worry
was whether it would be able to properly raise it. After all, both Paladins and Mimics seemed to gain
Levels by hitting things up close, so it wasn’t clear which Job the XP would go to. It was much simpler
to understand with the Warlock Job since there was a huge difference between using Spells and stabbing
something to death.
Therefore, at least for the time being, it would hold off on becoming a box-shaped Paladin. If it was
about something simple like amassing Attributes, the Cadaver Absorption Skill would supply it with
plenty of those. Out of the 73 corpses it had absorbed ever since its escape, it had gotten a total of 4
minor successes, resulting in a combined boost of 39 AGI and 35 END.
However, even if it wasn’t intending on becoming a Paladin right away, it still wanted to have that
option available. Right now it wanted to focus on training its Mimic Job, which had reached Level 44,
but it definitely wanted to look into the Paladin Job later on. After all, the Skills these non-monster Jobs
seemed to grant their holders were extremely tasty. Like for example, the latest addition to Fizzy’s
repertoire.
Divine Wrath
Description: Empowers the Paladin with holy might so that they may bring down God’s
judgement on the deserving
Requirements: Level 20 Paladin, Strength of Faith, STR 60
Type: Active
Cost: 50 MP
Range: Self
Effect: Increases the effectiveness of Holy Spells and melee attacks by 50% for 2 seconds.
Increases the duration of this Skill by 2 seconds per Level of this Skill.
A straight up power boost with no drawbacks. Granted, much like Power Overwhelming, this would
probably be unusable in conjunction with Stealth and Assassination, but it had absolutely no downside
to it. Except for the caveat that was Champion of Chaos. This Skill seemed to have some sort of external
impact on the gnome’s behavior. It already had its mind manipulated once by the dungeon it was born in,
and it had no desire to let that happen again. Boxxy liked its free will too much to give it up in exchange
for power it didn’t necessarily need.
“W-what about the b-body?” asked Fizzy.
The meek, quivering attitude she displayed was a far cry from the calm and collected fighter that stared
down an opponent many times larger than herself. It was obvious to anyone who might be watching that
she feared the Mimic far more than she feared some oversized puppy with two tails.
*Crack*
And, as it turns out, someone was indeed watching. Boxxy immediately rushed off towards the direction
that noise had come from. It leaped into some bushes that were about 20 meters away while Fizzy was
still processing what had happened. She heard some rustling and screaming.
Some oddly human screaming.
Boxxy reappeared carrying someone. It was a girl in brown leather armor. She couldn’t have been more
than 17 or 18 years old. The Mimic had bound her tight using numerous tentacles and was carrying her
over its lid like she were a sack of potatoes.
Fizzy steeled herself. This was the first person they’d run into, the first sign of civilization ever since
their escape from the Spymaster. And yet the gnome already knew what was about to happen.
The girl was brought before her and pinned down to the ground. Her mouth was gagged by a fleshy
tendril that had wrapped around it. Her short brown hair got sticky with mud and the sheer look of terror
on her face was one the gnome was intimately familiar with.
“Kill,” it ordered.
There it was. Exactly as Fizzy had expected. The gnome took out her oversized wrench and gripped it
with both hands.
“Mmmmph!”
Realizing what was about to happen, the captive girl struggled in vain as tears welled up her brown eyes.
She stared pleadingly at the pink-haired gnome in front of her.
‘Please, don’t!’ they seemed to beg.
She shook her head slightly left and right as if trying to say ‘You don’t have to do this!’ without words.
And the gnome did waver. What right did she have to do just murder someone?! This was someone’s
daughter. Maybe someone’s sister or even a wife and mother. What sort of monster would spread
sadness by taking away other people’s loved ones? Did this girl even do anything to deserve such a cruel
fate?
“...”
Did Cornie’s own father and brother deserve to have their lives taken from them? And, who was it that
took these people away from her? Who was it that wanted to imprison her for no reason other than to
exploit her? What did these fucking humans ever do to her and her family besides ridicule them and
cause her pain?!
“Don’t b-b-b-blame me,” she stuttered. “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong t-t-time.”
*THWACK THWACK*
A swing to either side of the head quickly cut off the young girl’s life. The gnome’s face sprouted a
twisted smile and wide open look as she let out a yell of “I have the shiniest meat bicycle!”
“Th-there, done,” she whimpered after calming down a bit. “I m-made sure the h-head is st-st-st-still
intact.”
“Good.”
Fizzy looked on blankly as the Mimic set about absorbing the human. She had just committed her first
act of murder. It was… a lot easier than she expected. The Mimic had already seen to it that any shred of
decency or honor had been systematically beaten out of her. It thoroughly believed that silly concepts
like that were nothing more than a weakness that needed to be stamped out.
And so, the naive little pink-haired tinkerer was dead. All that was left in her place was a broken
murderer that felt not a single shred of sympathy, guilt or remorse for her victim. The only feeling she
could muster was, at most, a sense of pity. That woman was already dead once the Mimic had gotten
hold of her. All Fizzy could do was make sure her passing was as painless as possible.
As for herself, she vaguely understood her life hung by a thread. Her life would end moment she was no
longer of use or was deemed too much of a hassle. There’s no way a ruthless monster like that would
ever keep her around unless she had some value. But the fear of death is not the reason she still stuck
around. Escape was also very much possible.
Running away from Boxxy was, in theory, a surprisingly simple task. She just had to wait until it took its
weekly dose of sleep. The monster would have chained her with the same mana-sealing restraints she
had during her time in captivity, but those should be easy enough to get off. All she needed to do was
take the small screwdriver out of her pocket and pick the lock on those shackles. As if a simple
mechanism like that would stand a chance against an Artificer of her caliber.
And where would she go even she escaped? Her shop and everything left there had probably been seized
by that despicable man, not to mention that wanted posters with her face on them were probably
plastered all over the city by now. In fact, Boxxy seemed to be the only being on this planet that gave a
damn about her. Sure, the monster constantly abused her, but it wasn’t all that bad. It taught her how to
defend herself, it made sure she was fed and clothed, and watched over her at night.
One day, her usefulness to this creature would probably run out, at which point she would be eaten. She
understood that fact, but didn’t mind it. It was only the natural order of things. All she had to do was
keep being useful, show it that she could be trusted and it would keep her around. And if she failed and
it decided to simply eat her, then she would be fine with that too. At least her life would have ended due
to reasons she understood, and not because of a random twist of fate, a bad roll of the die or an unlucky
coin toss.
On that day when her life ran out, she wanted to be able to look back on her past actions and choices and
confidently state:
This is why I lived.
This is why I died.
Chaos is more than ‘a thing that happens.’ There are underlying circumstances and factors
behind every seemingly random act. Every outcome can be traced back to a singular point
of origin, a simple event or decision that set things into motion. Finding, understanding
and unraveling these threads of causality is the duty and privilege of all that seek true
understanding of this world.
I have high hopes for you, Champion Fizzlesprocket.
P.S. BTW the lich is like, northwest of where you are. Just move along the mountain, look
for a lot of dead and/or dying trees and you’ll find her.
P.P.S. You should really dye your armor bright green when you get the chance. You would
look totes adorbs in it.
You have received a divine revelation from the God of Gambling. FTH +10.
“...”
Well, that ruined her solemn introspective. At least the two of them finally had some direction, and
Fizzy had to agree that the God of Coincidences had a point.
She would look pretty good in green.
(58) Coincidences 9
A monster and its pet gnome were walking along an old dirt path. They’d been heading northwest along
the Sawblade Mountains just as the divine revelation said. Of course, Boxxy refused to outright believe
Fizzy would suddenly know where they were. Scared of incurring the monster’s wrath, she came up
with some bullshit excuse like being able to smell the undead from afar. The Mimic apparently found it
plausible enough, seeing as how it decided to humor the gnome.
That, however, was several days ago, and the Mimic was starting to seriously doubt whether this pint-
sized Paladin was telling the truth. While it’s true that mimics were a species of monster with a great
deal of patience, it was still feeling agitated at having wasted so much time on this little adventure. That
time limit on its all-important quest was seriously starting to worry it. Its brief interaction with that
Goddess of Probability gave it the distinct impression that she was an extremely fickle deity. Clarice
could easily ‘get bored’ with Boxxy at any given moment.
Granted, the two of them didn’t spend all that time simply walking.
Fizzy had already reached Level 25 and was currently honing her Paladin Skills, while Boxxy was
already Level 46. The next Rank Up was within reach and was bound to be a tasty thing. But again, it
felt rushed at the unknowable deadline. Worthy prey had been growing thin as of late and it had to share
the XP with the pink-haired gnome, so its Level gains were not as quick as they could be. There was
also the matter of the Shapeshift Skill. While it was currently at Level 9, which was a good thing, it was
getting harder and harder to gain proficiency in it. The Mimic Job was going to hit Level 50 well before
that Skill got to 10, and it needed both to Rank Up.
However, it would seem the reason for the lack of prey around this neck of the woods had revealed
itself. They were indeed getting closer to something foul, as evidenced by their environment. The rocky
terrain around them adopted a much more barren look. Well, more barren than usual. While the
vegetation on this rocky mountain was always sparse, it was much worse in this area. The grass and
bushes were dried up, and the few pine trees around were reduced to nothing but bare, rotten trunks. A
significant number of them had fallen over, unable to bear their own weight. The soil itself seemed to be
dying out and the faint stench of rot wafted on the breeze.
This phenomenon. known as the Blight, was strongly associated with the presence of undead. Whether
the Blight caused the dead to rise or whether the undead spread the Blight through their presence was
largely a mystery, but they both seemed to grow in equal measure if left unchecked. There was a very
real example of what would happen if it were left to grow out of control. The continent to the far
northeast, a landmass formerly known as Percepeia, was wholly consumed by this supernatural disease.
It was a place that was so thick with the undead, that the very air itself seemed to spread death and
decay.
However, that did not happen overnight. While Blight was dangerous, it spread slowly. It took nearly
two centuries for it to cover the entire continent that was now known as the Deadlands. This particular
patch of Blighted mountain terrain had probably been here for a few years, possibly decades, so it was
still relatively simple for the Empire to heal its lands. Priests and Paladins would purify the soil, water
and air while Shamans and Druids aided in the environment’s recovery. It would also demand a regiment
of soldiers to wipe out the undead that dwelled here.
As for the reason the Lodrak Empire had not moved to handle this yet, they simply didn’t know about it
yet. Even if it was reported, it would take a long while before they could address it. After all, the
Arcaneum currently had its hands full dealing with the aftermath of the Calamity. While the Blight could
be called a disease that was dangerous if left to fester, the Calamity’s side effects were more like a
poison that had to be dealt with quickly. It as a matter of priority - they just did not possess the
manpower to deal with both situations at once.
And they needed the manpower, for subduing a Blight was no easy task. The thousands of undead beasts
that walked these lands were sure to attempt and repel any nosy living beings that dared show their faces
around here. The zombified and skeletal monsters that dwelled around here would never tire or grow
hungry. And while their intelligence would deteriorate after rising from the dead, their instincts and
strength were left mostly intact. They could also keep fighting without feeling pain or fear, making them
much more dangerous than when they were alive.
That is, unless one happened to be proficient in Holy Magic.
“Holy Light!” chanted Fizzy.
A bright yellow-green light enveloped the Zombie Troll she and Boxxy had come across. Black smoke
came out of its body as bits of its rotten flesh turned to dust. A significant chunk of its torso and thighs
disappeared, causing its left leg to snap off. The undead monster then fell over like a stack of bricks.
Your holy magic has purified the undead. Target HP -367.

Your target has been weakened for 6 seconds.
It wasn’t quite dead though. It still kept crawling towards Fizzy, pulling itself along the ground with its
arms, though it was much more sluggish than before.
“Holy Light!”
The second Spell caused the monster’s right arm and shoulder to vanish much like its leg, but its still
kept crawling at her. As expected of a monster that fought literally to the last.
“Holy Light!”
The third one did the trick, completing the large ape-like zombie’s transformation into a smoldering pile
of white ash.
“I-I-I-I did it!” screamed Fizzy.
This was her first time fighting something undead and it was a huge success. It didn’t even get a chance
to get near her. As expected, using a monster’s elemental weakness against it was scarily effective.
“Boxxy! Look!” she yelled while pointing at the troll’s remains. “I did it! I-”
“Shut up and help, stupid thing!”
“... Oh, right! I’m on my way!”
She took out and gripped her oversized wrench and ran towards where Boxxy was currently fighting 5
more of those things. In her excitement she completely forgot that they ran into a group of zombies. She
may have taken one of them down, but the Mimic was currently busy fighting the others. They had
surrounded it on all sides, but the strangely agile spider chest was hopping all over the place, easily
avoiding their clumsy attempts to claw and bite at it.
Just because it could easily outheal the damage didn’t mean it wanted to get hit on purpose.
The gnome approached the scuffle and chanted her next Spell.
“Consecrate!”
A ring of holy energy spread out from beneath Boxxy. It seeped into the soil beneath its feet, causing a
gentle light to seep out from between the cracks in the dried up soil within a radius of 8 meters. This
temporary holy ground would serve to slowly heal both Fizzy and the Mimic while simultaneously
purifying and weakening the undead that were caught up in it. Boxxy took advantage of its enemies’
sudden loss of speed and swiftly went about beheading them while Fizzy crushed their kneecaps and
pummeled their heads. The two of them managed to clean up the remaining undead before the
12-second effect of the Consecrate Spell faded.
“Fizzy,” said the Mimic.
“Hiii!”
Having been named directly, the gnome let out a high-pitched scream.
“W-w-what is it, B-B-Boxxy?”
“Good job.”
Her presence here turned that fight into a piece of cake, as expected of the anti-undead specialist.
Granted, Boxxy would’ve been able to handle those things on its own, but it would have taken much
longer. The Mimic was well aware that undead usually roamed in large packs, and had prepared itself for
a constant fight until the lich it was hunting finally showed up. Therefore, making sure its victories were
fast and efficient was a must-have. Well, that was why it made sure she trained up her Skills and Spells.
“No hesitation or fear, just like monster,” it added.
However, the old Fizzy would have undoubtedly been incapacitated by fear. Momentary weaknesses like
that were deadly when fighting monsters. That’s the main reason it spent so much time thoroughly
educating the naive gnome, beating the fear and hesitation out of her.
“Good job,” it repeated.
“Th-thanks Boxxy!” she replied with a quivering smile.
Well, the ‘training’ worked, though perhaps not in the way the Mimic imagined it. Cornie Fizzlesprocket
was still very much a scaredy cat, and was practically shaking in her boots the entire time, though not
because of some silly zombies. She was scared shitless that she might displease the Mimic if she
performed poorly. That chest-shaped mass of murder was far more terrifying. The fact that she didn’t
disappoint Boxxy and wouldn’t get beaten today was the best news she could’ve hoped for.
“Where to now?”asked the Mimic.
“...”
Fizzy’s weak smile disappeared in an instant as panic gripped her. She had no idea where to go from
here. Her tired green eyes surveyed the surroundings in a panic and spotted something on the horizon.
“There!” she shouted while pointing in the distance. “There’s a wuh-wuh-white tower over there! The li-
lich is probably inside!”
Boxxy traced her finger and did indeed spot a tall, pearly-white structure in the far distance, on top of a
mountain ridge and surrounded by gray, Blighted land on all sides. It was so far away that it looked
smaller than a grain of rice from this distance. It would be impossible to pick out against the horizon if
the gnome didn’t point it out. The only reason she saw it in the first place was due to her well-developed
Perception (PER) Attribute.
“I see. Okay. Let’s go.”
The gnome let out a relieved sigh and followed after the Mimic. She offered a silent prayer to her God as
thanks that the Mimic bought her wild guess. Well, it wasn’t a completely ungrounded theory. There was
nothing but barren, dead land for kilometers around and a lich is supposed to be a powerful being. It
made sense that it would want to hole up somewhere like a tower.
The two of them kept walking for hours, just as they had been for the past 3 weeks. Except that the rate
at which fights broke out was much higher. They had to fight off an average of 4 packs of zombified or
skeletonized beasts every hour. Fizzy’s much higher END Attribute allowed her to keep marching
onward without getting too exhausted, though. She also learned that using Holy Light as a source of
damage just wasn’t worth it. It was far more efficient to just use Consecrate to weaken the undead,
shatter their kneecaps and then smash their heads in once they had fallen over.
However, another enemy reared its head as they made their way into the heart of this dead land.
Your body has been weakened by Blight. Automatic HP has been reduced by 2.6 per
second.
There’s no way the debilitating disease that permeated this place wouldn’t have an effect on them.
Boxxy was fine since it had a high amount of HP recovery to begin with, but Fizzy was not so lucky.
Her HP recovery actually went into the negative, meaning her body was slowly withering away as time
went on. A flash of Holy Light would alleviate her condition and restore her vitality, but it was a stopgap
measure. Using Consecrate would cleanse the land and allow her to recover naturally, but she was
constantly on the move and didn’t have the MP to keep using that Spell.
The matter of provisions was also a problem. Boxxy was mostly fine since it could take a carcass or two
out of its Storage and immediately gobble it up, but Fizzy had it rough. She was carrying her own food
and water, which became contaminated from the prolonged Blight exposure. The crystal clear water in
her waterskin had become brown and murky, while the dried meat she was carrying had gone way
beyond bad. It was basically dirt by the time she took it out of her pack and tried to chow down on it.
It took them the rest of the day to reach their destination, which left the pint-sized Paladin thoroughly
exhausted, both physically and mentally. Not only was she denied both rest and sustenance, but she had
to help Boxxy fight off at least 200 undead. She dreaded the trip back, but at least took solace in the fact
that the Mimic seemed to be satisfied with her performance. Well, that only hinged on whether her guess
would pan out.
The stone tower ahead of them was about 17 meters high and about 7 meters in diameter. It stood on a
ridge that made its top the highest point in the entire Blighted area. The setting sun had dyed the
brilliantly white bricks in red, highlighting the few tiny windows on its upper floors. Both Fizzy and
Boxxy recognized this structure. It looked exactly like the tower back in Erosa’s courtyard - the same
building where the Mimic had its Jobs stripped from it.
It would appear that the organization known as Arcaneum once held a research outpost of some kind out
here. Ruins of a short stone wall could be seen around the tower, as well as what appeared to be the
remnants of a few wooden houses and shacks inside it. A part of the courtyard had been separated by
what appeared to be a stone fence, probably a place where they grew crops or herbs, maybe even kept
farm animals.
Fizzy briefly wondered what the circumstances were. Was the lich perhaps once a magical researcher
here? Or did it occupy this place decades ago after stumbling onto it by chance? She then quickly
dispersed such pointless thoughts and mentally prepared herself for what was doubtlessly going to be a
tough fight.
The monster and the gnome slowly approached the tower. They passed through a large gap in the outer
wall and approached the entrance that probably once had grand double doors. Such things were washed
away by the ravages of time, however. They drew their weapons and warily entered.
The ground floor was a large open space that had most of the furniture and decorations cleaned out of it.
The white stone walls were bare and the wooden floor had nothing on it, save for a few moth-eaten rugs.
A large stone staircase was visible way in the back and a few entrances to small side-rooms were lined
up on the left side.
*Clank clank clank*
Heavy, metallic footsteps could be heard from the rooms in the back. Fizzy audibly swallowed and
readjusted the grip on her improvised mace. Three humanoid figures came out almost simultaneously
and stepped into the fading day’s light that flooded in from the wide-open entrance. They were all clad
head-to-toe in intimidating-looking suits of full plate armor. It was pitch black, spiky and looked to be
ancient, rusty and scratched up. However, it still seemed thick enough to absorb anything the gnome’s
feeble arms could throw at it. The open-faced helmets displayed a trio of thoroughly rotten and half-
skeletal faces, making it painfully obvious that these three were undead. Their armaments and behavior
made it abundantly clear that they were no regular undead, either. The one in the middle bore a huge
greatsword that was almost as long as he was tall, while the two on either side of him had large, heavy
shields and thick longswords.
These were Death Knights, a type of undead that were normally born from the corpses of skilled
warriors and fighters. They sometimes appeared in dungeons or places where particularly bloody battles
took place, but most of the time they were created. And indeed, judging from how each of them took
steady-looking stances and lined up in a loose formation, they were not mindless corpses that attacked
everything on sight. They had a master, an owner.
And it would seem they wanted to personally greet their ‘visitor.’
“So, you’re the one who’s been making all that noise out there, hmm?”
A cold voice dripping with malice echoed through the old tower. That’s when Fizzy beheld the lich she
and Boxxy were looking for all this time. It walked down the stone staircase in a calm manner. No, that’s
not quite right. The lich did not walk, it floated. Also, that being was not an ‘it,’ but quite obviously a
‘she.’
The lich had the appearance of a human woman in her early 20s. Her skin was a sickeningly pale purple
and her relatively short black hair was tied in twin side tails. The face was surprisingly beautiful, except
that he eyes were pitch black, with red dots floating inside them. They seemed to size up and lick all
over Fizzy as if tasting her. A thick, black metal collar was around her neck, with an odd X-shaped
marking at the very front. Immediately underneath that was a large, diamond-cut red gem that was
nestled securely between her massive breasts. Those things looked large enough to compete with a
certain succubus. There also a trio of glowing red runes that appeared to be tattooed vertically across her
stomach.
As for the reason Fizzy could actually see those, it was because the lich was practically naked.
A long, dark blue stretch of cloth that resembled a tattered bandage of some sort was the only thing she
was wearing that could be called clothing. It was wrapped diagonally around her breasts, went around
her back and down her hips, leaving her shoulders, arms, midriff and most of her breast flesh completely
exposed. It securely bound her legs together, leaving her bare-toed feet drifting idly a few centimeters
off the ground. There was also, technically speaking, the tattered remains of a skirt that drifted around
her waist, but it did absolutely nothing to conceal her private place. In fact, the outlines of both her
nipples and cameltoe could be seen clearly through the long stretch of cloth. There were also a number
of thick, ethereal-looking chains floating around her, attached to her iron collar and looped through her
arms. They swayed gently as if they were flags in the breeze, letting out an ominous rattling noise as
they did so.
“What, a gnome?” she said in a clearly patronizing voice. “You can’t be serious!”
“I-I-I-I-I’ll have you kn- know! I’m a P-P-Paladin! I’m not afraid of some stinking undead!”
Fizzy attempted to put up a strong front, but she was clearly terrified. The vibes she got from this
woman were very bad indeed.
“Oh, a Paladin. How droll. Let me guess, you’re on some sort of righteous mission from God to slay me,
are you not?”
“W-Well… You’re not wrong…”
“Haah, typical. This is why I never liked you religious types. Always with the-”
Something metal flashed in the darkened room, behind and above the lich’s head, interrupting her rant
before it even started.
You have suffered a devastating blow. HP -942.

Your undead constitution has prevented you from being Stunned.
Proficiency level increased. Physical Nullity is now Level 3. END +12.
“SHREEEEEEAAAAAAA!” she shrieked, clearly in pain.
In the next instant, she turned transparent and flew forward, away from the thing that just stabbed her in
the back. Another dagger came swinging as she retreated, but merely passed harmlessly through her
body, as if she were a ghost. She flew forward and passed through her Death Knights, putting them
between herself and the enemy she failed to notice. After turning around in midair, she saw her attacker -
a simple wooden chest, standing on 8 black spider legs, with two white daggers held in the air by a pair
of long, red tongue-tentacles.
Boxxy had activated Stealth and scuttled off to the side the instant it entered the room. Not even Fizzy
noticed its disappearance as it got in position to ambush the enemy that would most definitely come.
And when she did, it took the opportunity while she was talking to the gnome to successfully trigger its
Level 9 Assassinate on her. But it failed to take her down in a single blow. And now that the lich was
made painfully aware of the presence of another enemy, it was highly unlikely the Mimic would have
another chance.
As for the victim herself, her face was marred by an expression of pure rage.
Which then gave way to a look of absolute shock and surprise.
“You… YOU!”
Followed by an even more enraged look.

“You, again?!” she screamed. “How many times?! How many times do you have to kill me before
you’re satisfied?! You stupid fucking box! This is all-”
“Holy Light!”
“AAAAAAAARRGH!”
Fizzy’s magic enveloped the ethereal lich, causing her to scream loud enough to deafen all around her.
Her transparent body turned to mist and dispersed in the next instant. The three Death Knights that were
lined up and awaiting the order to attack then crumbled to dust, signifying their master had indeed been
slain. The tiny Paladin that dealt the killing blow then collapsed on her knees and breathed heavily.
“Huff, huff, huff! Yeah! Take that!”
She really did not think she’d meet someone as outwardly terrifying as Boxxy, and yet there she was.
The sheer malice coming off from that lich was enough to freeze her dead in her tracks, but the Mimic’s
reappearance broke her out of her stupor. She was able to then take advantage of the distracted lich and
finish her off without much of a struggle.
“Get up,” stated Boxxy, who had walked up to the gnome before she noticed.
“Ah right!” exclaimed Fizzy. “We should get out of-”
“Have to find the lich.”
“... Huh? Wasn’t that her?!”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Quest not done yet.”
“... Alr- alright, Boxxy. Wh-wh-whatever you say Boxxy!”
The thoroughly abused gnome didn’t even question it. Well, she did have one question though. What or
who was it that just bit the big one? And how come she seemed to recognize a Mimic?
“Uhm… B-B-B-Boxxy, did you know th- that woman?”
Gnomes were curious creatures, and she just couldn’t help herself sometimes.
“Yes.”
Still, her question was answered in Boxxy’s typical fashion. Concisely and to the point, without any
additional information.
“Who- who was she?”
“Someone I killed. Long time ago.”
Indeed. This was actually the second time the Mimic had brought about that woman’s demise. Granted,
the first time it killed her was so long ago that it felt like an entire lifetime had passed since then. And
yet it still remembered her. How could it not? That kill had some rather… memorable circumstances
surrounding it. After all, her body was the last thing it ate before setting out to leave its birthplace
behind, at a time when it was still being influenced by that dungeon.
At a time when the black-haired Necromancer known as Valeria Vortena was still human.
(59) Randomness 10
After defeating the floating undead woman in two hits, Boxxy and Fizzy set about searching the tower.
The Quest had not been fulfilled despite having killed what appeared to be an intelligent undead being,
which to Boxxy meant that they had the wrong target. Seeing an old prey come back to ‘life’ like that
was a bit surprising, but it didn’t have the faintest idea how or why that woman had returned. Therefore,
rather than worry about the un-undead, it decided to carry on with its task and search for signs of its
actual target.
The two of them started with the ground floor. It was just an empty space, including the back rooms
where the Death Knights came out from. This was probably some form of reception area, maybe a guard
post to keep unwanted visitors away from the upper levels.
The 1st through 3rd floors were separated into a collection of dorm rooms, closets, pantries and meeting
rooms - enough living space for 15 to 20 people to live here comfortably. The 3rd floor had a sort of
open central chamber that was probably meant for recreation and large gatherings, maybe even doubled
as a lecture hall. All of these rooms had very little of value in them, however. Just old, dusty furniture,
ripped up carpets, faded paintings and filthy rags that may have been clothes once.
The only halfway interesting things the two of them found were a set of 5 stone busts. They depicted 4
old geezers and a stern-looking granny, probably some important people. Interestingly enough, those
sculptures seemed completely untouched by passage of time. Fizzy, in an effort to appeal her usefulness
to Boxxy, told the Mimic that artistic and/or enchanted antiques like this can be sold to collectors and
may be worth a small fortune. Needless to say, the greedy monster quickly stowed them away inside its
Storage.
The 4th floor was a massive library. Or at least, that’s how this tower’s builders envisioned it. While
there were many bookshelves lining the walls, they were all completely empty. Not a single parchment
or scrap of paper could be seen, just rows upon rows of empty shelves. The tower’s original residents
must have taken all their research materials when they abandoned this place. Either that, or its current
residents had thrown them away for some reason.
The 5th floor of the tower appeared to have a number of work rooms or laboratories. However, much
like the library, this place too had been completely stripped bare of anything even remotely useful. The
gnome, as a craftsman herself, managed to recognize some of the rusty tools left behind as those
commonly used by Alchemists, Enchanters and Jewelers.
The 6th and final floor of the tower had a large hall, which connected to 3 large rooms with heavy desks
and yet more cupboards and bookshelves. Each of them had an adjacent bedroom, suggesting the
bigwigs of this place lived here. All empty, of course. Boxxy recognized the general layout, realizing it
was quite similar to the abandoned warehouse office it used as a hideout back in Erosa.
In the end they found no signs of any more active undead or anything else that might be a lich. Boxxy
counted a total of 14 ash piles, including the 3 former Death Knights on the ground floor. These must
have been that floating woman’s other servants. They’d spent the better part of 2 hours rifling through
this place with very little to show for it. The sun had long ago set, and the gnome was forced to rely on a
makeshift torch for light.
“Uhm, B-B-Boxxy?” stammered out Fizzy just as the Mimic was wondering what to do next.
“What?” it answered after re-forming a head.
Boxxy had to admit, having to do this every time it had to talk to this woman was becoming a bit
irritating. It sorely missed the incredibly convenient telepathic link between itself and its familiars.
Heck, it missed having those familiars around to begin with.
“I r-really could use some, um, sl- sleep…”
Her owner only allowed her about 5 to 6 hours of sleep a day, considerably less than the full 8 hours she
enjoyed before her life turned to shit. Combined with the constant marching, fighting and now having
the Blight sapping her strength made her so tired she felt like she might just keel over from exhaustion.
She was also starving and thirsty, but sleep had to come first.
“No,” said the Mimic, calmly.
“W-why not?”
“You’ll die from Blight.”
It was a fact that, given the gnome’s current condition, she would succumb to the Blight and wither
away if she didn’t heal herself every few minutes. She would undoubtedly die if she fell asleep and
didn’t heal herself every 5 minutes or so.
“Uhm, I th- think I can just Consecrate a room and it’ll let me recover…”
“No.”
The gnome seemed to be desperate, but the Mimic was having none of that. Wasn’t worth the risk. It put
way too much time and effort into training this gnome to let her die to something silly like a disease. It
would be best to leave this place for the moment and resume their search elsewhere.
“But- But!”
*SMACK*
It kicked her viciously in the face, which sent her flying across the room and crashing into some old
chairs. Her increased endurance and vitality allowed it to be even rougher than it was at first when
educating her.
“We’re leaving now!”
Fizzy held back the tears welling up in her eyes and gave up on her hopes of getting a good night’s rest
ever again.
“Yes Boxxy! Ri-right away Boxxy!”
She hurriedly picked herself up off the ground while responding in a shaky voice. She then healed
herself with a couple of Holy Lights and meekly followed the violent box as it made its way back down
the steps. However, the Mimic spotted something was amiss just as they entered the empty library on the
4th floor. It armed itself with two daggers and a shield and assumed a sort of fighting stance. An act
which prompted Fizzy’s own arm to reach for the heavy wrench on her back, almost as if it moved on its
own.
The Mimic really didn’t want to enter that large round chamber that spanned the entire floor, but it had
no choice. The staircase to go down to the dormitory area was on the other side of the floor. It warily
entered the room and the gnome followed closely behind.
“H-How?!” shrieked Fizzy. “Didn’t we kill you?!”
Floating in the middle of the chamber, with 6 zombified twin-tailed wolves around her, was the same
undead woman from a few hours ago.
“You’ll have to try harder if you want to kill a lich!” said Valeria with a sneer.
She then pointed directly at the pair of intruders in her new home.
“Keep them busy,” she commanded.
The six wolves snarled in response and lunged forward. Fizzy broke out of her stupor and immediately
started preparing to cast Consecrate, but the lich had no intention of letting her finish. She bent forward
and threw her arms out behind her.. In the next instant, she threw open her mouth and an unearthly,
piercing howl radiated outward from her.
The noise was intense, as if a thousand fingernails were scratching a thousand blackboards. It instantly
shattered Fizzy’s concentration. The gnome fell to the ground while clutching her ears and screaming in
pain, though she could not hear the voice coming out of her own throat. Surprisingly, this had an even
worse effect on Boxxy, even though it didn’t have ears. Or rather, it was especially because it didn’t
have ears. Its hearing was simply a byproduct of its natural perception picking up sound waves in the air.
Coupled with its recently acquired Perception (PER) Attribute, it meant that the lich’s screech was
actually almost two times louder for it than it was for Fizzy.
However, rather than curl up on the floor and hope the bad thing goes away like a certain pink-haired
girl, it took action to make it stop. The Mimic managed to withstand the sonic onslaught long enough to
throw one of its daggers at the loudmouth in the room. It flew true and struck the lich in the chest with
enough force to make her stagger and lurch backward a bit through the air, forcing her to stop her
scream.
Now that the disturbance was gone, Boxxy was able to move and engage the 6 wolves. It put away its
remaining dagger and re-armed itself with a couple of swords. It then beheaded two of them in an
instant. They were… much weaker than it was expecting. Even if they were undead under the direct
influence of a lich, their base was bad. Boxxy and Fizzy had fought wolves like these regularly, so they
should have no trouble mopping them up. The most they could do was, just as Valeria had ordered, keep
the Mimic busy for several seconds.
As for the lich, she scowled at the shiny dagger sticking out of her chest, pulled it out and tossed it aside.
Not a single drop of blood could be seen dripping from the wound or clinging to the blade. She was
surprised that stupid box could manage to not only endure her Sonic Scream, but even mount a
counterattack with that dagger throw. Otherwise she would have activated her Ethereal Body Skill to
completely dodge the blow. Both of those things were leftovers from her days as a banshee, before she
had Ranked Up into a lich. She could still turn incorporeal despite not being a ghost anymore, but
maintaining that state rapidly consumed MP.
However, that shrieking voice was hardly her only means of attacking directly. She held a hand up,
pointing her open palm at the Mimic that was currently tearing its way through her third minion.
“Frostbolt,” she chanted.
A brilliantly white ball of magic shot out from her outstretched arm. It left a glowing, light blue trail as it
flew through the room and hit the Mimic dead on and splashed over it like a glob of water.
Your body has been frozen by magic. HP -351.
This was different from the Cryomancer magic that Boxxy knew of. It didn’t get stabbed with a piece of
enchanted ice, but had a part of its body instantly freeze over. Not only did it sap its HP, but also
restricted its movement, causing it to slow down. It could barely even feel its right side, where the magic
had struck. Wondering where its own magical support was, it briefly turned its attention back to Fizzy,
only to realize she had passed out.
It would seem that the gnome had been rendered unconscious by the intense sonic assault. Even if she
had it a bit easier compared to the Mimic, she still lacked Boxxy’s well-developed MNT and absurdly
high END Attribute. She was therefore unable to withstand the strain of the attack like Boxxy did and
had passed out.
A fact which Valeria also seemed to notice. She moved her arm to aim at the obviously more fragile
target.
“Frostbolt.”
Boxxy instantly disengaged from the remaining 3 wolves and leaped in the way of her Spell.
Your body has been frozen by magic. HP -288.
After taking the hit, it immediately wrapped a spare tongue around the gnome and chucked it into its
Storage. The lich’s eyes went wide for a moment at the sight of the monster seemingly swallowing its
companion whole, but quickly composed herself. She had already seen the monster’s Storage Skill in
action, so she knew better than to assume it literally ate its one ticket to victory for no reason.
That last bit of her assessment was no empty boast, either. The fact that a monster sacrificed its HP to
protect something meant that it was useful. It wasn’t out of charity or kindness, but cold-blooded
pragmatism. Which meant that it needed that Paladin in order to fight her. In other words, it had no
means of damaging her spectral body. That being the case, she was confident that she could easily defeat
this simple creature. All she had to do was be watchful for surprises and carefully manage her MP.
“Frostbolt.”
Which made her glad she decided to practice using these relatively new Spells of hers. Valeria was
rather proud of her Frostbolt accuracy in particular, as evidenced at how she landed the third consecutive
hit on the Mimic. It had tried to dodge the Spell by leaping to the side, but was hampered by having part
of its body encased by ice.
Your target’s body has been frozen by magic. Target HP -288.
It once again took a good chunk out of its HP. However, the damage was significantly lower than what
Valeria expected. The last time she attacked a living being directly, it dealt about 390 damage, so how
come it was doing almost a quarter less?
The answer was, as expected, because of the monster’s Skills. And while its Level 9 Natural Armor was
doing good work, the main source of its resilience against magic was the final Skill granted by its Mimic
Job.
Adaptive Defense
Description: Shapeshifters are notorious for how rapidly they can adapt to their
environment
Requirements: Level 45 Monster Job, Shapeshift, END 200, 4 Attributes above 100
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effect: Taking elemental damage temporarily increases your damage resistance to that
element by 10%.
Increases the elemental resistance granted by this Skill by 3% per Level of this Skill.
The duration of this Skill’s effect is equal to 1 second per Level of the Shapeshift Skill.
Can only defend against 1 element at a time.
Unfortunately, it didn’t get as much opportunity to develop this as much as it wanted, which left the
Skill at only Level 2. Still, reducing the power of a spellcaster’s magic by a sixth was nothing to sneeze
at. It’s a good thing it decided to hide Fizzy away, otherwise she would have died in two hits of this
stuff, maybe three if she was lucky. As for why it chose to protect her, it was because that gnome was
the best way it had of actually killing that lich, much like the person herself had deduced. Although,
such an outcome was rapidly becoming an impossibility. After all, the best way to fight a Caster was to
kill them before they even realized it was there. Therefore, Fizzy was necessary to ensure the successful
completion of this quest.
That’s when the monster had an epiphany as it used a shield to block the next Frostbolt. The monster
needed some time to think, and it couldn’t do that in its current situation. It had to run, but the stairs
leading down were all the way on the other side of the decrepit library. So it leapt backwards and
skittered up the steps back to the 5th floor and kept going all the way until the 6th. It entered into the
wide hall that connected the 3 offices here.
“Did you think you can get away?”
But Valeria was already waiting for it. She must have phased through the floors to block it off. And her
pets were clearly clambering up the steps behind the Mimic, as evidenced by the sound of claws
scraping against stone.
“Frostbolt.”
The lich resumed her magical assault, but Boxxy hopped nimbly to the side and narrowly avoided the
magical projectile. Those few seconds it bought while climbing up had allowed Boxxy to fully recover
its HP and regain most of its mobility. It needed to avoid getting slowed down again, otherwise it was
sure to get bogged down and turned into an ice cube.
“Ice Floes.”
Its opponent used a different Spell, which covered the ground under Boxxy in a thin sheet of ice, clearly
intent on forcing the monster to slip. The Mimic had no such intentions and jumped onto the wall before
the slippery ice could fully form. It crawled steadfastly along the vertical surface while making sure it
kept dodging the Frostbolts that the lich was sending at it. After circling halfway around the edge of the
large hall, it ducked inside one of the offices on the side. It went into the adjacent bedroom and onto its
balcony, then jumped off into the night. It sprouted a pair of bat-like wings, but was unable to properly
gain control of its fall and slammed into the ground anyway.
You have suffered blunt force trauma. HP -218.
It took a moment to dig its rectangular body out of the dirt and started circling around the tower, looking
for something.
The nature of its earlier revelation was rather straightforward. That floating woman was indeed the lich
it was looking for, or at least so she claimed. Which meant she was the target of its Quest after all.
However, the task in question said it had to defeat her, not kill her. It had assumed those two things were
synonymous, but that clearly wasn’t the case. If anything, outright killing her had only made things
worse.
Taking these precious few moments, it quickly realized another thing. The way she came back to ‘life’ in
perfect condition with her memory and Skills completely intact was eerily familiar. Not to mention that
body of hers that made no sense on the inside. It was highly likely she was a being somewhat similar to
demons. Something with a conjured physical form and an immortal soul. Even if it killed her again,
there was a good chance she’d be able to come back anyway.
Besides, it had to defeat her.
After doing three quarters of a circle outside the tower’s base, it finally spotted what it was looking for -
the set of heavy steel doors that led into the basement. It really should have realized it earlier, but this
tower was identical to the building where it had its Jobs taken from it. Which meant that it had a
basement filled with various magical reagents and ritual markings. If the source of that lich’s rebirth was
to be found anywhere, it would be here.
“Frostbolt!”
Boxxy hopped backwards and away from the doors the instant it heard the chant. Valeria was directly
overhead and floating gently downwards as she prepared yet another Spell. She had found the Mimic
quickly. Too quickly. It was likely she possessed a way of tracking it down and was obviously intent on
keeping it out of the basement. The Mimic needed some way of distracting her long enough to get
through that door. It reached into its Storage yet again and tossed something directly at her. Valeria
didn’t see exactly what it was, other than the fact it was a small, handheld metal cylinder. She
immediately turned ethereal again, wary of being damaged by that.
Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t something designed to inflict damage. It was a flashbang, a leftover
from Boxxy’s Artificer days.
*PANNNN*
It popped open with a sharp sound right in front of the lich’s transparent face, bathing the area around
the tower in a brilliant white light.
“Gaaaah!” she screamed, then covered her eyes with her forearm. Even if she was incorporeal, she still
relied heavily on eyesight. And where there exists a sense, there’s a way to confuse it. It took her several
seconds for all the weird shapes and colorful blotches impeding her eyesight to disappear. By the time
she did so, the Mimic had already picked the lock on the doors and entered the basement. Using her
Detect Life Skill, she was able to track the Mimic’s life force through the walls and was able to confirm
it had already went inside and was already running around the interior.
“No…” she muttered. “Noooooo!”
She glided forward with all her might, desperate to intercept and stop that monster. However, her speed
was low. She could only move at about a low-leveled human’s running pace, which was much, much too
slow when compared with that eight-legged freak. The hastily-raised undead minions she left as a last
line of defense were being taken out one after the other. If she still had control over the 5 Death Knights
she left down there, then they would’ve easily stopped that stupid box, maybe even killed it.
In the end, that was merely a what-if. Her rash actions to seek vengeance over being murdered had made
her slacken her preparations. She had underestimated her opponent. Not its fighting strength, she was
still confident she could beat it when it came to a fight. However, that simple-looking monster turned out
to be a lot more resourceful than she thought, and avoided battling her with all its might. She desperately
rushed into the basement and headed for the far corner of the large chamber. She arrived just in time to
see the Mimic coil its tongue around the shiniest object in the decrepit room.
It was an egg-shaped object that was about 10 centimeters wide and 15 centimeters tall. Its smooth,
gem-like surface was a rich blue color that would put even the brightest sapphire to shame. An intricate
golden pattern ran across across it, depicting a series of thorns, several crows, some skeletons holding
scythes and other macabre imagery. These golden shapes his roughly half of the egg’s brilliant surface,
and only added to the item’s luxurious atmosphere. The 6 centimeter tall golden skull depicted on one
side of it had a duo of shining, blood-red gems faceted inside its eye sockets.
This expensive-looking thing had been held upright on a clearly custom-designed three-legged silver
stand, which had been placed on a waist-high stone pedestal. Its extravagance and pride of place clearly
marked it as an object of some importance, while the bright red jewels in that golden skull signified
some sort of relation to the lich.
And it was indeed both those things. This was her phylactery, the vessel that held her undying soul. It
was through this object that she was able to regenerate her physical body as many times as she wanted.
However, it was also her weakness. Not only would her power weaken if she strayed too far from it, but
breaking it was the only way to truly destroy her. So it was only natural that having the lynchpin binding
her to this world taken from her was nothing sort of checkmate.
Just how the hell did that moronic box suddenly figure out her weakness? It clearly didn’t know about it
before, so how come it suddenly made a beeline for it? And how come it was able to unlock that damned
door so quickly?
A series of questions rushed through her head during the split second that it took for Boxxy to toss the
shiny thing into its open maw. And all of those could be answered with a single word.
Pineapple.
However, that would be the wrong answer. The correct word to answer all of her unspoken queries was
‘experience.’
The lingering knowledge concerning demons, the traumatizing experience of having its Jobs and Skills
severed from it, the insight granted from the Lockpick Skill, the time it spent as an Artificer, its aptitude
for confusing and befuddling its opponents and its instinctive lust for coveting shiny things all led to this
singular point in time.
The Storage portal inside Boxxy’s maw shut close, stowing away its prize. Having the link between her
soul and body severed like that caused Valeria’s physical form to fall limply to the ground. It then started
crumbling, turning back into the dust from whence it came.
As for the Mimic, it had absolutely no idea exactly why that happened. There’s no way it could have
deduced the true purpose of that phylactery, and had no idea it was vital to the lich’s survival. It’s just
that this basement had been left completely barren, much like the rest of the tower. It came here looking
for some sort of ritual circle or glowing sigil, like the ones it had used during demonic rituals. Failing to
find anything like that, it instantly decided to pocket the shiny thing while it had the chance, then run
away with all due haste.
Therefore, seeing the lich instantly collapse and pass away like that caught it more than a little off-guard.
Although not unwelcome, this sudden development was something completely outside of its scope of
understanding. However, it suspected that a certain deity had this very same outcome in mind when he
sent Boxxy on this Quest. That last part was relatively easy to guess though.
Because the ‘Defeat the lich’ Quest with a difficulty rating of six turtles was now marked as complete-
*Clap*
*Clap*
*Clap*
-and the Mimic once again found itself sitting at a table in an endlessly white room with Jill the Goddess
of Uncertainty for company.
(60) Volatility 11
“So,” said Paul, “I suppose congratulations are in order.”
The Mimic, who was once again forced into the humanoid shape of a small child now that it was back in
this weird spirit realm, just smiled dumbly in response.
“What just happened?” it asked.
“You defeated the lich.”
The God of Probability gave it a technically correct, but utterly useless answer. For the briefest moment,
Boxxy got a taste of its own medicine.
“How?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out shortly.”
The three tailed iguana snapped its windows as per usual, which caused Boxxy to be enveloped by a
bright light.
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
…
…
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 25 Warlock! INT +50. MNT +50. END +50.
Congratulations, you are now a Level 12 Artificer. DEX +24. WIS +24. PER +24.
Proficiency level increased. Clockwork Expertise is now Level 3. DEX +6. PER +6.
Proficiency level increased. Explosives Handling is now Level 2. DEX +4. WIS +4.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Hero of Chaos.
Proficiency level increased. Chaotic Disposition is now Level 1.
Proficiency level increased. Agent of Chaos is now Level 1.
Proficiency level increased. Essence Concealment is now Level 1.
Boxxy stood with its mouth agape for a good minute while its mind did what was essentially a reboot.
Its newly restored mental capacity allowed it to once again look over the past 3 weeks of its life with a
fresh set of eyes. The escape from its flying cage, Fizzy’s training, their journey through the woods and
subsequent trek through the Blight, all up to the confrontation with the lich. It finally grasped that the
shiny thing it took must have been what was sustaining the undead woman’s physical body, and that
moving it into its pocket dimension somehow disarmed her.
It looked back at LaQuisha with a thoroughly enlightened look in its red eyes.
“All better?” she asked, more out of courtesy than general concern.
“Yeah… I think I understand now.”
“Good, then at least I won’t need to explain things. I hate giving away spoilers like that.”
“Thank you.”
This was the second time the Mimic had expressed genuine gratitude towards someone else.
“Don’t mention it,” said Theodore with a wave of his liver. “It all happened as expected, after all.”
“... You sound disappointed,” commented Boxxy.
Indeed, this bizarre divine being’s attitude thus far had been much less enthusiastic than their first
meeting.
“I am a little disappointed, yes. Not at your continued survival, mind you, I was just hoping things
would play out differently from what I predicted. The odds were overwhelmingly in your favor, even
without that gnome being there.”
He had a point. In the end, Fizzy’s presence was little more than a convenience.
“If you knew I would succeed, then why send me at all?”
“Because, my newly-chosen Hero, a prediction is different from a prophecy. Even if the chance of
failure is slim, it is always there. You would do well to remember that. No matter how good I am at
reading between the lines, the little thing called free will remains an enigma wrapped in a mystery and
shrouded by questions. Even to someone like me.”
“What’s an enigma? Is it tasty?”
“Pfft! Puhahahahaha!”
The God of Chance failed to stifle a laugh, then erupted into a hearty laughter. It took him a while to
calm down and recompose himself.
“Haah,” he sighed. “Sorry about that. I almost forgot who I was talking to. You probably don’t care
about any of this, do you?”
“No, not really.”
Boxxy was only curious how come Kole was disappointed that it survived. Even if its thinking ability
had been restored, it was still more or less a simpleton. A simple ‘because it was boring’ would have
sufficed.
“That’s fine, I just have a habit of rambling on sometimes. Ignoring me really is for the best.”
“Okay. But can I try casting a Spell?”
Having its Status and knowledge restored was one thing, but it was eager to confirm its Spell-slinging
abilities were back.
“Sure, go right ahead.”
The child-shaped monster held out a hand to the side and chanted its most basic Spell.
And the mass of hissing darkness appeared and flew off into the distance before fizzling out of
existence. Boxxy’s face lit up with a bright, slack jawed smile that was sweet enough to give people
cavities. It giggled a bit and hopped around in its seat out of excitement.
“Say, Boxxy,” said Tim, interrupting its little celebration. “Do you mind casting that again?”
The Mimic nodded in response and let loose another Spell.
However, rather than flying off into the distance, it swerved unnaturally around and flew straight at Jack.
It froze in mid-air, directly in front of him. It was as if time had stopped completely inside the space it
occupied. Actually, there was a good chance that was exactly what had happened. Randy was, after all, a
God. And this God was closely inspecting the frozen projectile from a number of angles.
“Huh. Well, what do you know, it really is like that after all,” he muttered.
“What is?” asked Boxxy. It felt like its work was being scrutinized somehow, so it was naturally
interested in what this deity had to say.
“I always thought your Shadowbolts were a bit weird, but I wasn’t sure until I saw them just now.”
“Weird how?”
“Well, the shape is a bit off…”
Indeed, looking at the suspended Spell like this made it clear as day that the projectile itself was not, as
one would expect, a sphere, but a small black cube.
“So?” asked the Mimic, completely unable to grasp the significance of that.
“So- Why is it in that shape?”
Boxxy simply shrugged its shoulders.
“I just casted it like normal.”
“Wait, don’t tell me - when you imagine gathering a mass of shadow and throwing it at people, what sort
of mental image do you use?”
“A chest.”
“Hah. A chest. Hahaha! I see, I see, so it was like that.”
“Is the shape bad?”
“No, not bad. It doesn’t actually have any negative impact on the Spell, so you don’t need to worry. It
was just a bit strange to me, is all.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, I should probably send you back now.”
“... What should I do from now on?”
“Hm? Why are you asking me?”
“Aren’t you my boss now?”

“Why would I be?”
“That’s how this thing works, right? The Hero serves the God?”
“Fuck no! Where’s the fun in that?! If I tell you to go and do something, then that takes half the fun out
of this thing! All that I expect from you is to be yourself and do what you please.”
It would seem that, ironically enough, the God of Chaos’s personal interference in a specific matter
completely removed notions like chance, luck and coincidence from the situation. Knowing the outcome
beforehand was probably the reason he seemed to be constantly bored.
“Then what about the lich?”
The Mimic had deduced that there was a good chance she might reappear the instant it took that gilded
egg thing out of Storage. Heck, she might just go ahead and materialize inside its pocket dimension for
all it knew.
“The whole reason I brought you two back together was because I was curious to see how you will
handle her in the future, so do with her as you please. The same goes for that little Champion of mine.”
“You don’t mind if I kill her?”
“Not at all. I don’t particularly care if she survives since both her life and death are bound to be
entertaining in their own ways.”
“Okay.”
“Alright then, I’ll be sending you back now. I am eager to see what exciting things will come from that
free will of yours!”
*Snap*
The child-sized monster disappeared from the white room in the next instant, back to the physical realm.
Now that nobody was around to perceive him, the God of Chaos was finally able to stabilize his form.
He simply stood there at that fake table for a while longer, quietly staring at the cubic Shadowbolt frozen
in time.
“A chest, huh?” he mumbled to himself. “Shadowbolt.”
His own projectile of solid darkness appeared in the air above him, hanging frozen in time just like the
Mimic’s. It was huge, gigantic even. So big it must have been over 40 meters wide. And, oddly enough,
it too assumed the same, six-sided shape as Boxxy’s.
“Really can’t tell if it’s a dice or not without the markings, huh?”
After mumbling to nobody in particular once more, he forcibly dispersed the magic around him with a
small smile. Coincidences like this were always enjoyable. He then turned his divine attention back to
the war that was brewing. Of course he took a personal interest in it - the trigger for it was a byproduct
of his Hero’s actions, after all. Needless to say, he was very much eager to see the results of that
particular chain of events. He started analyzing all the millions upon millions of variables and factors
involved in order to determine the most likely and least likely outcome. And when he was finished, he
would root for the least likely result, no matter what it was.
Boxxy returned to its body in the tower’s basement safe and sound. It quickly opened up its Storage and
spit out Fizzy. The gnome was thankfully still alive, but she hadn’t regained consciousness yet. Simply
leaving her like this was dangerous as she could die to the Blight, so it also took out a healing potion and
fed it to her. Her green eyes shot open as she gasped for air in the next instant.
“Wha-?! Who?!”
She looked around in a panic, but calmed down after realizing the Mimic must have beaten that lich.
Well, either that or it ran away.
“D-did you win?!”
“Yes.”
Of course it did, she thought to herself. As if some corpse-lady would be able to stop that thing.
“S-So the Quest is done?”
“Yes.”
The gnome swallowed audibly.
“Then wh-what happens now?”
“I have to call Carl.”
“Oh- Okay. Then what do I n-n-n-need to do?!”
“You just sit there and be quiet.”
“Yes, Boxxy! Whatever you say, Boxxy!”
1-800-7355-9687-7685
It mind-dialed Demons ‘R’ Us as per usual. It had tried doing so several times over the past few weeks,
but to no avail. That particular feature was part of the Summon Familiar Skill rather than Demonology,
after all. And now that it once again had it, it got an actual response, though not the one it wanted.
“We’re sorry, the number you are trying to reach is currently busy. Please try again later.”
*Boop-boop-boop-boop-boop*
A strangely monotonous female voice answered, followed by a strange beeping tone it hadn’t heard
before. That was odd.
*Ring-ring*
Ah, now it sort of understood. It would seem Carl was trying to call it at the same time. Oh well, these
things happen.
*Click*
“Hello?”
“Boxxyyyyy!” came Carl’s familiar, clearly excited voice. “That was one hell of a battle just now! The
look on that undead whore’s face when you swallowed her phylactery was fucking priceless!”
“... You saw that?”
“Well yeah, how could I not?”
“How, though?”
The Mimic was under the distinct impression that demons were unable to peer into the physical realm
from the Beyond. So how come Carl supposedly ‘saw’ it fight the lich?
“... You mean you didn’t know? About the broadcasts, I mean?”
“Are broadcasts tasty?”
“Okay, guess you didn’t. Uhm, wow, okay. Look, that’s not important right now. I’m actually calling you
about your severed contracts. As I understand it, that whole Job Removal thing happened against your
will, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you wish to re-establish the previously voided contracts?”
“Yes.”
“Super, just needed some confirmation. Gimme a second here.”
*Tak tak takatakatakatak tak tak*
“There, done. Your familiars are all set up and ready for you. Feel free to summon them at any time.”
“That was fast,” remarked Boxxy.
“Well, I sorta got everything ready in advance. No reason to keep the boss’s Hero waiting, you know?”
That demon did fast, efficient work as usual. As expected of a seasoned professional.
“Hey, no problem buddy. Is there anything else you need?”
“No.”
“Understood. I’ll be here if you need me. Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
*Click*
And now, without further ado, Boxxy finally activated the nostalgic Summon Familiar Skill. Fizzy was
more than a little startled by this. From her perspective, she just watched the Mimic sit perfectly still for
a minute or two before concentric circles of ever-shifting demonic runes started appearing around it.
This was her first time witnessing a summoning, so she had little idea what was going on. But still, she
knew better than to interrupt Boxxy for no good reason. That bad habit of hers was just one more thing
that had been systematically beaten out of her.
The sudden lightshow dispersed after ten seconds, leaving behind the shape of a woman standing a few
meters to the side. One with humongous breasts, blue skin and hair, golden curved horns, huge bat-like
wings, skimpy red leather outfit and a spaded tail that sprouted from just above her plush backside.
Xera’s shining red eyes stared disdainfully at the gnome for a moment, as if looking at a piece of horse
dung on the side of the road. How dare this inferior creature receive her beloved master’s affections all
this time? That’s right, beloved. The succubus had been doing a lot of soul-searching these past three
weeks. Well, there isn’t much else to do in the Beyond, really. And, much to her surprise, she found out
that she sorely missed being by her master’s side. That monster was a violent, abusive, selfish prick that
that completely saw her as a thing rather than a person, and she had grown immensely fond of it because
of that. She hesitated to call this strange sensation something silly like ‘love’ at first. A succubus in
love? What sort of absurd fairy tale was that? However, the crushing loneliness she felt after having her
contract forcefully terminated left very little doubt in her mind.
Xera then turned her attention away from the tiny harlot and towards the object of her twisted affections.
The harsh look on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a soft, almost demure expression. Her eyes
instantly lit up and her smiling lip quivered a bit.
“M-Master?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“Yes?” answered Boxxy through the extremely convenient telepathic link.
“Masteeeeeer!”
She practically cried for joy as she leapt head first at the Mimic with arms wide opens, as if she wanted
to hug the wooden chest. Overcome with a fuzzy, nostalgic feeling, Boxxy also moved to accept her
embrace. Which meant that it opened its massive maw and closed it around her upper body. The sharp
teeth sank into her soft flesh as it started mercilessly gnawing and chewing on her. The succubus
shuddered immensely from the long-awaited stimulation. Pain instantly turned to pleasure as she reveled
in the intense sensations only Boxxy T. Morningwood could give her. She creamed herself 4 whole
times before her physical body died under the strain. A new personal record for the masochistic slut.
Boxxy was left quite satisfied as well. Its Snack seemed to have somehow gotten even tastier while it
was away.
“Uhm, B-Boxxy?” spoke up Fizzy. “Wh-who was that?”
“That was Snack.”
“Ah… I see…”
The gnome’s eyes became unfocused as realization hit her. She only asked because she recognized the
succubus’s face. After all, it was the exact same face Boxxy made at her whenever it spoke. She was
obviously one of its summoned familiars that she had heard about, probably the same one that tampered
with her memory. With a nickname like Snack, it became painfully obvious what her function was. For
the briefest moment, Fizzy found herself sympathizing with the demoness.
However, when Xera was re-summoned a minute later, she did not have a look of apprehension, fear or
anger that Fizzy was expecting. She showed up sporting a thoroughly content smile and actually
appeared to be in an excellent mood. As if getting eaten was exactly what she wanted. Come to think of
it, wasn’t there a lot of clear liquid flowing down her thighs while she was being ripped limb from limb?
The perceptive gnome immediately put two and two together and simply gave up. She felt incredibly
silly for showing sympathy for this clearly perverted demon.
The two of them sat in total silence as Boxxy waited for its MP to recover.
“Holy Light.”
Well, almost total silence. The Blight still had ahold of Fizzy, so she still had to heal herself every few
minutes. Xera’s demonic constitution on the other hand was able to completely repel the magical disease
and fight off any negative effects. Which was a good thing, because her body was much weaker than
even Fizzy’s. After about 10 minutes, it repeated the summoning and called forth Kora.
The well toned, 250-centimeter tall red-skinned fiend appeared already sporting a gigantic toothy grin.
She completely disregarded the tiny Paladin and raised both of her right arms in the air as a sort of
greeting.
“Yo Boss!” she said, clearly pleased at being back in the physical realm. “Good to see you’re alive and
kicking!”
“Me too,” answered the Mimic in good humor.
“Man, am I ever glad to be back here. I was seriously dreading losing you as a master, you know!”
This statement reflected her genuine feelings on the matter. Much like Xera, she too had also grown
attached to Boxxy. Unlike the succubus, however, the nature of her feelings was purely platonic. She just
found it incredibly amusing to be around this thing. Sure there were some rough spots like the boring-ass
guard duty, being forced to pull a heavy cart or being used as a target for the Mimic’s violent
experiments, but that was overshadowed by the sheer amount of fun she had. The number of things she
got to smash on a daily basis would make her the envy of all her peers. Especially when one of the
things she found herself regularly smashing was the tight asshole of a succubus who was practically
begging to be dicked to death.
Speaking of which-
“Boss, requesting permission to fuck the succubus in the ass!”
Xera’s already smiling face practically lit up at Kora’s enthusiastic words. Well, just because she
admitted to having feelings for her master didn’t mean she suddenly stopped enjoying a good pounding.
Fizzy’s eyes, on the other hand, went wide in surprise. She wasn’t quite sure how that would work out
between two clearly female demons and found herself being morbidly curious about it. Well, such
curiosity would undoubtedly dissipate when she inevitably found out about Kora’s third leg.
“Denied.”
However, it would seem that particular event would have to wait.
“First we find a place with tastier air.”
Just because it was able to fight off the degenerative effects of the Blight didn’t mean it didn’t feel its
effects. Even if it only amounted to a vague feeling of lethargy and tiredness, unpleasant things were
unpleasant. Therefore, it swiftly mobilized its demons and pet Paladin, then set out into the night. Boxxy
once again found itself beset by hundreds of undead as it made its way through the barren, dying land.
However, this time it had Kora and Xera to do all the work. The succubus’s magical flame incinerated
everything in their path while the fiend stomped anything that managed to get past into a bloody paste.
Fizzy was simply glad her role had been reduced to that of a healer who simply had to follow behind and
support them as she saw fit. It was a far less taxing job than what she went through during the afternoon.
She barely even had to do anything other than carry a torch and sometimes heal herself, both of which
were for her own benefit.
However, she didn’t let herself calm down too much. The unsettling glances she got from those two
demons sent chills down her spine. One of them looked at her like a piece of trash, while the other
seemed to be sizing her up as if she was planning to devour her. The poor gnome wasn’t quite sure
which one she should be more worried about.
As for Boxxy, it simply followed in the trail of destruction left behind by its newly reinstated familiars.
It took this opportunity to review its Status. Everything appeared to be back where it was. It felt like it
had maybe lost a bit of proficiency, but the all-important Job and Skills were indeed all there, so it really
couldn’t complain about it. After confirming for the upteempth time that everything seemed to be in
order, it finally turned its attention to the new things it had acquired.
Hero of Chaos
Description: The harbinger of chaos and confusion.
Requirements: Officially recognized by the Goddess of Coincidence
Effects: Grants the Chaotic Disposition, Agent of Chaos and Essence Concealment Skills.
So, the Perk itself seemed to be little more than a fancy title that granted a bunch of Skills, but all of
them were a bit odd. For starters, they didn’t seem to give any sort of Attribute bonus. Then there was
the fact that their maximum Level appeared to be 1. Still, that God called Willy had said that there was a
good chance Boxxy would find them tasty, so it inspected them with some anticipation.
Chaotic Disposition
Description: Under the divine protection of the God of Probability
Requirements: Hero of Chaos
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Casting a Spell or activating a Skill will sometimes produce a random magical
effect.
This Skill may not be triggered more than once every 60 seconds.
This first one was… incredibly vague, to say the least. Still, Boxxy was quite eager to see how it
worked, so it started firing Shadowbolts into the night sky, one after the other. This naturally drew the
attention of the three women it was traveling with. They stared curiously at the spell-slinging chest until,
on the 6th Shadowbolt, something happened.
Chaotic energies swirl around you. Your body has turned pink for 1 minute.
And indeed, just as the message said, the Mimic’s predominantly brown faux-wood skin turned a bright
neon pink that put that gnome’s pigtails to shame.
“Pfu! Puhahaha! What the fuuuck?! Aaah hahahahaha!”
Kora erupted in roaring laughter. As expected, there was never a dull moment as long as her master was
around. Xera and Fizzy, on the other hand, tried their hardest not to follow her example. The former was
doing so out of respect, the latter due to the fear.
Boxxy was more than a little disturbed at this development. It wasn’t a fan of pink. It was the most un-
stealthy color imaginable, after all. It attempted to forcibly change its pigmentation, but the effect of the
Chaotic Disposition Skill proved to be much stronger than Shapeshift. What was with this pointlessly
powerful effect?! Well, it was only temporary anyway. The Mimic gave up on trying to change the thing
it had no control over and moved onto the next Skill.
Agent of Chaos
Description: Complex machinations converge to a single act of power
Requirements: Hero of Chaos
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Your actions will have more profound consequences.
Increases the effectiveness of the LCK Attribute by 10%.
This one was even less clear on what it did. Oh sure, it boosted the effects of the LCK Attribute, but
those have always been incredibly vague to begin with. Rather than being useful, it gave Boxxy a rather
ominous feeling. That bored God of Rounding Errors probably forced this bizarre Skill on it so that
things would get more interesting. And ‘more interesting’ didn’t necessarily mean good things for the
holder of the Skill.
Actually the same could be said of the first Skill as well. If the effect was truly random, then it wasn’t a
stretch to assume that it might cause something bad to happen. Or it might be something unexpectedly
beneficial. In the end, only time would tell if these Skills were tasty or not. No wonder Willy gave
Boxxy only a 62% chance that the Mimic would find being his Hero to its liking.
And the majority of that estimate seemed to stem from the last Skill in the list was awarded with.
Essence Concealment
Description: Being a Hero sometimes requires a certain degree of subtlety
Requirements: Hero (Any)
Type: Toggled (OFF)
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Presents a fake Status Screen when inspected with Appraisal.
Divine minds can see through the illusion.
With this, Boxxy should finally be able to do the things it had been unable to do. It would also have a
much easier time of blending in with civilized society. Oddly enough, this one seemed to be a Skill that
all Heroes had access to, not just Boxxy. Well, it’s not like the Mimic really cared about other people
anyway and was simply overjoyed to have it. It promptly activated the Skill and was presented with a
plethora of menus and options. Apparently it had to decide what would go on this fake Status Screen
beforehand. It spent the better part of an hour exploring what it could and couldn’t do with it.
You are no longer afflicted with Blight. Automatic HP recovery has returned to normal.
The sudden notification made Boxxy tear its attention away from the fake Status Screen that it had been
having fun with. Right now it claimed the monster was actually a dwarf woman named Enrico
Rodriguez de la Butts with an apparent age of 950 fish.
Looking at its surroundings, the Mimic noted that the barren, dead ground was steadily giving way to
the more familiar mountain terrain. It would seem that departing the tower had proved to be much easier
than reaching it. Well, it didn’t have to stop and wait for Fizzy to catch her breath after every battle, so
that much was expected. Once it made sure the group was truly away from the undead-infested part of
the mountain, it instructed everyone to stop and rest until dawn inside a shallow cave in the side of a
random cliff.
Having finally gotten permission to rest, the gnome collapsed on the spot and instantly fell asleep. She
slept like the rock she was laying face-down on, not even registering the indecent sounds of two demons
fucking just outside the cave. Her body had learned the hard way that prolonged exposure to Blight was
an immensely draining experience. It was truly a miracle she was able to push herself to this extent
without falling into a coma.
Boxxy as well found itself unreasonably drained by the Blight. It was a bit early for its weekly dose of
sleep, but it still felt quite sleepy. Therefore, it sat down next to the gnome and also drifted off while
thinking what to do from now on. It really wanted to get revenge on that fucker Edward for daring to
mess with what belonged to it, but that was a rather unrealistic goal. For now, it would focus on doing
the things it could do.
Which meant it would take a nap, and then check on that lich to see if she could be... persuaded to work
for it.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
2092/2092 (+6.2/
HP INT 283
sec)
1415/1415 (+2.2/
MP WIS 223
sec)
Skill List
Summon
Assassination 9 24% 7 85% Shapeshift 9 15%
Familiar
Power
Storage 8 83% 6 75% Stealth 9 12%
Overwhelming
Cadaver
7 55% Demonology 6 27% Lockpick 1 25%
Absorption
Crystallize Sword
Biomass 7 36% 5 70% 7 53%
Magic Mastery
Natural Clockwork Projectile

9 47% 3 85% 6 77%
Armor Expertise Mastery
Metal Explosives Dagger

7 50% 2 10% 10 MAX
Mimicry Handling Mastery
Chaotic Ruin
Mend Flesh 6 21% 1 MAX 8 48%
Disposition Mastery
Adaptive Agent of Domination

2 10% 1 MAX 6 32%
Defense Chaos Mastery
Essence Shield
Acid Spray 7 39% 1 MAX 6 33%
Concealment Mastery
(61) Interlude The Shadow Of Death

You died.
This rather ominous notification was the last thing the woman called Valeria Vortena saw before her
body gave out. Her spirit then rose from her remains and looked on in mute horror as her killer - one of
the very mimics she disregarded as a harmless just minutes before - ate her body in a few large bites. It
then proceeded to slam itself against the wall for seemingly no reason.
This is what killed me?!
Indeed, the act of being murdered by a moron somehow made this situation even worse than it already
was for her. She cursed and insulted the animate chest for a good three hours as her spirit lingered inside
that dungeon. Her efforts were all for naught, however, for the yet unnamed Mimic could not converse
with disembodied spirits, and simply stood in a single spot, chesting as always. As for the reason why
Valeria’s spirit lingered for so long, it was rather simple.
Those who venture into Taboo are not allowed easy deaths.
The young woman had, like every other Necromancer in existence, violated the taboo of Mortimer, the
God that presides over matters of death, taxes and commerce. This was made even worse when her
rather questionable hobby also earned her the ire of Nyrie, the patron Goddess of plants, fertility and
children. Well, it wasn’t quite like those two had personally witnessed her transgressions. Even if they
were Gods, they were far from being omniscient or omnipotent.
The Taboo Skill was, ultimately, a Skill. It went up in proficiency under specific conditions, each of
which reflected the antithesis of one of the Gods. Things like breaking an oath made in Teresa’s
presence, violating the bodies of the dead or copulating with monsters were just a few of the extreme
circumstances that could saddle a person with this stigma of a Skill. Still, it’s not like it was a permanent
thing. A person with Taboo would be forgiven as long as they wholeheartedly repented and properly
made amends for their transgressions against the Gods. Something which usually involved a lot of
offerings, praying and maybe a pilgrimage.
However, that only applied if one did so while they were still alive. Those who had proficiency in Taboo
were often cursed with undeath after their passing. They were forced to wander the earth in constant
agony and turmoil until someone or something absolved them of their sins by murdering the shit out of
their rotting corpses. In Valeria’s case, her soul had become ensnared by the dungeon she had died in.
The dungeon core had simply performed its function of filling the sprawling cave system with monsters
and pulled her spirit into itself. It autonomously bound her to the form of a Level 13 Banshee, a species
of specter. Her ego was then suppressed and she was forced to do the dungeon’s bidding as just another
of the faceless undead in the Ishigar Dungeon Complex’s Red Zone along with the rest of the undead.
And she performed her function, quite admirably so. Her brief life as an adventurer and a Necromancer
seemed to give her just the edge she needed. Even if her sense of self had been robbed of her, the
practical skills and habits that had been drilled into her by her guild still remained. Her mindless, barely
conscious self used those to great effect as she helped her undead brethren prey upon targets of
opportunity.
However, she also found herself drifting away from the Red Zone and into the Yellow and Green zones.
The grudge she held over being murdered by a stupid box was also something that remained and caused
her to drift away from her assigned area. Those little detours didn’t last long before the dungeon’s leash
pulled her back, but they were not entirely for naught. She did manage to cause the death of everyone
unfortunate enough to come across her path. Being completely unprepared to face an ethereal enemy
meant that they were easy pickings for her.
As a result, she had steadily progressed all the way up to Level 20 over the next two weeks or so. And as
she grew in power, so did the dungeon’s hold over her psyche weaken. It was at this point that Valeria
found herself almost unthinkingly using her newly acquired Possession Skill on a Level 7 elven ranger
in the Green Zone. The barely awake part of her yearned to once again own a living body, so she
practically leapt at the chance to inhabit a beautiful woman like that.
One of the woman’s companions, a low-leveled Priest, managed to notice the change in her demeanor
and directed the rest of her party to restrain the young woman. His training prior to setting out as an
adventurer helped him recognize the signs of an evil spirit within his teammate. However, he lacked the
necessary Skills and Spells to exorcise Valeria. Under such circumstances, he immediately rallied the
rest of his team to leave the dungeon at once and seek help in town.
It was at this point that Valeria’s link to the dungeon was forcibly severed. She found herself as a hostile
spirit inhabiting a young woman’s body against her will. Bound and gagged as she was, she could do
nothing to speak or communicate with the young adventurers. Being dragged off in that state gave her a
good opportunity to properly reassess and come to grips with her situation. She remained in silent
introspective until she realized this party was taking her to the church, where she would undoubtedly get
destroyed by a senior Priest. Not wishing to taste death a second time, she quietly undid the Possession
and withdrew into a side alley next to the church.
The platinum-blonde elf seemed to fall unconscious after being released. Her comrades had been
instructed by their Priest to ignore her behavior until after the exorcism, which is why they didn’t
particularly react to her going completely limp like that. Valeria watched silently from her hiding place
as the group walked into the building. She knew a thing or two about the undead, which is why she
wanted to avoid treading on hallowed ground.
However, that did not mean she had given up on possessing that woman’s body. Valeria may have been
human once, but she was a monster now. Her earlier desire to once again own a body capable of touch,
smell and taste had not wavered in the slightest. If anything, it had only gotten even more intense. And if
there is one thing Valeria was always weak to, it was succumbing to her desires.
So she lurked outside the church, waiting until the holy men were done with their pointless ceremonies.
Night had already come by the time the adventurer party she had her eyes on had left the church and
proceeded towards their lodgings. She stalked the woman from afar, using her incorporeal form to keep
herself out of sight. Slowly, patiently, until the unsuspecting elf returned to the inn she was staying at
and fell asleep.
That’s when Valeria forcibly took control of the elf’s body once more, spending the next few hours
cementing her hold on it. She forcibly subdued the elf’s ego and invaded her memories, fully intending
to masquerade as her for as long as possible. By the time she was thoroughly in control, it was already
past midnight. She then spent the next two hours or so furiously masturbating, desperate to once again
feel the pleasures of the flesh. However, the sensations felt foreign, distant, vague even. It was, after all,
not her body. So while the act was pleasurable to some degree, it was also highly frustrating at the same
time.
Eventually, there was a knock on her door. Dawn had arrived while she was diddling herself and the
elf’s teammates had dropped by to check up on her. She made up some excuse about needing more rest
and they seemed to buy it, leaving her to her own devices. However, rather than return to her pointless
act of self-pleasuring, the undead Valeria decided she would take this time to look for a better way.
Although not completely, her newly found instincts seemed to be mostly satiated, which allowed her to
think with a relatively clear head for once.
She waited a while before sneaking out of her room and absconding into the alleys of Monotal. The
possessed elf quickly and swiftly made her way towards her house, a plain hovel at the edge of the
slums. It had apparently already been broken into, not surprising considering its only resident had died
over two weeks ago. Rushing into the house and into her old bedroom, she dove under her bed and lifted
a loose floorboard. Relief washed over her as she realized the only truly valuable thing in this house was
left untouched. Her slender hand reached into the secret compartment underneath and withdrew a dusty,
leather-bound tome.
This was her uncle’s journal. She had managed to dredge up the memories of its existence after she had
calmed herself down somewhat, but part of her wish she hadn’t. That rotten, hateful old drunkard had
abused and sexually assaulted her when she was still a child. His unforgivable behavior and her mother’s
unwillingness and/or inability to protect her only daughter had steadily turned the energetic and cheerful
Valeria into a cold, twisted person. A fact that fully manifested itself when she murdered them both at
the age of 17. As for her father, she never even met the deadbeat, but she was sure she would probably
kill him too if she had the chance.
She then quickly took everything of value in her home and left that painful place behind. She traveled by
her lonesome through the Empire, whoring herself out to survive whenever possible or resorting to
stealing if that didn’t work out. It was during this time that her rather unusual hobby started to develop,
as neither man nor elf was capable of satisfying her.
After several years of that lecherous lifestyle, she had finally saved up enough money to finance her
adventuring career. Even if it was a way of making money, being an adventurer was not free. Gear and
equipment had to be purchased, guild fees had to be paid and she still needed food to eat and a place to
sleep on top of everything else. All things considered, it really wasn’t a surprise it took her so long to
escape her vagrant lifestyle. She had become a Necromancer, just as she had intended, and then she was
brutally murdered by a box.
And now she was in the present - a dead woman forcibly controlling the body of an innocent elven girl.
And the thing in her hands held the answers to her current dilemma. She quickly left the hovel behind
and returned to the inn before anyone realized she had snuck out. Valeria then spent the majority of the
day re-reading her uncle’s journal.
The man in question was an Enchanter and worked as a researcher for Arcaneum some 40 years ago. His
journal told of many interesting things that he really was not supposed to have written down. He went
into surprising detail describing the research he and his friends performed on the undead, up on some
research outpost deep in the Sawblade Mountains. Although he also went into much greater detail
describing the ‘assets’ of his female co-workers, which was completely irrelevant to Valeria.
The really important information - the one she was really after - was the discovery he and his team made
shortly before being sacked for his misconduct and harassment. They had found a method of producing
a phylactery, a vessel that would allow one to remotely store their soul and obtain eternal life as a lich,
albeit at the cost of their humanity. That last bit had always given the human Valeria pause, but the
banshee formerly known as Valeria no longer had such reservations.
This was the solution to her current problem. A lich’s body was one forged out of mana by the power of
the phylactery. It wasn’t exactly alive, but it wasn’t quite dead, either. It was the best thing she could
shoot for, given her unliving circumstances. And while the journal did not contain the actual method to
create a phylactery, it gave a lot of hints as to where she could start looking.
However, that search would have to wait. Her comrades, or rather the elf’s comrades, had once again
returned to her room. It would appear they wished to return to the dungeon, despite it almost being
sunset. They had an urgent Quest to complete and could not wait any longer. Feeling that perhaps
feigning tiredness once again would make them suspicious, the possessed elf somewhat reluctantly
accepted to going with them. It was also a good opportunity to get used to her new body, so it’s not like
there was no benefit to her. Besides, she had intimate knowledge of that dungeon, so she felt pretty good
about being able to survive in there.
That decision turned out to be a poor one, however. Because the first monster that the four of them ran
into after reaching the dungeon’s entrance was none other than a Mimic that had just had its first taste of
freedom.
This is how Valeria ‘died’ a second time.
Some part of her had realized that the monster she just met was the same individual that killed her a few
weeks ago. Sure, the spider legs were new, but just how many sword-swinging chests could there be in
one dungeon? However, even if she was sure of its identity, she felt it was perhaps for the best if she just
retreated. That thing honestly terrified her, and she was unsure if she could actually defeat it in 1-on-1
combat.
The banshee species was not one suited to direct conflict, after all. Even if her Ethereal Body Skill
allowed her to phase through physical objects, it still consumed MP when she did so. Not to mention
that her only method of attacking was to use the Sonic Scream Skill she was re-born with, and using that
would also deplete her MP pool.
In other words, she would lose if the fight lasted long enough. And there was a good chance such a thing
would happen if the way it took hits without flinching was any indication. Therefore, she decided to cut
her losses and rapidly withdraw from the dungeon. She also gave up on foolishly trying to Possess
people anymore and simply flew off into the mountains.
Eventually she found the old undead research outpost detailed in her uncle’s journal. The land
surrounding it had already been tainted by Blight, meaning this was undoubtedly the place. She then set
about searching the place, using her incorporeality to ferret out any secret rooms or compartments.
And as luck would have it, she had found an unused phylactery behind a bookshelf on the 4th floor,
along with the notes detailing its creation. This outpost’s goal was to find a way of controlling feral
undead en-masse to be used a sort of weapon during wartime. They had gotten as far as being able to
produce a lich’s phylactery, but were unable to find out the method of actually transforming into one.
Disappointed with their continued lack of progress, the Empire had decided to cancel the project and
reassign those people elsewhere.
However, the lead researcher in charge of this place would have none of it. The man had spent nearly 35
years on this endeavor and refused to let his life’s work disappear so easily. Which is why he selfishly
hid away their phylactery prototype and research notes like this. Come to think of it, this item’s presence
might just be what caused the Blight to spread here in the first place. After all, a research station like this
probably had numerous Paladins and Priests to make sure such a thing didn’t happen. If they were here
to keep an eye on this place, that is.
As for Valeria, she was pretty sure she knew of at least one method of becoming a lich. She used her
Possession Skill on the phylactery. Literally putting her soul in the fancy egg seemed to work, as it
greedily accepted it and triggered a premature Rank Up into a Lesser Lich. It then created a body for her
out of pure mana, just as she envisioned it. It was a twisted reflection of her time as a human, but more
importantly, it finally felt like her own body. Even her special place was fully restored to function, much
to her great joy.
Valeria then spent an entire day doing nothing but pleasuring herself. She didn’t need to eat or sleep and
never tired, so she literally just kept going at it over and over and over. But then until her old habits
started resurfacing and she was once again feeling strangely frustrated. Her fingers just weren’t enough
anymore, and the undead remained as ill-equipped for this task as always. Even if she captured a random
wolf or troll, it would be far too terrified to even get an erection. These were the same problems she
faced before she was able to obtain her Monster Tamer Job. After all, nothing could quite compare to a
rutting beast that willingly and desperately thrust in and out of her, filling her completely with its seed.
Unfortunately, such things seemed to be completely out of her reach. Which is why she decided to
distract herself by raising her Jobs and Skills. Which she did with frightening speed, allowing her to
grow from a Level 20 Banshee to a Level 25 Banshee and Level 41 Lich in under two months. Which is
about the time when she got an unexpected visit from a gnome Paladin and was murdered for the third
time by one Boxxy T. Morningwood.
Her physical body regenerated next to her phylactery in the basement about an hour later. She had
cooled down considerably by then and considered her options. Using her incorporeal form, she was able
to confirm the Mimic and that gnome were both searching for something. Considering that the only
thing of value in this shithole was her phylactery, she decided it would be best to act quickly and kill
them off. Their bodies should’ve been wracked by Blight, so she wanted to ambush and trap them before
they had a chance to leave and recover.
The inexperienced lich’s over-eagerness would then lead to the worst case scenario of having her
phylactery captured. Her spirit was now confined to the dark, claustrophobic confines of its egg-shaped
vessel. And while she seemed unable to regenerate her body for some reason, the fact that her gilded
shell still appeared to be intact gave her some peace of mind.
After what felt like days stuck inside, but was actually closer to 7 hours, her body finally started
regenerating. It appeared inside a shallow cave that was obviously nowhere near her Blighted home.
Valeria found herself staring down a murderous box, a pint-sized Paladin with a crazy look in her eye, a
heavily-breathing succubus holding a staff and a four-armed gigantic fiend that looked like she really
wanted to smash the lich into paste.
The undead woman briefly assessed the situation and, after confirming her all-important phylactery was
nowhere in sight, came to a singular conclusion.
I’m fucked, aren’t I?
(62) Unleashed 1
When the Mimic woke up the next morning, it did so in its traditionally violent manner. It accidentally
kicked the sleeping gnome next to it in the head, albeit lightly. The abused Fizzy stirred, but failed to
wake up. It had only been 5 hours after she fell asleep, so her condition right now was not too dissimilar
to that of a rock.
Boxxy briefly considered the way it had been treating the gnome until now. It failed to realize it at the
time, but using crude methods like that was a bit unreliable. While it’s true that they turned out to be
effective, it still silently chastised its past, slightly dumber self for the way it used violence on this naive
creature.
Well, that wasn’t a reason to suddenly stop though.
*SMACK*
“Ooof!”
It kicked her for real this time, which sent the gnome flying into the cave wall. She crashed into it head-
first, then fell down to the ground. Fizzy then promptly stood up, healed herself with a Holy Light, and
turned to greet what was essentially her owner.
“G-Good morning to you too, Boxxy,” she said with a weak smile.
Even if it was violent, this sort of rough wake-up call was simply her routine now. Besides, she had
convinced herself somewhere along the way that the Mimic was only giving her all these beatings
because they were for her own good. Vital survival Skills like Toughness, Holy Scriptures and Holy
Mastery had all increased substantially over these past three weeks, after all.
Of course, if anyone of sound mind was around to hear her thoughts, they would point out she was
simply deluding herself and that it was far more likely that the Mimic simply found the act of punting
the gnome to be surprisingly enjoyable. And they would be correct.
Thinking back on the topic of discipline though, Boxxy had realized that fear and violence were perhaps
not the best way to keep someone in check. After all, being deathly afraid of that detestable man called
Edward might have kept it from acting out while he was around, but only fueled its desire to escape. If it
had perhaps been shown a bit of leeway, offered a deal or maybe fed something, it might have had
second thoughts about the situation.
Well, it would have still probably ran away with all its might, but it might have hesitated a bit
beforehand.
The point was that fear by itself was probably unnecessary to control a monster. And that lich it had
‘captured’ wasn’t going to fall for simple things like that. She would probably behave while it was
around, but would probably plot a way to escape its control. The same could be said about Fizzy, but
that gnome had every last resistance thoroughly beaten out of her. A tactic that would ultimately fail if
used on a monster.
It ordered Snack and Arms to stop their silly playing and come inside the cave. It had all the women line
up and prepare for the confrontation with the lich. Even if it held what was probably her very life in its
grasp, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t lash out in desperation. It’s what Boxxy would do, after all. And so,
after confirming a few things with Xera, it took the gilded egg out of storage and hid it.
The lich’s body began to materialize a short while later in much the same fashion that Xera and Kora
did, only without the lightshow. Brown dirt-like particles appeared out of thin air and swirled around.
They began constructing what appeared to be a floating clay statue of a practically naked large-breasted
woman. The spectacle took a bout 5 seconds to finish, at which point the brown-and-gray figure abruptly
came to life as its pigmentation changed to what the Mimic had already seen twice before.
Valeria opened her red-on-black eyes and soaked in the scene around her. She seemed to come to some
conclusion as her shoulders drooped in defeat. This was still check-mate no matter how she looked at it.
Especially since her newly formed body had a grand total of 0 MP. However, it was plainly obvious that
her captors wanted something from her. Otherwise the monster that appeared to be in charge would have
probably destroyed her phylactery already. Granted, that thing was sturdier than it looked, but even a
monkey with a rock could crack it open if given enough time.
The lich let out a dejected sigh, then forced a bit of vigor back into her eyes and stared resolutely at the
chest.
“So, you caught me. What happens now?”
Boxxy somehow disliked being literally looked down upon. It was clearly in a position of power, so how
come it had to have the lower eyesight? That just wasn’t right. Therefore, it sprang open its lid and the
fully-formed pseudo-Xera made her first appearance in a long time. The suddenness of it all made both
Valeria and Fizzy twitch a bit in response. They both shifted their gazes between the slightly pouting
succubus and her dumbly smiling albino clone, obviously unable to deal with the situation.
“I want you to work for me.”
The albino exhibitionist’s strangely cheerful voice broke both the Paladin and the lich out of their
respective stupors.
“... I’m sorry,” said Valeria, “but care to run that by me again?”
“I want you to work for me.”
Nope, she heard right the first time. Those were not quite the words Valeria was expecting, so she had to
make sure.
“Alright, I’ll bite. Why?”
“Because you are strong. I need your help to get the things I want.”
It was an undeniable fact that a Necromancer was a formidable force on the battlefield, provided they
had time to prepare. It was a sort of common knowledge that went double for a lich like her.
“Yeah? What things?”
“Levels. Gold. Revenge. Also other, equally tasty things.”
Boxxy crossed its arms triumphantly and nodded to itself. Needless to say, the lich was a bit
dumbfounded as to what the hell it was going on about.
“When Master says something is tasty, that means it is a good thing,” pointed out Xera.
“Ah… I see…”
Truthfully speaking, Valeria could sympathize somewhat with goals like that. Getting stronger through
level-ups was something she sought anyway. Money was low on her priority list, but she understood it
had some value when dealing with others. The third one she was also quite eager to accomplish,
although pursuing it was sure to create a conflict of interests.
“Hah! And why would I willingly do something like that? You’re the one who murdered me! A total of
four times, I might add!”
“Pfft, amateur.”
The Mimic graciously ignored its succubus’s outburst and continued on with the discussion.
“Because you have tasty things you also want, right?”
Yet another response Valeria wasn’t expecting. She was sure this monster would threaten her life, but it
seemed like it legitimately wanted to take part in some give-and-take. The lich honestly didn’t know
what to expect at this point.
“Wait, what exactly are you offering?”
Boxxy’s head tilted dumbly to the side as it blinked its big red eyes a few times until it found the right
word it was looking for.
“Partnership? Yes, partnership.”
“... And if I refuse?”
“I kill you and keep the shiny.”
“Geh!”
It’s not like Valeria didn’t see that coming, but hearing this creature put it so bluntly with a smiling face
like that really struck a nerve. It left no doubt in her mind that it wouldn’t hesitate to do it if she forced
its hand. Tentacle. Whatever. Well, at the very least it didn’t try to bullshit her and she had definite
confirmation her un-life was on the line. So that was something.
But then, why was it offering a partnership? Surely simply threatening her would be enough, right? Ah,
but if she was forced to work like a slave, then she would definitely resent it and plot its downfall behind
its back. On the other hand, if they formed a mutually beneficial relationship, then perhaps it might not
be so bad. There was one glaring problem though. The idea of working with her own murderer left a bad
taste in her mouth.
Huh?
Wait, was that really the case? The last vestiges of her humanity seemed to argue that despising and
hating one’s killer was right, yet she couldn’t bring herself to do that. While it’s true that the Mimic did
strike her down, that didn’t mean it bore any ill intent towards her personally. In fact, she had actually
obtained power much greater than anything she thought she was willing to reach for if she still foolishly
clung to her humanity.
Ultimately, while she couldn’t particularly thank the monster for killing her, she also couldn’t really fault
it. After all, if their positions were reversed, she would have probably done the same. Both her past self
and her current self would have tried trampled over anyone who came uninvited into her home. That
notion was perhaps the main reason she got so angry at being suddenly ambushed like that. If it wasn’t
for that, perhaps the two of them wouldn’t have needed to fight in the first place.
Then again, that thought raised a very important question.
“Can I ask you something?” she inquired, and got a nod in response. “Why were you in that tower to
begin with.”
“Had a Quest to defeat you,” answered Boxxy.
“A Quest? Really? I don’t think I’ve done much to get myself noticed by the guilds though.”
She had been keeping herself rather low-profile ever since she became a lich a month or two ago. While
it’s true that she did attack some random travelers and passers-by, the number of her human victims
since becoming a lich could be counted on one hand. The sort of numbers that could easily be explained
away as monsters being monsters. Not nearly enough to warrant a subjugation Quest just for her.
“Wait, the short one said something about a God, right?”
“Yes.”
“... Well?”
“Well what?”
“Which God was it?!”
“God of Chaos,” it answered simply.
“... There’s one of those?”
“Yes.”
“And he gave you a Quest?”
“Yes.”
“Like, personally?”
“Yes.”
“So you… met a God?!”
“Yes.”
“Why?! How?! What possible reason would there be for a God to bother with lowly monsters like us?!”
“He was bored.”
“Gods can get bored?”
“Apparently.”
“And he sent you to me?”
“Yes.”
“Just for kicks because he was bored?”
“Yes.”
While it’s true that this creature’s story was outlandish, Valeria had to admit it sort of fit the otherwise
impossible situation she found herself in. How else would her very murderer find her all the way out
here, in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere? And if this monster was truly the pragmatist it was, then it
wouldn’t have risked venturing so deep into undead-infested territory without a good reason. As absurd
as it was, being sent by a bored deity who wanted to get a rise out of their interaction was actually
making a good deal of sense.
“... I’m having some difficulty believing your words.”
But yet she was unable to find it that easy to trust this thing. Even if it appeared to be upfront and
straightforward, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t lie to her if the situation demanded it.
“Does that matter?”
“... No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
After all, actions spoke louder than words, and the Mimic’s current actions were indicative of two facts.
First, that it had already accomplished its objective in that old tower and second, that said objective did
not involve Valeria’s destruction. Having more or less confirmed the monster’s intentions the lich finally
made her inevitable decision.
“Alright, you have a deal. I will accept your proposal and help you with anything you want done.”
Her weakness had been seized, that much was undeniable. No matter how much she weighed the pros
and cons of that sudden offer, maintaining her continued existence would obviously take top priority.
Sure she had to follow the orders of the stupid box thing that killed her, but at the very least she was
even offered certain benefits. Speaking of which-
“In return,” she continued, “I want two things from you. First, you have to keep my phylactery safe.”
This monster had already proven to be unreasonably resilient. Having a sturdy meat shield like that
protecting her weakness was quite reassuring.
“You mean the shiny egg?”
“Er, right. That. Just keep it out of that Item Box Skill of yours, okay?”
“...”
“Uhm, B-Boxxy,” whispered Fizzy, “I think she means your, uh, Storage.”
“Oh! Okay.”
Of course it agreed. The Mimic was planning on doing that anyway. After all, it couldn’t put her to work
if it allowed her to be destroyed.
“Good,” said Valeria. “As for the other thing I want is- Uhm… That is- I just need-”
She couldn’t say it. The words refused to leave her throat, as if a strange lump was keeping them in. She
just suddenly realized she was about to say something truly outrageous that was a bit too weird, even for
her. However, if she didn’t speak up now, she might not get the chance later. Besides, surely if anyone
could understand, it would be a fellow monster, right? So Valeria screwed up her courage, took a
pointlessly deep breath, shut her eyes tight and screamed with all her might-
“I want to get fuuuuuuuucked!”
“...”
The silence was deafening. Even the Mimic that was normally impervious to such things was a bit
stunned at her outburst.
“Sorry, say that again?” it asked.
Valeria’s eyes flew open. A huge, smile that threatened to rip her face in two appeared as she panted
heavily. It’s as if the calm and relatively composed lich from a few seconds ago was nothing but a bad
joke.
“You know what sex is, right?!” she asked in an oddly shaky voice.
“Yes,” answered Boxxy.
Of course it did. How could it not? Those two demons kept performing the act on a literally daily basis.
It just never saw the point in that.
“I want you to do that to me! Right here! Right now! Hard as you can! For as long as you can!”
The floodgates were opened and Valeria’s pent up lust poured forth without end.
“Arms, Snack, take care of it,” it said, matter of factly.
After all, why should it have to do something like that if it already had two minions that were basically
pros at this sort of thing?
“Uhm, I don’t know Boss,” spoke up Kora. “I mean, I’ll gladly fuck anything with a pulse, but I don’t
think she counts.”
“I’d much rather be on the receiving end…”
It would seem even a rape-happy demon had standards, while Xera had her own reservations about the
idea.
However, the two of them were forgetting something. They were Boxxy’s bound familiars.
“That’s an ord-”
“No!” screamed Valeria, interrupting the Mimic’s words and pointed directly at it. “Not them! You! With
the tentacles!”
She would be lying if she said the thought had never crossed her mind. In fact, that had somehow ended
up being the fantasy she most often thought of when pleasuring herself. She would be violated by the
very monster that had killed her. The sheer absurdity of that thought only seemed to drive her
perversions wild.
“I want you to shove them inside me!” she rambled, completely forgetting her position. “I want you to
scoop out all of my holes and ravage me completely! I want you to drown my insides in cum! I want to
be so full of the stuff that I’m left as nothing more than a bloated, sopping, wet mess!”
The Mimic briefly considered her words. For some reason she wanted it to personally tend to her. She
didn’t ask for food, treasure or help with some impossible task, so it really had nothing to lose but time.
And time was something it had plenty of right now.
“Okay.”
The fake succubus split apart into a dozen red, slimy tentacles. They abruptly wrapped around the lich’s
arms and legs and pulled her closer to the Mimic, pinning her down to the ground. It then roughly tore
off the long bandage-like cloth that covered her lower half and shoved two extra thick ones in both
holes.
“Yaahahn!”
Valeria let out a half-scream half-moan that was like a bitch in heat. The monster had filled her
completely, just as she wanted. The sudden penetration was so intense that her tongue lolled out of her
mouth all on its own. A third tentacle then shoved itself into her throat, and all three of them started
rhythmically thrusting in and out of her.
“Holy shit!” shouted Kora. “What the fuck?! The boss actually went and did it!”
“Waaaah!” screamed Fizzy. She blushed fiercely and covered her eyes. Needless to say, this incredibly
obscene and bizarre display was way too much for a virgin like her to handle.
“Master!” said Xera while raising her arms with a hugely expectant look on her face. “Do me too! Do
me too!”
“Okay.”
A few of the tentacles split off and wrapped themselves around the eager succubus. They pinned her
roughly to the ground and subjected her to much the same treatment, which she gladly accepted with all
of her slutty being. Boxxy had decided to simply treat this an opportunity to practice its Shapeshift Skill.
After all, the Rank Up was still around the corner, and it still had a long way to go before Level 10.
Actually, doing even more than this would probably make the Skill go up even faster, right?
“Arms,” it called out.
Kora’s eyes went wide. It seems she realized what was about to happen.
“Uhm… I-I think I’ll pass. I’ll be outside if you need me!”
She turned around on her heels and started walking out of the cave. Of course she didn’t want any part
of this. After all, unlike those two megasluts, she would much rather be doing the pitching than the
catching.
Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t a request.
Two more tentacles shot out from the chest and wrapped themselves around her ankles, then pulled on
them fiercely. The red skinned fiend fell on her face as Boxxy dragged her closer to itself. It then
promptly tore off her hotpants and thrust two appropriately sized ones into both her orifices. Her eyes
shot wide open and she gritted her teeth while instinctively clenching around the two intruders. The
Mimic briefly considered shoving one in her mouth as well, but was a bit wary of those sharp teeth
accidentally biting something off.
Growing all these limbs was a first for it, so this was really good training after all. It was almost at its
biomass limit though, so couldn’t do much more than this. Actually, it could probably squeeze in a small
gnome. Much like with Kora, two tentacles shot out and coiled themselves around Fizzy. The sudden act
broke the tiny woman out of her amazed stare. Having realized what was about to happen to her, she
immediately started struggling and crying, but a good slap across the face shut her up. The poor gnome
whimpered pathetically as the Mimic relieved her of the few pieces of clothing and armor she wore. She
then valiantly stifled her screams of pain as both her anal and vaginal virginity were then brutally robbed
from her without any sort of foreplay.
Now that it was tasked to capacity, Boxxy focused all its attention on pleasuring the four girls. Not only
was this doing wonders for its Shapeshift Skill, but it probably wouldn’t be a bad thing if the lich was
extra happy. She’d be far less likely to rebel if that were the case. Besides, if the Mimic had set out to do
something, it might as well do it right. Various holes were pumped, breasts were groped, buttocks were
slapped, nipples were teased and clits were stimulated. It actually found the girls’ various reactions as it
played with their bodies to be rather fun in their own way, but overall the entire thing just felt like work.
And, of course, since those dozens of tentacles were technically tongues, it got a literal taste of all of
them. Snack was, as expected, the most delicious one of at all. Fizzy wasn’t half bad either, though a
little on the bland side. Kora tasted kind of bad, but not nearly as disgusting as the lich. That last one
was downright foul, though that wasn’t really a surprise considering her undead body. Still, this was
mostly for her sake, so it could hardly just spit her out. A deal was struck, after all.
The sudden orgy dragged on and on as the Mimic displayed the formidable prowess of a shapeshifting
monster with over 200 STR and nearly 400 END. It wasn’t until 2 hours later that it finally ran out of
steam and finished the girls off with several blasts of pseudo-sperm each, as per Valeria’s request. It then
let go of them and they all collapsed into a gigantic mixed puddle of their combined juices.
Xera was in utter bliss. No matter how many times she tried to entice her beloved Master to properly and
thoroughly violate her, it always turned her down saying it didn’t feel like it. She actually had to thank
that undead slut for providing the trigger for this truly memorable event.
Kora was feeling a bit conflicted. She really didn’t want to take part in any of this at first, but really got
into it somewhere along the way. Even if her pride tried to reject the pleasure, her body was honest.
After all, good things felt good. Overall, she really had little to complain about since this was a rather
new and exciting experience for her.
Fizzy was… broken. Her eyes were like those of a dead fish as she lay there completely motionless and
blanked out. It didn’t take a genius to see she had been clearly traumatized by this after reaching new
depths of despair at the hands of this uncaring, selfish monster. Indeed, she seemed destined to forever
be that creature’s plaything. Perhaps it was time she finally accepted that fact and sought joy in
servitude, much like those two demons.
As for the one that started all this, she was finally satisfied. Completely, utterly, totally and
unequivocally fulfilled. If things were going to be like this from now on, then she would willingly and
eagerly do everything that Mimic said. It murdered her? So what?! She had felt more alive during those
past two hours than she had throughout her entire life and un-life combined.
Boxxy on the other hand, was regretting its actions. Much like any other new endeavor it set out on, it
overdid things. Its body fluids were depleted, it was exhausted like hell and felt like utter shit. It just
kept focusing on the task at hand and, like a workaholic, ended up neglecting its physical state. It made a
mental note to be a bit more moderate in the future, since doing things like this was dangerous as it left
the monster momentarily vulnerable. On the upside, Shapeshift had gone up by 14% proficiency, which
was pretty impressive progress for just two hours.
Your actions have altered the flows of chaos.
The weird notification caused the Mimic to immediately bolt upright and beware its surroundings. Its
body was still a bit wobbly since its stamina had been depleted, but it still forced itself to stand ready for
anything. And, much as it was expecting, something did indeed happen. To the lich, that is. The bright
red gem embedded in the valley of Valeria’s breasts gradually turned from red to yellow. The runes on
her midriff did the same, except they also changed their shape in addition to their color. And lastly, the
red dots of her eyes lost their bloody crimson color and became bright yellow, as if miniature suns in a
pitch black sky.
This… was this a good or bad thing? The Mimic desperately wanted to know, but it had no idea.
This was, after all, the first time its Agent of Chaos Skill had been triggered.
Name Valeria Vortena Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress
Species Lich (Greater) STR 8 MNT 28 Banshee 25 MAX
Sex Female DEX 6 FTH -124 Lich 41 87%
Age 2 months AGI 18 PER 21
Guild END 202 CHR 33
1018/1018 (+0.0/
HP INT 409
sec)
2045/2045 (+1.8/
MP WIS 188
sec)
Skill List
Sonic Scream 6 74% Life Drain 5 93%
Mind Invader 3 16% Permafrost Aptitude 4 63%
Detect Life 5 43% Anti-Magic Shell 2 51%
Possession 3 75% Ethereal Body 6 77%
Necromancy 10 MAX Taboo 7 69%
Lord of the Dead 8 84% Mana Affinity 9 48%
Hexcraft 6 34% Domination Mastery 2 43%
Physical Nullity 4 5% Permafrost Mastery 3 77%

(63) Unleashed 2
The Mimic and its posse were making their way due northwest through the mountainous wilderness
while staying away from the imperial highway. After some consideration, Boxxy had made the decision
to leave the Empire’s territory behind for good. It simply didn’t feel safe being in the same country as
that man called Edward, although one could argue that, given the Spymaster’s prowess, nowhere was
beyond his reach. That was hardly the only reason for this decision, though. The monster still desired to
blend into civilized society. There were simply too many delicious opportunities to become stronger
and/or wealthier to give up on that.
However, this time would be different. It had made several huge mistakes during its stay in Erosa, and
had already learned a great deal from them.
First of all, its chest-like body made things difficult. It had managed to get away with it somewhat by
concealing itself, but that towering figure simply stood out too much. Standing a little could still be
useful in its own way, though. The Mimic was made aware of the advantages of having a reputation
when that dwarf called Grog gave it some additional funds just before its capture. The problem was that
its only humanoid form stood out in completely the wrong way. If it wanted to truly avoid raising
suspicion, then it had to appear as unassuming and non-threatening as possible. It was the same
instinctive logic that had served it extremely well during its early life.
Therefore, it needed to Rank Up into something that could freely change its form. Although it had some
reservations about abandoning its chesty glory, it was hard to deny that treasure chests really had no
place outside of a dungeon or maybe a warehouse. Besides, if it could truly take any form it wished, then
it would just turn back into a chest if it ever felt too uncomfortable. Just because it could be anything
didn’t mean it had to be something different, after all.
The second order of business was evading Appraisal, which was more or less already dealt with since it
became a Hero. The Essence Concealment Skill was really handy once it got the hang of it. Things like
name, race and age could be chosen freely, but Jobs and Skills were a different story. The fake Status
Screen could only hide certain aspects of its actual Status. Changing it in such a way as to make itself
appear stronger was simply not possible. Not that it had any intention of doing that, though.
After all, it just had to mask the fact it was actually a monster, which simply meant setting the Mimic
Job as ‘hidden.’ Doing so would automatically hide all the related Skills and even adjust its apparent
Attributes. That also included hiding the rather substantial Attribute gains it had gotten from Cadaver
Absorption, which was rather convenient. Perks could be hidden as well, which was also important. As
far as Boxxy could tell, its Butcher of Humanity Perk was a cause for concern. Indeed, thinking back on
it now, it served as definite proof that it had took part in the murder of over 5,000 people. Which also led
to the third problem it encountered when blending in.
Being a Butcher of Humanity seemed to be the main cause of the extraordinary fear and suspicions that
humans regarded it with back in Erosa. They instinctively sensed that the masked, cloaked figure was
someone who regarded them as little more than food. Which was impressive considering enlightened
beings like humans seemed to have much weaker instincts than monsters. Bottom line was that Boxxy
would never truly blend into a human-dominated society.
Then there was the fourth, possibly hardest hurdle it had to clear - interacting with people. Its nodding
and short, awkward words worked in places like the Mercenary Guild, but were sometimes insufficient
when speaking with street vendors. Not to mention that, according to Snack, its expressions were clearly
unnatural.
It really couldn’t help it, though. Mimics were monsters that were born without a face, so it was really
no surprise Boxxy had trouble controlling something complicated and delicate like that. That goofy grin
it always seemed to have was merely a sign that it felt content and satisfied. However, it was clearly out
of place on the 220-centimeter tall wide-chested human it was masquerading as. Pedestrians on the street
had found its visage to be so off-putting, so thoroughly creepy that even little kids seemed genuinely
disturbed by it. That’s why it had to resign itself to wrapping its placeholder of a head in a makeshift
mask. Doing something like that raised suspicion in its own way, but was still somehow the less
conspicuous option.
Lastly, it had to learn to read. Spoken language was something that it picked up naturally thanks to the
telepathic communications between itself, Carl, Arms and Snack. It really was easy to learn since talking
through thoughts allowed it to both ‘hear’ and ‘comprehend’ the words at the same time. Numbers were
also easy enough to learn and understand since basic arithmetic seemed to come naturally with INT and
WIS. However, reading letters was an entirely different matter. The rules and quirks of written language
were impossible for it to pick up on its own.
And so, after thinking things through properly, the Mimic had compiled a short mental list of what it
needed to accomplish. Boxxy’s current action plan was as follows:
1. Rank Up.
2. Learn to read.
3. Learn to act.
4. Move to elven country.
5. ????
6. PROFIT!!!!
The monster was rather proud of itself for coming up with such a well thought-out and foolproof plan.
Surely nothing but good things could come of it! Okay, so maybe it was still a work in progress, but that
didn’t mean it wasn’t a good plan.
“Boxxy ~?!”
A cheerful, oddly melodic voice full of affection called out from behind Boxxy, interrupting its plotting.
It quickly grew a head on its backside in order to answer. The reason it had to do this was because the
person that called out wasn’t, as one might expect, its succubus familiar. Nor was it the gnome that had
gotten herself involved with it.
“What is it, Nasty?”
It was Valeria the lich, nicknamed Nasty due to her foul flavor. However, rather than being insulted or
apprehensive, she actually seemed to enjoy that nickname. In fact, she had been acting rather differently
ever since her red bits turned yellow a while back. She had a wide, demure smile on her face. The
intense look in her recently re-colored yellow-on-black eyes had been replaced with one that was
incredibly soft and strangely happy. An impossible-yet-noticeable blush was visible on her cheeks every
time she spoke to Boxxy.
The way she floated was also a little odd. She seemed to have gotten a habit of hovering, both literally
and figuratively, right next to or immediately behind the Mimic. There was also the matter of her leaning
forward all the time, as if to emphasize her rather formidable breasts and perpetually stiff nipples.
“What are you thinking about ~??” she asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.
It was horribly mismatched with her identity as an undead lich, but then again, she couldn’t help it. After
all, it was plainly obvious that the tentacle-fueled orgy from a few hours ago had led her to develop a
crush on the monster. The Agent of Chaos Skill had gone and done something completely unnecessary.
“Planning.”
“Oh my!” she squealed. “Already making preparations for our marriage?!”
“No.”
Naturally, the target of her affections had no intention of noticing, or even comprehending her feelings,
let alone answering them. Her goal of somehow enticing or seducing Boxxy had so little chance of
success, that it could, at best, be called a delusion.
This was something Xera understood well, unlike this newbie. That’s why she was able to calmly follow
her beloved Master without being the least bit jealous. So, rather than pointlessly cause internal strife by
butting her nose in, she just let the silly lich do as she pleased. Even if the two of them were to enter
some sorry competition, it would be completely pointless. Besides, if such a time came that this
heartless monster could feel love, she was confident she could easily triumph over the undead whore.
After all, Xera and Boxxy’s souls were already linked by something far stronger than marriage.
Kora on the other hand was the same as always. She calmly walked in front of everyone while keeping
an eye out for trouble. The intense session from earlier this morning was little more than a weirdly
pleasant and slightly awkward memory. There’s no way a demon like her would be swayed so easily by
a single fuck. She still thought of the Mimic as a respectable fighter and a fun master, but that was it.
As for Fizzy, it would seem she had not recovered at all from her ordeal. She obediently followed after
Boxxy as instructed, but her soulless eyes and stiff movements gave off the impression of a mechanical
doll rather than a person. She was still dealing with the indescribable trauma of being sexually assaulted
by a creature that regularly beat and abused her. The former virgin felt disgusted, violated and enraged,
though she could not let any of that show on her face lest she get kicked again. Part of her started
outright hating Valeria for serving as the catalyst for that particular nightmare. Not to mention that the
way she was fawning over Boxxy made the gnome want to smash her phylactery into tiny pieces and
then take a literal shit on them.
“Then what are you planning ~??” asked Valeria.

She was obviously still intent on ‘getting to know’ the Mimic. Boxxy on the other hand, thought it might
as well share its plans. After all, it’s not like Nasty was unrelated to the success of its plans.
“Operation TASTYCOCK,” it answered.
The entire party ground to a halt. Kora struggled valiantly not to laugh at the random outburst. The way
Xera’s face lit up as if it was asking ‘Where?!’ did not help. Valeria and Fizzy simply drew blanks.
“Uh- Uhm… Th-th-that is,” stammered out the lich, “what do you mean by tas… tasty cocks?”
“Tasty And Shiny Things Yielded by Chesting Or Cheap Killing.”
“Pfuahahaha! AH HAHAHAHAHA!”
Kora finally burst into roaring laughter. She even went so far as to fall to the ground while clutching her
stomach.
“As expected of Master, a truly splendid plan,” said Xera, voicing her approval.
Fizzy simply allowed herself a soft sigh of relief. For a second there assumed the Mimic had gotten ‘in
the mood’ again, even though that made absolutely no sense. After all, mimics were genderless monsters
that did not reproduce, making them physically incapable of sexual arousal in the first place. Technically
speaking, it had not been in such a state even once in its brief lifetime, nor would it ever be in the future
unless some extreme Rank Up completely overhauled its physiology. Valeria seemed to reached much
the same conclusion as Fizzy, judging from how she drooped her shoulders in morbid disappointment.
Boxxy on the other hand was quite pleased to see a positive response to this. After all, it had spent the
last hour or so thinking up that rather questionable name. Well, it’s not like it had anything better to do
right now but strategize and plan ahead. Therefore, it had already determined the optimal methods for
achieving the first four objectives of Operation TASTYCOCK.
Learning to read, write and how to interact with people was something Snack could teach it. Those sort
of things appeared to be her specialty as far as Boxxy was concerned. In fact, she was the one that had
quietly helped it come up with that acronym, though the meaning of it seemed to have been lost on the
Mimic. There would be plenty of time to learn from her while they were on the road towards the elven-
dominated Ishigar Republic to the far north. Once there, it would need to try and fit in somehow. If that
didn’t work out, the homeland of the gnomes and dwarves would probably be its next best bet.
As for the reason they were headed northwest rather than straight north, that was to address the first and
most vital point of that all-important plan. It still had 3 Levels to go before it could Rank Up and wanted
to get those squared away. Thankfully, according to Nasty, there happened to be a dungeon in this area.
She apparently found it while she was searching for the tower months ago, before she turned into a lich,
and entered it by mistake. Boxxy briefly wondered how come she was able to confuse a tower with a
dungeon, but that particular question had answered itself by the time they arrived at it.
You have entered the Spire of the Jade King.

Such a message showed up when the Mimic and the rest of its party approached a huge black tower.
Overall it looked to be 40 meters tall and roughly 20 meters in diameter. It was hard to tell from a
distance, but its outside wall was perfectly smooth, as if it was a singular piece of featureless black
stone. There weren’t even any windows or balconies. The spire looked less like a man-made structure
and more like a gigantic pillar sticking out of the ground. It was also surrounded on all sides by
hundreds of meters’ worth of hedge mazes.
Valeria had already confirmed the species of monster that made these 5 meter tall green corridors their
homes. They were beings known as Stone Soldiers, a species of golem in the form of a naked man
wielding a spear and a tower shield that protected his entire body. Golems were rather troublesome
opponents as their thick hides were notoriously resistant to damage, turning every fight they take part in
into a battle of attrition. On the upside, they were rather simple and straightforward creatures that relied
almost entirely on physical combat.
This would be a good place for Boxxy to check on the growth of its minions ever since they had been
reunited. Well, it had steadily gained INT over these past 3 weeks by gaining Levels in its Mimic Job
and Acid Spray Skill. As a result, both of them were currently at Level 47. Xera was a Level 27
Succubus and Level 20 Pyromancer, while Kora was a Level 27 Fiend and Level 20 Berserker. Her HP
had even slightly surpassed the Mimic’s at 2120, though her MP was as pitifully useless as ever.
Regardless, both of them had a few new Skills each, not to mention that the Mimic had yet to see Valeria
get serious. They did run into a few monsters on the way here, but they were hardly worthy opponents.
Therefore, this place should serve as a good proving ground to verify just how much firepower the group
possessed.
“U-uhm… B-B-B-Boxxy…”
Fizzy had spoken for the first time since she had been raped. Being simultaneously terrified and furious
with the Mimic, she couldn’t even look directly at it, but instead stared at her feet as she spoke.
“What?”
“I n-n-n-need to get some p-p-p-provisions since my old ones were Blighted…”
It had been more than 24 hours since she’d last had a solid meal. She managed to fill her canteen with
water out of a random stream they passed on the way here, but that wouldn’t last long.
“Also… I need s-s-s-sleep… Like… a l-lot…”
There was also the matter of her depleted stamina. It was now practically evening, perhaps 2 hours
before the sun would set. This meant that the group had been walking for most of the day, draining what
little physical strength she had left. Her already sleep deprived body had been running on empty in
pretty much every sense of the word. If they were going to spend hours, maybe even days tackling a
dungeon, then she needed to be fully rested before they started.
Boxxy was quite troubled over this. While it was true that they were in no particular rush, it didn’t feel
like waiting around either. Honestly, if this gnome’s biological needs were going to keep getting in its
way then that would be a problem. She was literally the only one that had to be pampered like this. After
all, Boxxy was a monster with a much stronger constitution and endurance than the gnome and could
last without food or sleep for much, much longer. Xera and Kora on the other hand were both demons
and didn’t need food or water at all. They did get tired, though they could just be re-summoned in order
to instantly fix that problem. The latest addition to the group was the least demanding of all. Valeria was
undead, which meant she needed zero rest or sustenance. All her body required was that her phylactery
was safe and relatively closeby. Which was currently the case since it had been tucked away in a fleshy
sack at the base of Boxxy’s huge tongue.
However, it would seem the lich still had something to offer on the matter of sleep.
“Boxxy, I think you should let the poor thing rest.”
Fizzy became wide-eyed in shock at Valeria’s words.
“She’s only a gnome,” she continued. “If you don’t let people like her properly recover from their
fatigue, then their performance will drop, and they can make crucial mistakes in combat.”
“Is that so?” asked the Mimic, as if just realizing this common sense.
“It is. Besides,” she added, “I also need some time to hunt for fresh bodies and replenish my own
minions. I can’t make undead out of piles of dead rock, you know. So how about you let her rest while I
do that?”
“... Okay,” assented the Mimic. “You and Fizzy go hunt, get meat and zombies.”
“Yes, my darling ~?!”
“Snack, go with them and guard the small one. Make sure she doesn’t die.”
“Understood, Master,” answered Xera with a small bow.
“Arms, you’re with me. Let’s go check how strong those golems are.”
“You got it, Boss!”
The five of them split up into two groups as instructed. Xera, Val and Fizzy went away from the
dungeon in search of prey while Boxxy and Kora prepared themselves for-
“Oh… Fuck!” it cursed.
“Hm? What’s wrong, boss?”
Boxxy had just realized something. It had used one of its precious mithril daggers as a projectile weapon
during its brief fight with Valeria back in the 4th floor of the abandoned Arcaneum tower.
With all the excitement of having its Jobs restored it completely forgot to pick it back up.
(64) Unleashed 3
A lich, a Paladin and a succubus walked into a forest. Although it seemed like the beginning of a bad
joke, this was currently Valeria, Fizzy and Xera’s reality. The gnome glanced up at the floating undead
several times before screwing up the courage to speak up.
“Uh... uhm… Valeria?”
“Hm? What is it, little one?”
“Why did you stand up for me back there?”
“Oh that? I was simply doing my duty.”
“What duty?”
“What sort of worthless woman would let her future husband’s precious little pet waste away like that?
You’re so small, weak and fragile that I couldn’t help myself.”
Anger once again flared up in Fizzy’s eyes. The surge of rage that had been somewhat dispelled by the
monster’s ridiculously named ‘Operation TASTYCOCK’ had come back with full force. Not because
she had been called a pet, the gnome had already come to terms with that reality and accepted it as a
fact. The reason she was angry was because this incorrigible pervert had taken pity on her.
“No need to thank me,” said Valeria, adding more fuel to the flame.
The gnome’s grip on the handle of her improvised warhammer tightened and she grit her teeth. Just
whose fault was it that she was feeling so miserable in the first place?! She wanted to take a swing at
this stupid bitch and smash her teeth in. But she couldn’t, her reason wouldn’t let her. The difference in
Status and Levels meant that act was the equivalent to suicide. Even if Paladins were the natural enemy
of undead, liches were their antithesis and were well equipped to fight the living. So a fight between just
the two of them at this stage was sure to end in the gnome’s demise.
“Sorry to break this up,” butted in Xera, “but the Master has need of the lich.”
“Really?!”
The yellow dots in the Valeria’s eyes almost became heart-shaped for a moment.
“Yes. Something about having to go back to that white tower,” added Xera.
“Then I shall return to my darling’s side immediately ~?!”
She bolted off back the way they came from, twirling and spinning merrily through the air as she did so.
The reason Boxxy had called her back was because it wanted to return and retrieve its forgotten dagger.
Even if it wouldn’t be very useful against golems, that didn’t mean it could just leave it behind.
However, that weapon was in the middle of a Blight-infested stretch of land crawling with the undead. If
it didn’t have to deal with those pests then it could make it there and back in half a day.
Which is where Valeria came in. The lich had started bragging at length about her Skills shortly after she
was… recruited. The Lord of the Dead Skill in particular was what the Mimic was interested in. It was a
Skill that appeared to be exclusive to liches, something no human Necromancer could ever hope to
obtain.
According to Valeria, it not only strengthened all minions under her command, but also allowed her to
dominate and control the feral undead that appeared naturally due to the Blight. If she was telling the
truth, then she could direct those rotting vermin away from Boxxy, allowing the Mimic to travel
unhindered. Doing so would not only allow her to rebuild her private army, but would also allow Fizzy
plenty of time to rest and recuperate.
The Mimic had determined that this course of action was the most efficient, and was not, as the
delusional woman was assuming, going for a romantic moonlight walk.
Now that it was just Fizzy and Xera, the gnome found herself temporarily at a loss.
“You should get busy,” suggested the succubus. “If you drag my Master down with your poor
performance then you will not be forgiven.”
“Ah… Right. Th-then you will help me hunt, right?”
“Haah, I suppose I should.”
The two of them then roamed the sparsely forested area for a while before running across a large black
bear. It was then charred even blacker by Xera’s magic and died in an instant. Even if it was big and
looked menacing, it was only a Level 20 beast. The gnome took out her dagger and started carving up its
meat into appropriately sized steaks. She would then grill them up, eat her fill and preserve the rest with
salt, courtesy of Boxxy’s Storage.
The succubus sat down on a nearby rock and merely watched the gnome work with a vaguely
dissatisfied look on her face. The Paladin noticed her glare, which made her feel a little uneasy.
“D-Do you hate me?” asked Fizzy in an effort to strike up a conversation.
Her choice of topic was perhaps a little weird, but the succubus was already feeling bored. Exciting and
fun things happened all the time whenever her beloved Master was around, but that also meant that
things were incredibly dull whenever it wasn’t. Therefore, she felt she might as well indulge the gnome
with a bit of idle chatter to kill time.
“I do.”
“Oh…”
“Don’t take it personally though. I dislike all mortals that aren’t Master. Also most of the immortals,
now that I think about it.”
“I see.”
Silence once again dominated the scene, broken up only by the wet sounds of a knife digging into flesh.
“Can I ask what your real name is?” continued the gnome.
“You know there’s no truth to the myth you can control a demon if you know its name, right?”
“Th-that’s not it! It’s just… your name isn’t actually Snack, is it?!”
“Hmm… Actually, you’re right. It isn’t. I should see if I can have it changed to that.”
“... Huh?!”
“I am my master’s Snack. Is it really so wrong to have a name that reflects that?”
“You… You like being eaten?!”
“No, I don’t you foolish creature,” said Xera. “I love it. I adore it! I need it! Being devoured the instant I
was back in the physical realm was the best welcome back gift I could’ve asked for! Hnnn! Just thinking
about it is… Mmmmnn!”
Realization dawned on the gnome as she watched the succubus’s expression grow twisted by lust. Come
to think of it, didn’t this demon eagerly shout ‘Do me! Do me!’ during this morning’s incident?
“That is why I’m sure I will never lose to that uppity ghost. Master likes my flavor the best!”
That’s not something to be proud about! retorted Fizzy inside her own head.
Still, that made it official. The number of incorrigible perverts around Boxxy was not 1, but 2. Actually,
given this pattern, it was highly likely that the red demon was one as well. How come they’ve all
gathered around a monster that had absolutely no sex drive? That Mimic had made it clear it did not
enjoy the act very much and simply used it as ‘practice.’ A fact the gnome was inclined to believe, given
how it didn’t assault her all this time. If it wasn’t for Valeria, she wouldn’t even be in this situation
where she feels disgusted to be inside her own body. Maybe she should just kill herself and-
Fizzy immediately shook away the dangerous thought that crept itself inside her skull. She decided it
would be best if she simply ignored that hopeless slut of a demon and resumed preparing the bear’s
meat. After separating what looked to be the best pieces, Fizzy started a fire and grilled them roughly.
She then gorged herself on as much of the tough, bland meat as she could stomach and packaged the rest
for later. It should last her for a few more days before it goes bad. Once she was done, she walked over
to a random, soft-looking patch of grass and instantly fell asleep under Xera’s watchful eye.
Fizzy partook in what could only be called the sleep of the dead. She was so tired, she couldn’t even
dream, let alone have nightmares. In fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that the real nightmare was
when she was awake. But, at least for tonight, circumstances had conspired to let her enjoy a proper rest
for the first time since she was imprisoned. She slept from before sundown until well after sunrise, for a
total of 13 hours.
The gnome sprang to her feet the instant she regained consciousness and looked around in a sort of
panic. She was so used to being woken up with violence hat her subconscious mind perceived her late,
peaceful morning as something out of the norm. It took her a minute or so for the haziness to clear from
her mind, and she calmed down soon after. Looking around she saw the succubus was exactly where she
was when Fizzy fell asleep - sitting idly on a nearby stump and staring off into the distance. The scorch
marks in her surroundings suggested she had taken to flinging Fireballs to alleviate her boredom,
although there were a few charred remains scattered around as well.
She didn’t seem to notice the gnome had woken up, so Fizzy greeted her to get her attention.
“G-good morning.”
Xera’s eyes turned away from the unseen horizon and stared contemptuously at the pint-sized Paladin.
“Oh, finally awake?”
“Y-yeah.”
“I hope you got plenty of rest and do not embarrass my Master.”
“I won’t. Trust me, upsetting Boxxy is the least- the last thing I want to do.”
“Hmmm, well so long as you understand.”
“And uh, wh- where is-”
“On its way back. I think they’ll be here in about half an hour, so we better get back to the entrance.”
“Alright. You, um, you didn’t do anything weird to me while I slept, right?”
Xera was the individual who was responsible for manipulating Fizzy’s memory in the first place, and
she always did it after putting the gnome to sleep with magic, so this was a very valid concern. One that
Fizzy’s tired mind failed to take into account the night before. However, the succubus didn’t answer her
with words. She merely smiled mischievously before turning around and heading off toward the tall
black spire in the distance.
“Hey! You didn’t do anything weird to me, right?!”
The worried Paladin kept asking the succubus over and over, but didn’t get any response one way or the
other. It was highly possible that Xera didn’t do anything and was simply stringing the poor girl along
just for kicks. However, Fizzy couldn’t accept a naive answer like that. She searched through her
memory in an effort to spot anything out of place, any time she might have lost. Unfortunately, it was all
there. The imprisonment, the abuse, the violence, the horrible event that took place yesterday morning -
all of it was vividly brought up.
She kept worrying over this until they made it back to the outskirts of the Spire of the Jade King. They
arrived at roughly the same spot where the group had split up the day before. Kora was already there,
waiting for them while sitting down on the ground.
“Yo!”
She greeted the two with a wave of her hand. Her only hand.
“Ack!”
Fizzy recoiled in horror when she realized that mountain of muscle had been mutilated horribly. She was
missing both left arms, half a right arm and most of her left leg. Large chunks of the left side torso had
been ripped out, and both her magnificent horns were snapped off.
“Are you okay?! What happened to you?!”
“Nothing much. I was just giving those golem guys a try to see how strong they were. I got a bit carried
away and challenged 3 of them at once.”
“So? How were they?” asked Xera, matter-of-factly.
“They’re hard, and faster than they look. I guess about Level 40, maybe 45. They’re pretty good with
those shields and the spears are quite bad as well, but those short swords are the worst. They’re much
sharper than they look.”
She wiggled her stumps as if to prove a point.
“Swords? What swords?” asked Xera.
“They pull them out from somewhere if you break their shafts. They get super pissed and start attacking
like mad.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem once the Master gets back.”
“Yeah. Wish it’d hurry up already, though”
“How can you two be so calm?!” shrieked Fizzy. “Bitchface lost two arms and a leg, and you two are
just-”
“You wanna die, you little shit?!”
“Waaah!”
Kora’s strangely cheerful atmosphere disappeared in an instant as she let her bloodlust flow freely.
Having been suddenly threatened like that, the gnome could do little more than reflexively scream and
jump behind Xera for cover.
“Come on,” shouted Kora, “call me that again! See what happens!”
She stood up on one leg and took a few threatening hops towards Fizzy and the slightly sniggering
succubus. Even if she only had about 60% of her body mass left, Kora was still as intimidating as ever.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I don’t know what I said, but I’m sorryyyy!”
“Like fuck you don’t know! I told you to only call me by my name, didn’t I?!”
“But I did! It’s Bitchface McWeaksauce, isn’t it?! … Huh?”
Kora had grandly introduced herself yesterday, so Fizzy was dead sure she got her name right. So how
come it didn’t feel right? The fiend in question felt her anger subside for a bit due to the weird situation.
Her eyes moved between the succubus and the gnome, as if she was trying to piece something together.
“You… Your name was Corny Fizzle-something, right?”
“N-no. It’s Cornhole Jizzbu… cket?”
“...”
Both of the confused women stared at each other with dumb expressions.
“Kukukukuku!”
The sudden silence was interrupted by Xera, who was unable to contain her laughter any longer.
“Ahahahaha!” she erupted. “Hah hah haaaahahaha!”
“You whore!” roared Kora. “I’ll get you back for this!”
Having realized exactly which part of her memory was tampered with seemed to dispel the effects of the
Dreamweaver Skill from Fizzy’s mind. The implanted memories faded away and the real ones rose to
the surface. The gnome naturally realized that Xera had been messing with her after all. A fact which
caused her to snap.
“Uhm, excuse me, Koralenteprix?” she asked with an almost innocent smile.
Having someone properly call her by name like that seemed to drastically improve the fiend’s mood.
She gave Fizzy a toothy smile while puffing out her chest.
“Yep, that’s me!”
“Can you hold down Snack for me, please?”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!”
The fiend then jumped through the air and crashed right into the still giggling succubus, knocking them
both down to the ground and pinning her under her weight. Fizzy then walked over to where the slightly
stunned Xera’s head was and took out her weapon.
*THWACK THWACK*
She repeatedly and rhythmically smashed the succubus’s face in as Kora kept her pinned. Fizzy didn’t
hold back at all and really put her back into each swing.
*THWACK THWACK*
Both Kora and Xera were a Warlock’s familiars. That meant two very important things. One - they were
unable to go against direct orders, and two - re-summoning them would get rid of any and all injury,
even death. Those two morsels of information were something that Boxxy explained to Fizzy and Val
the day before. However, Fizzy had briefly forgotten about them from the shock of seeing Kora’s
mutilated form.
*THWACK THWACK*
But now that she remembered, she rationalized that it was fine to kill the slut, right? It’s what the
masochistic bitch seemed to want, so it was fine if she smashed her head open like a fucking tomato,
right?!
She stopped after the sixth hit and held her bloodied wrench overhead. Was it really okay? She decided
to ask Kora, just in case.
“It’s fine if I kill her to death, right?”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Kora. “The boss gets a bit mad if you make it waste MP like that.”
“Oh…”
“I think she’s good for 1 more hit though.”
“Oh!”
*THWACK*
“Fuuuuuu,” exhaled Fizzy while relaxing her hands.
She put away her weapon and smiled weakly at Kora.
“Thanks. I really needed that. Hitting things in the face is strangely relaxing, huh?”
Even if violence was the main cause of the gnome’s stress, it might just prove to be the outlet she was
looking for.
“I know, right! I gotta say, you hit well for a pipsqueak!”
“I’d appreciate if you stopped calling me that.”
“I call ‘em as I see ‘em, pipsqueak. I mean, you’re so tiny you barely get up to my kneecaps!”
“Bet I’m taller than you when you’re on 0 HP.”
“Oh? Is that a challenge?”
The bloodthirsty look in the fiend’s eye immediately made Fizzy bow down on all fours with her
forehead touching the ground. It was a magnificent grovel that would undoubtedly get 10 out of ten
points if someone were to score it.
“I’m sorry! I got carried away and became cocky! Please forgive me, miss Koralenteprix! Ma’am!”
Of course Kora couldn’t actually kill the gnome. Boxxy had given them both explicit orders to keep
Fizzy alive. However, that didn’t mean the fiend couldn’t bitchslap her for being an uppity cunt who
didn’t know her place.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, pipsqueak.”
(65) Unleashed 4
“Welcome back, Master.”
Xera greeted Boxxy respectfully upon its return. Her face that had completely recovered from being
smashed in by a pissed off gnome thanks to her shapeshifting abilities. Even if the Mimic didn’t
particularly care for it, there’s no way she could show such a shameful sight to her beloved Master.
“Hey Boss!” called out Kora. “Anything exciting happen while you were gone?”
“Nope. Got my shiny dagger back without problems.”
“Huh? Where’s the lich?” she asked while looking around.
“Dropped Nasty off on the way,” answered Boxxy. “She is getting her undead together and said she’ll
need a while to prepare.”
“Oh. So… can you do something about this now?”
She wiggled her stumps once more, to which the Mimic responded by forcefully dismissing and then re-
summoning her. Once the fiend had all her limbs back, the Mimic finally turned its attention towards the
gnome. It formed a head and spoke to her.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Wh-what? I mean, yes! I slept very well!”
Boxxy was able to tell that Fizzy wasn’t just saying it either. She looked noticeably healthier than she
did yesterday.
“Good.”
The Mimic had done a great deal of thinking throughout the night, mainly about this gnome. It realized
that it was simply pushing her too hard. At first it did so because it felt rushed at that Quest’s ambiguous
time limit, but this was no longer the case. It no longer saw a reason to be as rough and violent as it was
until now, and decided it would take proper care of her.
“From now on,” it continued, “let me know if you feel tired or hungry and I will let you rest.”
“Wh- R- Really?!”
“Yes. It’s only natural.”
After all, even the sturdiest tool was bound to rust and break if one didn’t properly maintain it. Fizzy’s
frequent rest stops were simply her maintenance. Granted, the performance wasn’t great, but the Mimic
had high hopes for that gnome. She had become a surprisingly formidable fighter during these last few
weeks, and it was sure she would continue to grow. If she kept that up and proved herself to be loyal,
then it might keep her around even after it was done absorbing all of her Artificer knowledge.
“Then I shall t-t-take you up on your offer!”
Of course Fizzy immediately accepted it. If the monster was speaking the truth, then this would alleviate
one of the biggest gripes she had with the way she was treated. And why would it lie? The beatings had
gone down drastically ever since the fight with the lich. Except for being mercilessly and brutally
raped…
“Also, sorry about yesterday morning.”
The gnome’s eyes widened so much that they looked like they were about to fall out of her skull.
“I got carried away and did something unnecessary. So, sorry about that.”
Of course the Mimic wasn’t being sincere when it said this. It understood that raping Fizzy was not nice,
to say the least, but that didn’t mean it felt particularly bad about it. However, it had spoken at length
with Xera during the night about step 3 of Operation TASTYCOCK. If it wanted to learn how to fit in
with a civilized society, then it had to learn to apologize. Or, more specifically, how to lie when
apologizing.
However, the gnome noticed its insincerity almost immediately. She knew this monster wouldn’t never
truly repent for anything it had done. Even if it didn’t mean it, the fact it cared enough to at least attempt
an apology made still made her feel better. It wouldn’t erase what happened to her, but it was a start.
“Thank you,” she said meekly. “For saying that.”
Seemingly satisfied with her response, the Mimic flashed a goofy smile before reverting to its base form
and waiting patiently for Nasty to return. It had learned quite a bit from her about Necromancy during
the trip. It had to know about the lich’s strengths and weaknesses if it planned to use her correctly, so it
questioned her extensively.
For starters, it would appear that Necromancy, much like Cadaver Absorption, was a Corpse-targeted
Skill. It needed both the heart and the brain to be present for the body to be considered viable and
extensive damage to the corpse would reduce the strength of the summoned undead. This meant the
Mimic would have to share the corpses with the Necromancer, though it shouldn’t be much of a problem
in reality. After all, Boxxy’s daily body count was quite impressive.
The second interesting detail was that undead raised with Necromancy differed significantly from those
that appeared naturally with the Blight. The latter, often known simply as zombies, were just the
reanimated remains of a creature. They were completely feral, couldn’t use any Skills and only had their
rotting body to rely on. Their strength depended entirely on the strength of the corpse that they were
raised from. And, although Valeria could control them with the Lord of the Dead Skill, it would appear
she disliked using them as they were little more than fodder.
The undead created through Necromancy were called hollowed or hollows. The reason for that seemed
to be that they were closer to constructs forged out of mana with no free will whatsoever. Calling them
‘flesh golems’ would not be entirely wrong since the corpses used for their creation were nothing more
than raw materials. The body’s skin, bone and muscle would become warped, twisted and reforged into a
completely different form from what it once was. So while the quality of the corpse still played a role,
the majority of a hollow’s strength was determined by its summoner’s Skills and Attributes.
However, it would appear there was a limit as to how many hollows a Necromancer could actually
control at any given time. Each hollowed creature demanded upkeep, which manifested itself as
reducing their master’s maximum MP, and even then the Necromancy Skill could only take up to 80% of
that in total. The exact amount of MP needed varied depending on the strength and species of the undead
and would be restored when the creature was defeated or dismissed.
As for what species these hollows actually were, it depended on what the Necromancer chose to create.
Skeletons were versatile as they could be brought forth as soldiers, archers or even casters. Specters
could be called forth to serve as scouts that terrorize the living. The tough and agile Ghouls could be
used as shock troops to quickly overwhelm an enemy with a surprise attack.
There existed also high-class hollows such as the tough and tenacious Death Knights and the headless
powerhouses known as Dullahans. Both of these undead warriors were well versed in martial combat
and fought with skill and precision rather than attack wildly. Their weapons and armor were items
manifested from the Necromancy Skill, which is why their MP upkeep was significantly higher than that
of lesser undead.
So it would seem that Necromancy was a Skill that demanded a good amount of tactical thinking and
foresight. Choosing the right configuration of one’s personal army of the dead and properly
commanding them was vital to ensure success. After all, these hollows were completely incapable of
making decisions for themselves. If the situation changed rapidly, then they would be unable to adapt to
it in the same way that a Warlock’s familiar or a Monster Tamer’s pets would. Therefore, success or
failure would depend almost entirely on their master’s ability to command.
Which was something Valeria seemed to be struggling with. Even if she was a lich with powerful Skills
and Spells, she was still inexperienced when it came to matters of strategy. Back in the tower, she
showed herself at the start and directly confronted the invader to satisfy her own ego. It was a foolish
approach in Boxxy’s honest opinion. If their positions were reversed, then the Mimic would send wave
after wave of undead to tire out its opponent before they even met face-to-chest.
Granted, the Mimic was no expert on the subject of tactics either, but it had still learned quite a bit from
all the fights it took part in. Whether it would be engaging a party of adventurers, fighting alongside its
familiars or coming in to sweep up both sides of an ongoing battle, it had steadily accumulated a certain
amount of experience. That’s why it was able to give Valeria some pointers on the matter.
And judging from the undead she brought with her when she rejoined the others, she took that advice to
heart. How could she not? Her bizarre infatuation with the Mimic, or more accurately with its sexual
prowess, meant that she was quite open to any suggestions it had.
So, rather than fill up her Necromancy capacity with nothing but Death Knights like she had done before
her reunion with Boxxy, she actually diversified her undead this time. She had a total of 10 sword-and-
shield using Death Knights to serve as the vanguard, 6 plate-armored Dullahans wielding huge
warhammers and 8 Skeletal Mages for additional magical support. This platoon of 22 undead was her
limit for the moment, but would gradually increase as long as she kept raising her INT Attribute. As for
their fighting strength, it ranged from Level 20 for the skeletons all the way up to Level 30 for the
Dullahans and Death Knights.
Boxxy was rather satisfied with this amount of undead. Frankly speaking, they were little more than a
head start to help penetrate the dungeon’s outer defenses. After all, if this place had nothing but golems,
then it would be impossible for Valeria to replenish their numbers. And these hollows would eventually
be whittled down and destroyed. Even if the undead did not tire, it was also a fact that their HP would
not recover on its own unless they were in a land infected by Blight. The same was true even for Valeria,
although her nature as a lich was able to compensate for that.
So after confirming everyone’s preparations were ready, the group of 23 undead, 2 demons, a monster
and a gnome began their invasion of the Spire of the Jade King and entered the hedge maze. Xera was
ordered to fly overhead and guide the ground-based group while they made their way towards the Spire
itself.
They tried simply bulldozing their way through the walls of green at first, but that proved to be a
fruitless effort. No matter how much the vibrant green hedges were crushed, slashed, ripped apart or
burned away, they always grew back in less than a second. At least there was plenty of room to fight in
since the corridors appeared to be about 6 or 7 meters wide. Otherwise the armored column of undead
would have difficulty putting their numbers to use. As things stood, however, the 6 Death Knights and
resident fiend would be able to form a solid front line that would be impossible for the Stone Soldiers to
flank.
Not even a minute after entering the maze, they encountered the first of its resident guardians. Just like
Valeria and Kora had said, it was a walking statue of a naked man with a helmet covering his face. A
tower shield big enough to hide his entire body was in his left hand, while a long stone spear was held at
the ready in his right. He was significantly taller than a human, to the point where his line of sight was
actually slightly higher than Kora’s.
“Arms, show me,” commanded Boxxy.

“Alright!” cheered the fiend while smashing her fists together. “This is gonna be fun!”
The fiend walked up to the similarly-sized golem, who immediately put his rectangular, door-like shield
between them while keeping his stone spear trained on her. Kora also assumed a fighting stance and
rushed the creature. She avoided the spear aimed at her midsection and swung her metal-clad fists at that
thick shield.
“Ora! Ora ora ora ora ora!”
The Stone Soldier withstood the shower of punches without sustaining much damage, but his shield did
not last long and soon became covered in cracks and chunks of it started falling off. He took a long hop
backwards, his heels dragging along the smooth stone path of the maze upon his landing. Having once
again obtained his optimal range, the Stone Soldier once again stabbed at Kora with its spear when she
charged it once again. This time it managed to gouge out part of her shoulder, but the fiend ignored the
relatively minor wound and resumed her assault. This time she managed to completely break the shield
before its wielder could back off, leaving the Stone Soldier much more vulnerable to her attacks.
The golem had not expected its shield to be broken this easily. It staggered backwards for a step as it
was momentarily thrown off balance. Kora took this opportunity to draw back one of her right arms all
the way behind her, clearly intending to throw a big punch from below.
“Uppercut!” she shouted while swinging her fist in an upward motion.
Just as she said, it was a flawless uppercut right into the human-shaped statue’s jaw. However, the sheer
speed and ferocity with which she delivered the blow was completely unexpected, even when taking her
literally idiocy-powered strength into account. Her fist also seemed to glow with a dull red light at the
moment it made impact with the golem’s face.
As a result, the nearly 700 kg heavy Stone Soldier was knocked off his feet and hit the ground hard,
landing on its wide back. The fiend immediately moved above it and raised one of her legs high in the
air while keeping the foot firmly above her opponent’s chest.
“War Stomp!”
Her armored boot came down on the prone Stone Soldier like a miniature comet.
*THUUM*
A loud noise almost like an explosion echoed through the area. Dust and rocks were sent flying in every
direction, completely drowning out the small flash of red light that Kora’s leg was momentarily draped
in. The golem under her heel was broken into several large chunks and even the stone path underneath
was covered in cracks with a spiderweb-like pattern.
Kora took her boot out of the remains of the clearly demolished golem and smiled fiercely at the others
who were watching the spectacle from some 10 meters away.
“How’s that?!”
“Later tonight…” mumbled Xera, her imagination already running wild.
“P-p-please don’t use that near me! I’ll die for sure!” pleaded Fizzy, her imagination running wild in a
completely different direction.
Valeria was too busy staring longingly at Boxxy to give a flying fuck about Kora. Not that the fiend
cared. Two have seemed to have instantly formed a pact of mutual indifference. Just because they
worked together didn’t mean they had to like each other.
“Shiny,” said te Mimic, clearly impressed by the demonstration. And to think both of those tasty-looking
attacks came out of a single Skill, courtesy of Kora’s Berserker Job.
Face Smasher
Description: There’s an art to everything and punching things in the face is no exception
Requirements: Level 15 Martial Job, Level 4 Brawling Mastery, STR 100
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Grants knowledge of a new Brawling Martial Art at each Level of this Skill.
Increases the effectiveness of punches and kicks by 2% per Level of this Skill.
Although Boxxy knew of the existence of Martial Arts, this was the first time it had been able to witness
them firsthand and understand their function. In essence, if Caster Jobs like Pyromancers or Warlocks
had Spells, then Martial Jobs like Berserkers and Warriors had Martial Arts. They both consumed MP to
produce a magical effect, although the method for their activation was quite different. Where Spells
required forging a certain mental image and speaking a chant, using a Martial Art required moving the
body in a very specific way.
In the fight just now, Uppercut was a blow that didn’t necessarily do more damage, but allowed the user
to easily knock their opponent off their feet. War Stomp on the other hand was a technique that sent
tremors through the ground that caused all ground-based targets within 6 meters to stagger and lose their
balance. It also did a bit of damage, but that was negligible. Well, not unless it was applied directly to
one’s body. The pile of rocks that was once a golem already spoke volumes of how deadly such
shockwaves could be.
Satisfied with the demonstration and making a mental note of finding out how to obtain dagger-based
Martial Arts later on, the Mimic ordered the rest of the group to advance. It wasn’t long before they
started running into groups of Stone Soldiers. While a single one was relatively easy to handle, it was a
completely different story when fighting 2 or 3 at once. In fact, the further inside the maze they
ventured, the larger the groups of golems became. Fighting up to 6 or 7 of them at once became the
norm by the time they were halfway through the maze.
But, just as planned, the combination of Kora and 6 Death Knights was able to completely seal them off
and keep them away from the back line. Having been tied up in melee combat, the towering Stone
Soldiers were then peppered by ranged attacks from the back line. Their large size actually proved to be
a disadvantage as Valeria’s Frostbolts, her Skeleton Mages’ Ice Shards, Xera’s Fireballs and the Mimic’s
streams of corrosive acid flew harmlessly over the heads of the vanguards.
And so the group made their way through the huge hedge maze without much difficulty. Even if those
golems were good at absorbing physical damage, magical attacks were another story. The barrage of
Spells and acid was able to easily bring them down while Kora and the undead kept them at bay. The
fiend herself was also quite formidable in this formation. Having Fizzy around to heal her wounds and
being able to receive a Dark Infusion from her master meant she could fight as recklessly as she pleased.
But this wouldn’t last forever. The undead vanguard had began to thin out, just as expected. Even if
Death Knights were a defense-focused species and their opponents were reduced to dust in less than a
minute, there was still a limit to how much punishment they could take. That’s why Boxxy had
instructed Valeria to bring so many of them. The instant an undead warrior fell, another stepped up from
the back to take its place.
The host of 22 undead had been reduced to just 1 Death Knight, 2 Dullahans and 4 Skeletal Mages by
the time the group made it through the hedge maze. They must have defeated about eighty Stone
Soldiers in the process, so the fact that any of the undead survived at all was rather impressive. The
rewards for fighting through so many of them were quite good, as well, as the Mimic reached Level 48
while Valeria was at Level 43 and well on her way to Level 44. Fizzy was unable to get any Paladin
Levels, but at least her healing-related Skills had gained a lot of proficiency.
However, Boxxy was not pleased. Even after getting so much tasty XP in a short amount of time, it still
had a significant gripe about the situation. Once they reached the wide open courtyard at the base of the
black Spire, it confirmed there were no immediate dangers and promptly assumed its Spell-casting form
for the first time today. It relied heavily on concentrated Acid Spray and throwing rocks during combat
in order to raise its Mimic Job. If it used Spells then all that tasty XP would have fruitlessly went into its
Warlock Job. The same could be said about Stone Soldiers beaten by its familiars, but it wasn’t
particularly angry about that. Some compromises had to be made in order to ensure a safe hunt.
No, it was angry at one very specific person.
The cube-shaped magical attack flew out of the simple staff in Boxxy’s hands and hit Kora squarely in
the back of the head, forcing her to bend over and nearly fall down from the impact.
“Hey!” she shouted. “What gives, boss?”
“Your information was bad.”
“No it wasn’t! I told you everything I found out about those guys last night!”
“Then how come they became enraged so much?”
One reason so little of the undead made it this far was that the Stone Soldiers would sometimes became
enraged seemingly at random. When that happened, they would throw their spears at the back line, over
the armored targets at the front, and take out some short swords seemingly out of nowhere. At that point,
they would abandon defense and attack much more ferociously.
“I already told you they would do that!” she answered back. “It’s not my fault those things got broken
with all the attacks flying around!”
“But if their spears were broken, then how come they were able to throw them?!” countered the Mimic.
The Stone Soldiers’ sword slashes were quite dangerous, but could be dealt with relatively easily. It was
those spear attacks that were the real problem. The large stone projectiles were powerful enough to take
out a Skeleton Mage in one hit and even managed to bring down Xera that one time. Such things
brought down the group’s ranged firepower, meaning they would take longer to defeat the large golems,
which in turn meant the front line would take more damage.
“Spears?” said Kora, while raising an eyebrow. “What do spears have to do with anything?”
“Everything!” screamed Fizzy. She also had a few misgivings over the fiend’s scouting since one of
those projectiles nearly took her head clean off. “You said th-th-that they ‘get super pissed and start
attacking like mad’ if you break the shaft of their spears! B-b-but almost all of the ones that came flying
at us were in pristine condition!”
“Very good, Fizzy,” commented Boxxy, satisfied its tiny protege had been paying such close attention.
“So, Arms? Anything to say for yourself?”
“Uhm. Okay, maybe I could’ve worded that better.”
“Worded it better?”
Boxxy tilted its head in confusion.
“I wasn’t talking about spear shafts,” said Kora.
And indeed, the thing that had to be broken to trigger the Stone Soldiers’ enraged state wasn’t their
weapon. Those golems had one more shaft on their bodies. One that no male in their right mind would
want to be damaged.
“I was talking about their dicks.”
Koralenteprix
Caonthioxxaa
Guild END 342

783/2120 (+3.4/
HP INT 57
sec)
90/228 (+0.5/
MP WIS 57
sec)
Skill List
Demonic Idiotic
6 40% Bloodlust 5 81% 4 52%
Armaments Strength
Second Brutal Brawling

5 22% 4 53% 5 83%
Wind Fervor Mastery
Demonic Face Projectile

4 17% 3 21% 4 90%
Carapace Smasher Mastery
Demonic Berserker
3 86% 1 2%
Leap Rage
Martial Art List
Face Smasher
Headcrack
Uppercut
War Stomp
(66) Unleashed 5
Boxxy re-summoned Kora once it was done educating her on matters of unambiguous reports. Well, the
fiend wouldn’t be able to fight properly without those limbs it tore off her. It then joined the others in
resting up before they tackled the Spire proper. This wide open courtyard seemed to be more or less a
safe place, so it looked like a suitable resting spot. However, those Stone Soldier-like statues that dotted
the area made it a bit nervous. The square marble-like pedestals they were standing on were likely the
mechanism that created them, but appeared to be inert for the moment.
After making sure that everyone’s HP and MP had properly recovered, it ordered them towards the
central Spire itself. After seeing it from up close, it really did look like it was sculpted out of one
gigantic piece of black stone. The surface of it was smooth to the point of being slightly reflective.
However, the Mimic couldn’t spot anything that looked like an entrance, at least not on the side that was
visible from the group’s current position.
It circled the 20-meter wide structure to the left with Kora and the surviving high-class undead taking
the lead. It did two full circles around the Spire’s base, but noticed no way in.
“Nasty,” it called out, “go inside and look around.”
“Whatever you say, honey ~?!”
The lich merrily turned herself immaterial and attempted to fly through the solid surface. However, it
would seem this black stone prevented that sort of intrusion, as evidenced by how she slammed into it
face-first, much to the amusement of the other girls. It would seem Fizzy and the two demons were
somewhat united in their apparent disdain for Valeria, although each for completely different reasons.
Xera merely saw her as an arrogant upstart who was unworthy of serving the same Master. She thought
the same of the gnome, of course, albeit to a lesser degree. That little Paladin would serve as a good
training partner for Boxxy’s socialization practice. Well, that and she could really swing that wrench
when properly provoked, so she wasn’t completely hopeless.
Kora disliked the lich because of the way she fought. From her point of view, it was the undead that did
all the work while she leisurely sat back and tossed out Spells sometimes. Well, that and she knew she’d
be hopelessly outmatched if the two fought. Even if the fiend was capable of snapping Valeria in half,
that only counted if Kora managed to hit her. It was only natural that she would dislike something she
was incapable of smashing. She was, of course, blissfully unaware of the difficulties of properly
commanding the mindless dead. Skeletons would sometimes stand idle or Death Knights would fail to
get into the proper position unless commanded specifically, so the lich was plenty busy trying to manage
them until that point.
As for Fizzy, she still pinned the blame for her misfortunes sorely on Valeria’s shoulders. She would
often say to herself ‘If only it wasn’t for that dead slut’ over and over. There was also the matter of her
newfound nature as a Paladin that made her instinctively resent the undead, especially one with such a
high Level of Taboo. But, no matter how much she wanted to get rid of her, she couldn’t. The difference
in Levels was simply too high to confront her directly. Even if she were capable of doing so, she would
still hold herself back. Valeria was, after all, Boxxy’s thing. And if there’s one thing that Mimic hated, it
was someone taking its things away.
“Master, above!” shouted Xera.
The Mimic immediately turned its gaze upward to see a trio of shadows swooping in from above. It
didn’t have time to think as one of them was falling down towards it at breakneck speeds. It hurriedly
dodged to the side as the thing fell from above like boulder, making a loud impact with the stone-
covered ground. The other two hit the ground with just as much force, with the second one squashing the
last remaining Death Knight and the third landing directly onto Valeria. Thankfully she was still under
the effects of her Ethereal Body Skill, so she got off with just a scare.
Not wasting any time, the Mimic immediately leaped into the dust cloud kicked up from the impact and
coiled itself around the closest of the intruders. Even if it obstructed regular vision, this dust screen was
no match for its magical perception. It was able to tell the thing that landed hand wings, and would
likely lift off into the air if it allowed it.
As for the intruders themselves, they were a trio of gargoyles. They looked like living statues that moved
with an agility one wouldn’t expect, much like the Stone Soldiers, and even had a similarly tall build
that slightly towered over Kora. They were mostly humanoid in shape, albeit with much thicker
shoulders, torso and arms than one would expect, making them look more like apes than humans. A total
of four bat-like wings sprouted out of their backs, and their faces were carved into the likeness of beasts.
The one that aimed for Valeria had the ugly face of a troll, the one that landed on the undead had the
head of a snarling tiger, and the one that aimed for Boxxy was, for some reason, bearing the likeness of a
llama.
And much like the Mimic had guessed, the gargoyles attempted to rise up into the air almost
immediately. Their goal was most likely to stay out of harm’s way while they positioned themselves for
another dive-bomb attack. Boxxy wrapped a number of tentacles around the wings of its target, but that
didn’t seem to stop or even slow down the gargoyle as it flew off into the sky, reaching an altitude of 30
or so meters in an instant. It would appear that these creatures did not even need to flap those thin sheets
of stone to gain altitude. However, the supernatural current of air flowing out of those appendages made
it clear that they weren’t simple decorations, either.
“Get everyone ready,” it commanded through the telepathic link, “I’m bringing them down!”
“Understood, Master!” replied Xera.
Boxxy wasted no time and applied Metal Mimicry to its tentacles, allowing sharp steel teeth to jut out
from the thin appendages. It then started moving them up and down the wings of the llama-faced
gargoyle it was coiled around. The living saws ruthlessly cut through the relatively softer monster’s
flesh in an attempt to cut those wings clean off.
The creature started thrashing about and rolling around in mid-air, as if it had just noticed Boxxy’s
presence, but it was too late. The Mimic had already ensnared itself around it and mercilessly chewed
through the base of its large wings, breaking them off one after the other. The tiger-faced monster
attempted to aid its comrade and tried to punch the Mimic clean off the llama’s back as it flew past.
However, Boxxy countered by catching its stone fist with a maw full of steel teeth, much to the wannabe
tiger’s distress. The flying golem tried to pull its arm away, but the Mimic’s teeth had already sunk too
deep into the arm to let it escape so easily.
It was at this point that Boxxy finished breaking through off the third of the llama head’s wings. It
started plummeting towards the ground, threatening to drag both the Mimic and its comrade along with
it. Boxxy then promptly released the crippled creature from its grasp and hurriedly coiled itself around
the tiger-faced gargoyle, subjecting it to much the same treatment. It heard a heavy impact from down
below, most likely the result of the last one repeating its dive-bomb attack. It had aimed for the group of
4 Skeletal Mages and successfully annihilated 3 of them. It was then followed by a second, slightly
softer impact of the wingless llama-head gargoyle hitting the ground.
After damaging the tiger head’s wings sufficiently and hitting it with a blast of corrosive acid for good
measure, it finished biting its way through its arm and fell through the air. A pair of demonic wings
sprang forth from its backside, allowing Boxxy to glide in the direction of the last airborne target. That
troll-headed statue appeared to have some sort of grudge against the undead, as it was currently
positioning itself to attack one of the two dullahans currently on the ground.
However, it noticed that its two brethren had hit the ground and were not getting back up. Realizing that
something must have knocked them out of the sky, it turned out to spot a bizarre spider-legged, demon-
winged chest gliding straight towards it. Rather than face it head on, it chose to increase its altitude,
which put it well out of the monster’s reach. It was quite obvious that this strange box was not capable
of full flight and could only control its descent at best, so avoiding it was a simple matter.
“Fireball!”
*FWOOM*
It would appear that the succubus did not wait idly by and moved to support her Master. She had used
Invisibility to position herself directly above the last flying gargoyle and launched a surprise attack of
her own. The Fireball hit the large statue squarely in the back and set fire to it, but seemed to have little
effect. These flying golems appeared to be significantly more resistant to magic when compared to those
Stone Soldiers.
The troll-faced creature immediately gave up on targeting the Mimic and bolted around, charging at the
succubus that was already chanting her next Spell.
“Fireball!”
It hit the gargoyle directly in the face, but it brushed it off as if it were a joke and kept charging at her,
clearly intent to turn her into pulp with a swing of its massive fists. The succubus reacted by cloaking
herself in Invisibility once more and effortlessly dodging the monster that had suddenly lost its target.
She then launched another two Fireballs after repositioning herself, which set off what was bound to be
an aerial game of cat and mouse. As if this succubus would ever let such a stupid, straightforward attack
hit her!
Back on the ground, Boxxy’s companions had already engaged the grounded gargoyles.
Kora and Fizzy had teamed up to take on the llama-headed one that tried to stomp down on the Mimic.
The fiend had engaged the living statue in a duel of fists, but it had rapidly devolved into the kind of
brawl one would expect to see in a pub. There was no technique or logic to it, just two meat-heads
beating the ever-loving shit out of each other. The pint-sized Paladin had thrown a couple of Holy Lights
at the demon at first, but decided it would be better if she created an opening for Kora to use her Martial
Arts. After all, even if they didn’t require chanting, that didn’t mean she could just pull them off on a
whim. One needed a few moments to prepare if they were going to properly activate one of those
techniques.
The gnome surged forward between the two pairs of legs while doing her best to avoid being stepped on.
Her eyes and weapon glowed with a bright, yellow-green light as she triggered her Divine Wrath Skill
and took a big, two-handed swing with her heavy wrench. Although it might appear that she was aiming
at air, the gargoyle’s leg moved into the path of her swing all on its own.
Fizzy was a Champion of Chaos. While not at the level of Bob himself, this Skill still allowed her to
subconsciously read between the lines, measure the variables and calculate the most likely outcome.
This seemingly complex Skill manifested itself in battle as a form of precognition, provided she was
focusing her attention on a single target. Ghostly outlines resembling her opponent would dance around
in her vision, painting a picture only she could see. Although she thought she had been going crazy at
first, she later realized that her enemies would often make the exact same movements as these ‘ghosts’
several moments after the gnome had seen them. This was merely a prediction, however, and wasn’t
foolproof. There were also times when multiple possible outcomes branched out before her, and she had
to make a snap decision about which one to follow. But after some practice and a lot of observation the
gnome was able to grasp that the most likely outcome was also the one that appeared to be the thickest
and most clearly defined.
And in this instance, she had seen that the gargoyle would be knocked slightly off balance by an extra
heavy hit from Kora. It would then wobble a bit and readjust its legs, which brought its leg right into the
path of Fizzy’s swing. The heavy tool smashed into the stone knee dead-on, cracking it heavily and
forcing the stone statue to stumble and go down to one knee. Noticing the chance the gnome had made,
Kora immediately took a step forward. She stretched out all four of her arms and swung them
horizontally at the stumbling gargoyle’s ill-fitting face.
“Head crack!”
All four of her fists hit the llama head at once, two from each side. A deep crack spread diagonally
across it, causing a large portion of its head to break off completely and fall to the ground. Fizzy, who
was still underfoot, delivered another heavy blow to its knee, this time managing to break it completely.
She then rolled out of the way to avoid being crushed by the stone statue that tipped over sideways as it
fell roughly on its left arm.
“War Stomp!”
The fiend then put her boot down on its chest for good measure. It didn’t turn to dust like the Stone
Soldiers, but was still broken up into three large pieces. The gargoyle bits had gone completely inert.
“Yeah!” cheered Kora while throwing her arms in the air. “Get some!”
“Wuh- Watch it!” came a squeaky voice from below. “Yo- you almost stomped me flat!”
“Oh right, you were there. Sorry squirt, but you’re just way too tiny! Hahahaha!”
Fizzy let out an exasperated sigh while thinking something along the lines of ‘One of these days!’ to
herself. Looking around, she spotted that Boxxy, Valeria and the two remaining dullahans were ganged
up on the tiger-faced gargoyle. The war hammer-wielding headless knights were doing a great job of
keeping the stone creature busy. They skillfully blocked or parried its plain attacks while counter-
attacking at every opportunity, but they seemed to do very little damage. The Mimic was the one who
appeared to be doing all the work. It had transformed the tip of its tongue into a large steel ball with
several thick, short spikes jutting out of it and was swinging it around like some sort of flail.
As for the lich herself, she was standing completely still while floating in mid-air and holding her hands
in front of her face as if she were gripping an invisible watermelon. Upon closer inspection, she actually
appeared to be chanting something. After a few seconds, a strange ball of clearly unnatural bright blue
smoke materialized between her palms.
“By the cursed ice, I command thee! Become brittle like glass!”
She then finished her 6-second long chant with some ominous words. The Mimic and the two dullahans
took a step away from the tiger-faced gargoyle. The blue smoke between the lich’s hands snaked
forward as if it had a mind of its own. Finding no other target, it quickly coiled itself around the living
statue and seeped into its body, turning its stony skin from a dull gray into a pale shade of blue. Boxxy
charged at it as soon as the curse took hold and swung its organic flail at it. It hit its target squarely in the
waist, causing the stone creature to explode into pebbles with a single blow.
What Valeria had performed just now was Curse of Shattering. It had the effect of massively amplifying
physical damage taken by those affected by it. The downside was that it had a much longer chant than
most Spells although this was a common theme among magic derived from the Hexcraft Skill. That long
prep time was the reason the lich did not dare use a curse against the agile Mimic during their
confrontation. Curses also had the nasty habit of sometimes disobeying their caster’s wishes and
latching onto a completely different target, so great care had to be taken when employing them.
However, the debilitating effects they inflicted were extremely powerful, making them well worth the
effort.
One of the other hexes Valeria knew about was the Curse of Silence that prevented the use of Martial
Arts, Skills and Spells for up to 20 seconds. Then there was the Curse of Fatigue that gradually drained
stamina and dulled movement over the course of 3 minutes. The last and probably most horrifying one
she knew was the Curse of Solitude that completely took away one’s senses. It completely cut off all
sensations such as sight or touch, leaving the target’s mind trapped in a world of pure darkness and total
silence for 30 seconds. Although they retained full control of their body, they would be completely
unable to tell what was happening around them. Or to them.
Needless to say, being afflicted with any of these curses in the middle of battle was nothing short of a
death sentence. Even with the long cast time and unreliable targeting, Hexcraft would become a source
of great power to those that used it wisely, although such power came at a price.
The foul practice of applying curses to others was something that violated the taboo of Lunar, the
Goddess that governed over matters of wisdom, magic and learning. Her teachings dictated that curses
and hexes were to be avoided since their foul energy would taint and pollute the world’s ambient magic.
This phenomenon could be plainly seen inside this dungeon’s territory, where the mystical energy
known as mana was thick in the air. The blue smog that permeated the smashed up gargoyle bits began
slowly leaking out, staining both the air and the ground with the remnants of the curse.
Not that anyone present could give a damn about that sort of thing right now though. They still had one
more gargoyle to deal with. Or at least, that’s what they thought until the large, troll-faced statue came
crashing down to the ground in a blaze of fire a few seconds later. It picked itself up off the ground
almost immediately after, showing that both its wings and its health appeared to be in good shape, yet it
was no longer able to fly.
Even if this was the first time Xera had fought these things, the experienced succubus knew full well
that any phenomenon which defied the laws of physics used up MP as compensation. And as an owner
of a pair of fully functioning wings, she was able to immediately realize that her enemy’s flight was
clearly unnatural and was likely the effect of a sustained Skill. Therefore, she focused her attention
towards chipping away at her target’s MP by relying on the combination of her Devouring Flame and
Mana Burn Skills.
Devouring Flame
Description: Overwhelming fire leaves behind naught but ash and cinders
Requirements: Level 5 Pyromancer, INT 40
Type: Toggled (ON)
Cost: N/A
Range: 100 meters
Effects: Increases the cost of Pyroclasm Spells by 20%.
Pyroclasm Spells will apply Devouring Flame to your target for 5 seconds.
Devouring Flame inflicts damage equal to 10% of the initial hit each second.
Increases the damage of Devouring Flame by 20% per Level of this Skill.
Mana Burn
Description: A Pyromancer’s flame can burn away magic itself
Requirements: Level 10 Pyromancer, Devouring Flame, INT 45, WIS 45
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Devouring Flame effect will reduce the target’s MP by an amount equal to 25% of
its HP damage.
Increases the duration of Devouring Flame by 0.5 seconds per Level of this Skill.
So what if the gargoyle had tons of HP? It was a sort of rule of thumb that tough monsters like that had a
tiny MP pool in comparison. Therefore, all Xera had to do was keep showering the statue with Fireballs
until it was no longer able to sustain its magically induced flight. And now that it had been thoroughly
grounded, it found itself facing down four beings that were more than eager to shatter it to bits.
After finishing off the last gargoyle, Boxxy noticed a rather loud crumbling noise coming from the
tower. It turned around to see that a significant portion of the solid black stone that made up the Spire’s
exterior had crumbled away into dust. A tall, oval-shaped hole had appeared on the side of the otherwise
featureless tower some 16 meters from where the Mimic currently was, providing a way into Spire itself.
It would appear those three gargoyles were some kind of gatekeepers that kept the tower sealed. Boxxy
had assumed something strange was going on as those creatures were noticeably tougher than the garden
variety Stone Soldiers the party had been fighting with until then. Well, they were still no match for
Boxxy’s group, but they put up a better fight than the other golems in this place. It was highly likely that
those gargoyles were the next evolution of Stone Soldiers, which meant they were over Level 50.
The area guardians of the Emerald Maze have been slain.

To the victor go the spoils.
The Black Stairs can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
This message more or less confirmed Boxxy’s suspicion that the three flying statues were indeed special
existences in this dungeon. This wasn’t the first time the Mimic had seen the term ‘area guardian,’
either. It remembered seeing it before when it had briefly obtained ownership of the Ishigar Dungeon
Complex’s stolen dungeon core. ‘Area Guardian Management’ was one of the items in the list of
unavailable functions it saw before the core went into meltdown.
Thinking back on it, Boxxy realized that it didn’t run across any such entities when it raided its own
birthplace. Then again, that dungeon also did not repair any damage to its structure. Those two facts,
combined with this Spire of the Jade King’s much thicker concentration of mana in the air, made one
thing clear to the Mimic. This place’s dungeon core had ready access to a lot more features.
That’s when the Mimic started questioning whether it was worth it entering the Spire itself. Things like
traps or puzzles were also things that this dungeon could do. Was there a point to dealing with such
things? Since it just needed Job Levels, then surely spending a few days fighting Stone Soldiers out here
in the open would be enough to get it to Level 50. Thinking on it objectively, was there any need to
actually go through that entrance?
Boxxy glanced at the opening in question while considering its options. It spotted something inside.
Momentarily doubting its one eye, it grew two more just to be sure and did indeed confirm that the sight
it saw was very much real. Come to think of it, the message just now did mention something about
‘spoils,’ didn’t it?
Just inside the stone archway that has suddenly opened up was a single treasure chest. Indeed, this was
the incentive, no, the bait that dungeons used to lure adventurers to their demise. And the Mimic’s own
greed which hadn’t had a chance to surface ever since its capture gushed forth like a flood. Boxxy threw
caution to the wind and ran off towards the chest, completely ignoring the voices of its minions.
The ornate treasure chest flung open all on its own when the Mimic approached as if it recognized its
rightful owner. There was a flash of light and an ominous looking staff floated out of the chest and hung
loosely in mid-air. The most eye-catching part of the staff was the sculpture of a clearly demonic skull
that appeared to be molded out of some sort of black metal. It had two pairs of eye holes, one directly
under the other, and each of them was socketed with a glittering red ruby that seemed to shine with an
inner light. A pair of thick, ram-like horns jutted out from either side of it, while the open, seemingly
laughing jaw was filled with two rows of sharp, dagger-like teeth. This macabre sculpture was held in
place between four curved sheets of shining metal that resembled scythe blades. The arrangement gave
off the impression of a large creature or demon that was preparing to crush the skull between its claws.
This rather elaborate staff head was connected to a shaft forged out of the same pitch black metal that
had a small, circular red gem attached at the bottom end. The weapon was a total of 180 centimeters
long, which would normally raise questions as to how it fit inside that treasure chest in the first place.
However, Boxxy was too awestruck to even attempt questioning such things. This spectacle before it
was perhaps the shiniest thing it had ever seen in its relatively short life. It stared at it reverently as it
warily reached out to it with a tongue tentacle. It hesitated for a moment, almost as if it would sully the
precious thing with its touch. However, such thoughts were silly and puerile. This thing in front of it was
its reward, its compensation for taking out those 3 gargoyles. Having put its thoughts in order it touched
the cool metal surface, reveling in the sensation of being in contact with something so precious. Two
more tongues shot out and coiled themselves around it, shamelessly licking its prize all over.
The rest of the group had ended up following after the Mimic inside the Spire itself. They had tried to
stop Boxxy from doing anything rash at first, but gave up almost immediately. It was plainly obvious
that the Mimic was lost in its own world. They stared on wide-eyed as the monster slobbered all over the
inanimate object.
“How enviable,” commented Valeria as she looked at the spectacle with glassy eyes. It was painfully
obvious all sorts of lewd fantasies were coursing through her rotten head.
“Ugh,” grimaced Kora, clearly disgusted at the sight. “I didn’t think the boss would actually go and do
that…”
“Well, I wouldn’t say this was unexpected,” commented Xera.
“R-really? Th-then Boxxy has done something like this b-b-before?” asked Fizzy.
“No, not quite. I was sure something like this was bound to happen eventually though. I know my
Master better than anyone after all.”
The succubus seemed oddly smug as she said those words, but the lich they were directed at was already
lost in her own world.
Kora’s eyes went wide when she remembered a piece of common sense when it came to looting things
inside a dungeon.
“Wait, we can’t bring that thing out of the dungeon, right? Shouldn’t someone tell the boss?”
“N-not it!” called out Fizzy. She did not want to get beaten.
“Not it!” echoed Kora. She did not want to get eaten
“I think we should just let the Master it enjoy itself while it can,” commented Xera.
While she would gladly participate in both those activities, a good servant would not dare to interrupt
her beloved Master’s entertainment. Besides, it was highly likely the Mimic would be distraught once it
found out the truth and would seek comfort by devouring its favorite Snack.
After all, any dungeon chest that had been opened once would soon crumble into nothing. This also
applied to the intricately decorated, solid-gold chest that the Mimic was currently licking all over. The
fancy-looking staff that popped out of it would be another story entirely and was a permanent item, but
would probably feel like a consolation prize.
(67) Unleashed 6
Boxxy was understandably less than pleased when the golden chest it was strangely obsessed with
disappeared into nothing after a few minutes. However, much to Xera’s disappointment, it didn’t get sad
or depressed, nor did it feel like partaking in its favorite Snack. No, the Mimic’s mind was clouded by an
unyielding rage. This cocky dungeon, how dare it mess with it? Did it even have any idea who it was
dealing with? This was Boxxy T. Morningwood, dammit, and it would not take this sort of abuse sitting
down!
“Master, don’t forget the staff.”
It nearly stormed off into the Spire with the intent of giving this dungeon a lesson it would never forget,
but was stopped in its tracks by the words of its succubus familiar.
“Staff?” it answered.
Xera sighed. As expected, her master didn’t even register the item’s existence. It was so focused on that
treasure chest that it completely failed to notice the skull-headed metal staff that floated in place above
the chest. In fact, it had actually knocked it away earlier without even realizing it. The succubus walked
over to where the expensive-looking weapon was left neglected and completely forgotten about on the
ground. She bent over and tried to pick it up, but the solid metal weapon was much heavier than it
looked. She couldn’t even budge it, no matter how much she strained her feeble arms and back.
Watching Snack’s ongoing failures to do something as basic as lifting an object off the ground steadily
made its anger go away. It went over to where she was kneeling down on the ground and panting from
the exertion. It grabbed the pitch black item its pseudo-Xera hands and raised it into the air, though not
without struggling somewhat with its weight.
“There was a staff?” asked Valeria, looking around. “Huh, I didn’t even notice!”
“Oh yeah!” exclaimed Kora. “There was something like that, wasn’t there?”
“Ah, now that you mention it…” said Fizzy, cupping her chin in thought.
It would seem the rather obscene spectacle Boxxy had shown these women had made them momentarily
forget about the actual treasure itself. A fact which made the exhausted succubus slowly covered her
face with her palms.
It was official - she was surrounded by idiots. Then again, she was perhaps the biggest idiot of all for
being infatuated with an animate chest, but she couldn’t help herself. Nobody had truly understood her
wants and needs quite like her current master. That was why she wanted to present it with the clearly
valuable item in the first place, as satisfying the Mimic’s greed was the only way to appeal to it. Well,
that and entertaining its tastebuds, but Xera already had a handle on that particular method.
Boxxy’s sudden Spell hit Xera in her exposed stomach. There was a brief moment before a volatile mass
of darkness ripped a fist-sized chunk out of her body and sent chunks of it flying everywhere.
Your spell has gouged out your target’s insides. Target HP -287.
The succubus curled up while clutching the hole in her stomach. The twisted face she was making was,
predictably, not the face of a woman in pain.
Having confirmed the damage, the Mimic put away the staff and tried once again.
Your spell has gouged out your target’s insides. Target HP -207.
Quite the difference. It would appear this fancy looking staff raised its offensive magical ability by about
30%, much stronger than the 7% Spell damage boost of the plain staff it had used until then. That wasn’t
all, however. This fancy skull-on-a-stick also boosted its INT by 25 points and even seemed to reduce
the MP cost of Spells somewhat. It was a significant upgrade to say the least, although the Mimic could
not be happy about it right at that moment, as it had more important things to on its mind.
Such as dealing with the after-effects of its Chaotic Disposition Skill.
Chaotic energies swirl around you. Your body has caught on fire for 5 seconds.
Bright red flames had enveloped Boxxy’s faux-wood shell in an instant, turning the Mimic into a
walking bonfire.
“Honey?!” shouted Valeria in a panic, completely ignoring the wounded succubus next to her. “Are you
okay?!”
“I’m fine,” answered Boxxy. It sounded more annoyed than panicked.
“But you’re on fire!”
Your body has been burned by the flames. HP -98.

“I’ll get better.”
This random effect wasn’t as bad as it looked since the magical flame was simply too weak to
overpower the Mimic’s regeneration. In fact, it helped a little overall since it allowed the Mimic gain
some much needed proficiency in Mend Flesh and Adaptive Defense.
Chaotic Disposition seemed to trigger almost immediately after the Mimic had spent MP on Skills or
Spells. Boxxy had already set it off a total of ten times during the group’s push through the hedge maze.
The first time it went off, it caused the Mimic’s one eye to go completely blind, although the monster’s
magical perception was seeming unaffected. The second effect doubled the damage of the monster’s
next Spell, while the third caused it to float gently in the air like a certain lich. The next one attempted to
apply the Panic Spell to the Stone Soldier Boxxy was spraying with acid at the time, but failed to show
any effect on the golem. The Skill also caused the appearance of a thick fog, made Boxxy earn double
XP from the next monster it killed, shot out a random bolt of bright yellow energy that nearly hit Fizzy
and, perhaps strangest of all, somehow made it possible for the Mimic to communicate with fish.
Needless to say, it was far from being reliable and the effects it produced were quite unpredictable, but
they were always temporary. Although there were some tasty ones, the majority of them were either
completely useless or mostly harmful. The only consistent part of that Skill was that it appeared to have
about a 5% chance of triggering whenever a Spell was cast or certain Skills were used. Things like Acid
Spray, Stealth and Storage could set it off, but Assassinate, Shapeshift and Mend Flesh could not.
The Mimic seemed to calm down somewhat by the time the fire extinguished itself. It really should have
known better considering it was born in a dungeon. Then again, it didn’t particularly care for those
simple wooden chests as they were never as shiny as that golden one. Still, it realized it had a very good
reason to challenge the rest of this dungeon.
Powerful magic items could be obtained here. Although the exact properties of such precious things
were impossible to determine in the field, one could still figure out its effects by simply using it. The
only way to get a full analysis was to go to a town or city and buy the services of a Scribe with at least 5
Levels in their Appraisal Skill. The combination of the Identify, Appraise Item and Detect Enchant
Spells they could cast would then fully reveal an object’s physical and magical properties.
Having made up its mind, Boxxy stopped moping about, rallied its minions and set off to conquer the
rest of this place.
The ground floor immediately inside the entrance was an open flat space completely devoid of furniture
or decoration. The walls, floor and ceiling were all hewn out of the same black stone as the rest of this
place. The walls themselves were lined with a huge number of blue crystals that shone with a dim white
light, providing some measure of visibility.
The first few steps of a circular staircase were visible to the left. It appeared to coil itself clockwise
around a central pillar and provided a way upwards. The steps themselves were made out of that same
rocky material and were much wider than what Boxxy was expecting. An adult human would probably
take 2 or 3 paces before reaching the next step. Which meant this was going to be one long, gradual
climb. At least those lamp-like crystals ran alongside the outer wall on the left, otherwise Fizzy would
be pretty hard pressed to see in this closed off, windowless environment.
Having obviously nowhere else to go, Boxxy and its group started climbing up those stairs. This area of
the dungeon was still called the Black Stairs so that much was a given. Kora and the Mimic took the
lead while Fizzy followed directly behind them. Xera and Valeria were bringing up the rear several
meters behind, with the two remaining dullahans watching their backs. The reason for this formation
was that the place was essentially a corridor. Getting attacked from both sides and pincered in was a
very real possibility, something the Mimic would definitely do if it had the chance.
And surely enough, scraping noises could be heard all around them. The quiet, solemn staircase
suddenly got noisy as countless dog-sized crystalline beetles started pouring in from the stairs both
behind and in front of the group. They crawled over the ground, the walls and the ceiling in huge
numbers. The two dullahans at the back turned around and swung their warhammers at the incoming
swarm at Valeria’s command. 5 beetles were smashed to smithereens in an instant, revealing these things
were quite weak individually. However, their sheer numbers allowed them to overwhelm and topple the
two undead with little difficulty.
“War Stomp!”
*THUMP*
Kora’s Martial Art sent shockwaves through the ground and air, enough to cause the glass-like insects on
the walls and ceiling around her to lose their grip and fall off. She then got busy swinging her arms and
legs around as she pummeled them into dust. Boxxy and Fizzy assisted her, which meant that Valeria
and Xera had to deal with the rear all by themselves.
That was hardly a problem, though.
“Inferno!”
*FWOOSH*
The succubus’s Spell completely enveloped the corridor behind the group. The noise of breaking glass
could be heard coming from within the swirling flames as the beetles succumbed to the heat and fell to
pieces. She could probably hold them off all on her own, but Valeria seemed to dislike being upstaged
and took a rather drastic action.
The lich inhaled deeply and unleashed a Sonic Scream with all her might. The ear-piercing sound was
amplified by its surroundings as it bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the entire Spire. The
resulting screech was much stronger and louder than the one she let loose when Boxxy confronted her
back at the old Arcaneum tower. It seemed to achieve the result she was hoping for as the crystalline
golems started shattering and breaking from the intense vibrations in the air.
However, those beetles were not the only ones to suffer from those sounds. Fizzy clutched her head and
nearly blacked out again, but Boxxy reacted before she collapsed and tossed her into its Storage. Even if
the gnome normally disliked the dark, cramped space, the circumstances made her welcome its
deafening silence with open arms. As for Boxxy and its two demons, they were left to endure the
horrible wail of the ex-banshee the old fashioned way. Nobody there collapsed due to their formidable
MNT Attributes, but they still took a good amount of damage from it.
The scream abated some 30 seconds after it started, although the ringing in Xera and Kora’s ears
wouldn’t go away for quite a while. The fiend had almost attempted to rip her own ears out in
desperation, but the screeching stopped before she managed to do it. Boxxy immediately spit out Fizzy
as it wasn’t sure when was the last time it recycled the air inside its Storage. The gnome was a little
disoriented, but otherwise fine.
Chaotic energies swirl around you. You have obtained new headgear.
Boxxy’s brief use of Storage had caused its Chaotic Disposition to trigger once again. The ‘new
headgear’ revealed itself as a black, cylindrical top-hat,which materialized out of thin air and stuck itself
to the top of the animate chest’s lid. The Mimic grumbled inwardly, but couldn’t complain too much. At
least it wasn’t something truly dangerous.
“Th-thanks, Boxxy,” mumbled Fizzy after catching her breath.
She smiled slightly when she saw the Mimic’s ridiculous new appearance, but she withheld from
breaking out into laughter.
“Pffu! Nice hat, boss! Kukukukuku!”
Kora on the other hand brazenly giggled at it.
“Think so?” asked Boxxy, completely failing to notice the sarcasm in the fiend’s voice.
“It is quite a fancy hat, Master,” commented Xera.
The Mimic had to agree with her on that point. Even if it wasn’t very practical, the top hat did have an
undeniable feeling of class to it.
As for Valeria, she was currently preoccupied surveying all the damage she caused with a shit-eating
grin. The splintered remains of countless beetles were strewn all around the area, slowly crumbling into
dust as the dungeon absorbed them back into itself. The lich gleefully turned around and opened her
mouth to brag, but was met with a dagger through the throat.
“Keh! Kehok!” she coughed.
“Don’t do unnecessary things!” growled Boxxy, then withdrew the weapon from her neck.
Yes, her action was unnecessary. The Mimic had judged it would be a relatively simple matter to smash
those things up even without her ‘help’ eventually.
“*Cough cough* I’m so- *Cough* Sorry, sweetie! I’ll be more careful so please don’t be mad!” pleaded
Valeria.
“... Alright. I’ll let you off with just one stab wound.”
“Thank you ever so much ~?!”
Of course, this wasn’t out of sympathy. The Mimic had simply decided that her actions were not entirely
unwanted. She did end up saving them a bit of time, which wasn’t a bad thing. Still, it would be good to
educate this lich on matters of friendly fire at a later time. Right now it had a dungeon to pilfer.
The party continued their climb undisturbed. Ether the ambush from earlier was this place’s only means
of defense, or whoever or whatever was in charge here decided repeating it would be a futile effort.
Regardless, there seemed to be no traps and no more enemies appeared to impede the group’s progress.
Eventually they made it to a heavy set of double doors made out of shiny black marble like the rest of
this place. A series of intricate patterns were etched into them, indicating this was probably a place of
some significance.
“Uhm, B-Boxxy?” spoke up Fizzy. “D-do you think we can take a reh- rest b-before we go… in…
there?”
The gnome’s already shaky voice seemed to disappear into a whisper with every word she spoke. While
the Mimic did say it would take a break for her sake, this was the first time she’d actually dared to ask
for it. Even if she had spent the better part of the day invading a dungeon, Boxxy still had everyone take
regular breaks to replenish their HP and MP. This long climb, however, had drained what was left of her
stamina.
“Okay,” said Boxxy, much to Fizzy’s relief. “Will 30 minutes be enough?”
“Y-yes! That’ll be plenty!”
“Good. Arms, Snack - keep guarding the stairs.”
“You got it, boss!”
“Nasty.”
“Yes, my darling ~?!”
“You shut up and be quiet. I have preparations to make.”
“Geh! But- But! Surely we can prepare by doing that a few times, right?!”
“I suggest you do as Master commands,” commented Xera. “Or perhaps you’ve grown to like being
stabbed in the neck?”
“There’s no such thing, you slut! Not everyone’s as hopelessly rotten as you!”
The succubus scoffed at the irony in Valeria’s voice and took a few steps down to join Kora in keeping
watch. The noisy lich seemed to calm down a bit and turned around to resume protesting her case to
Boxxy, but was stunned silent when it saw it had assumed Xera’s form and was sheathed in what
appeared to be lightning.
The Mimic prepared a Big Bang Ball, the combination of Power Overwhelming, Crystallize Magic and
Dark Explosion. It then stowed it away in Storage while simultaneously taking out a metal toolbox
which immediately caught Fizzy’s attention. It was one of the explosives manufacturing kits she had
sold to it about a month ago. Boxxy opened it and nonchalantly started putting together some rough
hand grenades with the leftover materials. After about 5 minutes its MP had recovered to full, so it
stopped momentarily to make another Big Bang Ball before resuming its tinkering.
It was highly likely there would be a big, tough monster on the other side of those doors, so it would
make sure it was adequately prepared to face it. XP and Levels could be obtained easily in the hedge
maze outside, so it wouldn’t hesitate to wipe that thing out in an instant. The Level 5 Crystallize Magic
Skill meant that Spell Crystals would last up to 30 minutes before disappearing, so with its current
production rate of 1 Big Bang Ball every 5 minutes it could realistically have 5 or 6 of them at the ready
while also having all of its MP. The Artificer-made explosives were there to finish the job in case the
magic proved to be insufficient.
And so it set about spending the next 30 minutes tinkering while occasionally stopping to use magic.
However, it was still short on explosive components and could only put together 6 basic hand grenades
and 3 satchel charges. That’s when it realized it still had plenty of parts that could be put together with
Clockwork Expertise and decided to raise its Artificer Level by making some music boxes. It was
simply more productive than sitting around doing nothing while its MP recovered.
The demons diligently carried out their orders and kept an eye out for enemies while humping each
other. When questioned, Kora simply stated that she didn’t have eyes on her dick, so it was fine if it was
buried in Xera’s ass. Boxxy consented that the fiend had a point and let them do as they please so long
as they were vigilant.
Valeria stared at the two go at it with wide eyes. She had no idea that the tall, muscled demon had one of
those hidden away. The sudden reveal of the huge cock was a huge shock. At least at first. It wasn’t long
before she started touching herself while watching them go at it. She threw a few longing glances at
Boxxy, but the Mimic did not even register her existence. It had already given Valeria her daily dose of
‘Shapeshifter training’ on the way back from the dagger retrieval run. Otherwise it would have rejoined
the others 3 hours earlier.
Fizzy also stared intently. However, her gaze was not captivated by the horny duo and their fuckfest. In
fact, she didn’t even seem to realize what they were doing. No, what demanded her attention was Boxxy.
So this is how it gained Artificer Levels so rapidly…
A veritable storm of screwdrivers, wrenches, tweezers, hammers and wire cutters were putting together
clockwork contraptions before her very eyes. It wasn’t just the number of tool-tipped appendages, either.
The mind-boggling speed and pinpoint precision with which they worked was absolutely fascinating to
the gnome.The display in front of her was so fantastic, so mesmerising that she could do little more than
stare at it open-jawed. She could scarcely believe this brutish thing was capable of such delicate
movements, but it made sense. After all, they so expertly flicked and teased her sensitive spots
yesterday.
The realization she just complimented her own rapist on its technique snapped the gnome out of her
reverie. That was the one thing she could not forgive, the one thing that truly hurt her in a way that was
very different from the beatings. Or the kidnapping. Or the memory wiping. At least she understood why
the Mimic did those things. But that was different.
Wait, was it?
Thinking back on it, the Mimic never truly showed any animosity towards her. Well yeah, it was
understandably upset with her that it got captured at first, but it would seem it has shifted the blame for
that onto the Gods. None of the abuse was because it hated her. The fact it had gotten considerably
kinder lately proved that much. If anything, it actually looked after her, didn’t it?
No, that traumatizing event from yesterday was different after all. It completely crushed her identity as a
woman. It had left the gnome feeling utterly disgusted to be in her own sullied body. She barely even
felt like a living thing with thoughts and emotions anymore, and had been regularly contemplating
suicide ever since that event.
It would be so… easy to do that. She had both the means and opportunity to end her own life and escape
this living hell. And that blasted chest would be powerless to stop her.
But she would not, nay, could not do such a thing. The desire to live stayed her hand. The biological
drive to survive led her to sleep, eat and drink whenever possible. The irresistible urge to cling onto her
fragile existence with all her might was something the Mimic had thoroughly ingrained in her mind and
he body. It wanted her to live. And if there’s one thing this tortured woman could not defy, it was Boxxy.
Even attempting a rebellion was foolish. After all, that thing was basically a natural disaster in the shape
of a chest. It appeared without warning and for no discernible reason and then proceeded to do whatever
it damn well pleased, caring nothing for those it hurt along the way. It didn’t matter how its victims tried
to beg, plead or resist, they were powerless to stop it. From Fizzy’s point of view, standing up to that
thing was completely futile. Even if the gnome survived the attempt, she’d simply be left homeless,
destitute and drenched in various fluids, as if she had challenged a typhoon.
(68) Unleashed 7
Boxxy ordered its minions to prepare for combat. It had finished its preparation and was ready to face
whatever awaited it on the other side of those doors. Kora and Xera stopped their antics and got in
position to support their master along with Valeria. Fizzy had prepared herself as well and seemed
strangely fired up. She just wanted to hit something, over and over again. Smashing up golems had
turned out to be a surprisingly effective outlet for her pent up anger, though perhaps not the healthiest
one.
The Mimic told Kora to open the heavy double doors. The obviously enthusiastic fiend place two hands
on each door and pushed them ajar. She was prepared to really put her back into it, but that seemed to
have been a fruitless effort as the large stone slabs opened practically on their own.
The group found themselves at the edge of a large, circular chamber. The walls, floor and ceiling looked
much like the black staircase the five had climbed to get up here. However, there were several key
differences.
For one thing, the walls were lined by a total of 20 black stone statues, each one standing on a fittingly
dark marble-like pedestal. While they were all human in shape, each one was unique in its own way.
Some had spears and shields, much like the Stone Soldiers outside. Others were armed with a variety of
weapons, such as staves, bows, daggers, swords, axes and even one woman wielding a pitchfork. They
were currently inanimate, although that was bound to change given the nature of this dungeon.
The second thing to catch the group’s attention was the sheer size of this place. The room was easily 30
meters in diameter - considerably wider than the black Spire it was supposedly in. A chamber this large
would undoubtedly be visible from the ground and would give the Spire a mushroom-like shape.
Provided this was actually the top floor. Boxxy was quite certain it had ascended for over 90 meters
during the climb earlier, which made very little sense considering this tower looked to be 40 meters tall,
50 at best. In short, this room’s very existence made no logical sense.
Yet here it was. What’s more, the thing that was most likely responsible for creating this impossibly
warped space was in this very room. A 1-meter wide crystal sphere floated just under the center of the 5
meter tall, circular ceiling. It glowed with a bright blue-tinted light which lit up the entire room as if it
were a miniature sun. The bright glow pulsed slowly, releasing a wave of mana that washed over the
group with every ‘heartbeat’ of the magical core. Those waves were so heavy with magic that even the
magically deficient Kora could feel them pass through her. This was undoubtedly the dungeon core of
the Spire of the Jade King.
And sitting directly underneath it in a large stone throne was the Jade King himself - a bright green and
slightly transparent statue of a bearded old man with a crown on his head. The slightly undulating light
from above shimmered brilliantly across the surface of his sculpted, fancy-looking clothes.The jade
statue’s eyelids slowly opened, almost as if he was waking up. A pair of glass-like eyes regarded the five
strange beings that had intruded into his royal chamber. His polished and intricately detailed body
slowly stood from its seat.
He drew the longsword that was sheathed on his left side and pointed the heavy blade directly at Boxxy
and its group. The arrogant posture and regal demeanor were truly befitting of a mighty ruler. The 20
black statues in the room moved in unison and knelt down before their sovereign out of respect and/or
fear. The invading group of 5 immediately raised their guard, but the stone golems didn’t move further.
They hadn’t even gotten off their pedestals.
“Who. Dares?”
The Jade King spoke slowly without moving his lips. His deep, groaning voice echoed in the large
circular chamber, giving off the illusion that it was coming from all around at once.
“Intruders. In. My. Realm,” he continued. “I. Shall. Show. Thee-”
*Clunk*
The Jade King’s speech had been rudely interrupted by a small glass-like object hitting him in the
forehead. It bounced harmlessly off his shiny skin and fell downwards, but the 3-meter-tall golem
reflexively caught it in his free left hand.
A very poor decision, given the Spell sealed inside that apple-sized Spell Crystal.
*KADOOON*
Your target has sustained massive injury. Target HP -760.
The force of the blast shook the entire room and sent green shards flying off in every direction. Boxxy
didn’t even wait for the dust to settle before throwing the other four Big Bang Balls it had prepared in
rapid succession.
Your target has been ripped apart by explosive force. Target HP -743.
Your target has been obliterated. Target HP -705.
Each of them released a deafening blast of destructive force as they tore through the Jade King’s body.
The final guardian of the Spire of the Jade King has been slain.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Rare Golem Dismantler - Jade.
The dungeon’s monsters will become more docile for the next 48 hours.
“...”
The resulting silence was deafening. Xera, Kora, Fizzy and Valeria all stared dumbly at the cloud of dust
in front of them with their jaws hanging wide open. Once the dust cloud cleared up, the four of them
were able to confirm that the Jade King had indeed been annihilated. His body could not withstand the
sudden burst of over 3,500 damage and had been blown literally to smithereens. They could scarcely
believe their eyes, but the pile of jagged green pebbles scattered all over the place were undeniable
proof. Some of them were even embedded in the wall on the opposite end of where they were standing.
“Well,” spoke up Boxxy, “that was easy!”
“That’s an understatement,” said Xera.
The literal king of this place was taken out so quickly, he didn’t even get a chance to finish his speech,
let alone order his Obsidian Retainers to assist him. Those black statues still remained in their kneeling
position, even after their king was reduced to debris right in front of them. Apparently they were the
type that would never move without orders.
“Wow! Darling is so strong ~?!” cooed Valeria. “You should celebrate by ravaging me until dawn comes
~?!”
Such lines were commonplace by now, so the rest of the group just ignored her and left her to her own
delusions. It was plainly obvious the Mimic thought of such things as more of a chore rather than a
pleasure.
“I guess Boxxy didn’t need all those other bombs, huh?” commented Fizzy.
It would be a lie if she said she didn’t expect something like this. The Mimic had just dumped 30
minutes’ worth of MP on that golem. Rather, the fact there was anything left of it at all was the real
surprise.
“Aw man! And I was just about to really cut loose,” complained Kora with a pout. “It was the perfect
chance to take my Berserk Rage for a spin!”
Berserker Rage
Description: A Berserker’s unyielding rage is both a blessing and a curse
Requirements: Level 20 Berserker, STR 100, END 100
Type: Active
Cost: 0 MP
Range: Self
Effects: Increases the effectiveness of the STR Attribute by 20% per Level of this Skill for
1 minute.
Reduces physical damage taken by 50% for 1 minute.
Reduces all damage caused by 50% for 15 minutes once the initial effects of this Skill
expire.
Increases physical damage taken by 25% for 15 minutes once the initial effects of this Skill
expire.
Her master had forbidden her from using this Skill whenever she pleased. While the boost in combat
prowess was great, the drawbacks were also quite significant. Boxxy had made an exception and given
her permission to activate it if this fight demanded it, but there was clearly no need for anything like
that. Heck, there was barely even a fight to begin with.
Honestly speaking though, the Jade King’s untimely demise had been his own fault. If he had been more
quick witted, he would have dodged those Spell Crystals with all his might. Sure, he looked tough and
seemed to have a good deal of resistance to magic, but simply standing there and letting them attack first
was a terrible idea.
Overall the Mimic was unimpressed with him. Of course that green old guy would get taken out if he not
only gave invaders an opportunity to prepare, but also wasted time on posturing and speeches rather than
fighting. Was he an idiot? Did he pay no attention to his opponents at all? He was probably an idiot,
right? Why didn’t he attempt a surprise attack on the invaders like those gargoyles did?
Boxxy considered all the evidence confidently concluded that the Jade King must have been an idiot.
After the final boss’s idiocy had been established, the Mimic moved towards the center of the room. The
golden chest that undoubtedly contained the reward for defeating that jade golem was sitting there, right
next to where the corpse would have been if it was still intact. It had popped up out of the solid stone
ground almost immediately after the victory notification.
The gilded treasure chest flung open on its own when Boxxy approached, much like the previous one.
The Mimic put forth its entire being in order to stop itself from worshipping that divine form, and
instead focused on the item that popped out of it and floated in mid-air. It was a piece of armor, a left-
handed plate gauntlet to be exact. The brilliantly polished steel made it look quite sleek and shiny in its
own right. Putting this oddly bulky metal glove on would protect one’s entire forearm, from their
fingertips to their elbow. It also appeared to have several layers of metal plates attached to the outside,
meaning this was intended for actively deflecting blows like a shield, although it appeared to be quite
restrictive on the wrist and finger joints.
The usability of this item was practically zero to a monster with no hands, but Boxxy still reached out to
grab it. Enchanted gear was expensive, so there was no reason to-
“Hiss!”
The Mimic was just about to touch it when it let out a rather harsh hissing noise. The outstretched
tentacle recoiled in disgust and its owner took a few steps back.
“Master? What’s wrong?” called out Xera.
“The item is nasty!”
“Something’s wrong with the gauntlet?”
The succubus approached the treasure chest and stared at it from up close. She was no expert on armor,
but she knew a thing or two about magic, and this item practically reeked of it. Her mana-sensitive
master probably felt disgusted by the vile energy coming out of it. The succubus could only think of one
reason for this phenomenon.
“Master, I believe this item is cursed.”
Those words put Boxxy into quite the foul mood. Finding out that the reward for going through the
whole dungeon was tainted was extremely dissatisfactory, so to say the least.
Cursed items were a topic it had heard about before its cover had been blown wide open. They differed
from regular magic items in two major ways. Firstly, although their enchantments were far more
powerful, they also carried with them negative, sometimes debilitating effects. Both the good and the
bad side would often correlate with each other in some way. For example, a cursed ring that allowed its
wielder to become invisible would also rob them of their eyesight.
Which led to the second, more worrying aspect of cursed items. They seemed to have a mind of their
own and permanently bonded with their user in some way. Armor and jewelry would fuse to the skin
while weapons would come to life and attack their wielder if they went neglected and unused for too
long. The only way to rid oneself of cursed gear was to have it purified, although doing so would either
dispel or greatly weaken the enchantment itself. Of course, there were those who gladly bore the curse in
exchange for power, but nutjobs like that were in the minority.
“Cursed, you say?” called out Valeria. “Let me take a look!”
The lich floated over to the treasure chest and brazenly grabbed the item out of the air. She then started
flipping it and turning it over between her hands, although with a bit of effort. That thing was heavier
than it looked.
“Yeah, it’s cursed,” she said after several seconds. “This is a pretty strong one too, based on what I know
from Hexcraft. Huh? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
She just noticed the two demons and the gnome were cringing at her. The lich’s face went stiff as
realization dawned on her. She looked down at the Mimic, only to see an extra-thick tentacle hurtling
toward her face.
*SMACK*
The blow literally sent her flying into the ceiling. It forced her to drop the magic gauntlet, which fell to
the ground with a loud clang.
“Don’t touch what is mine!” growled Boxxy.
Valeria had laid her hands on the Mimic’s thing without permission. So what if it was a cursed item that
the monster had no intention of touching, let alone using? That didn’t mean it wasn’t going to keep it.
“She’s so lucky. I should have grabbed it first,” lamented Xera.
“Nice swing, boss!” said Kora, clearly enjoying Valeria’s misfortune.
“She r-really should know b-b-b-better by now,” muttered Fizzy under her breath.
The Mimic calmed itself down somewhat after administering that punishment. At the very least it
learned that simply touching the thing wasn’t going to trigger the curse. Therefore it could safely order
the succubus to pick it up. Well, just because it was safe to touch it didn’t mean the Mimic wanted to.
Its loyal minion did as instructed and assisted in stowing the gauntlet inside Boxxy’s Storage. The
monster would deal with that thing later as there was still the matter of the dungeon core suspended
underneath the ceiling.
Boxxy wanted to take it. Of course it did. Doing so would allow it to power up through Grand Theft
Arcana. Ah, speaking of which, that victory message earlier said something about a new Perk, didn’t it?
The Mimic got so preoccupied with the phantasmal treasure chest that it almost forgot about it.
Perk List
Arcane Assassin
Monster Magic
Grand Theft Arcana
Butcher of Humanity
Collateral Damage
Hero of Chaos
Rare Golem Dismantler - Jade
Rare Golem Dismantler - Jade

Description: Some people just have a knack for breaking things.
Requirements: Clear the dungeon known as the Spire of the Jade King.
Effects: Increases XP gained from defeating golems by 5%.
Well, this was interesting. The wording on it seemed to imply there are other Rare Golem Dismantler
Perks. However, calling that deduction tasty would be hard since Boxxy had no intention of looking for
rare golems whatsoever. In fact, it could barely stand having to do so much work and not even have a
tasty corpse to seek its teeth into at the end of the day. Still, this dungeon was a decent hunting ground
that could get it to Level 50 without too much worry, so it’s not like the Perk was completely useless
either.
“Fizzy,” it called out. “Did you get a new Perk?”
“Eh?! Ah! Y-yes! I did! Perk List,” she chanted. “... Ruh-Rare Golem Dismantler, right?”
So it would seem their entire group was credited for clearing the dungeon, despite Boxxy doing all of
the work at the end there. Well, familiars were unable to gain Perks, so only Fizzy and Nasty would have
gotten it. As for the lich, she was still slightly embedded in the ceiling and hadn’t come down yet, so it
didn’t bother asking her. At the very least, it seemed likely that all three of them would be able to benefit
from Grand Theft Arcana. Which was probably a good thing.
“Arms, go shake the shiny ball loose.”
“Sure thing boss!”
The fiend briskly walked off towards the edge of the room. Once she reached the wall, she took a
running start, leaped through the air, spun around and delivered a high-impact flying dropkick to the
dungeon core.
*WHAM*
However, it was no easy task to dislodge it. Kora was thrown off violently due to the recoil of having the
force of her blow redirected and fell down to the ground hard. Valeria, who had just recovered from
being lich-slapped, stared at the spectacle with wide open eyes.
“Uhm, darling?” she asked with a stiff face. “What- what is it you’re trying to do?”
“I’m taking the shiny,” came the monotone answer.
“... You can do that?”
“Oh yeah, you can,” said Kora while she was getting in position for another run. “Last time was a lot of
fun, you know!”
“Ah! Boxxy!” shouted Fizzy. “Won’t Charlie be mad if you take his dungeon core again?!”
She remembered the God of Consequences mentioned something like that during their face-to-box-to-
brick meeting.
“... Arms, hold on a minute.”
That’s right, pissing off Willie would not be a good thing. That God may have been somewhat
understanding because of the Mimic’s cataclysmic actions, but that was the past and this was the present.
“Master, that is a baseless worry,” said Xera. “I do not think this dungeon belongs to the Progenitor. It’s
way too… orderly.”
“Oh, you do have a point there,” admitted Fizzy. “I would think a dungeon owned by that guy would
have all sorts of monsters in it and would probably be really hard to navigate. If a God does own this
place, it’s probably Goroth rather than Pedro.”
“What’s a Goroth? Is it tasty?”
“Goroth if the God of the Earth,” explained Fizzy. “He watches over artisans, craftsmen and artists.
Actually yeah, this dungeon is most probably Goroth’s work. Legend says he created the first golems by
giving life to the truly beautiful sculptures of his disciples.”
“Hooh, you sure know a lot about him,” said Xera.
“W-well… he’s highly regarded where I was born. There’s no gnome or dwarf alive who doesn’t revere
him you know. It’s said he rewards those who earnestly work towards mastering their craft with his
divine protection.”
The gnome’s expression turned a bit dark as she stared off beyond the horizon.
“And yet the God I was forced to serve is such a-”
“Watch your mouth, worm!”
Xera’s ice cold voice caused Fizzy to recoil and brace herself out of reflex. However, it would appear
this was not going to be a physical beatdown, but a verbal one.
“You should be thankful my Progenitor chose to give an insignificant bug like you some direction in
life!”
*WHAM*
“D-direction?! That’s what you’re calling what he did to me?!” protested the gnome.
“Of course! If it wasn’t for my Master and the Progenitor, then you would’ve spent the rest of your days
in miserable solitude while clinging to the ghosts of the past! Knowing you, you’d probably end up
enjoying a sad, boring life like that!”
“What makes you think you know anything about me?!”
“I was inside your head! I’ve rooted around in there so much that I know you better than you know
yourself by now!”
*WHAM*
“Well- What’s wrong with living a peaceful life?!” countered Fizzy.
“Hah. You call that living? A boring day-to-day routine where nothing changes? Fuck, even that lich
over there is more alive than you were when we found you!”
“Hey! Don’t bring me into this!” protested Valeria.
“Shut it!” shouted Xera and Fizzy in unison.
*WHAM*
“I’ll have you know,” continued the succubus, “that our Progenitor did not act on a whim and had some
sort of plan in mind. He is a wise and just being, more so than any of those other so-called Gods!”
“Just? JUST?! So forcing me to be his Champion for his own amusement is somehow fair?!”
“But it is. It’s not like you didn’t benefit from it, you know. Do you honestly think you would have
survived this long if you didn’t have the Paladin Job? You would have definitely died in the Blight
otherwise. Hell, it would have been a miracle if you lasted even a week in these mountains without it!
*WHAM*
“You-! … Okay, I admit you have a point there. But why did it have to be- No, he already answered that.
Or rather, I answered it myself, didn’t I?”
There was no reason it had to be her, specifically. She just sort of happened to be there.
“Wait,” mumbled Fizzy. “What if it wasn’t me? What if someone else had been dragged along by
Boxxy?”
The succubus looked down at the gnome with a cocky smile on her face.
“I believe you already know the answer to that, Champion of Chaos.”
That’s right, she did. If someone else had been in Fizzy’s place, then Lucius would have treated them in
much the same way, regardless of who it was. Knowing that guy he’d probably make even a dumb
critter like a rabbit or alley cat into his Champion if the Mimic brought one of those along. It was simply
in his nature.
Because Rick the God of Unpredictability was not cruel or evil, nor was he particularly kind either. He
simply was. The only reason Fizzy saw him in a negative light to begin with was because of her own
preconceptions. The succubus was right, the gnome owed her life to that deity. For better or for worse,
she had been made to be his Champion, and she was alive right now because of it. This wasn’t the
random act of whimsy that it appeared to be, either. It was a well-calculated move that served to bring
about a very specific outcome.
For the first time in her life, the pint-sized Paladin felt like her existence had a purpose. So what if it was
something inane and seemingly worthless like serving as entertainment to a bored God? At least she had
one and knew what it was, and that knowledge alone seemed to bring her troubled mind no small
measure of peace.
“Yeah,” she mumbled after a long, hard think, “this Paladin thing might not be so bad after all.”
*WHAM*
She then turned her attention away from the smugly smiling succubus and towards the resident muscle-
brain who had fallen on her ass once more.
“By the way, exactly why are you hitting that dungeon core over and over again?”
“‘Cus the Boss said so,” came Kora’s simple answer.
Boxxy had told its Arms to resume her assault on the core ever since the earlier conversation determined
that this dungeon did not belong to its benefactor. As for the lich, she seemed to have recovered from her
little trip to the ceiling and was currently fawning over Boxxy.
“But I thought we were trying to take it, not break it?” continued the gnome.
“Just gotta knock it loose first,” said Kora while walking back to the edge of the room.
“What, with brute force? I don’t mean to disrespect Boxxy, but I doubt violence is the answer here...”
Surely some magical ritual or perhaps a clever application of-
“Of course it is,” said the fiend while interrupting Fizzy’s thoughts. “It worked last time.”
“... So how come it’s not working now?”
“I just haven’t used enough of it yet!”
She took yet another run up and dealt a flying dropkick to it for the upteempth time. This attempt
seemed to do the trick as the meter-wide pale blue ball was suddenly sent flying off into the wall of the
room. The fiend landed on her feet and smiled proudly at the dumbstruck gnome.
“See?!”
“... Well. That just happened,” noted Fizzy. “What now?”
“Now we roll it down the stairs and bring it outside the dungeon as fast as possible,” explained Boxxy.
“Is… Is there a reason why we need to rush?”

“Yes.”
The Paladin took a deep breath and prepared to ask the next question. One that she would probably
regret asking.
“What would that reason be?”
“It will explode and kill us if we don’t hurry.”
Fizzy had guessed right. She regretted it immensely.
(69) Unleashed 8
The Mimic’s party started their escape by pushing the dungeon core down the stairs and following after
it. While it’s true that Kora could have easily carried it, that didn’t mean she had to. Not when gravity
would be more than happy to help out. Boxxy determined it would be better to conserve stamina
whenever possible, as the group would most probably get attacked by a legion of Stone Soldiers once
they made their way out of the Spire. They would then have to rush like mad in order to escape the
dungeon before the core went into meltdown.
However, it soon realized there was no reason to rush whatsoever. The dungeon core had been
completely inert ever since Kora knocked it out of its magically affixed spot and showed no signs of
overloading or raising an alarm. It didn’t even ask anyone if they wished to be the dungeon master.
There was also the fact that defeating the Jade King had made the golems in this place much less hostile,
just as that notification had said. They no longer attacked on sight and only fought when provoked. The
Stone Soldiers also remained surprisingly indifferent to the Mimic’s ongoing theft of their dungeon’s
core and showed no reaction when the blue orb was being transported right in front of them. If anything,
they seemed to actually be avoiding Boxxy’s group. As a result, the Mimic’s party had to fight off only 8
of these golems on their way out. A far cry from the 100 or so they had killed on the way in.
So all things said and done, there was no mad dash for the exit, no hordes of monsters on their heels and
no calamity being thrown at them. What the party went through instead was like a peaceful afternoon
stroll through a park. Almost exactly like that, actually.
“Tch, this is boring,” said Kora with a click of her tongue.
The party had almost completely exited the dungeon and she didn’t have much of a chance to smash
stuff. Being ordered to carry the core around on her shoulder combined with the lack of enemies meant
she hadn’t had her fill of violence. First she got hyped up to fight the Jade King and then she got excited
about pummeling a whole army of Stone Soldiers, but ended up being blue-balled on both accounts.
This understandably made her quite irritable.
“The first time was a lot more fun,” she added.

“Why? Because you liked having your head between my thighs?” teased Xera.
“No! … Well okay, maybe a little. Them’s some wonderfully meaty thighs…”
“S-So I take it the core won’t suddenly explode and kill us, right?!” asked Fizzy while glancing up at the
object in question.
“Hm? Nah, it’s probably fine,” said Kora. “It’s not getting bigger or flashing or anything so I think we’re
in the clear on that.”
“Oh thank Bob,” exclaimed Fizzy in relief. She really didn’t feel like she could actually outrun a
Calamity.
“That’s a shame,” said Valeria. “All that death and destruction you told me about sounded incredibly
romantic ~?! I really wanted to witness my darling’s glorious fireworks first-hand ~?! ”
“Gonna witness my fist up your ass if you don’t knock that shit off already,” growled the fiend.
“R-really?! Nooo, don’t tempt me like that! I couldn’t bear to cheat on my darling Boxxy ~?!”
“Uuuugh…”
The group spent the next few minutes chatting back and forth until they made it out of the hedge maze at
their leisure. They walked for a dozen or so more meters until they had crossed the invisible border to
the dungeon’s territory and had officially exited it.
You have left the Spire of the Jade King.

Feat of strength performed! All Attributes +10.
Boxxy was glad that at least this part proved to be consistent with its expectations.
“Wuh- Grand Theft Arcana? Plus 10 to all Attributes?! That’s insane!”
“My, what a wonderful gift! Thank you ever so much, darling ~?!”
It would appear that, based on their reactions, Fizzy and Valeria had also gotten the Perk and the
associated Attribute boost. Boxxy quickly checked on its familiars, but it would seem neither of them
had gotten it, as expected. Well, it wasn’t a big deal. The sizable boost to Boxxy’s INT Attribute meant
their conjured bodies would grow stronger on their own. While it wouldn’t result in a +10 across the
board, they would still benefit somewhat from it.
You are now the owner of dungeon core PT-5484-BM.

All functions of dungeon core PT-5484-BM are currently unavailable.
Please establish a dungeon to unlock them.
And here came the other set of messaged the Mimic was waiting for. Thankfully without the notification
that its newly acquired core was going into meltdown. So it would appear that either Willie decided to
let Boxxy run free with it, or it belonged to someone else who was less of a sore loser. Come to think of
it, maybe dungeon cores blowing up was the exception rather than the rule. It was entirely possible the
Mimic was mistaken and that this peaceful walk is how core heists normally went. Though, technically
speaking, the fact someone would actively look for dungeon cores to steal was already way outside of
any norms.
The important part is that the monster was now in possession of its very own dungeon core.
“Uh, B-Boxxy?” stammered Fizzy. “What’s going on with the Spire?!”
The MImic turned its attention towards the black tower in the distance. It was shaking back and forth
while sizable chunks were falling out of it. A few seconds later it violently split apart and collapsed in
on itself like a house of cards. The large obsidian chunks hit the ground hard, kicking up huge clouds of
dust and debris as they did so.
“Huh,” said Kora, “How come that thing suddenly fell over on its own?”
“Could be structural weakness or something? We did mess it up quite a bit on the way down,” suggested
Fizzy. She was probably referring to how the dungeon core had left multiple cracks and dents as it
bounced down the stairs and off the walls.
“Isn’t the Spire simply bowing down to darling’s greatness ~??”
“No, you airheaded fuckslut!”
Valeria’s inane prattle caused Xera to snap at her. As if a stupid delusion like that could be the reason.
The succubus pointed at the core on the fiend’s shoulder before beginning her explanation.
“It’s because we took that. The absence of that controlling unit destabilized the spacial distortion that
kept the Spire in place, causing it to to unravel, which in turn lead to a cascading failure as the enchanted
medium broke apart under the strain of- You guys aren’t getting any of this, are you?”
“Nope!” answered the fiend with three hands on her hips and a proud smile on her face.
“The space was warped?” asked Valeria with a tilt of her head. “I didn’t even notice.”
“S-sorry, Snack. I don’t really get that muh- magic stuff…” mumbled Fizzy.
“Are mediums tasty?” inquired Boxxy, full of curiosity.
The succubus sighed in exasperation. She forgot that she was surrounded by idiots for a second there.
That’s the reason she normally avoided the urge to show off her knowledge of magical theory.
“Look, no core means no fancy tower.”
“Ohh!” answered the other 3 women with enlightened look on their faces.
“So are mediums tasty?”
“... No, Master. Mediums are not particularly tasty.”
“Oh.”
Boxxy rapidly lost interest and instead turned its attention towards acquisition. The dungeon core was
still as inert as it had ever been. If it wasn’t going to blow up like the last one, then the Mimic could use
it for its own benefit. Of course, it had no idea how to actually establish a dungeon and had no plans of
doing so right away. This was still that man’s country so it had no intention of settling down here.
“Dungeon Management,” it chanted.
Dungeon Management
General Information Basic Functions Advanced Features
Boxxy T.
Owner Name Status Name Status
Morningwood
Dungeon Guardian
Core ID PT-5484-BM Ready N/A
Expansion Assignment
Core Status Dormant Item Allocation N/A Nexus Access N/A
Dungeon Mana Prison

N/A N/A N/A
Master Collection Management
Monster
Integrity 92% N/A Terrain Sculpting N/A
Spawner
11,153/20,000 Surveillance Trap

MP N/A N/A
(-1.6/sec) Net Construction
A long list of mostly disabled functions and features, just as expected. A lot of these were rather
obvious as to what they did, others not so much. As for the status of the core itself, it seemed like it was
somewhat damaged. Come to think of it, the core should have been inside the blast radius of those Spell
Crystals that annihilated the Jade King, not to mention the rough way the Mimic and its minions were
handling it. It really should be no surprise it got damaged as a result of all that.
And yet its Integrity had only been reduced by 8%. Which meant that it could take quite a lot of
punishment before breaking apart, even if it wasn’t as indestructible as the Mimic had assumed it to be.
Which was a good thing to know if it planned on repeating this feat over and over. However, it would
appear the dungeon core was ever so slowly leaking mana. Whether this was because it was damaged or
because Mana Collection was inactive was hard to say. What was certain was that it would run out of
MP in a few hours. Boxxy simply regarded this revelation with a dismissive ‘can’t be helped’ attitude
and left it be for the moment. It had plenty of time to study this thing later.
Right now, it wanted to double check the effects of the other thing it acquired inside that tower - the
enchanted shield-gauntlet. Boxxy wanted to confirm the effects of its curse as soon as possible.
However, it was likely the gauntlet would permanently fuse with its wielder and would be impossible to
remove without drastic measures. Thankfully, the Mimic had just the right disposable guinea pig for the
job.
“Snack,” it called out.
It was about to order its pet succubus to put on the cursed glove, but had a sudden realization which
changed its mind.
“Can curses affect your soul?”
That was something Boxxy had to consider. If it went through with this experiment and something bad
happened to Snack’s soul then it was highly possible that it would lose its contract, maybe even its life.
Both of those outcomes were very much not tasty.
“No, Master. A curse is incapable of such a thing, no matter how powerful it is.”
“Are you sure?” butted in Valeria. “There should be curses that affect the spirit in addition to the body.”
“Such things will have no effect on a demon,” stated Xera with a hint of pride in her voice. “Our souls
are much more powerful than a regular mortal’s. Only magic that stems from the Beyond or the Gods
themselves can ever hope to truly harm us.”
“Good,” said Boxxy. “Then put this on.”
The Mimic opened its maw and opened its Storage portal. It was still very much hesitant to touch the
nasty thing, so it ejected the cursed gauntlet with a bit of force. The item flew through the air and landed
at Xera’s feet.
The succubus didn’t even bat an eye as looked down at it. She had more or less gotten used to being the
resident test subject, so saying she wasn’t expecting this was a lie. In fact, she was rather curious about it
herself.
“Oof,” she grunted as she picked it up off the ground. “Quite heavy isn’t it?”
Xera turned it over in her arms and held it shakily with her right hand. She then slid her slender left hand
into the much-too-large opening. The enchanted item seemed to detect the presence of a living thing and
reacted by changing its size. The steel plates let out a small grinding noise as it shrunk down to a perfect
fit, as if it was custom-made to fit the succubus’s extremely feminine arm.
This was a somewhat generic feature that a lot of commercially available enchanted equipment had. It
was simply common sense that nobody would buy a prohibitively expensive item if it didn’t fit right. Of
course, there was a limit as to how much magic an item could hold before it broke apart under the strain.
Royal knights, well-off adventurers and other big-shots would often order custom-made gear that was
made to fit and then have it enchanted. Doing it that way was often more expensive and time-consuming
than simply buying one from a merchant, but the end result was a magic item that was notably more
powerful than those on the market.
“Hey bubble-boobs, you feeling okay?” asked Kora.
Xera had been standing there silently for several seconds now and the fiend was worried if the curse
didn’t affect her soul after all.
“Yeah, fine. I just expected this to go down differently.”
“How’s your arm?”
“It’s fine, Master. It doesn’t hurt or anything.”
“Are you sure? It’s turning all shiny.”
The succubus looked down at her left arm with a raised eyebrow. The Mimic’s choice of words was
always a bit confusing, but she found out, much to her surprise, that this time it meant that literally. Her
questioning look turned into a wide-eyed stare as she watched her blue skin fall off in palm-sized sheets
to reveal shiny metallic plates underneath.
Her flesh was steadily turning into steel, like an infection that was spreading from the gauntlet. The
transformation had gone halfway up her bicep without her even realizing it. It only seemed to accelerate
once it went past her shoulder and spread to her torso. Her breasts, collarbone and upper back were
enveloped in an instant. Her head, her teeth, her lips, even her hair and eyes all turned to steel as the
curse took hold of her.
The leathery bat-like wings sprouting from her back turned to huge sheets of steel between long metal
rods. The succubus’s legs gave out once the transformation had enveloped her right arm and started
encroaching on her flared hips. She fell to the ground, her body no longer able to support its own weight.
It was only a few moments later that the metal coating of her body had spread all the way to the tips of
her toes.
You have been afflicted by the Curse of the Steelshaper.
“So, how is it?” asked Boxxy, full of curiosity.
“Master, I- Ack!”
Xera was startled by the sound of her own voice. It sounded oddly tinny, as if she were speaking through
a metal tube. Which, now that she thought it, was probably what her throat had become.
“It… wasn’t painful or anything,” she continued. “But my body feels really heavy.”
Xera put her palms on the ground in an effort to push herself up, but froze when she realized something.
She could feel neither the dirt underneath her palms nor the clothes on her body. Practically no
sensations passed through the thick armor that had replaced her sensitive skin. She couldn’t even smell
the faintly rotting stench of that lich’s undead body anymore. She hurriedly scooped out some dirt and
put it in her mouth, only to find that her sense of taste had disappeared completely.
“Master!” she cried out with a mouthful of dirt. “I can’t feel a single thing! It’s like my whole body has
gone numb!”
This lack of sensation was similar yet different from what it was like to be in the Beyond. It was actually
somewhat worse since the succubus actually felt trapped, imprisoned inside her own body. It was not a
pleasant situation, to say the least.
“Really? Then, does this hurt?”
Boxxy walked up to its shiny familiar and hit her in the thigh with a tentacle coated with Metal Mimicry.
The impact let out a gong-like sound and left a small dent on her new skin.
“N-no. That didn’t hurt, Master,” commented Xera, her voice oozing with disappointment.
“What about this?”
It reformed the club-like appendage into something closer to a spear and stabbed the succubus through
her midsection. It had to use a bit more effort than it was expecting. This cursed steel skin wasn’t just for
show.
“No, Master.”
“So you feel nothing at all?”
“Well, I can tell something is touching my body, but I can’t tell its texture nor its temperature. And uh, if
you don’t mind me saying Master, having that appendage inside me gives me a really strange feeling. I
can’t quite put it into words though.”
“Is it a tasty feeling?”
“I… don’t know, Master.”
“Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
The succubus desperately pushed herself off the ground. She struggled immensely and shook furiously,
but managed to get up on her feet.
“Huff, huff,” she panted. “My STR Attribute is too low to deal with this much weight. Huff, huff. It’s
like I’m wearing a set of full plate armor that I can’t take off!”
“I see. Okay, that’s enough for now.”

The metal-covered succubus disappeared into thin air, leaving behind only a shiny shield-bearing
gauntlet. The cursed item that was suddenly without a host shook a few times before resuming its
original form. Boxxy then re-summoned its familiar, who appeared in her original body, much to her
relief.
“Master, I do not believe we can sell that item. Like, at all.”
“Why not? It makes you tougher and you don’t feel pain, so it should be very tasty, right?”
“But Master, you also lose the ability to smell or taste, and your sense of touch is almost completely
dulled. It doesn’t let you enjoy tasty things if you put it on.”
“Ack! So it’s garbage?!”
“I’m afraid so, Master. No mortal in their right mind would willingly give up their body’s sensations to
become a golem.”
“Become a golem?”
“Yes, Master. I believe that is essentially what the curse does.”
“I see.”
It made sense, in a weird sort of way. The ultimate reward for clearing a dungeon centered around
golems was an item that turned the conqueror into one. Even the thoroughly dense Mimic was able to
grasp this was no mere coincidence. It also understood exactly what Snack was getting at. After all, it
also lost feeling in limbs coated with Metal Mimicry, but didn’t think of it as a big deal since it was
handy to do that during combat and it was a temporary thing. Imagining a situation where it had its
entire body permanently covered like that was quite disturbing. Especially since it would also eliminate
its sense of taste, which was one of the main things it derived pleasure from.
So, all things said, Boxxy had to begrudgingly agree that nobody would really want this. And if nobody
wanted it, then the Mimic wouldn’t get a good price for it, which in turn meant it would hesitate to sell
it. And since the monster wasn’t going to sell this cursed item, then how about trying to find a use for it.
“Arms,” it called out. “Try putting that gauntlet on.”
Surely having its tough frontliner become even tougher was a good thing, right? Then again, Arms could
cover herself using Demonic Carapace whenever she wanted, so this sort of thing might prove to be
redundant or even interfere with the Skill somehow.
“Whatever you say, Boss. Would take a lot of the fun out of fighting if I can’t feel someone else’s blood
on my face though.”
The fiend walked over to where the gauntlet was left on the ground and was about to bend over to pick it
up when she realized someone else had beat her to it.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, pipsqueak?”
Fizzy was currently holding the oversized gauntlet and staring at it intently. She turned her eyes towards
the Mimic and screwed up her courage.
“Boxxy, do you insist on having Koralenteprix use this?”
Her uncanny determination and oddly steady voice left the Mimic stunned for a moment. This was the
first time she had ever glared at it unflinchingly like this. There was no stutter in her words, no meek
subservience in her demeanor and no fear in her eyes.
“... Why?” it asked.
“Because I want this.”
(70) Unleashed 9
Fizzy no longer wanted to feel. Such things had brought her nothing but misery ever since she had been
imprisoned. It had only gotten worse ever since she was raped, to the point where she was sure she’d
end her own life someday unless she did something about it.
But what could someone like her hope to accomplish?
Take revenge on Boxxy, the one who abused and violated her? No, that would be pointless. Much like an
avalanche, the Mimic had only acted the way it did because it was set off by a certain someone. Blaming
it for those actions was like being angry at the clouds for dropping rain on her picnic. Not to mention the
sheer impossibility of actually going against it. She honestly felt like she could maybe even get along
with the monster, like things could be much better between herself and Boxxy.
If only it wasn’t for her worthless flesh - this stupid, disgusting, vile sack of meat that seemed
determined to mess everything up. Not only was it causing trouble for the Mimic, but it also assaulted
her with sensations she wanted no part of. The main reason her tortured mind drifted to thoughts suicide
was because that was the only way she saw of freeing herself from this damnable prison.
But another answer had appeared right before her very eyes. A way that might allow her to regain
control of her sorry life. A method to re-forge herself into someone different, stronger. And she would
take a page out of Boxxy’s book and greedily latched onto the thing she desired. The thing she needed.
This is how she was able to unhesitantly answer the Mimic’s question.
“Because I want this.”
“You’re not afraid of the curse?” asked Boxxy.

The gnome took a deep breath. The fact it was asking questions likely meant it wouldn’t deny her
outright. This meant she had a chance. And if there’s one thing that God of Chaos was right about, it was
that chances existed to be taken.
“Curse? This shield-gauntlet bears no curse. It holds my salvation! I need this if I’m ever going to find a
way to stop life from fucking me up the ass whenever it feels like it. No, I want more than that! I want to
grab life by the balls, rip them off and then ram them down its fucking throat!”
Fizzy panted heavily as she finished her outburst. She had surprised even herself at how forceful her
voice was. Like that side of her was there all along, desperately clawing for a way out.
“Heh. Hehehehe. Hahahahahahaha!”
The Mimic broke out into a menacing laugh.
“SHAAAH SHAH SHAH SHAH SHAH SHAH! SHAAAH SHAH SHAH SHAH SHAH SHAH
SHAH SHAH!”
Somewhere along the way it stopped laughing with the imitation Xera head it used to communicate and
let out a deep, guttural laugh with its actual mouth. And yet the gnome did not waver a single bit in her
determination.
“That’s it!” exclaimed the Mimic once it calmed down somewhat. “There’s the monster I wanted to see!
A thing that chases after what is tasty without holding back!”
That was it. This right here was exactly what it was talking about almost a month ago when it told the
gnome it would teach her to fight like a monster. But it couldn’t reach this point until now. No matter
how much it pushed her, no matter how much it abused her, this strangely stubborn creature called
Cornie Fizzlesprocket refused to let go of her gnomish sensibility. Boxxy saw it in her body language, in
every little movement she made when the Mimic was around. She still had that tiny bit of hesitation in
her subconscious that caused her muscles to move awkwardly and stiffly. Being forced to fight monsters
to the death had eased it somewhat, but she was still lacking, still incomplete.
But the Fizzy right now had none of that. She stood firmly, unwilling to simply give up and let go of her
goals, showing no hesitation in the face of this objectively more powerful being she was talking to. Her
body was in a completely relaxed and natural state, ready to spring into action the instant its owner
ordered it to. It was as if she had already prepared herself to fight to the death should Boxxy deny her.
Perhaps this cursed item was the last thing she needed to let go of that dreadfully civilized part of her.
“Okay. You want the shiny glove. But what will you give me in return?”
However, the greedy creature would not be swayed so easily. Nothing in this world was free and even
‘salvation’ could have a price tag. It highly doubted this gnome had anything left that it hadn’t taken, so
it would have probably given it to her pro-bono anyway, but it asked her just in case. Its days spent
working for the Mercenary Guild taught it that one should always make sure to profit as much as
possible, and that the largest gains arose from someone else’s misfortune.
The gnome had more or less expected this query. The monster known as Boxxy T. Morningwood was a
pragmatic yet simple creature. It would accept anything as long as there were enough merits to itself.
And even a weak, homeless and enslaved gnome like Fizzy had something she could offer.
“I offer you my complete loyalty and total obedience. I have nothing else to give.”
Boxxy briefly considered her words. It was true that she wouldn’t be as easy to control if she lost her
fear of pain and abuse. That had been a central part of her 'upbringing,' so it was entirely possible she
might do something stupid like rebel in due time. But Cornie Fizzlesprocket was no idiot. She was
quick-witted and crafty, so it was likely her offer was not just mere words.
“Okay, let’s say I accept. How will you give me such things?”
The tiny Paladin gently set the gauntlet down on the ground. She went down on one knee and placed her
wrench between herself and the Mimic. She then bowed deeply to it by lowering her head and upper
body and pressing her tiny fists against the ground.
“I, Cornie Fizzlesprocket, Champion of Chaos and Paladin of the Order of the Gilded Chest, hereby
pledge myself into the service of Boxxy T. Morningwood, chosen Hero of the Goddess of Probability.”
A soft yellow-green light started pouring out of the kneeling gnome.
“Your words shall be my law. Your wishes shall be my goals. Your choices shall be my creed.”
Countless motes of light started swirling around her as he spoke.
“I vow to serve you completely in both body and soul, with my God as my witness. Let us teach this
world the true meaning of chaos!”
*FWOOM*
The motes of light surrounding her suddenly gathered just above the gnome and shot up into the sky
while leaving behind a trail of light. They exploded somewhere far above her, painting the air with a
literal sign from heaven.
? I got you, fam! ?
The group stared up at the glowing yellow letters that hung around in the sky for about 15 seconds, at
which point they faded away into nothingness.
“What was that?” asked the slightly flabbergasted Mimic.
“I just made the Pledge of Arms before the watchful eye of Salad, the God of Randomness,” explained
Fizzy. “It’s a ceremony I learned from the Holy Scripture Skill.”
The gnome then stood up and pointed up at the sky.
“And it looks like the big guy not only heard me, but also supports it. That means I’ll be getting some
divine retribution if I betray or abandon you.”
The first step towards regaining control of her life was to accept the things that she could not change.
She was a Paladin aligned with Chaos and also Boxxy’s... posession. This was her lot in life and
rejecting either of those things was futile. She had therefore made the rather drastic decision to stop
begrudgingly following the Mimic and actively support it. So what if it raped her, hurt her and tortured
her? She was confident that she could overcome such trifling matters if she just let go of her useless
body.
Which led her to the second step in regaining control of her life - to change the things she could. And the
thing that had to change the most was herself. Her selfish desire to abandon her worthless past and focus
on her future had let her to this outcome.
This one, singular moment in time.
“Okay,” said the Mimic approvingly. “You can have the shiny glove.”
“Thanks, Boxxy!”
Fizzy showed her first real, full-faced smile ever since her life went to shit. She was about to let go of
that sorry existence once and for all, so there’s no way she wasn’t overjoyed. Without further ado, she
eagerly thrust her tiny arm into the cursed gauntlet. The item groaned and screeched as it shrunk to an
even smaller size than before. Matching Fizzy’s small build should have been well beyond the
transformative enchantment it bore, yet something drove it to push beyond its limits.
It wrapped snugly around her hand and forearm, forming a perfect fit. The curse activated in the next
instant and rapidly spread over the gnome’s body, much faster than it had done with the succubus. After
all, while Xera instinctively rejected it, Fizzy welcomed it with open arms, both figuratively and
literally. The curse took only a few seconds to completely envelop her and invade the very core of her
being.
It was on this day, almost at this very moment, that the last vestiges of the gnome known as Cornie
Fizzlesprocket quietly passed away into obscurity.
You have been afflicted by the Curse of the Steelshaper.

Your willingness to embrace the curse has amplified its effect.
Your species has become Metal Golem (Steel).
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Divine Beast.
Congratulations, you are now a Level 1 Metal Golem! STR +3. END +3. AGI +2. FTH +1.
Proficiency level increased. Metallopathy is now Level 1. INT +2. WIS +2.
Fizzy had welcomed that which the succubus instinctively rejected. Her new steel body no longer felt
cold, hungry or tired. She couldn’t feel the shoes on her feet nor the wind in her hair, which had now
become a hollow lump of metal. The former gnome revelled at the lack of sensation as her sinful flesh
was cast away, as if it were a defect that needed to be purged.
Or at least, that’s how it should have been, right? No bothersome sensations to plague her troubled
mind? That was what she was after, yeah? So then-
“How?” she muttered.
Her voice had become several octaves deeper. She spoke with a heavy groan, almost like her voice was
produced by two anvils grinding against each other.
One would think the newly reborn golem would be surprised at her voice, but she had other, more
important things to worry about.
“How come it itches?!” she screamed.
Fizzy clawed at her chest furiously, desperate to get rid of that incredibly bothersome sensation she no
longer wanted. Her metal fingers viciously ripped off the chainmail that had been protecting her upper
body and threw it to the ground, an act that seemed to do the trick.
“Well, it’s official. She’s finally gone fucking nuts,” commented Kora.
“Completely off her rocker,” added Valeria.
“Yup. Her tiny mind no longer clings to sanity,” agreed Xera.
The rest of the monster girls had been silently watching the exchange until now. Their seemingly pitying
attitude changed to oddly jovial in the next instant.
“That’s the spirit! Congratulations on finally growing a pair, pipsqueak!” cheered Kora.
“Indeed,” said Xera with a smug look. “You’ve become a fine monster. I knew my Master made the
right decision in sparing your worthless life.”
“One less rival…” mumbled Valeria. “I mean, you’ve made a wise decision this day, I’m sure of it!”
The sudden influx of compliments, sincere or otherwise, calmed the erratic golem down somewhat. She
steadied her breath as she once again let the nothingness wash over her. A feeling of absolute peace and
spiritual bliss welled up inside her. This was it, this was just how she imagined it. This unfeeling body
was not a prison - it was her sanctuary. Her fortress. It took her a while to realize that, much to her
delight, she didn’t actually need to breathe, either. The only reason her small chest moved up and down
was simply out of habit.
Oh, right.
“Uhm, Boxxy,” she spoke up. “Do you still happen to have that ‘bargain bin’ lying around inside your
Storage?”
Having been named, the Mimic broke out of its thought process and regarded its newest servant’s
request. The ‘bargain bin’ Fizzy was referring to was a wooden crate that was filled with various
miscellaneous items the monster had little-to-no use for, the kind of stuff that people normally throw
away. The only reason Boxxy still carried it around was that it had room inside its Storage.
“I do,” it answered.
“Can you bring it out please?”
“Okay.”
The Mimic opened its maw wide and a wooden box that was 60 centimeters on all sides emerged from it
and landed on the ground with a soft thud. Fizzy immediately tipped it over and started rooting through
the junk inside. She was looking for clothes since her little hissy fit earlier had left her almost
completely naked. Her modest breasts were completely exposed and the filthy pair of soiled underwear
covering her lower half was plainly visible.
The golem silently ridiculed herself for still clinging to silly things like clothes, but it couldn’t be
helped. Letting go of habits she had built up over the 21 years of her life as a person wasn’t something
that could be accomplished so easily. Besides, if Boxxy was planning on visiting civilized society, then
the least she could do is maintain her dignity as its Champion.
She found a small beige tunic, probably meant for a child. She ripped out the area around the left
shoulder, sleeve and collar included. Well, her trademark pigtails had turned to solid steel and she now
had a shield permanently affixed to her left forearm, so she needed to do at least that much in order to
put it on.
However, oddly enough, she didn’t feel the need to completely cover herself. In fact, knowing that so
much of her was left exposed made her feel oddly empowered. Fizzy had always felt a little envious at
how that lich and succubus could unabashedly strut around while wearing practically nothing. They
were obviously proud of their bodies and wanted to show them off. A thought that this newly created
body could sympathize with. She wanted to be that sort of confident woman who was not ashamed of
her appearance, although perhaps not quite as shameless as those two.
She grabbed hold of a random pair of scissors with the intent of altering her tunic, but froze before she
even began. Holding the slightly rusted metal tool helped her realize exactly what that strange, itchy
sensation from earlier was about. Or to be more precise, it dawned on her that it was the chainmail shirt
itself that felt itchy, rather than her own skin.
Now that she thought about it, that piece of armor had been badly maintained. A lot of it had started
rusting from all the blood and water that splashed on it regularly. She looked around the bargain bin and
spotted a rusty iron pipe of some sort. She grabbed it and focused her attention on it. Sure enough, the
rusty parts started itching. It was like this piece of scrap had become an extension of her own arm. She
could even accurately gauge exactly how far the corrosion had spread by simply focusing her attention
on it.
Proficiency level increased. Metallopathy is now Level 2. INT +2. WIS +2.
That’s right, she got a new Skill just after her transformation, didn’t she? Fizzy hurriedly checked her
Status, something she really should have done right away, but got a bit sidetracked.
Metallopathy
Description: All golems share a unique link with compatible materials
Requirements: Be born as a Metal Golem variant
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: 5 Meters
Effects: Allows the exchange of sensory data with any metal object through skin contact.
Increases the variety and amount of sensory input that can be processed with every Level of
this Skill.
So that’s what this was. Those sensations that coursed through her were the ‘feelings’ of the lump of
iron in her hand. Actually, wouldn’t this be extremely useful to an Artificer like her? Wait, hold on!
Would the former gnome would even be capable of handling that Job anymore? This was something that
had completely slipped her mind. Fizzy let go of the objects she was holding and carefully stared at her
open-palmed hands with a scrutinizing look.
No matter how good an Artificer was, no matter how much DEX or experience they had, it was an
inevitable fact of life that their hands would shake ever so slightly when held up in the air like this. It
was something that was intrinsic to all living beings. The act of breathing and the pulsing of a heart both
meant that a living body was never completely at rest. Those tiny, involuntary movements were one of
the main causes of defects that appeared in an artisan or artist’s work.
But a golem had no such worries. Fizzy’s limbs might have been heavier than ever, but they were
completely stable. Those shiny digits did not move a single millimeter out of position and stood
perfectly still, as if she were a statue. She wiggled them around and made some odd motions with them.
She was air-artificing, practicing the movements crucial to assembly and construction that were an
Artificer’s bread and butter.
They felt a bit clumsy and clunky due to their weight and the stiffness of the joints, but this wasn’t
necessarily permanent. If she could learn to move with the same precision and finesse as those Stone
Soldiers and combined that with her newly acquired Metallopathy Skill, then she was certain she could
become a great Artificer. Perhaps even the greatest Artificer that ever walked this continent. No, this
world!
The former gnome tightened her fists with newfound determination. This curse had given her so much
more than she ever wanted out of it. It was well beyond a blessing in disguise at this point. Speaking of
blessings, there was also the matter of that Perk she gained.
Divine Beast
Descriptions: A title formally given to creatures that have sworn themselves in service to
the Gods.
Requirements: Become a Paladin, Priest or Monk as a non-enlightened species.
Effects: Gain an additional +1 FTH every time your Monster Job(s) Level up.
So she was a Divine Beast of Chaos, was she? The order of acquisition was a bit out of whack, but she
didn’t really care about that. She was simply grateful she had stumbled into it. After all, the Faith (FTH)
Attribute was very important for a Paladin like her, so getting more of it for free was undoubtedly a
good thing. This Perk was, as Boxxy would probably say, quite tasty.
Having once again reaffirmed herself that she made the right decision in accepting this ‘curse,’ Fizzy
moved onto scrounging through the rest of the bargain bin.
“Hey Boxxy!” she called out, “I can use anything in this crate, right?!”
“Yes,” came the simplistic answer.
“Sweet! Thanks!”
The Mimic was pretty sure there was nothing of actual value in there, so if the gnome- golem?
Hmm…
As it was saying, it would be a miracle if the gnolem actually found anything of use in that trash pile, so
she was more than welcome to it everything in there. Besides, if she was going to be a proper servant
rather than a sort of battle slave, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to make sure she was properly
equipped.
So long as it didn’t cost too much, of course.
Boxxy then returned to its quiet introspective, trying to piece together exactly what was happening. It
would consult with Fizzy later to get the details on her new body, but right now it was far more
concerned with something else. The Mimic had gotten a certain notification the instant the formerly
squishy thing became significantly shinier. A message that has some rather interesting implications.
The flows of chaos have returned to their default, causal state.
It would appear that, based on this message, the effects of the Agent of Chaos Skill had just abated. In
other words, they had been active this whole time, ever since the gnome was raped. The Mimic
theorized that its rather thoughtless action had set her on this path, that it had served as the trigger that
changed her fate. The monster's identity as a Hero of Chaos meant that even the tiniest ripple of its
actions could turn into massive waves of change. Almost as if it was gambling on the future by using a
loaded die to bring about an unlikely outcome.
But not all outcomes were necessarily desirable, no matter their likelihood. Its last conversation with
Jeremy had made that much perfectly clear. So while gaining a more useful and loyal minion was by no
means a bad thing, that didn’t mean next time would be the same. Indeed, when Agent of Chaos came
into play again, it just mind end up setting off a truly terrible chain of events, so it couldn’t just blindly
believe good things would always come of it. If the Chaotic Disposition Skill had taught it anything, it
was that Lady Luck was a shameless slut who swung both ways. Though perhaps not in as many words.
“All done!” called out Fizzy, causing Boxxy to almost involuntarily take in her new appearance.
The only thing that remained of the old gnome’s visage were those small boots with the iron plates
protecting the toes. Her legs were covered by a pair of baggy work pants that were a few sizes too big
for her. The garment’s wide trouser legs were wrapped up around her ankles with some bandage-like
cloth in order to prevent them from flapping around too much. The left suspender had been securely
buckled around the golem’s bare left shoulder while the right one was left to dangle uselessly. The loose-
fitting overall-like garment exposed much of her thighs and hips, making it obvious that she was not
wearing any panties underneath it all.
As if a golem had need for such filthy things as underwear.
Her upper body was clad in a simple tunic that had its left shoulder, collar and sleeve ripped off. Fizzy
had shortened it somewhat so that it exposed the interlocking metal plates that covered her midriff. A
pair of small leather belts were tied immediately above and below her breasts in an effort to empathize
the hard, perky domes of her modest cleavage. The shirt’s right sleeve had been rolled up and one of
Boxxy’s Retractable Blades had been strapped to it, likely to be used as a backup weapon.
The Fizzy right now looked completely different from how she was a half hour ago. The shiny steel
skin, metal hair and rather risque clothing were one thing, but this transformation had gone beyond
simple appearance. It was her attitude that had undergone the most important change. Her meek,
subservient smile was replaced by a wide, toothy grin. The soft look in her eyes that made her seem like
a frightened rabbit was gone, permanently replaced by the piercing glare she had shown only once or
twice. She had fully changed her mindset from that of a herbivore trying its best to survive to that of a
predator that would not hesitate to fight for what it wanted.
The golem walked over to where the relatively oversized wrench had been left lying on the ground and
picked it up with one hand. She confidently put it on her shoulder and turned towards Boxxy with a
worryingly cheerful attitude.
“Shall we go smash up some golems?” she suggested. “There should be some of those guys left around,
right?! It’s okay if I just go smash them to bits, right? Fizzy has a brand new Job to Level Up!”
“Sure,” replied Boxxy in equally high spirits. “Let’s go kill stuff!”
“Yeah, I haven’t hit enough things today!” echoed Kora.
“Fufufufu,” giggled Xera. “I look forward to showing off my intelligence gathering Skills in the maze
again.”
“Ah, darling is so wonderful when he’s energetic ~?!” cooed Valeria.
It was on this day, almost at this very moment, that the golem that would eventually become known as
the Rustblood Juggernaut had been unleashed onto this world.
(71) Core Values 1

The ruins of the Spire of the Jade King continued to give birth to one Stone Soldier after another at a
slightly reduced rate. Not having a dungeon core didn’t mean this place ceased to exist, but that it
devolved into what was known as a ‘wild dungeon.’ The golems that appeared here were no longer
leashed and would eventually spread throughout the area, possibly the entire mountain. It would take
years, possibly decades for a new core to appear naturally, so the aimlessly wandering Stone Soldiers
had plenty of time to reach civilization or destroy an ecosystem or two.
That is, if they survived that long.
“Haaaah!”
A small, 1 meter tall mass of living steel ran through the hedge maze at a tremendous speed while letting
out a piercing battlecry.
*DONNN*
A heavy, bell-like sound could be heard as Fizzy smashed shield-first into a Stone Soldier’s shin. The
force of her charge was strong enough to send several huge cracks up his bare leg. She then swung her
trusty wrench with one arm before the out-of-balance stone statue could react. The repurposed tool
smashed his fractured kneecap into dust. The Stone Soldier nearly fell over, but managed to prop
himself up with his massive shield. He stabbed downwards with his spear, but Fizzy effortlessly dodged
the awkward attack. The small Paladin followed up by crushing his other knee with three rapid swings
of her weapon, forcing him to fall flat on his back.
The steel gnome jumped onto the Stone Soldier’s torso and ran across his abs. She swung her heavy
weapon downwards at his well-sculpted pectoral muscles with enough force to cause a spider-web
pattern of cracks across his body. She took a few more steps and swung at his head, which nearly split in
two from the impact. Fizzy raised the slightly dented wrench high above her head and bashed downward
over and over again, reducing the Stone Soldier to a pile of rubble.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 15 Metal Golem! STR +3. END +3. AGI +2. FTH
+1.
“Yeaheaaah!” she cheered with a fist pump. “How’s it feel to get your ass run over by the pain train,
fuckboy?! Choo-choo, motherfucker!”
Although the mad look in her eyes, wide, toothy grin, and high-volume shouting suggested the Paladin
was under the influence of the Champion of Chaos Skill, this was simply not the case. No, Fizzy was
screaming obscenities because she wanted to. This was only the 4th day after her transformation, and
she had completely embraced her new life of violence and slaughter. The adaptability of the gnomish
mind was truly a scary thing, and a thoroughly shattered one like hers was no exception.
“Oh, right! Levels! Skills! I hope it’s there this time!”
She stopped gloating and turned her attention to her Skill List. So far she had unlocked two Skills from
her Metal Golem Job, and she was incredibly satisfied with both. Being allowed by Boxxy to choose her
own path as a Steel Golem was a refreshingly liberating experience. This wasn’t out of benevolence,
though.
While it was true that Boxxy had taken control of her development as a Paladin, that was mostly because
it needed her to learn Holy Magic. But Fizzy’s Monster Job was different. The Skills she would obtain
from it were closely tied to her species, and a mimic had no idea how a growing golem should or could
develop. Therefore, it left that to her own judgement. Boxxy was confident the gnolem was the most
qualified one to make judgement calls regarding her own body, after all.
As for Fizzy’s Skill choices so far, they consisted of Heavy Metal and Armored Charge.
Heavy Metal
Description: Allows the golem to gain a thicker skin
Requirements: Level 5 Metal Golem
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Increases the density of the golem’s outer shell by 5% per Level of this Skill.
The former allowed the golem to bulk up more. Although it wasn’t visible, the armor plates covering her
body had become both tougher and heavier. This had excellent synergy with the Toughness Skill from
her Paladin Job, which raised the hardiness of all heavy armor she had equipped, even if that armor
happened to be a part of her body. Fizzy had some doubts whether the extra weight would become a
problem, but the ample STR provided by both the Skill and the Job was more than enough to
compensate for it.
Armored Charge
Description: Propels the golem forward like a living battering ram
Requirements: Level 10 Metal Golem, END 45
Type: Active
Cost: 35 MP
Range: 30 Meters
Effects: Charge in a specified direction at a high speed.
This Skill’s damage increases depending on distance traveled.
Increases the collision force of this Skill by 10% per level of this Skill.
This Skill was the move she had used at the start of the fight. Activating it allowed her to cover the
maximum range of 30 meters in a matter of seconds. The strangest part of it was that both acceleration
and deceleration were instantaneous and caused no strain on her body whatsoever. This Skill ignored all
the principles of inertia and momentum the Artificer side of her knew of, which was probably why it
cost MP in the first place.
However, such a move came with its own set of dangers. For one thing, Fizzy found out that she was
unable to stop or change direction during the Armored Charge itself. There was also the matter of recoil
damage. Slamming her body into a hard object like a Stone Soldier wouldn’t leave her unscathed. She
had to be extremely careful when using it, lest she end up throwing herself off a cliff or running face-
first into a wall.
“Yesss! It’s heeeere!” she cheered.
Advanced Joints
Description: Upgrades the golem’s overall speed and mobility
Requirements: Level 15 Metal Golem
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Permanently transforms the body’s joints to allow for more limber movement.
Increases the effectiveness of the AGI Attribute by 2% per Level of this Skill.
Provides an additional +2 AGI per Level of this Skill.
This was what she was looking for. While she may have gotten stronger and tougher ever since her
transformation, her movements had degraded significantly. Her body felt stiff and clunky, as if it wasn’t
obeying her properly. So how come those damnable Stone Soldiers were so agile, despite being golems
like herself?
The answer was simple. It wasn’t a matter of mindset, practice, or a difference in Attributes. Her steel
body was just ill-equipped to move in the way she wanted it to, and this Skill would provide her with the
solution to that particular problem.
Proficiency level increased. Advanced Joints is now Level 1. AGI +6.
Fizzy’s body froze in the next instant. It seized up completely and refused to move no matter how hard
she tried. She couldn’t even blink, let alone speak. Her face may have been frozen in a fierce smile, but
she was panicking on the inside.
Oh God! What the fuck!? she screamed inside her head.
What’s going on?! This is the complete opposite of what I wanted! This isn’t hap- No!
Her pathetic habit from her old life almost resurfaced, but she managed to stop herself.
Come on, Fizzy! You’re not that weak, pathetic creature anymore! You’re a cold-hearted ass-kicking
engine of destruction, so fucking act like it!
Now that she had given herself a little pep talk, she was able to calm down and think things through.
Advanced Joints was a Skill that involved a permanent physical change, so maybe this was simply part
of the process. In a flash of inspiration, the steel golem used her Metallopathy on her own body. Being
consciously aware of her insides like this was a bit weird, but it did the trick. She was able to confirm
that her internal bits were currently transforming and reconstructing themselves. She even started
picking up faint grinding and screeching noises coming from beneath her plated skin as her body did its
own thing.
It made sense now that she thought about it. Replacing obsolete or damaged parts while a machine was
currently operating was a stupid idea. This was something she should have realized a lot sooner, given
her Artificer background. Therefore, her current paralysis was probably her body’s natural reaction to
being remodeled, a self-preservation instinct of some kind.
A few minutes passed by before Fizzy started worrying again. The Stone Soldier’s corpse she had been
standing on had dispersed and turned back into the raw mana from whence it came. The sudden shift in
her footing had caused the smiling, gnome-shaped statue to fall over. She imagined that the sudden jolt
might somehow interfere with the reconstruction process and cause some sort of permanent defect in her
body. It was also possible that she was overthinking things since the Skill continued to do its thing
undisturbed.
Then came the biggest problem with her current state - the golem was completely defenseless. If another
Stone Soldier came by and decided to stab her in the face, then she would be powerless to stop it. Then
again, it was highly likely that this was another baseless worry since the Stone Soldiers had become
quite disorganized ever since the core was taken out of the dungeon. Not only did they wander around
completely on their own, but they also sometimes fought and killed each other. A number of them
simply wandered off into the mountains, never to be seen again. All of these factors had significantly
thinned out the population of golems within the dungeon, so one of those randomly coming across the
paralyzed Fizzy was a longshot at best.
This was the main reason the pint-sized Paladin was on her own right now. She had temporarily parted
ways with Boxxy in order to cover more ground. It was simply a more efficient way of raising
everyone’s Level under these circumstances. Of course, the Mimic had only allowed that after she had
unlocked her Armored Charge Skill. It allowed her to close the gap between herself and her much taller
opponents in an instant while simultaneously bypassing their large shields. Dismantling them at that
point was child’s play.
The main reason she was able to do so while she was only a Level 10 Metal Golem was because she had
her Level 25 Paladin Job to rely on. However, that proved to have its drawbacks as well. The XP she
earned seemed to split itself between the Paladin Job, which was maxed out, and the Metal Golem Job,
which showed stunted growth as a result. Still, the fact that she was able to defeat enemies above Level
40 meant that she was able to gain a whole 15 Levels in as little as 3 days. An impressive feat, to say the
least.
Boxxy had experienced much slower growth in comparison, which was to be expected. The difference
between a Level 1 and a Level 48 was like comparing a valley to a mountain. Fizzy had obtained 10
whole Levels by the time Boxxy had gotten up to 15% past Level 49. To say that the sentient chest was
envious would be an understatement. The Mimic’s selfish desire to quickly get up to Level 50 was the
other reason it had ordered everyone to split up. It could move and kill much more quickly on its own.
The bottom line was that Fizzy was paralyzed while all on her own and inside a dungeon. It was hardly
an ideal situation, even if it was unlikely she would be attacked. So, rather than mope around, she
decided to further investigate the insides of her newer, shinier self with Metallopathy. She really didn’t
want any more nasty surprises like this one and had literally nothing better to do.
Fizzy spent the next few minutes silently studying her body. Looking inside herself so much really drove
home the idea that she was now a magical, non-living construct. As best as she could tell, the source of
the magic keeping her alive was a small, fist-sized, spherical core buried inside her chest cavity. It
seemed to regulate the magic that dwelled inside her steel shell, not unlike a heart that pumped blood.
This also seemed to house her thought processes and memories. Probably.
Well, such things were certainly not in her head. That had now become little more than a hollow
container, which made Fizzy into a literal airhead.
The important part was that she understood what kept her alive. If she suffered too much physical
trauma then the magic clinging to her steel flesh would disperse and she would die. Needless to say, the
same would happen if her core was destroyed, so she had to make sure to protect it at all costs. Having
her head chopped off, on the other hand, wouldn’t kill her on the spot, although the loss of sight, hearing
and speech was bound to lead to her demise soon afterwards.
Of course, she wasn’t just assuming things in this regard. Her repeated battles with the Stone Golems in
this dungeon had given her a good bit of insight into how they were put together. Simply crushing their
heads was not enough - she had to thoroughly tenderize their bodies in order to kill them. She still liked
aiming for the head, though. Hitting it was oddly satisfying.
Then there was the matter of sustenance. As a golem, she no longer required mundane things like food,
sleep and water. Attempting to ingest such things simply made them pass clean through her and fall out
of her butt a few seconds later. Given the circumstances it was safe to assume that elixirs, potions and
other alchemical goods would show little-to-no effect, but she lacked the means to verify this theory at
the moment.
However, she was still capable of tiring herself out. Lugging her heavy steel butt around probably
consumed a lot of energy, and her reserves were not limitless. The odd part was that, rather than feeling
out of breath, it was simply a matter of her body slowing down and becoming lethargic, as if entering
some sort of ‘low-power’ mode. At least replenishing her vigor was a simple matter of sitting down and
taking a short break every few hours.
On the matter of injury, her steel body seemed to recover more or less on its own, much like her flesh
did. And while it was questionable whether potions would work on her, healing magic most certainly
did. Using Holy Light on herself not only restored her HP, but it also instantly buffed out any dents or
scratches, restoring her steel shell back to its shiny luster. It also seemed that, much to her relief, she
didn’t have to worry about herself rusting.
Which was undoubtedly a good thing, because Fizzy absolutely adored her new body and couldn’t bear
to see it tarnished. An odd sense of pride and satisfaction welled up within her whenever one of her
companions glanced at its splendour. This was a first for Fizzy. She had never felt sexy or womanly, and
had never took pride in her looks before. But then again, she didn’t have the body of a marvelous steel
Goddess before. She had to admit, loving herself like this felt pretty damn good, and she had no
intention of stopping.
“Oh? I can move again!” she exclaimed.

The golem got lost in her own little world for a second, so she didn’t notice her body had regained its
functionality. Her Tick Counter Skill told her it had been precisely 6 minutes and 42 seconds since she
had been rendered immobile. Fizzy made a mental note to avoid unlocking these ‘permanent
transformation’ Skills in the field. Such a thing should only be done while she was lying down and had
someone around to watch over her.
But what about Advanced Joints? The gnolem pushed herself off the ground and sat up. She moved her
hands, shoulders and fingers around, and confirmed that they felt much more limber. They actually
appeared to make even more fluid and precise motions than when she was a worthless meatbag. She
finally felt like she could properly put together something truly amazing with her Artificer Job, and was
eager to try it out.
Fizzy stood up from the ground, only to trip over something and fall down on her face. Well, that was a
little embarrassing. Maybe she wasn’t used at moving her augmented body around, and had tripped over
her own feet? She sat up again and looked down at her feet, only to realize her trousers had fallen down
to her ankles, leaving her metallic nether regions completely exposed.
Now this was extremely embarrassing. But how come they came loose? She was certain she had
strapped the suspender to her shoulder properly. Did it get damaged in the fight? Ah, but she didn’t
actually get hit or anything like that. Not to mention that she was pretty sure the trousers were still on
before she got paralyzed. Maybe the strap broke when she fell over? No, that wasn’t it. Looking it over
confirmed that it was still in good condition. The only reasonable explanation was that someone had
unbuckled this.
But who? And when?
Well, the latter was obvious. It must have happened at some point after her body seized up. However, the
golem did not remember seeing anyone around her, living or otherwise. Even if she was paralyzed, she
still had her PER-enhanced sight and hearing, so she was sure she’d detect anyone trying to mess with
her. So the question of ‘who’ had caused this wardrobe malfunction hung around in the air like a stale
fart. Fizzy racked her non-existent brains, but was unable to come up with a single suspect.
Deciding that thinking about it wouldn’t get her anywhere, the golem simply stood up, pulled up her
trousers and firmly affixed the left suspender to her shoulder. She wanted to do the other one too, but the
gauntlet that was now her left hand made that an impossible task. Well, it was hardly a bad thing. She
liked her new, rather indecent look quite a bit. As expected, exposing her shiny metal skin made her feel
quite good about herself, though fully exposing herself like some pervert was-
*Clank*
Fizzy froze. She heard the unmistakable sound of something hitting the hedge maze’s stone floor at her
feet. Her neck craned stiffly as she looked down at herself and at the ground. The one responsible for
that prank from earlier on her had been revealed and was at it again. Said culprit had undone the belt she
had wrapped around the lower end of her tunic as a fashion accessory, and was just about to roll up said
tunic and expose her shiny nipples. However, Fizzy had trouble believing the scene before her eyes,
even though she had caught this culprit red-handed.
No, it would be more accurate to say she caught it ‘right-handed.’

Because the thing that was stripping her clothes off without her consent was her own right arm.
Cornie
Fizzlesprocket
Metal Golem Arclight

Species STR 213 PER 151 56 38%
(Steel) Artificer
Sex Female DEX 182 FTH 89 Paladin 25 MAX
Metal
Age 22 years AGI 74 LCK 26 15 4%
Golem
Erosa
Guild Craftsman END 181
Union
1118/1118
HP INT 158
(+1.8/sec)
750/750 (+1.6/
MP WIS 164
sec)
Skill List
Clockwork Electrical Armored

10 MAX 2 32% 3 12%
Expertise Expertise Charge
Explosives Champion of Advanced

6 86% 7 27% 1 4%
Handling Chaos Joints
Deconstruction 7 33% Toughness 8 12% Mentor 2 43%
Optics Strength of Dagger

4 76% 7 32% 3 53%
Expertise Faith Mastery
Holy Shield
Physics 7 4% 6 87% 5 24%
Scriptures Mastery
Component Divine Holy

6 63% 5 51% 7 31%
Forging Wrath Mastery
Mace
Tick Counter 5 22% Metallopathy 3 34% 7 62%
Mastery
Upgrade 4 65% Heavy Metal 2 56%

(72) Core Values 2
“Where is she?!” shouted Fizzy.
“Hey, squirt,” answered Kora
The four-armed fiend had been ordered to keep watch over this particular plot of land just outside of the
dungeon’s territory, which was the reason she was currently sitting idly on a large boulder. This was the
designated meeting spot where Valeria or Fizzy should come if they wanted to get in touch with Boxxy,
although it would seem the gnome-shaped golem was looking for someone else entirely.
“Nice tits by the way,” commented Kora. “Bit small but the shape is just right.”
“I know, right?” answered Fizzy.
Her angry expression was replaced with a playfully cheerful one for an instant. Just for an instant,
though.
“They’re so- Oh, damn it!”
The steel golem quickly lowered her rolled up tunic in a fluster, covering her shapely breasts once more.
“Where is that worthless slut!?” she screamed at the fiend. “I’ll fucking kill her!”
“Gonna have to be more specific.”
“Snack!”
“Pfft! *Cough* Uhm, she’s with the boss right now. I wouldn’t go there if I were you, though. They’re
currently… practicing shapeshifting.”
“Oh…”
An imaginary chill ran down Fizzy’s spine. Try as she might, she hadn’t quite yet gotten over her
traumatic first time. Getting near that writhing mass of tentacles while they were busy violating someone
was not on the list of things she wanted to do.
“So they’ll be busy for a while.”
“Yep,” nodded Kora.
“Guess I’ll just wait here, then.”
Fizzy walked over to the red-skinned demoness, climbed onto the big gray rock and sat down next to
her. She made herself comfortable and stood perfectly still like a statue. Or at least, that was her
intention.
“Any particular reason you’re taking your pants off?” asked the fiend with a puzzled look.
“Again?! For fuck’s sake!”
Fizzy stopped her rebellious hands and hurriedly fixed her clothing once more.
“Alright, I’ll bite. What the hell’s wrong with you?” asked Kora. “I mean, other than the obvious.”
“It’s that winged bitch! She probably messed with my head to make me strip involuntarily!”
“Hah. Hahaha! How the fuck do you manage strip involuntarily?! Ahahaha!”
“I don’t know, it just happens! I’ll be walking along and then all of a sudden trip over my own feet
because my hand undid the buckle on my shoulder without me noticing it!”
“Oh man, that is priceless! I really wanna see that now!”
Surprisingly enough, that statement did not make Fizzy angry. Surely it should have, right?
“So,” continued Kora once she calmed down a little, “what makes you think that succubus did anything
to you?”
“Who else is there?! This sort of thing is right up that bitch’s alley!”
The incident where Xera tampered with Fizzy’s memory in order to make the gnome think her own
name was ‘Cornhole Jizzbucket’ was still fresh in her mind.
“Normally I’d agree with you, but I don’t think the Slutmeister’s responsible for this one.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re addicted to her ass!”
“That’s not true,” denied Kora. “I mean, I do love sticking it in her butthole since she’s got an ass that
just won’t quit. But this and that are completely unrelated!”
“Yeah, right,” scoffed Fizzy. “And a dragon’s fire breath is just a giant reverse fart.”
“Really?! That would explain so much!”
*Clank*
The golem’s metal palm made contact with her shiny face. This fiend didn’t honestly think she was
being serious, right?
“Anyway! You’re a golem now, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So... mindfuck-y magic doesn’t work on golems. Like, at all. It’s the same for me and those two sluts.
Well, technically speaking us demons aren’t immune, we’re just really good at fighting it off, but you get
my point.”
“I… see…”
The tiny golem was momentarily lost in thought. She was absolutely sure her current situation was that
mischievous succubus’s doing, but Kora was right. There’s no way a golem’s magically-fortified core
would be affected by magic that was designed to target an organic brain. The only way a golem’s
nucleus could be influenced was if a specially designed control rod was inserted into it. That was the
same method people used to control artificially-made golems and make them into loyal servants.
“I think you’re doing it again,” noted Kora.
Fizzy looked down at herself and sighed dejectedly. She fixed her top for the upteempth and resorted to
literally sitting on her hands in order to keep them from acting up. This sort of thing had been going on
for almost 2 hours now and she was more than a little sick of it. Her body seemed to be completely
under control whenever she was fighting, but being lost in idle thought led to her arms moving around
without her being conscious of them.
“I don’t get it,” said the confused golem. “Then how come this started all of a sudden.”
“Well, to be fair it’s not ‘all of a sudden.’ You’ve been sorta playing with that outfit since the moment
you put it on, you know.”
“What? I have?”
“Oh yeah. You kept pulling your loose pants a little lower or idly stroked your exposed belly in a
slightly provocative way.”
“You could’ve said something!”
“What, and ruin the fun?!”
She let out a small chuckle, clearly enjoying the tiny woman’s misfortune.
“You wanna get your face smashed in?” growled Fizzy.
“Do you?” returned Kora with a sharp glare.
The two stared daggers at each other for a short moment, before the fiend burst into laughter once again.
“Hahahaha! That’s the spirit! I’m really starting to like you, pipsqueak!”
Seeing that same little scaredy-cat refusing to pussy out of a staring contest was quite amusing to the
fiend. She was eagerly anticipating the day where she would finally challenge her to a brawl.
“Whatever. Just keep it in your pants,” warned Fizzy.

“Oh, believe me, I have every intention of doing that.”
“What?! I’m too ugly for you?!”
“I never said anything like that. I mean, you’re pretty fuckable if I do say so myself. Your face is cute
and you got all the right curves, even if you’re a bit tiny. But like, sticking my dick inside a living mass
of steel? I’m a violent rapist, not crazy.”
“O-Oh. Right. Sorry,” said Fizzy with an oddly flabbergasted attitude. “I don’t know what came over me
just now.”
“I think I do, though. It’s the monster inside you begging to be let out. That’s probably why you keep
stripping, too.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you remember how the boss slobbered all over that treasure back in the dungeon?”
“Yeah?”
“Same thing.”
“What?! How in the fuck is that the same thing?!”
“Well, the boss is only 4 months old, right? It’s still got all these weird instincts that catch it off guard at
times because it’s still immature. The body reacts before the mind can stop it, you know?”
Kora was no exception. Even if she was over 300 years old, she still had very limited experience
inhabiting a physical body. Which was probably why she sometimes got these awkward boners that she
just couldn’t explain.
“There’s no way a 3-day old monster like you can help herself,” she added. “That’s what I think.”
“So what, I’m going through some sort of puberty and strip myself instinctively?!”
“I dunno. I guess?”
“How does that make any sense!?”
“It does, though. Have you ever seen any golems that wear clothes?”
“Sure I have. It’s common for nobles to dress their golem servants up in uniforms, you know. That way
you know who they belong to when they walk around the city.”
“Nah, I don’t mean those mindless puppets,” said Kora while waving her hand dismissively. “I’m
talking about real monsters, the kind we’ve been smashing up lately.”
“Ah… I see your point.”

Artificially-made golems that had a control rod installed in them were completely passive. They took no
action whatsoever unless ordered to and any thought processes they might have otherwise had were
completely suppressed. They were much closer to Valeria’s undead than to a sentient being like Fizzy.
“I guess you have a point there,” she admitted. “What about that Jade King, though? He was wearing a
fancy-looking outfit! Ah, but then again that part of his body was sculpted, so he was technically naked,
wasn’t he?”
A monster wearing clothes made no sense, now that she thought about it. Especially well-sculpted ones
like these Stone Soldiers. Fizzy may not have had much of an eye for art, but even she could tell they
were somewhat aesthetically pleasing. They couldn’t even hope to compare to her own glorious form,
though. Now that she thought about it, wasn’t she the absolute best looking-
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed as the realization hit her.
The truth of the matter was that all golems were vain and narcissistic to the extreme. Those of them that
manage to develop sentience might consider wearing clothes and/or armor, but they would ultimately
refuse to do so. There’s no way they’d ever allow filthy cloth or unsightly forged metal to obscure their
flawless beauty. Of course, this was simply their own inborn opinion of themselves, which didn’t
necessarily reflect reality.
The former gnome realized she had been having such egotistical and prideful thoughts ever since she
abandoned her flesh 3 days ago. Her infatuation with herself had gone way beyond the simple joy of no
longer being a filthy meatbag. She also realized that she may have gotten just a little bit too happy when
Kora off-handedly praised her looks just now, despite the fiend using some rather vulgar words.
Therefore, it was highly likely this sudden urge to do away with the trappings of civilization was simply
a part of what she had become.
However, Fizzy was not always a golem. Her 2 decades of experience living as a sensible person clashed
with these new, unfamiliar urges. This internal conflict was what led to her current predicament where
she had this subconscious need to be seen and appreciated by others, yet the conscious desire to maintain
her dignity as a person. Her newfound penchant for violence was unrelated, though. Wanting to inflict
pain on others was just her way of relieving the stress she had built up over the past month.
“I’m the weird one for wanting to dress up, aren’t I?!” concluded Fizzy.
“Seems like it.”
“... I’ll get better, though. Right?”
“Dunno,” shrugged Kora. “What do you mean by ‘get better?’”
“That… is a very good question, actually.”
It really wasn’t as simple an answer as Fizzy thought. Should she embrace her new self and do away
with clothes for good? She felt she’d certainly enjoy life a lot more if she let go of her sensibilities and
exposed herself to everyone with a pair of eyes. Just the thought of walking around a city with hundreds
of people appreciating her naked body as she strutted down the street made her giddy.
However, doing such a thing would interfere with the goals she set out to accomplish. Fizzy had three
things she wanted to accomplish. First of all, she wanted to resume mastering her Artificer’s craft.
Second of all, she wanted to advance her Paladin Job and faithfully carry out her duties as Champion of
Chaos. Churchill was her savior and benefactor, so this was the least she could do in return. And last, but
certainly not least, was her Pledge of Arms to Boxxy. If it was planning on infiltrating a human city, then
she wanted to be right there with it, supporting it as best she could.
She had even come up with two different plans to get past any nosy guards that might question her about
her appearance. The first plan was to simply tell them a modified version of the truth - how she was a
gnome paladin that turned into a golem due to a ‘powerful curse’ and was currently looking for a way to
change back. Such fantastical stories weren’t all that uncommon, so she was sure it would fly. If not,
then she could just pretend to be the Mimic’s loyal servant golem, which was more or less the case,
anyway.
But such machinations were highly unlikely to succeed if she ran around naked. One had to wear clothes
if they wished to be respected in a civilized society. Which meant she would have to find a way to
contain her stripping impulses. Or rather, she was confident she could do it, now that she realized their
source.
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 when she noticed Fizzy’s hesitation.
“It’s strangely clever, even if it’s 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 off 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 73% of the XP needed before reaching Level 50 of its Mimic
Job, and its Shapeshift Skill was at 65% Proficiency of Level 9. The former was relatively easy to get
since it just involved killing things, but the latter was proving to be quite difficult, even with all the
practice. Still, it had been going for 3 hours straight, so it decided it was a good opportunity to take a
break. Even if the Rank Up was so close it could practically taste it, that didn’t mean it should overdo
things again.
“Okay. Bring her here.”

“Whatever you say, Boss.”
The Mimic released Xera from its tendrils and waited patiently for those two to arrive. The succubus it
was practicing its shapeshifting on was a little out of it for the moment, though. Having received
Boxxy’s undivided attention for so long had left her as little more than a soggy, unthinking pile of fuck.
Especially since the Mimic had taken to experimenting on her with bondage and torture methods while it
was at it.
Boxxy considered using Valeria as an additional practice partner but decided against it. It just couldn’t
get over how absolutely foul she tasted, whereas Snack was as tasty and sweet as ever. It therefore sent
the lich off to make herself useful by raising her Level. Valeria claimed she was much better at fighting
beings of flesh and blood rather than golems, so the Mimic allowed her to do her own thing outside the
dungeon.
It did mean that the undead being was nowhere in sight, but Boxxy felt confident it could handle any
schemes she could come up with. The domineering chest was in possession of her all-important
phylactery, meaning any signs of rebellion would be met with overwhelming force. Therefore, it saw no
issue with letting her run wild for a bit, just so long as she diligently raised her Levels.
Unlike Fizzy, that lich’s only value lied in her ability to fight things. So if she ended up slacking in her
assigned duties then she would have to be disciplined. There was no point to keeping a servant that did
not fulfill their purpose. As for the gnolem, Boxxy was quite pleased with her new self. Her new habit of
rushing head-first into battle with that charging Skill of hers would probably need to be corrected,
though.
The Mimic quietly contemplated how to best put its minions to work until Arms and Fizzy found it
about 10 minutes later. It really wasn’t that difficult to find their way around the hedge maze ever since
the core was taken since that auto-repair function was now offline. The golem and the fiend simply had
to follow the trail of freshly burned hedge walls until they found Boxxy and its pyromaniac of a familiar.
“Hey Boss, we’re here!” called out Kora.
She then glanced over to where Xera was still wallowing on the ground with an indecent, blissed out
look on her face. The succubus’s thoroughly used and abused body was still spasming lightly from the
intense sensations she had been going through.
“Can I get sloppy seconds?” she asked, full of expectation.
“Not now,” said Boxxy before turning its attention towards the pint-sized Paladin. “What is it, Fizzy?”
Having been named, the golem tore her curious gaze away from the insensate succubus and started
explaining her conundrum. About how she wasn’t sure whether she should selfishly accept her
monstrous side or cling to the remnants of her dignity as a person in order to fulfill her duties and her
goals. However, her worries were a bit too complicated for the simple-minded Mimic to comprehend
correctly. Or rather, it failed to see how there was any dilemma in the first place.
“You need to wear clothes when talking to people, right?” it asked for confirmation.
“Yeah,” answered Fizzy.
“But you think not wearing them is tastier.”
“Uhm. That is one way of putting it, yes.”
Boxxy had to agree with her on that point. Clothes were bothersome things that got in the way of its
shapeshifting, so it really disliked the idea of them. And yet it still didn’t see how this was 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…”
The impulse welling up inside her wasn’t to just ‘be naked.’ It was to ‘show off her naked body.’ And it
was impossible to show off without being observed.
“I’m here, and I can see you,” pointed out the Mimic.
“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!”
Mimics were sightless creatures that lacked eyes of their own. They had to instead rely on a sort of mana
sonar that allowed them to perceive everything in a 10-meter radius around them, including sounds.
Although this ability had limited range and could be fooled under certain circumstances, it had the
advantage of being extremely accurate and was capable of ‘seeing through’ most surfaces. This was
partly why Boxxy was so skilled at being an Artificer. In fact, the monster’s PER Attribute boosted the
accuracy its magical perception field even further, allowing it to spot even tiny fluctuations of mana in
the air.
This is something Fizzy had gradually learned about over the past month. How could she not after
spending so much time with the monster? That detail had somehow slipped her mind, what with all the
excitement of her being re-born, but had just returned to the forefront of her consciousness.
“You- you can see inside me, can’t you?” she asked with a strangely shaky voice.
“Yes. Actually, it looks different from yesterday. Especially in 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 observe her steel frame in
its entirety in a way that was well beyond simple nakedness. Every fiber of her entire being right down
to her innermost depths had been laid bare before it. And yet she didn’t feel repulsed, disgusted or
creeped out by this. In fact, it filled with her an odd sense of confidence and joy.
“What do you think of it?” she asked in a happy, almost giddy voice.
“Very shiny.”
Those two simple words sent a wave of euphoria washing over the steel golem, forcing her entire body
to shudder in delight. The deepest, most precious part of her had been seen and praised by someone who
was able to appreciate its glory. In that moment she realized she didn’t need some faceless masses or
complete strangers to look at her.
No, the only gaze that mattered was that of Boxxy T. Morningwood.
(73) Core Values 3
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 50 Mimic! All Attributes +2.
“Yeshaaa!”
Boxxy let out a cheer as the Stone Soldier crumbled into bits. It finally reached the maximum Mimic Job
Level at the end of the 3rd day of stalking the dungeon’s hedge maze. All that was left now was to get
Shapeshift to Level 10 and then the Mimic would finally, at long last, be able to Rank Up.
“Congratulations, Master!”
“Yeah, way to go, Boss!”
“Ahn, darling is splendid as usual ~?!”
“Nice one, Boxxy!”
The Mimic’s unlikely entourage all congratulated it in their own way. They had been ordered to convene
and follow it around ever since it got up to 90% XP. 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 also found out
that, much to its disappointment, these undead of hers did not yield any XP when slain. It made sense
since they were beings that were made up of more mana than flesh, not too dissimilar from the Mimic’s
own familiars.
“What happens now?” asked Fizzy.
“Shapeshifting practice,” it answered.
Valeria and Xera’s faces both lit up, almost as if someone had offered their pet dog a treat.
“As you command, Master!”
“Oh, darling ~?!”
The golem and the fiend, on the other hand, really did not want any part of this. The latter remained
steadfast in demanding on being ‘in charge’ as it were, something the Mimic had no intention of
allowing.
“Well, in that case,” said Fizzy, “I’m going to go and raise my Level a bit.”
The metal gnome was not even remotely interested in such things. While there was the matter of her
trauma, it was also a fact that her steel body had no libido or sex drive whatsoever, much like a certain
animate chest. Not even the pleasurable sensation she got from being ‘seen’ could be considered sexual.
It was more akin to the feeling of satisfaction and giddiness one would experience after eating a
sumptuous meal and drinking 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’s mind and body froze abruptly. Whatever thoughts she might have been having were now
little more than forgotten figments.
It couldn’t seriously mean that, right?
“W-why do you need m-me?” she asked stiffly.
Boxxy began explaining its problem to the four women gathered there. Simply put, it had to try new
things if it wanted to keep increasing the Level of the Shapeshift Skill at a steady pace. This was only
reason it performed those lewd activities in the first place. The sheer biomass, complexity and
movement involved in the act provided it with a lot of proficiency, resulting in a tasty net total of 56%
progress towards Level 10.
However, it would appear this method had reached its limit, as Boxxy’s last few training sessions had
been extremely disappointing. It had gained merely 1% proficiency after a whole 2 hours of practice,
meaning there was little more it could learn from such act. So what it needed right now were brand new
directions it could focus its shapeshifting towards. Unfortunately, it lacked the necessary imagination to
come up with anything worthwhile, which is why it decided to ask its minions for any suggestions.
The steel golem and the muscled fiend both breathed a sigh of relief when they realized it finished its
explanation. The Slobbering Slut Squad, as Kora had taken to calling the other two, were understandably
disappointed. Not only because there would be no happy fun times with Boxxy right now, but also due
to the implication 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?” suggested Fizzy.
The Mimic responded by instantaneously covering its faux-wood shell in dozens of Bladeblossoms,
demonstrating that it had not only thought of it, but also mastered it. Fizzy was quite impressed with the
sheer speed and number with which it reproduced them. Inspecting a few of them with Metallopathy
allowed her to grasp that they were very well put together, too. However, these things were of little use.
The hundreds of petal-shaped blades would turn back into soft flesh the instant they were separated from
the main body, meaning that setting these off would merely cover the area in strips of shapeless Mimic
flesh. 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 the pure-white replica of the lich’s upper body sprang out from it.
“Humanoids are all the same,” it commented. “There’s nothing more I can learn there.”
“What about skin color, Master?” pointed out Xera.
“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, the main reason it kept
creating chalky-white skin was because coloring it was not only tricky, but also a gigantic pain in the lid.
It’s not that the Mimic was lazy, it’s just that it found it unnecessary to put that much effort into
something that didn’t seem to be necessary. It didn’t even bother to color in the skin of its half-chest
half-human form back in Erosa because its height was already much too conspicuous anyway. But, as
Xera had pointed out a few days ago, getting the coloration of the skin, eyes and hair right was
extremely important towards fitting in with humans..
Come to think of it, the only case where Boxxy had attempted to fully color itself in was that one time it
had to pretend to be Fizzy inside her shop, and it had messed up quite badly. Its skin was slightly too
tanned, the eyes were an unnatural yellow and the hair was closer to purple than pink. The only reason it
managed to fool that human was because he was a random passer-by rather than the gnome’s
acquaintance
And so Boxxy decided to give pigmentation a try. Splotches of beige started appearing on the imitation
of Valeria’s body. They expanded outwards across the pure-white skin, as if globs of ink spreading on
paper. The twin-tail hairdo on its head gradually turned black, much like Valeria’s original appearance.
“How’s this?” it asked once it was done.
“It could… use some work, Master.”
The succubus’s words were an understatement. Objectively speaking, her master’s attempt at skin
pigmentation had failed horribly. Various patches of skin were a subtly different color from others,
giving it the freakish appearance of skin that was sewn together from multiple corpses. Even the hair
was noticeably darker and shinier on one side rather than the other.
“Okay, I’ll practice this later,” said Boxxy.
Shapeshift proficiency aside, this was something it had to master if it wanted to successfully blend into a
city. It was quite pleased with Snack’s input, though. She sure knew her stuff when it came to
infiltration. As expected of a conniving, backstabbing bitch of a succubus.
As for Valeria, she was at a loss for words. Having her physical appearance stolen and then toyed with
was nowhere near the vaguely romantic gesture she seemed to have in mind when she made that request.
In fact, she looked to be quite disturbed by it. Well, seeing a parody of her old human form like that was
bound to strike a nerve. Xera was in pretty much the same boat back when Boxxy first started using her
mirrored image to cast Spells, but she had gotten more or less used to it since then.
“Oh, I know!” shouted Kora. “How about combining things?”
“Combining things?”
“You know, like a whatchamacallit! A chimichanga?”
“... Do you mean a chimera?” offered Xera.
“Yeah, that!”
“What’s that?” asked Boxxy.
“It’s an artificially grown species of monster, Master,” explained the succubus. “Its most common
appearance is a four-legged beast that has 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. It’s just that those elves and humans do weird experiments all the time and sometimes
produce different combinations. I think those gryphons this Empire uses might be a type of chimera. I
mean, they certainly weren’t around 150 years ago.”
“Oh, I see. So a chimera might be something like this?”
Boxxy transformed the naked humanoid body sticking out of its maw into a ghastly creature that had
four spider-like limbs for arms, a Murk Dweller claw on each ‘hand,’ a horse’s head with curved ram
horns, a scaly lizard-like tail, a pair of goblin legs instead of nipples, and short brown fur covering
everything else.
“Okay. I was not mentally prepared for that,” said Fizzy.
“I… don’t think any of us were.”
The two demons nodded to show they agreed with Valeria’s statement. It was hard for any of them to
call the Mimic’s current form anything other than horrific or disturbing. And this was coming from a
group of monsters, which meant that regular people would probably end up involuntarily evacuating
their bowels if they ever laid eyes on it. In fact, the steel gnome was silently thanking her God that she
no longer possessed such functions, otherwise she might have seriously put that claim to the test.
At the very least it seemed like her weird stripping habit was under control, though. After all, Boxxy
could see right through her dirty peasant clothes and sturdy steel hide alike. The subconscious part of her
must have realized that stripping herself was pointless, given the circumstances. In fact, just knowing
she’s within its passive perception range was enough to satiate her exhibitionistic tendencies. She had
the strangest feeling she could tell when the Mimic was focusing its attention on her.
That sensation wasn’t just her imagination though. The miniscule waves of mana Boxxy subconsciously
releases to keep track of its surroundings caused a very slight interference with the magic that permeated
the steel golem’s body. This was something her nucleus picked up on and relayed to her consciousness
as the strangely empowering ‘feeling of being watched,’ which drove her to stick as close to Boxxy as
she could. She was a bit worried she might get irritable or tense if she were to be apart from it for too
long, though.
It was this legitimate worry that caused a rather troubling thought to cross her mind.
“Hey, Boxxy,” she called out. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ribbit?”
“Uh…”
Realizing that a croaking horned horse head was not ideal for communication, the Mimic undid its
bizarre transformation and reverted back to a simple chest with Xera’s face poking out the front of it. It
would resume this ‘chimera’ concept later since the idea seemed to have some potential, though it
wasn’t sure whether it would gain much proficiency from it.
“What is it, Fizzy?”

“Your species won’t be a mimic variant when you Rank Up, right?”
“Probably not.”
“Will you still be able to see things the same way as you do now?”
The golem was wondering whether the monster’s magical perception ability would disappear. It was
mostly a selfish concern, though. She was worried her perfectly put together body might not get the
appreciation and attention it deserves if the Mimic could no longer observe it with the same invasive
level of detail.
“... I don’t know,” came the belated answer. “Maybe.”
That question caused Boxxy to be gripped by a sudden foreboding, almost melancholic feeling.
Its species would change with the Rank Up.
This was something it knew full well. However, this time it wouldn’t turn into a variant of what it was,
but a completely different type of monster. This, again, was something that it was aware of. Yet it hadn’t
really considered the implications of it until Fizzy brought it up.
The former gnome had gone through an event which wasn’t too dissimilar from a Rank Up. As a result,
she had undergone a series of radical changes over the last few days, both mentally and physically. In
fact, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that she was still adapting to her new self. And while many things
were gained, seemingly just as many were lost.
Her newfound numbness to pain came at the cost of her sense of touch, smell and taste. She no longer
required food or water, but also lost the ability to ingest healing potions - something the Mimic had
already confirmed using a relatively cheap 25 GP healing potion it had lying around. She had gotten a
deeper understanding of metal through Metallopathy, but at the same time lost the flexibility and
dexterity of a flesh-and-blood body. Even if that last part was alleviated thanks to the effects of a Skill,
one could also interpret it as Fizzy having to give up a Skill in order to retain her old mobility.
Looking at the former gnome’s rather extreme case, combined with that excellent point she raised,
caused Boxxy to suddenly start having second thoughts about this Rank Up. Losing its magical
perception would be a huge blow to the monster. It really couldn’t be understated how invaluable
something like that was to a creature that primarily fought at close range. Let alone how incredibly
convenient it was when practicing its Artificer Job.
And yet, even though those were all valid, practical concerns, the Mimic’s biggest gripe was that it may
need to give up its chesty disposition. Unlike a certain horribly abused woman, it didn’t feel comfortable
letting go of its current form. It had only recently started truly experiencing a sense of self and
establishing its identity as an individual, and it loathed the idea of abandoning those things up so easily.
“But you’ll still be a type of shapeshifter, right?”
The woman in question continued with her line of questioning, completely oblivious to the Mimic’s
inner turmoil. That distraction was hardly a bad thing, though. It helped Boxxy realize that it still had no
idea what Rank Up options would be made available, nor what effects they would have. It quickly
decided that worrying about it before it knew all the details was a waste of effort. It wasn’t putting off a
potentially life-changing decision just because it was afraid of the unknown, okay?
Besides, the gnome was right. It’s not like a mimic could suddenly become a harpy, after all. No matter
what, it should at least continue being a shapeshifter of some kind. Just like how Fizzy would
undoubtedly still be a golem and Valeria would remain a caster-type undead regardless of how many
Rank Ups they experienced. The Paladin’s drastic transition from gnome to golem was caused by a
powerful curse rather than the natural Rank Up process, so it couldn’t even be called an exception. It
was an entirely different scenario.
“Probably,” answered Boxxy.
“So then, can’t you just grow back the thing that gives you that magnificent sight?”
“What?”
“I mean, did you have any eyes when you were born?”
“No.”
“But you can make them with shapeshifting.”
“Yes.”
“So it should be possible for you to recreate the ‘eye’ that lets you see all around you after you Rank Up,
right? I mean, in case you no longer have it.”
“... But I don’t know how to do that.”
“That’s why I’m suggesting you start practicing now, while you still have the chance!”
“Oh, I see! That is a very tasty idea!”
“Hehehehe!”
The steel golem made an unnaturally adorable smile and giggled delightedly at the Mimic’s words.
“Ack!” gasped Valeria. “When did the short one become a love rival?!”
Fizzy wonderfully ignored the worthless whore of a zombie and simply continued basking in the
afterglow of being praised. This was one of the few genuine compliments she had gotten from Boxxy, so
she wasn’t going to allow such a ridiculous insinuation to ruin it. She most definitely did not ‘love’ the
mass-murdering man-eating monster. How did that even make any sense? What she held was a feeling
of respect towards her superior and her caretaker. Boxxy was Fizzy’s mentor as a monster, so its words
naturally carried extra weight. Therefore, the fact that she got super excited whenever those words were
even the tiniest bit flattering was simply a matter of course. Yes, that must have been what this was.
“Okay then,” said Boxxy. “I will give it a try.”
The Mimic made Fizzy’s suggestion a top priority. It had a feeling what it was about to attempt wasn’t
going to be easy, which meant that it would probably lead to a sizable increase in its Shapeshift
proficiency. It turned its gaze inwards, focusing its attention on the very center of its magical perception.
A mimic sensed its surrounding by employing a body part that was surprisingly common among
monsters, something this world’s scholars had named the Mana Locator Gland, or MLG for short. The
curious thing about this organ was that it varied wildly between different species. Janther whiskers,
gryphon beaks, treant roots and dragon horns were all examples of this gland. They were all sensitive to
changes in the ambient mana, although each worked in slightly different ways. A janther’s whiskers, for
example, could detect when a Spell was being cast and be used as a countermeasure to illusions,
invisibility and other magical trickery. A treant’s roots worked in much the same way, except they
sensed magic through vibrations in the soil and would be quite useless against flying threats.
However, none of these creatures’ MLG could compare to that of a naturally sightless monster, like a
mimic, slime or primordial golem. Those species typically had no other senses with which to navigate
their surroundings, so it was only natural that their MLG would be far more advanced. And while, say, a
dragon’s horn provided enough information to be called a second sight, it could only encompass a
conical shape that expanded backwards from its head. It was how those mighty wyrms were able to
protect their blind spots as well verify their body’s condition without having to turn their long necks
around. And yet certain Spells and materials were simply outside the scope of the horn’s detection and
would slip past its second sight.
In short, it could be said that Boxxy’s 360-degree all-scope MLG performance was top of the line. But
no matter how first-rate a sensory organ was, it was impossible to perceive itself. Like an eye trying to
look inwards or a nose trying to pick out its own scent, it was simply impossible for the Mimic to
observe its MLG. Although Boxxy knew where it was, it had no idea as to what it looked like, much less
how it was put together.
But it refused to give up that easily. If it could figure out a way to make an organic wheel, then it should
be able to find a way to look at the source of its magical perception by employing that very same sense.
One obvious solution was to find another mimic and use it as an example. Ah, but would that organ be
exactly the same? Boxxy was a Greater Mimic, so it was highly possible a Lesser Mimic would have a
more degraded version of it. Well, that notion was not particularly relevant as Boxxy didn’t have the
slightest idea where it would find others of its kin.
This was frustrating. If only it had a second MLG, then it would already be-
Boxxy was struck by a flash of inspiration. It had gotten an idea that just might work. It went completely
silent while it started thinking of ways to go about accomplishing it. A plan was slowly being put
together. A dangerous, extreme, and unquestionably painful plan, but one that was necessary if Boxxy
wanted to make sure it didn’t lose one of its most valuable assets due to the Rank Up.
It was a difficult thing, but it was certain it would find a way. This was far from the first time it had
researched its own body, after all. It just had to put all of its limited knowledge to good use and it was
bound to achieve a result. Even a failure was useful as the monster could learn from it. Just like the first
time it tried to grow a set of wheels only to have them violently snap off. Or that one case when it nearly
killed itself by overloading its sensory capacity with eyes. There was also the time it fell off a 50 meter
tall cliff while it was trying to learn to fly.
...
On second thought, perhaps some moderation was in order. You know, just this once.
(74) Core Values 4
The Mimic opened its maw and extended two red tongue-tentacles, each gripping one of its favorite
mithril daggers. The blades flashed ominously as it unhesitantly thrust them into the right side of its
rectangular body and carved into its own flesh. It stifled a painful hiss as its viscous yellow blood
splattered all over the place. The Mend Flesh Skill kicked in immediately and started healing the large
wound with the daggers still stuck inside it. Even more intense pain assaulted the Mimic as its body
failed to close the wound due to the metal blades in the way.
This sudden and inexplicable action sent all of its minions into a panic. From their perspective, the
Mimic had been sitting still ever since it said it would give Fizzy’s idea a try about 10 minutes ago. They
had assumed that it was simply busy doing its shapeshifting thing, so the monster suddenly stabbing
itself like that made them all flip out and lose their shit.
“Be quiet and don’t touch me!” howled Boxxy, and the four women immediately froze in response. “I’m
working here!” it added.
Once it had recovered about half of its lost HP, it disabled the Mend Flesh Skill, steeled its nerve and
ripped its side open even deeper. It then turned Mend Flesh back on for a second or two before gouging
out its own flesh for the third time.
The others could do little but watch over it with a mixture of shock, horror and awe.
Holy fuck! thought Kora. As expected of the boss! No mercy even towards itself!
The four-armed demon was no stranger to pain. It wasn’t as if she didn’t feel it, but had merely grown
accustomed to it. She’d be a failure as a fiend if she was scared of something mundane like being hurt.
Not even losing a limb or being cut in half would stop her from trying to smash her target to bits. Even if
she was reduced to nothing but a head, she’d still try to bite off someone’s ankles and then rip out their
throat. So seeing her master fearlessly go through the pain of gouging out its own insides only made her
opinion of it rise even higher. Kora suddenly found herself thinking that the Mimic not having genitals
was a good thing.
Otherwise it would surely have trouble concealing its house-sized balls.
“So this is how it got out of those restraints…” mumbled Fizzy.
She had always wondered how it broke loose from those mana-suppressing cuffs that were literally
bolted into its flesh, but she never even considered the option that it gouged them out with a knife until
now. The former gnome had to admit that she would not be brave enough to do such a thing if she were
in its place. Even now that she no longer felt pain, the mere thought of harming her flawlessly perfect
body was like sacrilege. She looked down at her shining steel hands and gripped her fists, silently
chastising herself for still being so naive. If Boxxy was not beyond mangling its own body in order to
survive, then she needed to find the courage to do so as well should the time come.
She would need to be capable of at least this much conviction if she wanted to stand by its side rather
than grovel in its shadow.
“Ah, Master…” whispered Xera. “Why must you do this to yourself when I’m right here…”
The succubus was able to somehow grasp what her Master was trying to do. She wanted to help, to offer
herself up in order to be of use to her beloved. Her past self would probably mock her for wanting to
support this heartless, unfeeling monster that would never return her feelings. Indeed, some of her best
work involved making men foolishly destroy themselves for her sake even though they had nothing to
gain from it. The Xera in the past was nothing but a devious woman that only sought pleasure and
entertainment.
Well, that part of her hadn’t really changed. It’s just that, due to various reasons, she wished she was the
one her Master was gouging out right now.
Valeria watched on in total silence, her mind trying to process what was currently going on. She had
been on good terms with the Mimic for only a few days, so there was no way she’d be able to grasp its
personality that easily. If anything, this creature only proved more and more mysterious with each
passing day. It was an enigma wrapped in a shroud of mystery and locked away behind a wall of the
unknown. In fact, the only thing she could say about it was that it was the best lay she had ever had. And
in some ways, that was all the lich needed to know about it right now. The undead woman was certain
the two of them would get much better acquainted in the very near future.
And her wish just might just be sooner rather than later.
“Nasty, come here!”
“Of course, darling ~?!” cooed the lich as she floated next to it. “What can your future bride do for you?
Or… to you ~??”
Boxxy had stopped the self-mutilation once the huge, bleeding gash on its right side was about 20
centimeters deep and 6 centimeters wide. It had splendidly carved out a hole in its flesh, using Mend
Flesh sparingly to make sure its HP didn’t suffer too much, all while preventing the incision from
closing up completely by prying it open with its weapons.
The first part of Boxxy’s impromptu self-surgery was complete.
“Frostbolt the wound!” it ordered.
“Wha?! Th-that’s not what I-”

“Now!”
Why the hell was this woman stalling?! Just because Boxxy was in no danger of dying didn’t mean this
little stunt didn’t hurt like hell!
“F-Frostbolt!” chanted the flabbergasted Valeria.
Her bright blue projectile flew into the wound and splattered all over the Mimic’s insides, freezing them
in an instant. It felt momentarily dazed as the always-on magical perception was disabled for the second
time in its life. The daggers then moved once more as Boxxy broke something off from inside itself. It
then very slowly and carefully coiled a free tentacle around the frozen, apple-sized MLG it had just cut
out of itself and dragged it into the open. It reactivated its Mend Flesh Skill and waited patiently for it to
patch up the massive, self-inflicted wound. A brand new, fully functioning MLG grew back where the
old one was a few seconds later, as if it was never gone to begin with.
This was the solution Boxxy had come up with. Cutting away the organ in question and allowing Mend
Flesh to grow a new one would allow it to, essentially, have two of them. The main reason it had to
resort to this method was because there were some parts of it that it was unable to shapeshift, and the
area around this organ was one of them. Otherwise it could have easily willed it outside its shell or
grown an eye inside its body to observe it.
The Frostbolt was because a shapeshifter’s flesh was unstable. Any severed limbs would turn to
nondescript piles of mush the instant they lost contact with the main body. And although Boxxy wasn’t
sure whether this applied to its unchangeable insides, it wasn’t about to take chances. It really didn’t
want to have to go through this procedure more than once. That’s where Valeria’s Permafrost magic
came into play. Freezing the organ solid meant it should retain its shape even after it was technically
dead.
And now that the ever-useful magical perception had kicked back in, it started feeding Boxxy all kinds
of information regarding the frozen lump of flesh. The Mimic committed as much of it as it could to its
memory before the lump thawed out and started falling apart. Looks like freezing it with magic was the
right move. Granted, observing it in that state wasn’t ideal, but it was a good start.
It then began trying to replicate what it had seen inside its mouth cavity. The Mana Locator Gland it
possessed was a strange hourglass shape that appeared to be two 7-centimeter wide balls connected by a
slim stretch of flesh. The bulbous parts of the gland actually seemed to be made up of dozens of layers
of membranes upon muscles upon membranes upon muscles, all the way down to the dense nerve
cluster at their center.
The Mimic’s groupies were able to somewhat recover from the shock from earlier. Boxxy had healed its
wound and gone silent, indicating that the sudden act of self-mutilation had served its purpose, and the
four women gathered around it had calmed down significantly as a result. They then silently agreed to
give the animate chest some space, lest they distracted it from… whatever it was doing, and moved to a
spot some 15 meters away.
“Uuuu,” whimpered Valeria. “I hope darling doesn’t stop liking me because of this…”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Xera reassuringly.

“Do you really mean that?!”
“Of course. Master has never liked you in the first place.”
“As if! You’re just jealous!”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that, Nasty.”
“Humpf! At least I’m not something meaningless like a Snack!”
“Indeed, woe is me. Forever destined to receive my Master’s attention and provide it with joy. To be
devoured over and over and, hmmm, over…”
“W-well, that’s only because of your supposed flavour,” insisted Valeria. “I’m sure darling can easily
overlook something superficial like that!”
“I doubt that.”
“Ditto.”
The two demons instantly denied her delusions.
“Actually, Boxxy also cares about shiny things,” said Fizzy with a slightly smug look on her face.
“I suppose that’s true,” said Xera, “although you’re not nearly shiny enough to satisfy it.”
“I’m not?!”
“Of course not. Steel just doesn’t have the same luster as gold.”
“Hmm, that’s a good point. Perhaps I should look into finding some metal polish.”
“Could always try using vinegar,” suggested Kora. “One of my brothers said it’s a great way to get the
blood and guts off his spear. Also something about how it made stroking the shaft a lot of fun.”
Fizzy flashed the four-armed demon a suspicious look.
“Was he talking about his weapon or his penis?”
“... Now that you mention it, I’m not really sure. Could be either, or both.”
“Ugh, should have known,” groaned Fizzy.
“Are all demons like this?” asked Valeria with a curious face. The fact that every other word out of
Kora’s throat was a double entendre did not escape her notice.
“Haah,” sighed Xera. “Please don’t judge the rest of us by this meathead’s standards. While it’s true that
all she ever thinks about is fighting and/or fucking, that only applies to fiends.”
“But you don’t seem to be all that different.”
“Of course I am. Unlike that dick-with-legs, I don’t let something like sex dominate my life. I only take
part in it because I don’t see a reason to decline doing things that are pleasurable because of petty things
like pride, honor or dignity.”
“I see… Still, I feel like I’ve been missing out. I should’ve been a Witch rather than a Necromancer.”
Having a fiend familiar sounded like something the rotten woman would enjoy very much. If she knew
more about demons and Warlocks while she was still alive, then she would have made some radically
different life choices.
“Hah,” laughed Xera. “You wouldn’t last a week before your familiar got you killed.”
“As if I’d give them a chance. I’d only be using them for their dicks, anyway.”
“That’s exactly why you’d die, honey. A fiend would rip a girl like you in half without even trying.”
“She’s right you know,” said Kora. “It hurts to say this, but mine’s actually on the small side by fiend
standards. Even then the only reason this bitch over here can take it is because she’s a shapeshifting
demon. Any one of my brothers would shatter your spine on the first thrust if you-”
“Oh my God!” shouted Fizzy. “Are dicks all you meatbags ever think about?!”
“Kinda.”
“Pretty much.”
“More or less.”
Fizzy put her palms over her face and started walking away.
“Where you off to all of a sudden, squirt?”
“I’m going to sit next to Boxxy where I can quietly be appreciated.”
“Hah! Now whose head is filled with lewd thoughts?!” taunted Xera.
“Bet she’s frustrated because she can’t feel anything down there,” jeered Kora.
“Bite my shiny metal ass!” replied Fizzy. She then gave all of them the finger while walking back to the
Mimic’s side.
“How rude!” said Valeria.
“Indeed. I should speak to Master about disciplining that pet more thoroughly.”
“So anyway, tell me more about these brothers of yours, Red!”

“Right, so get this. I have this older brother called Junfirpilak, right? But everyone just calls him
4-head.”
“Let me guess,” said Xera. “It’s because his physical form has two actual heads and two dicks, right?”
“What? No! I mean he does, but that’s not why we call him that. You see he was telling us about this
time with a hydra-”
Several hours passed idly by as Kora and Xera relayed tales they heard from their kin during their time
in the Beyond. Stories like that were one of the main venues of entertainment for demons, so they often
shared interesting experiences among themselves. Kora herself had blabbed incessantly about taking
part in the Calamity during the few weeks of ‘vacation’ she had after her contract was forcefully
terminated. It had made her quite popular among her peers.
Fizzy on the other hand stood seated and completely unmoving next to Boxxy, basking in the knowledge
that the Mimic was keeping an ‘eye’ on her. Even if her golem body didn’t need rest, her gnomish mind
still accumulated stress and mental fatigue, so taking a relaxing break like this every now and then was a
good thing.
As for Boxxy, it had been silently working on replicating the MLG from memory. The two nerve
clusters were quite tricky to replicate, not to mention that hooking it up to its nervous system wasn’t
easy either. Once the organ was reconstructed, it then had to try actually turning it ‘on.’ This proved to
be quite difficult, as this organ’s function was normally autonomous. It briefly considered gouging out
another one, but decided to keep trying as is. After all, painful things were painful, so it wouldn’t subject
itself to them unless it was necessary.
And finally, after dozens of failed attempts, the hourglass-shaped mass of flesh that had grown out of its
tongue finally started pulsating. It vibrated wildly, at a frequency so high that it gave off the illusion that
it was fuzzy, or out of focus. No wonder it had so many layers of springy muscle - this thing would rip
itself apart otherwise.
A second magical perception field started feeding information into the Mimic’s mind, nearly
overloading its mental capacity. Thankfully, unlike the time with the 20 eyes, it had well developed INT,
WIS and MNT Attributes that helped it remain conscious and in control, albeit severely disoriented.
Now that both Mana Locator Glands were capable of seeing each other and Boxxy was able to observe
the original one work in real time, it was able to fine tune its replicate and fix some flaws it had
unwittingly introduced.
It then dissolved the second MLG back into its base components and started reconstructing it from
scratch. It was another hour of work before the MLG became operational again. The sun had long set by
the time it finished.
Proficiency level increased. Shapeshift is now Level 10. END +2. DEX +1. AGI +1.
Wait, wasn’t this too early?! It was only at 71% proficiency when it started, so what was up with that?
Ah, but it worked really hard on this tiny bundle of nerves, so perhaps it made sense in a way. Still, it
wasn’t a bad thing. It was quite confident it could replicate the organ perfectly now, so it decided it was
time to move on.
It immediately called for everyone to gather and let them know it would be Ranking Up, much to their
delight and excitement. However, it would not do so right now. The Rank Up process would likely take
several days, and it did not want to spend that time inside a dungeon. Therefore, it led its posse out of
the dungeon and over to a small opening in a nearby cliff. It was more of a hole at the bottom of a cliff
wall than an actual cave, but it was a far more defendable resting spot than an open field or inside a
dungeon. So, after instructing its minions to stand by, it spoke the long awaited two words.
“Rank Up!”
Rank Up - Mimic (Greater)

The Requirements have been met. You may now Rank Up by using one of the following
options:
Choose Doppelganger
Choose Queen Metal Slime
Choose Queen Shadow Slime
Cancel Rank Up
Doppelganger
Additional Requirements: Biomass Level 5
Effects: Species will become Doppelganger (K̛ ̶4͏̕f̸̴̀i̢%̵l̵̛e͘̕͜>̕).
The Doppelganger Job will be awarded at Level 1 and will become the Main Job.
The Level Cap on the Biomass Skill will be increased by 5.
The Level Cap on the Shapeshift Skill will be increased by 5.
All Attributes +10.
Queen Metal Slime

Additional Requirements: Metal Mimicry Level 5
Effects: Species will become Queen Slime (Metal).
The Queen Slime Job will be awarded at Level 1 and will become the Main Job.
The Metal Mimicry Skill will no longer consume MP.
The Level Cap on the Metal Mimicry Skill will be increased by 5.
All Attributes +5. STR +10. END +10.
Queen Shadow Slime

Additional Requirements: Ruin Mastery Level 5
Effects: Species will become Queen Slime (Shadow).
The Queen Slime Job will be awarded at Level 1 and will become the Main Job.
The Darkness Absorption Skill will be awarded at Level 1.
The Level Cap on the Ruin Mastery Skill will be increased by 5.
All Attributes +5. INT +10. WIS +10.
Okay. Those were more options than it was expecting, but that was hardly a bad thing. Curiously
enough, two of them seemed to be Queen Slime variants. It knew about slimes as it had hunted them as
part of its Quests for the Mercenary Guild back in Erosa. They were amorphous blobs of differently
colored liquid with a small, black nucleus that served as their brain. As far as their shapeshifting ability
went, it was actually quite impressive. They were able to bend their bodies into pretty much any shape
and appeared to be a lot more flexible and free-form than the chest-bound Mimic.
A Queen Slime would logically be a tougher, more advanced version of those that should also be
capable of reproduction and giving birth to other Slimes. Not like Boxxy had any interest in that
particular biological function though. At least, not while it was still a Mimic. The two variants on offer
were pretty obvious as to what they would entail, too.
Metallic Slimes would probably possess a body that was some type of liquid metal and would
undoubtedly be quite durable, especially against physical attacks. The fact that Metal Mimicry would
cost no MP was extremely delicious and quite tempting. Getting that all the way to Level 15 would
probably allow Boxxy to morph its body into a wide range of weapons and/or armor, making it an
extremely deadly combatant.
Shadow Slimes on the other hand appeared to be more proficient in matters of magic rather than martial
combat. It would appear this variant was made available thanks to the Mimic’s rather unique experience
as a Warlock. The Darkness Absorption Skill that was listed would allow Boxxy to replenish its MP by
feeding on darkness-attuned mana from its environment. It also appeared to be capable of absorbing
darkness-attuned Spells like Shadowbolt or Dark Explosion without suffering any damage. This was
bound to increase its survival rate, as MP would translate into HP through use of the Mend Flesh Skill.
But would Mend Flesh even work on a body that was almost entirely composed of liquids? That was an
extremely dubious point since a Monster Job and its related Skills were was closely tied into the
individual’s species.
Ah, but Nasty was a lich that could phase through solid objects. According to the undead, that Skill was
a leftover from her old species as a spectral Banshee. She could still use it, although her non-ghost
species meant that it rapidly consumed MP in order to function. If Boxxy looked at her case as an
example, then it was highly likely that Mend Flesh would suffer some penalty such as increased MP cost
or reduced healing speed, but it would still work. There was also a chance that it wouldn’t suffer any
loss in effectiveness or efficiency, as a Slime’s liquid body was technically the monster’s flesh.
But while the Mimic knew about slimes, Doppelgangers were another story entirely. Boxxy had not
even heard of them, let alone met them. Attempting to inspect the species’ name only gave it a window
full of gibberish, which was pretty much as expected. The Status Screen was incapable of displaying
information about subjects that were completely outside the individual’s scope of understanding. It
already experienced something like this back when it absorbed the Acid Spray Skill from a monster that
had very little in common with a shapeshifting box. In fact, this racial gap was also probably the reason
why the Doppelganger’s variant was left undisclosed, unlike the Queen Slime variants that Boxxy was
somewhat familiar with.
However, there were some things that were readily apparent from the other effects of the Rank Up. For
one thing, the Doppelganger species seemed extremely proficient in both Biomass and Shapeshift. This
meant they were a type of flesh-based shapeshifting monsters that were of a higher order than Greater
Mimics. The potential increase in Shapeshift Level in particular was extremely tasty. Increasing the
Level of this Skill beyond 10 would greatly benefit two of its strongest Skills - Cadaver Absorption and
Mend Flesh. The former would absorb additional Attributes or Proficiency whenever it succeeded, while
the latter would gain a noticeable increase in MP efficiency.
Putting all its thoughts into order, the Mimic was able to summarize each of its choices in a few simple
words each. Would it evolve into an even more versatile shapeshifter as a Doppelganger? Or perhaps the
close combat specialist that was the Queen Metal Slime. The magically-oriented Queen Shadow Slime
could not be easily discounted either.
Each of these options would seem to reinforce a different one of the Mimic’s strengths, but it had to be
careful. All of these deductions were based on educated guesses. Even if those guesses were born from
experience and knowledge, they were still conjectures that could easily prove to be wrong. And while it
was true it was in no particular rush right now, the threat of that man called Edward still loomed over it
like a dark cloud. Boxxy would need to choose, and it would have to do sooner rather than later.
The Mimic thought on this long and hard while its minions were waiting for the Rank Up process to
start with baited breath. This was the most important decision it has had to make in its life, so it would
need to consider many things. Ultimately however, a decision was made, and an option was picked.
“I will be Ranking Up now,” it declared to everyone present. “You are to defend me at all costs!”
“Yes, Master!”
“You got it, Boss!”
“Of course, darling ~?!”
“You can count on me, Boxxy!”
“Arms and Snack - I forbid you from having the sex,” it ordered.
“EEEEEH?!”
Kora let out a weird scream as her face took on a truly shocked expression. She was clearly looking
forward to having nothing but buttsex for the next several days, yet was banned from tapping that sweet
succubus ass seemingly out of the blue. It was as if the Mimic had stolen her sweet roll, eaten it, pooped
it back out and then smeared that poop all over the new sweet roll she had to get when the first one
disappeared. And then stole that one, too!
Xera was much less disappointed than the sex-hungry fiend, to say the least. While it was true she
sometimes shirked her guard duty to take it up the ass, this was different. Her beloved Master would be
left completely defenseless for days on end, and she had a duty to carry out without fail. To say she was
brimming with motivation was an understatement. After all, the succubus’s desire to protect her Master
went well beyond things like orders or contracts. It was personal.
Boxxy did a last pre-Rank Up check to make sure everything was in order and then said the last words it
would speak as a Mimic.
“Then I leave Snack in charge. See you when I wake up.”
It then accepted its chosen Rank Up and went completely, utterly still.
“Is… did it start?” asked Fizzy while staring at it curiously.
*SNAP*
“Gah!” she screamed in shock.
A loud noise like a twig snapping in half came out from the monster that was currently in the shape of a
perfectly unassuming wooden chest, possibly for the last time in its life.
“I would think so, yes,” noted Xera with a bemused expression. “Now then, to our posts! We have a
Master to defend!”
“Ah hah,” chuckled Valeria. “Good luck with that.”
The lich turned transparent and rushed directly at the currently unconscious Mimic. Her ethereal body
glowed a bright green as she disappeared somewhere inside the wooden box like a puff of smoke before
either the golem or the two demons could react.
“What… just happened?” asked Fizzy with a puzzled expression.
“I do believe our resident dead girl,” said the succubus with a surprisingly calm tone, “is currently trying
to possess our Master.”
(75) Core Values 5
Valeria found herself in a strange, gray-colored space. The ground she was standing on was seemingly
made out of countless cubic shapes that varied wildly in size and proportion. Some were as small as rice
grains while others were as big as buildings, but the vast majority of them appeared to be about half a
meter on all sides. They rose up and fell back into the ground all on their own, with a few flying off into
the distance while others came down out of nowhere to take their place and slot themselves into the
floor.
And yet, despite the differences between these shapes, they always seemed to fit together perfectly. It
was as if a gigantic block-based puzzle was currently busy undoing, solving and rearranging itself all at
once. Looking into the similarly gray colored sky and horizon in the distance, Valeria realized that they
were all crawling and shifting. Although she could not be certain, she assumed that this was because the
‘sky’ and ‘horizon’ were actually a ceiling and a wall and were currently undergoing the same odd
process as the floor. Which would mean she was in a gigantic chamber large enough to fit a whole city.
“Can’t say that something like this was unexpected,” she mused out loud, her words echoing slightly.
“But this thing’s mind really is bland, huh?”
Valeria had used her Possession Skill to invade Boxxy’s mindscape, a sort of inner realm that all beings
capable of thought possessed. Her mental avatar had assumed a form that was much like the lich’s
physical body, except it was slightly transparent and seemingly made out of green gas. Her appearance
greatly resembled what she looked like as a spectral Banshee a few months ago.
“Just gotta find the id and chain it down,” she mumbled while looking around the place.
She had to find and restrain the representation of Boxxy’s consciousness, its inner self. Doing so would
give her control of the monster’s mind, as well as its body. It was something she’d done several times
before, although this was her first attempt on a sentient monster.
“Over there, huh?”
Valeria spotted a golden, domed structure in the distance. It was the only noteworthy thing in this
endlessly gray space, so it was the most likely place her target was hiding in. She approached it with a
brisk walk, although the ever-changing terrain slowed her down somewhat. Of course, she had no idea
why this place had such a bizarre appearance.
The people and creatures she had possessed until now had mindscapes that were related to something
that was important to them. That elf she gained control over after breaking out of the dungeon had a
mindscape that was composed of a lush forest with trees so tall that they seemed to go beyond the
clouds. The wolf she tried to posses that other time had a mindscape that appeared to be a very small
cave - most likely its den - with some half-eaten carcasses strewn about.
And yet this Mimic’s mind was this shapeless, indeterminate mass of blocks. It made perfect sense in
some ways, but was completely illogical in most aspects. Then again the same could be said about
Boxxy T. Morningwood as a whole. The fact its mindscape was this barren seemed to suggest it held
very little in high regard, other than the weird structure Valeria was walking towards. She had guessed
that the massive, barn-like building must be where the Mimic had hidden away all of its precious
thoughts, wants and needs. If its ego was anywhere to be found, it would be in there, probably
represented by a small child or a stack of meat - something inane and pitiful like that.
When Valeria reached the larger-than-life golden structure, she realized that it had no doors and no
windows. The lack of an obvious entrance was vexing, but wouldn’t be enough to stop her. What sort of
hostile takeover would this be if she came completely unprepared? She thrust her ectoplasmic hands
forward, intending to phase through the gilded wall in front of her. Her fingertips had barely even
touched the shiny surface before she got an almost overwhelming response from Boxxy’s subconscious.
*SKREEEEEOOOOOOOK*
An ear-splitting noise that was somewhere between a howl and a screech assaulted Valeria’s mental
avatar, forcing her to recoil away from it.
“The hell was that?!”
The Mimic was supposed to be completely and totally incapacitated, right? Its Rank Up should have left
it in a completely defenseless state, both physically and mentally. And yet it still somehow felt her
presence and lashed out at her.
“Heh, of course it wouldn’t be that easy.”
She really should have expected at least some resistance. After all this completely incomprehensible
monster was a Warlock capable of wielding Domination Magic. This meant that not only did it have the
Mental Fortitude (MNT) Attribute, but that it was likely much stronger than her own. And judging from
the strength of that reaction just now, the Mimic’s mind would probably be able to crush her possession
attempt in an instant if it were awake. This monster’s mental strength was surprisingly intimidating, to
say the least.
However, this was Valeria’s best bet of gaining back her freedom, so there’s no way she could give up
this easily.
The lich had never loved, or even remotely liked Boxxy. As if a single fuck could overturn the grudge
this undead being held towards her murderer. The mere thought of such a thing was laughable, to say the
least. All that tentacle orgy did was sate her unnatural lust and allow her calm and calculating side to
resurface. That was the reason for her slightly changed appearance, and not the Agent of Chaos Skill as
Boxxy had mistakenly concluded.
But even if Valeria still wanted to get revenge on her murderer, she was unable to carry it out since her
target held a position of power over her. Her phylactery had been seized, meaning her existence could
easily be snuffed out if she showed the slightest sign of rebellion. That’s why she had silently made the
decision to act the part of the suddenly infatuated and madly-in-love girl in an effort to gain the Mimic’s
trust.
But, as it turned out, that was a bad move. She really should have known such things would not work on
an inhuman monster like Boxxy, but there’s no way she could fault her past self for making that mistake.
After all, not only was that monster surrounded by beautiful, scantily clad women, but its sexual
technique was unlike anything the former whore had experienced. There was no doubt in her mind that it
had taken all three of those girls over and over, especially with how eager that succubus was. It was the
only explanation she could think of for its pointlessly exceptional skill at violating others.
The reason for this prowess was actually rather simple. Boxxy had, intentionally or not, been made
witness to countless sessions of its familiars doing one another. Not to mention it had excellent
anatomical knowledge of the human body. To say it was a virgin at the time would be technically
correct, although to claim it was ignorant about sex would be a horrible mistake.
But Valeria didn’t know that. She had completely convinced herself that the Mimic was a lecherous,
perverted creature that was looking to add another slut to its harem. So acting the part of one seemed
like a good idea at the time. How was she supposed to know that the only reason it knew its way around
a woman’s body so well was because mimics gotta mimic?! However, she was already too invested in
her lie to back out of it by the time she realized her mistake. She couldn’t break off her infatuated
persona without arousing suspicion, so she had to grin and bear it.
It’s not like she didn’t benefit greatly from her brief un-life of servitude though. That Mimic’s guidance
had resulted in Valeria earning a lot of Levels very rapidly. She even got the benefit of that ridiculously
powerful +10 All Attributes from the Grand Theft Arcana Perk. As good as it was to become more
powerful, it didn’t sway her in her purpose one little bit. All undead wanted to take vengeance upon the
living, and Valeria was hardly any different. The only way she would be able to forgive the animate
chest for murdering her in cold blood was if it willingly allowed her to return the favor. Of course there’s
no way it would ever agree to that, not to mention it literally held Valeria’s existence in the palm of its
hand. Or rather, tongue. So the lich had to resort to feigning obedience until a good opportunity
presented itself.
That was easier said than done, though. Having to call that hateful thing ‘darling’ just to maintain her
facade made her incredibly disgusted with herself, to the point where she was sure she’d start violently
vomiting out her insides if that was a function her body still possessed. At the very least that daily dose
of ‘shapeshifting practice’ did wonders to alleviate her stress. Well, just because she was in a shitty
situation didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the little things. Besides, those sessions were one of the main
reasons she was able to keep calm as much as she did. That stupid box really was too skilled at it for its
own good.
But cracks still sometimes showed in her facade. Valeria was never a person with a lot of self control, so
she was bound to slip up eventually. That’s when, much to her relief, she almost immediately heard talk
of this creature preparing for its Rank Up. It was a process she was personally familiar with, having
undergone a Rank Up herself a few months before. That’s how she was certain it would completely
incapacitate Boxxy and leave it vulnerable, which made it the perfect time to strike.
Of course, that was easier said than done, for it still had those leashed guard dogs at its beck and call.
That fiend was a meathead that she could run circles around all day, so she was hardly a threat. The real
problem were the other two - the fire-spewing succubus and the pint-sized Paladin wielding holy magic.
Both of those elements were natural enemies to the undead, making them extremely dangerous. She was
confident she could take either one of them in single combat, but they were sure to attack her together if
she tried anything.
But then again, she didn’t need to face them at all. She just had to gain control of the Mimic, order its
familiars to turn that stupid golem into scrap and then forcibly dismiss the two demons. Watching those
two obediently follow Boxxy’s orders had made her certain this way would work for sure. Then, once
those nuisances were taken care of, she could force the monster to kill itself, retrieve her phylactery
from its corpse and carry on with her un-life. Ideally she’d want to permanently keep control its body in
order to pleasure herself as much as she wanted, but that monster was bound to force her out eventually.
Which meant that when the time came to strike, she had to do so quickly and decisively.
And now that time, her time, had finally come.
Valeria’s mental avatar once again tried thrusting her hands into the gigantic golden wall before her. The
violent screech from earlier came once again, but she grit her teeth and tried to push in further, only to
have the response getting more and more intense. It didn’t take long for it to become unbearable and
cause her to recoil once again.
“Damned monster!” she spat out once her attempt was repelled again. “Just how badly do you not want
others to see what’s inside there?!”
“You have no idea, honey.”
The smooth, oddly melodic voice caused Valeria to turn around in a panic, but she didn’t see anything
but a field of wriggling gray cubes.
“Up here, idiot.”
She threw her gaze upward and her jaw hung open in surprise. The mindscape’s ceiling had arranged
itself into a slightly blocky version of Xera’s face. The succubus’s smug visage must have been
hundreds of meters long and at least a kilometer away from Valeria’s perspective.
“You?! How?!” screamed the lich.
“You underestimate a Cerulean Succubus, honey,” said the gigantic Xera. “Peeking inside other people’s
heads is one of my specialties you know ~♪!”
“But- How are you able to invade this thing’s mind?! Weren’t you demons forbidden from taking hostile
action against your master?!”
“Oh my, invading? I would never do such a tasteless thing ~♪! Simply looking around never hurt
anybody you know ~♪!”
The succubus’s cheerful visage turned deadly serious in the next instant.
“Besides, I am following my Master’s orders. Which is to say I am protecting it from an upstart little
cunt who does not know her rightful place.”
“Humpf,” scoffed Valeria. “You’re out of your element, bitch! I’m capable of completely suffocating
your precious master’s will, whereas the only thing you can do is toy with dreams and memory. None of
that is going to affect me!”
“See, you have a point there. As The Walking Dick likes to say, mindfuck-y magic does not work on the
undead such as yourself. However, it is possible to mindfuck someone by proxy. Allow me to
demonstrate.”
The huge, gray room suddenly sprang to life. Thousands of cubes flew out of the walls, floor and ceiling
like a swarm of giant insects. They silently and expertly started combining into various complex shapes
while also cycling through a multitude of colors. Valeria suddenly found herself standing on the floor of
what appeared to be a basement. It was oddly familiar, similar to the one in that tower where she had
hidden her phylactery. Only with three major differences.
Firstly, this one was well-stocked, and torches were lit. Secondly, there were a total of three people in
this scene. Well, two people and a chest suspended inside a cage. And thirdly, her relatively tiny size
made her feel like an ant, or a mosquito. The cage, the chest, the grizzled old man and the black-haired
woman were all the size of mountains from her perspective. Looking around in a panic, the spectral lich
realized that the large, slightly misshapen building she was trying to break into had up and disappeared
somewhere.
“I hope you enjoy this one,” came Xera’s voice from somewhere. “I’m sure it will be a lot of fun. For
me, that is.”
That’s when the blocky scene around her started moving.
“Interesting,” said the titanic shape of the old man. “Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah bring it back to
headquarters blah blah blah blah blah blah details blah. Blah blah blah blah blah Arcaneum blah blah.”
“What… is this?” mumbled Valeria, unable to comprehend what was going on.
The giant man turned his attention to the woman next to him. Now that the lich actually bothered to pay
attention to both of them, she noticed a really odd discrepancy. The man’s face and body were perfectly
constructed and entirely lifelike, yet the woman was… not. It’s like her body was composed of large
bricks rather than skin and hair, giving her an extremely undefined and rather unflattering figure.
“Blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah. Zone, get rid of blah blah Jobs.”
“Blah blah blah blah Warlock Job blah?”
“Blah blah. Blah blah blah memory blah. Do it blah.”
The cubic woman then stepped inside the cage with the suspended chest that had a face sticking out of it.
Numerous tentacles sprang out of the chest and attempted to accost the woman, but to no avail. She then
put what Valeria assumed was her hand onto the chest’s lid and spoke three words.
“Job Removal: Warlock.”
The scene turned a violent red. The entire mindscape started vibrating and shuffling wildly while an
incredibly sharp screech filled Valeria’s consciousness. Next thing she knew, the lich was on her hands
and knees, panting heavily. The room around her had returned to its neutral gray state, and the building-
sized lump of gold had reappeared in front of her.
“Haah, haah, haah! What the hell, haah, was that?! Haah!”
“This is just one of my Master’s memories.”

Xera’s giant face had reappeared on the distant ceiling.
“Seems the associated trauma had caused it to become somewhat repressed and garbled, but it
remembered pain pretty well, wouldn’t you say?”
Her face turned positively melancholic as she continued to speak.
“Ah, that was a terrible moment for me as well. To be separated from Master so unjustly, truly a
horrifying experience. That was hardly the first or the last, though. In fact, I think I should share some
more with you. Here, how about… this one!”
The lich was then made to go through an extremely detailed recollection of Boxxy battling the
Fleshmaiden. Intense pain reverberated through the room every time the yet-unnamed-Mimic had
received a wound from the agile monster it was fighting. The final Spell it threw at her using all of its
MP carried over the feeling of exhaustion that made it impossible for Valeria’s projected self to even
stand up.
“That was a good fight, wasn’t it?” said the succubus as if narrating. “A pity I could not do more, but I
like to think I helped in my own way. I was pretty instrumental for this next one though!”
Next came the memory of the Mimic holing up in the ground just as the Calamity was going off in the
distance. It accurately relayed the sensations of that city-scale explosion washing over the Mimic right
onto Valeria, who could do little but breathe heavily under the strain. Even if it was imagined or
remembered pain, that still made it very real to the woman who had invaded this place.
“Oh, I know! How about this one! It’s very recent so it’s still fresh ~♪!”
The lich’s green face drew pale as she recognized the scene that had taken place less than a day before,
where Boxxy unhesitantly carved out its own MLG. The pain that was then broadcasted to the
unfortunate lich was so thorough, so devastating that she almost felt herself break apart.
“Had enough yet, honey? I can re-play that one over and over as much as you want, you know ~♪! Ah,
but you know what they say, variety is the spice of life ~♪!”
It was then followed by the time Boxxy cut away the mana-sealing restraints to escape from Edward’s
cage, and Valeria once again felt its pain reverberate and seep into her as if it was her own.
“You… Haah, haah… You won’t stop me so easily!” insisted Valeria. “It doesn’t matter how many times
you do that, you will not succeed! Torment me all you want, but you still cannot force me out without a
Priest ritual, and you know it!”
“Force you out? That’s not what I’m doing here.”
“... Huh?”
“I’m merely having a bit of fun. You know how say torture exists solely for the torturer’s sake.”
The succubus then showed an extremely lecherous smile.

“Besides, I get to feel Master’s painful memories too. They’re quite, hmmmm, exquisite ~♪!”
“So what, do you plan to keep distracting me until your Master wakes up? That’s a pretty pathetic
strategy you have there.”
The lecherous smile turned into a wide shit-eating grin.
“You know I can just crush your phylactery at any given moment, right?”
“As if! That thing is inside your master’s body! None of you lapdogs can dig it out without this fucking
box’s permission! Not even that insufferable gnome!”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, honey. The master doesn’t have your precious gilded egg. I do.”
“Yeah right! Nice bluff! You think I wouldn’t notice if you were carrying around something like that?!”
“Fufufufufu. I knew full well you’d be trying something fishy during the Rank Up, which is why I made
some arrangements. Here, let me show you.”
The mindscape warped once again. It showed the inside of the labyrinth, and Boxxy and Xera standing
next to each other.
“Master, I think you should let me hang onto Nasty’s phylactery,” said the giant representation of the
succubus.
“Why?” asked the extra-large Mimic.
“It might break if you keep it inside your body while it undergoes massive changes. Wouldn’t want that,
right?”
“That’s a good point. Here, take it.”
Boxxy took out the gilded egg-shaped phylactery from its mouth and handed it to Xera. However, the
succubus did not accept it right away.
“Master, I will need your assistance in order to hide it from her. She might get some weird ideas if she
saw me carrying it around.”
“I see. Then the usual place?”
“Yes, please!”
Xera turned herself around, knelt down on the ground and presented her ass to the chest. Her versatile
spaded tail then removed her lower garment, exposing her slightly damp nether lips and tight asshole to
the cool night air. Boxxy then proceeded to roughly shove the phylactery into the succubus’s anus. The
demoness moaned and squealed in pleasure as her rectum distended to truly inhuman size in order to
accept the 10 centimeter wide object.
Valeria watched in abject horror as her soul’s vessel was used as an oversized butt-plug. The memory
was positioned in such a way that she got front row seats to the show, too. Once the last of the priceless
object had disappeared somewhere inside Xera’s butt, the succubus looked over her shoulder with a face
twisted by pleasure.
“Thanksh, Mashteeer!” she slurred her words. “You’re the beeeesht!”
The scene faded away into gray nothingness after a few seconds.
“Do you understand now? Your shitty little soul is firmly lodged deep inside my shit-chute. Right.
Where. It. Be. Longs.”
“You… sick, twisted, evil, conniving bitch!” spat out Valeria.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, honey. Or should I say, darling? Ah hahahahaha!”
The lich collapsed on her knees. Her little rebellion had been over it even began.
“In any event,” continued Xera, “I think I’ve had enough fun for now. I should really not disturb my
Master’s Rank Up anymore. So, goodbye Nasty thing. I shall be sure to wipe your pitiful existence from
my memory.”
Her face disappeared from the ceiling. A second later, Valeria felt a sharp pain wash over her, rolling in
from somewhere far away. Her projected self then split apart like a puff of smoke, leaving nothing of
herself behind. The lich called Valeria Vortena had finally been sent to her eternal rest.
Boxxy’s mindscape remained entirely undisturbed at her passing. Its many cubes continued idly sliding
in and out of its walls, floor and ceiling as if nothing had happened, their owner blissfully unaware of
what had just transpired. Truthfully speaking, Valeria’s little coup had been doomed from the start, even
without the succubus’s interference. The large golden building she tried to penetrate was actually the
very thing she was looking for. If she had looked at it from a distance, or maybe at a different angle, she
might have realized how truly futile her efforts were.
Because the only noticeable thing in that vapid and depressingly empty mindscape was a gigantic gilded
treasure chest - the representation of the Mimic’s own sense of self-worth. Massive, solid, unflinching,
pointlessly shiny and tightly closed off.
As expected of a selfish, stubborn monster that only truly cared about itself.
(76) Core Values 6
“I’m back,” called out Fizzy as she walked into the shallow cave.
“‘Sup squirt?” answered Kora. “Got a big one this time, huh?”
The small golem was dragging the body of an exceptionally large twin-tailed wolf by its fluffy tails into
the shallow cave.
“Yeah. Think this one’s the alpha,” she said. “What’s Snack doing?”
The form of Boxxy’s other familiar could be seen sitting next to the dormant chest some 10 meters
away, right at the back of the cave. She was staring intently at her slumbering master while keeping both
hands on the chest’s lid.
“She’s checking on the Boss’s mind since she’s worried that undead bitch might be up to something.”
“But she should be gone, right? We smashed the thing that held her rotten soul and everything.”
Xera had evacuated the ex-lich’s phylactery from her bowels the instant Valeria had started her pitiful
attempt at possessing Boxxy. The image of a succubus laying a golden egg was something neither Fizzy
nor Kora expected to see that day. Or at all, actually. Once that particular spectacle was over with,
though, she went to her Master’s aid with her Dreamweaver Skill. It didn’t violate the contract since, as
she had stated at the time, she was only looking.
Still, that monster’s mindscape was completely different when it was unconscious compared to when it
was simply asleep. Xera didn’t think there would be much going on inside, but even in its sleep that
place was a turbulent, ever-changing maelstrom of fragmented thoughts and images. She almost vomited
after the first time she tried that, even though her conjured body wasn’t capable of such a thing. It caused
the succubus to shudder at the thought of what was actually going on in there while the monster was
active.
That’s why the seemingly unnatural calmness she saw when she rushed to her Master’s aid took her by
surprise at first, though it made sense considering the Mimic’s condition. After all, being unconscious
was slightly different from merely being asleep. Having one’s consciousness completely shut off
naturally made them more prone to, as Kora put it, ‘mindfuck-y magic.’ Xera had to give that lich some
credit for picking the most opportune time to strike. Honestly speaking, Valeria would have been ripped
to shreds if she had attempted to invade it at any other time.
However, the most surprising thing Xera saw when actually peered inside that mindscape was that the
lich’s mental projection was so… tiny. The mindspace that normally looked big enough to fit a castle or
two probably seemed ludicrously big from the lich’s perspective. What’s more, her size reflected just
how powerless she actually was, much to Xera’s relief. There was simply no way that pitiable creature
would be able to chain down and dominate Boxxy’s ego. It was like an ant trying to topple a mountain.
As for the reason why Valeria had been reduced to such a state, it was because her opponent was bad.
That Mimic had amassed a deceptively high MNT Attribute of around 200, although it still couldn’t
compare to Xera’s. Even if it did, the succubus was a demon who was naturally adept at mental combat.
She was able to peer into pretty much everyone’s mind as long as they were asleep, even her Master’s.
However, Valeria’s own MNT Attribute was pitiably low in comparison, not to mention her relatively
weak-willed nature that made her ill-suited to such tasks. On the other hand, Boxxy’s stubborn nature
and simplistic, almost primal way of thinking had made its mind surprisingly durable. The difference in
mental fortitude was so extreme, that even its subconscious was enough to completely suppress the
lich’s pitiable attempts at possession.
So after confirming the would-be invader was actually powerless, the succubus probed the Mimic’s
mind in order to replay a few memories and toy with her a little. The fact that Boxxy’s remembered pain
was seeping into the lich’s mental projection proved that it was her will that was being dominated, not
the other way around. Xera of course also felt it flow into her, although that was only because she
allowed it.
Well, she could have outright killed the lich, but that would be too easy. Too boring. Watching her suffer
for a bit was quite entertaining. Sharing in her Master’s tortured past had proven to be a treat on its own,
although it had a rather bittersweet aftertaste. It was, after all, not ‘real’ pain. Once she was done having
her fun, the succubus returned to the waking world and told Kora to smash the phylactery to
smithereens. Something the fiend did with great pleasure.
“I even used Consecrate on the debris for good measure,” continued Fizzy.
“I know, but she’s getting rather paranoid,” said Kora dejectedly. “She thinks a fragment of that lich
might have stuck to the boss’s mind and interfering with the Rank Up.”
“Well, it has been almost 5 days now. That’s considerably more than the 2 or 3 days she said it would
take.”
“Just because the boss is taking a while doesn’t mean something’s wrong. Maybe it’s a normal thing.”
“Hmm, maybe,” said Fizzy while tossing the dead wolf she was dragging onto a pile of corpses.
“By the way, aren’t you gonna toss away some of the older bodies in there?”
The fiend and the succubus would be more than enough to repel anything that might wander by, so
having all three of them around was overkill, to say the least. That’s why Boxxy had ordered Fizzy to
prepare ‘breakfast’ for when the Mimic woke up after its Rank Up. It remembered how abnormally
starved it felt after the first time it went through it, so it commanded that a feast be prepared in advance.
Which is why the pint-sized Paladin had go off into the woods, pummel every living thing she ran across
into mush and then drag it back to the cave and pile it up in the corner. Admittedly the golem had gone
slightly overboard and gathered the corpses of well over 30 creatures, but it wasn’t all bad since she
managed to raise her Metal Golem Job to Level 18 in the process.
The main problem Kora had with that, is that the gnome had started hunting 3 days ago.
“This place is starting to smell worse than that dead bitch,” she complained with a grimace.
“That so? Wonder why that happened,” said Fizzy with mock wonderment.
“Living things rot, you know!”
“Ah, there was something like that. I see, I see, so that’s how it was. Sounds really bothersome.”
“Stop nodding to yourself and fucking do something about it!”

“Why should I? I’m not the one with a problem here.”
“I can’t carry them far enough away from the cave because I have to stand by the boss’s side!”
“Still failing to see how this is any of my concern.”
“Why you little-!”
“Will you two stop flirting?!” came Xera’s voice from behind Kora.
“Who the hell’s flirting?!” they answered in unison.
“Just shut up and get over here! I think the Master’s waking up!”
Kora and Fizzy immediately dropped their bickering and went over to the presumably former Mimic.
However, looking at the state of that wooden chest made the gnome realize why the succubus suddenly
got worried. It was looking fine until she left for her hunting trip a few hours ago, but it had suddenly
become quite rotted, for lack of a better word. The polished wooden surface had become splintery and
pitch black, not to mention it looked like it was crumbling apart. It was almost as if the monster had
contracted leprosy or some other, equally unpleasant disease.
A series of loud snapping noises came out from the wooden chest in rapid succession. Xera jerked
slightly in surprise and backed away from it slightly. The rotting faux-wood surface then quickly fell
apart and collapsed into a pile of formless, dead flesh. Inside it was a small blob of viscous, pitch-black
jel. A pair of round yellow eyes showed up on its surface, reflecting the sparse light pouring in from the
outside. They stared at Xera, then Kora, then Fizzy.
“Master?” asked the succubus meekly.
The monster responded to Xera’s words by staring directly at the succubus with vicious intent, as if a
predator sizing up its next meal. It would appear the creature was hungry, just as expected. Those yellow
orbs then noticed the pile of wolves, bears, deer, goats and other assorted dead bodies. In the next
instant, the pitch-black glob of slime exploded as something smaller than even Fizzy leapt out of it and
buried itself into that mountain of decaying flesh.
*HROMP CRUMP HRUMF MUNCH SQUISH*
A cacophony of thoroughly disgusting noises came out of the 4-meter tall mound of flesh, bone and fur,
which was rapidly decreasing in volume.
“Holy shit! Look at it go!” cheered Kora.
“I knew Boxxy was a big eater, but that’s something else…”
Fizzy had honestly expected the prey she’d gathered to last for several days at the least. However, the
sheer speed at which the former Mimic was devouring it made her doubt whether it would actually be
enough.
“Uuu, Master! No fair! You should’ve eaten me first!”
A trio of dark-colored tendrils shot out from somewhere in the disfigured body pile and wrapped around
Xera before pulling her into it. She screamed and wailed a few times before going utterly silent.
“Hey, Kora? Was that okay?” asked Fizzy.
“Well… I mean she got what she wanted… So, it’s probably fine?”
“I thought Boxxy can’t get nutrition from you guys though.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Doesn’t mean it can’t use is as seasoning though. I doubt the rotten meat tastes very
good.”
“I see…”
“By the way, did you get a good look at what the boss looked like?”
“Not really. It just zoomed past my head before I even realized it. I couldn’t track it with my eyes at all.”
“Yeah, same here…”
The remaining two women stared with a mixture of amazement and morbid curiosity as a veritable
storm of gnashing, ripping and slurping swept up every last corpse that Fizzy had brought.
Proficiency level increased. Biomass is now Level 10. All Attributes +1.
Not even blood was left on the floor by the time Boxxy was finished with it.
“Boxxy?” called out Fizzy.
The small humanoid figure stopped licking up the floor, stood up and turned around to face her. It
looked like a rather malnourished child that was 7 or 8 years old. Although it appeared to be shorter than
the steel golem when it erupted from the black goop, it had rapidly grown to about 120 centimeters in
height. The arms and legs were gangly and seemed incredibly thin and fragile. The feet had no toes and
the hands had only four fingers each. Its skin was a wrinkled mass of gray flesh that seemed to crawl
and undulate all on its own.
It had a rather elongated head that was freakishly wide at the top, almost like an upside-down pear. The
chin was oddly pointed, giving the face a triangular look. Or rather, it would if the monster actually had
a face. There was no nose, no mouth, no ears and even the circular eyes seemed like they were glued
onto its smooth surface.
“What is it?” it spoke with no apparent mouth. The voice was quiet, almost like a whisper.
“You, uh, missed a spot.”
Fizzy pointed at the leg of boar that had been ejected from the corpse pile during the feeding frenzy and
landed several meters away from the carnage. Boxxy looked at it and its eyes seemed to light up a bit. Its
featureless face split open vertically, almost as if it was a book, and revealed a large maw with countless
needle-like teeth. A long red tongue shot out of it and wrapped itself around the last morsel before
gobbling it down in an instant. The monster then let out a satisfied burp at the filling, though not exactly
satisfying meal.
“So, Boss. I take it you’re a Doppler Gangster now?”
“Doppelganger,” corrected Boxxy.
Rank up complete.
Congratulations! Your species has become Doppelganger (Juvenile).
All Attributes +10.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 1 Doppelganger! All Attributes +2.
The Doppelganger Job is now your Main Job.
The maximum Level of your Shapeshift Skill has been increased to 15.
The maximum Level of your Biomass Skill has been increased to 15.
This was the first thing Boxxy’s consciousness had seen when it woke up. It had put off dealing with it
due to the sheer amount of hunger coursing through it until this very moment. The former Mimic and
current Doppelganger had never, ever felt ravenous starvation like that before. It silently praised its past
self for having the foresight to arrange for that massive breakfast to be prepared ahead of time.
As for the reason it chose it over the Queen Slime variants, that was rather obvious. It wasn’t sure
whether it could coax the Queen Slime’s gelatinous body into the shape of a human. The fact its Mend
Flesh Skill might stop functioning did not make it feel any better about those options, either. So in the
end it had decided to go with what appeared to be the safest option and picked the species that obviously
had the more advanced shapeshifting capability. However, the now-awake Boxxy was already lamenting
the loss of its old body due to a couple of immediately apparent problems, the first of which was what
Kora was about to point out.
“How come you’re so tiny?”
“Because this body is still young.”
“And uh… Where exactly did you pack away all that?” continued the curious Kora. “I mean, there
must’ve been tons of meat in there…”
“It’s right here.”
The newly born Doppelganger patted its narrow chest.
“You packed all of that away inside that tiny body?”

“Yes.”
“How?!”
“Because I’m a Doppelganger.”
Doppelganger (Species)
An extremely versatile shape-shifting monster that is thought to be nearing extinction. A

doppelganger’s flesh is incredibly dense and compact when compared to that of most other
species, allowing it to gain body mass many times heavier than it would appear to be at
first. This concentrated muscle and tissue can be expanded to adopt a shape much bigger
than itself.
Doppelgangers can reproduce naturally by mating with an enlightened female that is

already pregnant and infecting the fetus with a strip of its parasitic flesh. When the child is
born, it has completely bonded with this foreign flesh, which then starts slowly replacing
all of the child’s body with replicated doppelganger tissue. The enlightened child is
unaware that this is going on and is completely replaced by the encroaching monster by the
age of 10 if left untreated, at which point it fully becomes a Juvenile Doppelganger.
Doppelgangers come in two main variants - Juvenile and Adult. A Juvenile is weaker and
more limited in its shapeshifting capability when compared to an Adult, although it is still
quite formidable when compared to other shapeshifters. Fully fledged adults also have
access to a basic form of telekinesis.
This would be the window Boxxy would see if it bothered to inspect its newly acquired species. It didn’t
really need to do that though, as knowledge of its new body had been bestowed upon it during the Rank
Up process. This was different from Fizzy, who had changed species because of her ‘curse’ and did not
even know how her body was put together at first. Boxxy, on the other hand, had been literally reborn as
a Doppelganger, so its body already felt completely like its own. That lich Valeria should have gone
through something similar when she graduated from being a Banshee.
Speaking of which-
“Where’s Nasty?”
“She tried to betray you,” answered Kora, “so we had to break her stupid egg and kill her. Or is that re-
kill her? Un-undead her? Yeah, we un-undeaded her.”
“That’s too bad.”
“What, really?!” spoke up Fizzy. “You actually feel sorry for that contemptuous whore?!”
“No. I wanted to keep the shiny egg.”
“Oh.”
“Anything left of it?”
“... No. The fragments of it caught on fire and crumbled to ash when I used Consecrate on them. Snack
wanted to be extra careful and I agreed with her.”
“Arms, is this true?”
“Yeah, it is. Bubble-butt’s the one that told us to smash it in the first place.”
“I see. Can’t be helped then. Oh, that’s right!”
Boxxy had just realized it had eaten Xera during its feeding frenzy earlier. Rotting flesh could still
provide it with nutrients, but it tasted horrible. The monster ended up almost unthinkingly adding a tasty
Snack to its meal in order to season it a bit, as it were. She wasn’t as much as help as Boxxy had
thought, though. Regardless, that particular meal was over now, so it proceeded with re-summoning the
succubus, who greeted it the moment she appeared.
“Congratulations on your Rank Up, Master,” she said with a wide, blissful smile on her face.
Her beloved Master was alive and healthy and she got to enjoy servicing it in her capacity as a Snack.
Therefore, she really had no complaints about the situation. Well, except one.
“Excuse me Master, but are you well?”
“I am. Why?”
“Because you’re curled up on the floor…”
“Yeah,” chimed in Fizzy, “you remind me of my old, worthless self when you do that.”
“... I miss being a chest,” admitted Boxxy.
This was the other major problem it had with its new species. The former Mimic felt strangely exposed
and vulnerable now that its faux-wood shell had been taken away from it. Just because it was its own
body didn’t automatically mean it felt comfortable in it. Even if it was a completely different species, the
50 Levels of its Mimic Job still showed a good amount of influence on its behavior. It still wanted to eat
tasty things and hoard shiny things, just like before. It could be said that Boxxy felt like a sentient
treasure chest on every level except physical.
“But… you’re this master shapeshifter or something now, right?” asked Kora
“Yes.”
“So… can’t you like, I don’t know, become a chest if you wanted to?”
“...”
Of course, why didn’t Boxxy think of this sooner! It grew out a thick slab of flesh from its back, which
quickly wrapped itself around the gray skinned child with a misshapen head. It quickly bloated in size
and became oddly rectangular, recreating the former Mimic’s original chesty visage in a matter of
seconds. An MLG was rapidly grown and placed in the exact same spot the old one was. The lid opened
to reveal numerous dagger-like teeth and a long, fleshy tongue, ready to devour unwitting adventurers on
the spot. Boxxy even went as far as sprouting the same set of eight spider legs and that one cat-like eye
on its front.
“Much better,” came a voice from deep inside the faux-wood box.
To say the monster sounded relieved would be an understatement. For if there was one thing that Boxxy
T. Morningwood absolutely loved, it was large chests.
“A shame,” muttered Xera. “I think Master’s childish form was quite adorable. Then again, being
devoured by a gray-skinned child doesn’t have the same visceral impact as being ripped limb from limb
by a massive set of teeth. Ah, but if only that part was eaten then maybe-”
Fizzy stared wide eyed as the succubus mumbled about how she was looking forward to being devoured
in new, exciting ways.
“She really is fucked in the head, isn’t she?” she whispered to Kora.
The golem had become aware of the succubus’s perversions during this short week they spent together,
but she had no idea just how deep that rotten rabbit hole went until just now. It was way beyond a simple
hobby at this point.
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” answered the fiend. “I mean, I’d tell you to watch out so you don’t become
a hopeless pervert like her, but it’s probably too late for that.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Fizzy.”
“Yes, Boxxy, what is it?”
The golem’s misgivings were instantly forgotten when she realized Boxxy had walked up to her.
“You’re not shiny. Why?”
Her previously spotless steel frame was covered in dried up blood and bile from all those monsters she
had been fighting. Her clothes did not fare much better, either.
“Oh. Yeah…”
The splatter was particularly bad on her left, shield-bearing side since she used Armored Charge a bit
too much. How was she supposed to know deer were capable of squirting out so much blood at once?!
Then again, splattering them against the ground like rotten tomatoes was entirely her own doing.
“I’ve been too busy hunting,” explained Fizzy, “so I didn’t have the chance to wash it all off and now it’s
gone all sticky.”
“Shall I clean you?”
“You can do that?! I mean, yes, please!”
The Mimic - or rather the Doppelganger pretending to be a Mimic - opened its maw and coiled its
tongue around her. She didn’t even have time to gasp as she was instantly dragged into its mouth. The
fact it was able to manhandle the heavy lump of steel so easily already spoke volumes at what those
extra-dense muscles were capable of. Boxxy then proceeded to roll Fizzy around inside itself for about
30 seconds, after which it opened its maw and placed her back where she was just moments before.
The gnome panted heavily, and stared down at her drool-covered steel palms, processing what she just
experienced. The monster had licked every nook and cranny of her body with dozens of tiny tongue-
tentacles. It slobbered all over her fingers, inside her mouth, around her entirely decorative genitals and
even between her ass cheeks. Not a single spot of her body was left untouched or unprobed.
And yet, she wasn’t feeling disgusted, violated or even appalled by this obscene act.
“Ohhh! I’m practically sparkling!”
She was ecstatic.
“I think I look better than I did the day I was born! You even managed to scrub most of the blood out of
my outfit! Thanks a bunch, Boxxy! I really needed that!”
“You’re welcome,” replied the monster in good humor.
It’s main purpose was to restore the steel golem’s sheen. While it couldn’t be compared with gold, shiny
things were still shiny. Besides, the dried up filth stuck to her body turned out to be surprisingly tasty, so
it enjoyed the act a bit more than it expected at first.
“I rest my case,” said Kora, more to herself than anyone else. The fiend honestly felt like she was the
only one in the group who wasn’t a sexual deviant, despite being a violent rapist herself.
“So what now, Master?” asked Xera once she recovered from her fantasies.
“Now, we head north,” answered Boxxy. “We still have to complete Operation: TASTYCOCK.”
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Doppelganger
Species STR 266 LCK 142 Doppelganger 1 0%
(Juvenile)
Sex N/A DEX 305 MNT 211 Mimic 50 MAX
Age 5 months AGI 284 CHR 121 Warlock 25 MAX
Guild END 427 PER 114 Artificer 12 88%
2401/2401
HP INT 343
(+8.4/sec)
1715/1715
MP WIS 267
(+2.6/sec)
Skill List
Summon
Assassination 9 64% 9 72% Shapeshift 10 18%
Familiar
Power
Storage 9 41% 8 46% Stealth 10 MAX
Overwhelming
Cadaver
7 55% Demonology 6 38% Lockpick 1 25%
Absorption
Crystallize Sword
Biomass 10 8% 7 28% 7 53%
Magic Mastery
Natural Clockwork Projectile

10 MAX 4 4% 7 21%
Armor Expertise Mastery
Metal Explosives Dagger

8 23% 2 10% 10 MAX
Mimicry Handling Mastery
Chaotic Ruin
Mend Flesh 7 64% 1 MAX 9 42%
Disposition Mastery
Adaptive Agent of Domination

3 31% 1 MAX 6 75%
Defense Chaos Mastery
Essence Shield
Acid Spray 9 45% 1 MAX 6 51%
Concealment Mastery
(77) Interlude A Neighborly Chat

The Aether. A plane of reality that existed alongside the mortal world, although it wasn’t exactly parallel
to it. If one were to come up with a relation between the two, then ‘perpendicular’ would probably be
the closest. This Aether was the home of the Gods and Goddesses that preside over the physical realm.
However, rather than a single world where all the divine beings lived together, it was actually a
collection of smaller worlds. Each deity had their own Divine Area, their own pocket of reality in which
they had absolute authority. Calling this space a ‘divine neighbourhood’ would be much more accurate
than simply ‘the realm of the Gods.’
It was one such Divine Area that belonged to the God of Chaos. The seemingly infinite white space was
currently occupied by two large objects of note. One was a large red sofa with comfortably soft
cushions, upon which the God himself was seated. The other was a gigantic wooden frame that floated
in mid-air and relayed images and audio of the one Boxxy T. Morningwood to the God of Chaos in real
time.
This monster was the Hero of Chaos, chosen by the God in question entirely because of its entertainment
value. Indeed, the only reason this divine being was observing it in the first place was because that had
recently become his favorite pastime. He had analyzed that creature and determined the innumerable
ways its fragile existence could end, and yet new possibilities seemed to crop up every other week.
To say that the God of Chaos found this creature ‘interesting’ would be a gross understatement.
“-Operation: TASTYCOCK,” came the monster’s voice from the screen.
“Pfft!” spat out the God of Chaos. “I’ll never get over that one, I swear!”
He reached into the small cardboard box he was holding, grabbed a fistfull of popcorn and eagerly
stuffed it into his face. He munched on it delightfully as he mused over its current situation.
“Kind of a shame it went for Doppleganger,” he said to himself, “but I can’t really say anything when I
gave it free reign, huh?”
The divine being was hoping its Hero would opt to for one of the Queen Slime options for its Rank Up,
but that unfortunately did not happen. Looking at all the variables, there was an overwhelming 96%
chance for it to Rank Up into a Doppelganger, which was why he didn’t particularly enjoy that outcome.
Still, he had high hopes for the future. Boxxy was a creature that had already surprised the God of Chaos
numerous times, and he absolutely loved surprises.
The most recent one was the way its bumbling, unthinking actions had caused that gnome to completely
abandon her flesh and become a steel golem. Most surprising of all was how, despite all the abuse and
suffering it put her through, she somehow ended up wholeheartedly supporting the monster that single-
handedly ruined her life. This result was far more exciting than the mundane future where she would
inevitably be eaten before the Mimic had even made it back to civilization. The God of Chaos had to
admit that his latest Hero was already shaping up to be far more competent than that lizard guy he forced
the title on a few years ago.
*KA-KLINK*
A loud sound like glass breaking echoed through the Divine Area. A series of cracks with a spiderweb
pattern appeared in the air directly in front of the God of Chaos, as if the fabric of reality itself was being
ripped apart. The deity sighed dejectedly, stuffed another handful of popcorn in his mouth and got up off
the couch. He stood in front of the cracks and snapped his fingers.
The cracks expanded in an instant to form a rectangular hole in space, a gateway into another God’s
Divine Area. The ‘room’ beyond this doorway was a gigantic well-lit cavern that appeared to be a
mountain that had been hollowed out and turned into a museum. A marvellous collection countless
statues, paintings, weapons, furniture, armor, vials of potions, and numerous other products were all put
up on display. Some lined the walls while others were stood on pedestals or inside glass display cases,
though the vast majority of them had been suspended in mid-air. To put it simply, this was a Divine Area
that seemed to exude much more life and character than the sterile, endless white of the one it was
connected to.
And standing directly in between these two dimensions was a collection of rocks and stones that were
bound together in the shape of a man by some invisible force. This was the owner of the lavishly
decorated space beyond the spatial doorway.
“Ah, Goroth,” said Jimmy, recognizing the form of the Earth God, whose domain encompassed artists
and artisans everywhere. A being that valued honest, hard work above all else.
The God of Randomness looked down at the box of popcorn with a sour face. The tasty snack had now
become a cup of eels, something he had no desire to partake in. This sort of thing happened every time
he had company, which is why he hated entertaining guests unless it was absolutely necessary. He
haphazardly tossed the jar of crickets behind the sofa and turned his attention back to the other deity.
“To what do I owe the… pleasure?”
“I must have words with you, Deacon.”
Goroth replied in a deep and rumbling voice that was so predictable and fitting that it made Charlie even
more annoyed than he already was.
“Well?” asked the pile of rocks. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Ah, right. Do come in! Have a seat! Take a load off! Please, do tell me why you insisted on
SLAMMING ON MY FUCKING DOORBELL on this fine day.”
“Easy there, Michael,” cautioned Goroth as he crossed over the doorway. “That is no way to talk to your
betters.”
Yeah right, thought Jimmy. ‘Betters.’
It was a little known fact that the Gods very rarely got along with each other. The vast majority of them
were locked in a divine power struggle, a celestial game of politics and intrigue over which one of them
would obtain the most followers. It was something that Riddick wanted no part in. He found the whole
thing mind-crushingly dull and inane, so he mostly kept to himself. Which was also why his following
was practically non-existent, making him the most obscure God in existence.
“Of course, do forgive me, old boy!” he said in mock politeness. “Honestly, where are my manners? Ah,
probably all over the floor behind the sofa… Anyway! Do have a seat!”
“Thanks.”
The pile of rocks deposited itself onto the couch, causing the piece of furniture to creak dangerously
under the weight. Kelly similarly sat his fingertips next to him and forced a smile onto his fishbowl.
“Now then, what can I do you for, Goroth?”
“Funny thing actually. I was watching this culture festival a bunch of dwarves were holding in my
honor. Lots of dancing, a mountain of good food, an unhealthy amount of alcohol and a general sense of
nothing getting done. You know how it is.”
“No, I really don’t.”
Goroth magnanimously ignored the sarcastic comment and moved on with his story.
“So that’s been going on for a few weeks now. And when it ended I went to check on my stuff and
noticed one of my dungeons was practically missing. And the logs said your Hero was in there. So
what’s up with that?”
“Dunno,” said Ralph while shrugging his dinner plates. “These things just happen.”
“Really? They ‘happen’ do they?”
“Of course they do.”
“Uh huh. So it just ‘happened’ to walk into my dungeon and decimate it in a single day while I was
otherwise preoccupied?”
“Pretty much.”
“Come off it, Martha!” roared Goroth. “I know you sent it there!”
“I most certainly did not. I swear to you that I in no way told it to wreck your Spire thingy.”
“Maybe not, but you certainly had a hand in it!”
Kilroy sighed. This sort of mentality was why the God of Probability had so few followers in the first
place. Mortals had this bad habit of blaming her for every single bad thing that happened to them. Got
mugged in an alley? His fault. Caught a debilitating flesh-eating disease that made their ears fall off? His
fault. Got stabbed in the face by their wife for cheating on her? Clearly Timothy’s fault!
And yet they never once thanked her for all the good things that happen to them on a daily basis. Like
how they weren’t axed to death while being mugged or managed to survive a stab wound to the face
from their jealous spouses. Okay, admittedly those were examples of bad things not getting worse, but
they were still favorable outcomes from Billy’s perspective.
Well, at the very least that Champion of Chaos he created recently was doing her job properly. She
actually sent a prayer of thanks to him for still being alive on a daily basis. Having such a dependable
and dutiful subordinate was a breath of fresh air, to say the least. Now if only this selfish rock pile could
be more like her.
“Look,” said Rupert, “I will admit I knew full well there was a non-zero chance of that happening when
I appointed it as my Hero. However, that doesn’t mean I set up for it. Why are you so angry, anyway?
Dungeons exist to be conquered, do they not?”
Testing mortals and rewarding them for their efforts was something of a hobby that most Gods shared,
so it wasn’t uncommon for them to have a number of dungeons under their domain. This was also the
reason why conquering most dungeons, while challenging, was not impossible. And while it was
technically possible to construct a dungeon that was unbeatable, doing so would defeat the purpose of its
existence.
“Conquered, yes,” said Goroth with a nod. “Completely demolished is another thing entirely.”
“So this is about the missing dungeon core, is it?”
“No, that’s not it. If someone defeated my dungeon fair and square, then they have the right to do with
the dungeon core as they please. I can just channel my divine power and forge a new one in a day if I
really wanted to, so getting angry over something like that is pointless.”
Mogren rolled her cabbages at that remark. This pile of rocks was obviously trying to rub his superiority
in her pavement. Just because Kimberley did not have the power to directly influence the physical world
as much as someone like Goroth didn’t mean he had to be so damned smug about it.
“That is, if they beat it fair and square,” added the Earth God. “However, that thing and its… group
defeated the entire thing in under 4 hours! At their Levels?! I really don’t see that happening without
your bloody help! You know we’re not to use our divine power in the mortal realm for petty things like
that!”
“Ah, I see. Tell me, have you considered that the reason it was conquered so easily was because your
dungeon was shit?”
“It was not shit! It was a work of art! You must have cheated!”
“Okay, look! Let’s stop the finger wagging and settle this like responsible deities. We both know a
dungeon’s logs hardly tell the whole picture.”
It was a fact that the dungeon’s logs were rather bare bones. They did not describe what happened, but
recorded what the outcomes of encounters were. They showed the when and where of who defeated
what, but the how of the matter was not among them. The more reliable surveillance footage would have
have been lost when the dungeon core went bye bye as well, so Goroth was mostly jumping to
conclusions and talking out of his ass at the moment.
“I recorded that entire expedition you know. I can play it back to you right now to prove I did not cheat,”
offered Ricky.
“Hah. As if I trust footage you’ve been handling! How do I know you didn’t alter it in some way?!”
“Alright, then. Let’s call Looney in here to mediate. She’ll see right through any illusions or whatnot I
might have set up, right?”
“Surely Teresa would-”
“That bitch is not setting foot in my house!” bellowed Calvin.
“Alright, alright, calm down!” said Goroth. The sudden outburst from Jerry had somehow quelled his
own anger. “Lunar will do, okay?!”
“Ah, I do apologize for that my dear chap. I just can’t stand that two-faced bitch and-”
“Yes, yes, I know. I don’t like her much either, though probably not to the extent that you do. Then, I
shall call Lunar over if you don’t mind.”
“Please do.”
There was a moment of silence as Goroth sent a short, telepathic message to the Moon Goddess, she
who presided over matters of magic, study and knowledge. This was a common means of
communications between the various Gods, usually referred to as G-mail for short. A fact that seemed to
be somewhat amusing to the God of Uncertainty for reasons only he would understand.
“She said she’ll be here shortly,” declared Goroth.
“Very good. I hope she helps clear this thing up. You know, you’re one of the few Gods I actually
tolerate.”
“... I wish I could say the same about you.”
“Ah, come off it. What did I ever do to you?”
“You corrupted my previous Hero, remember?”
A Hero of Earth had the task of raising the bar for craftsmen and/or artists everywhere. This usually
involved pushing the limits of what could be expressed through artistic mediums or mastering one’s
craft and making it known throughout the world. In some ways, it was an undertaking much more
difficult than simply slaying a dragon or two.
One notable example was the dwarf Ulfgar Stormkeg who single-handedly carved a face into the side of
a mountain several centuries ago. A truly admirable feat that had taken him decades of work, although
the identity of the one he immortalized had been lost to the sands of time. This had been a topic of
debate among scholars and archeologists for quite some time, although the general belief is that it was
either the ancient dwarf’s pet catfish or an unflattering representation of his ex-wife.
“Oh, old Shitstain, huh?” mused Leon. “Okay, I admit I may have had a hand in that, though the
particular details got a little… out of control.”
“That’s putting it mildly, isn’t it?! You ruined a superbly talented painter for your own amusement!”
“Look Rocky, I did not intend for that guy to start using his poop as paint, okay? That part was
completely unintentional!”
He was speaking the truth, for even the Goddess of Chance did not perfectly control the flows of chaos.
“Besides, I don’t think it’s any worse than your current guy. I mean, what the fuck is ‘interpretive dance’
supposed to be?!”
“It’s art, you cretin!”
“You see a bloke that likes to hump the air for no good reason and call it art, but finger painting with
faeces isn’t?”
“That isn’t-”
*KA-KLINK*
“Oh, Looney’s here!” exclaimed Chester before snapping her fingers.
Another doorway appeared out of thin air. This one opened up into a massive library, its shelves so filled
with books that they threatened to overflow. The divine being that presided over that space had the
appearance of an old, hunched over granny. She was wearing a pair of half-crescent glasses, a pointy,
wide-brimmed hat and a long flowing robe. Her clothes appeared to be woven out of the night sky itself,
as they were thoroughly pitch black aside from the stars twinkling from an unimaginable distance away.
Looking at her from a different angle would reveal a completely different view of the cosmos, almost as
if she was a window to the depths of space.
“Hey, Gorey, Twitchy,” she said with a raspy voice.
“Hi, Looney,” said Stuart with a wave of his flute.
“Good tidings, Lunar,” offered Goroth.
“Heard you boys got some dispute you need help with?”
“Indeed. I’ll be showing rocks-for-brains here a recording I took about a week ago and we need you to
confirm it’s not been tampered with in any way.”
“I see. Though I must say this is unusual for you, Twitchy. Oh, I see! This is about that amusing little
box you keep talking about, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed!”
“Nice! I’ve been curious to see if it’s really as capable as you boasted over G-mail!”
“That’s exactly what I want to see as well,” said the Earth God.
“Yeah! Let’s get this show on the road! Move over!”
The old woman roughly shoved the pile of rocks to the side and took a seat on the left side of the couch,
next to Goroth. She sure seemed excited considering she had very little to do with the dispute at hand.
Eric was left on the far right, with Goroth in the middle. The God of Possibility then snapped his pencils
and the floating screen started projecting a recording he had titled ‘How to pwn a dungeon 101.’
It started with the scene of Boxxy, Fizzy, Kora, Xera, Valeria and a whole bunch of undead fighting their
way through a vast hedge maze. The basic yet effective formation mowed down wave after wave of
Stone Soldiers with little difficulty.
“Wait, you didn’t make your open-air dungeon a no-fly zone?” asked Lunar after a few minutes. “What
was the purpose of that maze if you were gonna allow that sort of thing?!”
“... Okay, I admit,” said the Earth God, “I did not take flying invaders into account. What’s with that lich
though? Like, where the heck did she come from? And why does she keep calling the chest with legs
‘darling?’”
“Ah, long story,” said Joey with a wave of its sunflower. “Let’s just say the two have a history and that
she’s not right in the head.”
“Good thing Morty isn’t here to see this,” commented Lunar. “He’d flip his lid if he saw that thing.”
“You seem okay with it though,” pointed out Jeffrey.
“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 can study day and night without food
or sleep, huh? Anyway, this part is a bit repetitive, so let me just skip ahead to the first guardian battle.”
Linda snapped her trees once again and the images on the screen rapidly changed to display Boxxy’s
troupe taking down the trio of gargoyles with relative ease.
“Wow, okay,” exclaimed Goroth. “I will admit that was impressive. This monster’s shapeshifting is
accurate and quick, with a good dose of creativity, too.”
The Earth God appreciated all forms of art. To him, sculpting one’s own flesh was no different from
carving an image out of wood or stone. Seeing this monster smoothly transition from using toothed
tentacles as a weapon to sprouting a pair of wings to glide through the air held a certain amount of
beauty to it. Although Goroth was far from becoming a fan of Boxxy, he couldn’t deny that these forms
were likely the result of much practice and effort.
“Geh, that child used curse magic, didn’t she?” said Lunar with a sour face. “How many times do I have
to tell people!? That sort of stuff is what gave birth to monsters in the first place!”
“But… they’re in a dungeon. There’d be monsters there anyway,” pointed out Sam.
“That’s not the point! If she uses it in there, then she’ll use it outside of it, too!”
“Yeah, okay. You don’t need to worry about that, though. That lich is kinda dead now. Like, dead-dead.”
“What the fuck, Stacey?! Spoilers!”
“Oh… Oops.”
“Well, whatever. I guess I won’t need to send my hex-hunters after her at least.”
Hex-hunters was a term used to refer to Paladins of Lunar. Their Champion of Magic Skill gave them a
frankly unfair advantage when tracking and confronting magic users that had ventured into Taboo.
Especially if they also had the Hexcraft Skill, which was an anathema to their Goddess.
“Looney. Not cool.”
“I know, I know. Sorry about that.”
“What’s… that thing doing?” asked Goroth with an unbelieving tone.
The other two Gods turned their attention back to the screen. It was currently relaying the scene of a
Mimic drooling and slobbering all over a solid-gold treasure chest.
“Kya! How lewd!”
“Don’t go ‘Kya’ like that you old hag! It’s not cute at all!” grumbled Augustus.
“No, but for real. What’s it doing?”
“It’s just appreciating the workmanship on that chest, it’s a mimic thing,” explained Kevin. “Come to
think of it, what’s with the pointlessly decorated solid gold item containers?”
“Well. Just because they only appear for a short time doesn’t mean they can’t be superbly crafted.”
Kevin rolled his bacon. Of course this artsy fartsy blockhead would go and do something unnecessary
like that. Well, the scene on the screen had made the God of Probability laugh like a maniac for a good
20 minutes the first time he saw it, so he withheld from chastising the Earth God over that. The vaguely
disturbing images on the screen soon moved onto the climbing of the Black Stairs and subsequent
destruction of the entire swarm of crystalline insects with a single use of Valeria’s Sonic Scream Skill.
Josefina fast-forwarded through the boring bits up until the Jade King confrontation, which ended in an
instant due to Boxxy mass-producing Spell Crystals and unleashing them on the golem all at once.
Goroth had fallen oddly silent at this point and watched absentmindedly as the dungeon core was
violently dislodged, kicked down the steps and then unceremoniously carried out of the dungeon’s
sphere of influence. The recording cut off at that point.
“Well,” said Amanda. “Did you see any illusions or tampering with the footage, Looney?”
“Nope,” said the Goddess of magic. “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 3 years fine-tuning that Jade King encounter until I had it just
right? It was supposed to be this epic battle with 5 phases and various types of 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 that guy got a chance to show off.”
“Yeah.”
As a God who valued hard work, having his own efforts wasted like this was a strangely humbling
experience. The fact that his ‘finely crafted’ encounter was blown to smithereens by a 4-month Mimic
was perhaps the biggest blow.
“I understand what you meant now. My dungeon was pretty shit, wasn’t it?”
“Nah, I wouldn’t say that,” butted in Lunar. “It’s just that this group had the right tools to deal with it.
That’s just how it is with dungeons, you know?”
“I suppose.”
The pile of rocks lifted itself off the couch and turned to face the God of Luck. At least, that’s what
Thomas had assumed was going on considering that this moving pile of rocks did not have a face to
begin with.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to review my other dungeon designs. Goodbye, Victor. This has
been… educational.”
Goroth then flickered out of existence, back to his own Divine Area.
“... They were too well prepared, weren’t they?” asked Lunar after a moment of silence. “That lich in
particular seemed like she did most of the work.”
“Not you too! I already told that blockhead that I had no hand in this.”
“Uh-huh. Listen here, Twitchy, you can try and deceive Goroth that it was all his own fault all you like,
but please don’t try and pull that shit over on me. I know you far too well to believe that.”
“Ahhh, found me out, did you?”
Indeed, the ‘non-zero chance’ of Boxxy and its group conquering that particular dungeon was a
staggering 99.36%. Just one more nigh-inevitable outcome brought on by Lamar’s interference. It was
his doing that reunited Valeria with her killer, which sent that particular chain of events into motion. He
could have, of course, prevented that from happening, but he saw no reason to.
“Honestly,” said Lunar with a sigh, “how are you still this rotten? 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.”
“Nah, that’s not what I meant. My interest is more of a ‘wonder what it’ll do next’ type of thing. I
honestly don’t see it inventing new Spells or anything like that.”
“Well, actually-”
“Twitchy! Spoilers!”
“Oops! Sorry about that Looney.”
“Anyway, I’ll be going now.”
“Sure thing. Thanks for dropping by, fam!”
“Yeah, just please cut down on the pranks, alright? You’re the eldest of us, so you really should act the
part.”
The old granny disappeared much like Goroth did, leaving the God of Chaos to return to his true form.
He sat down on the couch, conjured another box of popcorn and continued observing the Doppelganger
that was mimicking a mimic mimicking a chest. Lunar’s parting words were a bit irksome, so he was
hoping for something good to happen to liven his mood.
Did she not realize how thoroughly boring it would be if the God of Chaos seriously acted like the
eldest? Almost as dull as taking part in that prick-waving contest those upstarts were calling a power
struggle. It was a thoroughly banal competition that served absolutely no purpose in the grand scheme of
things.
In comparison, the God of Chaos had single-handedly created the Beyond and filled it with demons.
Something trivial like establishing his religion as the dominant one could be accomplished in 2 decades
with minimal effort. Heck, he could cut that down to 3 or 4 years if he really put his back into it. He’d
kick their asses so hard they’d literally cease to exist.
Just like the previous generation of Gods.

(78) Death Comes In Many Shapes 1
The village of Carran was a remote settlement that had just under 300 residents, although calling it
‘peaceful’ would be a lie. This place was located at the foot of the Sawblade mountains, and as such
often found itself under siege by packs of monsters that had overflowed from those treacherous peaks.
Which is the reason the people living there had erected a 4-meter high wooden wall, as protecting
themselves without such a thing was impossible. Fortunately for them, they had more than just bare
walls to rely on.
Common logic dictated that adventurers would appear wherever monsters cropped up. And wherever
these monster hunting professionals went, their guilds would follow. Even this isolated place wasn’t
completely exempt from this unwritten law since as many as 50 adventurers split up among 3 guilds
made their home here. The rest of the populace earned their livelihoods through tending the fields just
outside the walls and digging up metals from the mine that ran underneath the village.
Being a tiny village like this meant that it did not have guards, but instead relied on a local militia
comprised of about two thirds of the adventurers that lived here. These people had taken up this
dangerous profession out of necessity and the desire to protect their friends and family rather than some
selfish pursuit of wealth and/or glory. The rest of them did not have many ties to this place and were
simply drifting through or earning their livelihood, but they still contributed to the safety of the region in
their own way.
In fact, even these outsiders sometimes took night shifts watching the wall for no pay. What prompted
these unusual acts of charity was Flanne, the local innkeeper’s daughter. She would often bring them a
homemade meal to reinvigorate their bodies, while her lovely smile was capable of melting even the
coldest of hearts. Her kind demeanor, attractive figure, superb cooking and pretty face had made her the
most eligible bride in the village, despite being part of the only elven household in it. Even the
housewives had a favorable impression of her.
The closely-knit community would undoubtedly be devastated if they knew that she was about to die
quietly 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.
Well, as natural as being stabbed through the heart could be. Statistically speaking though, ‘assassinated
by a doppelganger’ was already the lead cause of death in the village, as this woman was Boxxy’s 94th
victim for the night. The chest-with-legs methodically withdrew the mithril dagger from her body and
swung it once to get the blood off it, then quickly and quietly moved towards the next room. Flanne’s
father, mother and younger brother, as well as all 7 of the inn’s guests were silently executed in rapid
succession.
Once everyone in the inn was dead, Boxxy did one more round to devour or absorb all the corpses, then
left the building and silently crept over to the house next door. It broke in, murdered and ate the
residents and moved onto the next place, and then the next after that, never taking more than 3 minutes
per house. Fizzy and Kora were told to stand by outside the village wall since they were ill-suited to
sneaking around. After all, one was a 250 centimeter tall mountain of muscle and violence, while the
other was a walking pile of steel. To say that subterfuge wasn’t their strong point would be a gross
understatement.
Xera on the other hand, while able to keep quite for the most part, lacked a means of silent execution.
She was therefore relegated to scouting duty, keeping an eye on the village from the sky to make sure no
nosy neighbours or night watch raised an alarm. While Boxxy felt reasonably confident about its
chances of taking on an entire village, that didn’t mean it necessarily had to go and do that. Not when it
had the option of slaughtering everyone in their sleep without suffering a single scratch.
Peaceful solutions really were the best, after all!
Besides, it was possible one of the villagers or adventurers might escape in the confusion, which was
something that had to be avoided at all costs. They would doubtlessly alert other human settlements of
Boxxy’s presence, and the Mimic was sure that those news would reach that terrifying Spymaster in no
time flat. Granted, he was bound to find out eventually that Boxxy performed a massacre, but later was
better than sooner.
When the sun finally rose over Carran village, it had turned into a ghost town. Every last one of its 291
residents had been added to the writhing abyss of flesh that was Boxxy’s body. The monster had gorged
itself on almost 100 bodies before it felt truly full for the first time since its Rank Up 3 days ago, but
kept on eating them anyway. While its hunger had technically been satiated the entire time, that didn’t
mean it had eaten its fill. It would appear that a Doppelganger demanded considerably more sustenance
than a Mimic, either that or it was still suffering from a post-Rank Up hunger pains. Only time would
tell which was which.
It didn’t eat all the corpses though. The 50 or so adventurers that lived in Carran had become fodder for
its Cadaver Absorption, resulting in Attribute gains of +37 AGI, +28 INT and +31 STR, as well as an
extra 2 Levels’ worth of Sword Mastery proficiency. Several of the tastier-looking bodies were stowed
away into its Storage for later and the rest were gobbled up without leaving a single hair behind.
Overeating like this made Boxxy feel quite bloated, but that glutton was never one to do things in
moderation. It also had the option of using Cadaver Absorption on the villagers, but felt like raising the
Biomass Skill Level was more important as it was necessary for its next Rank Up. Besides, it was the
duty of a child to eat so that it would grow up big and strong, even if said child happened to be a
Juvenile Doppelganger.
And grow is exactly what it did. Although outwardly it still retained the same appearance as it had prior
to the Rank Up, its body was easily 4, maybe 5 times heavier than it used to be. The incredibly dense
tissue could be expanded outwards to about the size of a horse with no difficulty, although assuming a
bigger form would only make Boxxy a bigger target. That’s why it stuck to the relatively compact shape
of a chest. Theoretically it could assume its even more compact base form of a 7 or 8 year old child, but
the monster just didn’t feel right unless it was in a chest-based shape.
Once it was done eating everything and everyone in sight, Boxxy did another round of the village to
make extra sure there were no people left, living or otherwise. After confirming that was case, it
returned to the center of the settlement and took a break next to the large stone well that served as a
water source. It wasn’t particularly tired or anything, but taking a lazy nap in the warm sun after eating
its fill just seemed right.
It slept contently until around noon. As per usual, its body became active several seconds before its
mind did, causing it to flail about wildly in a half-conscious state. It would seem that the monster had
still yet to master the subtle art of waking up.
“Master?! What’s going on?” asked Xera through the telepathic link. Her transmitted thoughts broke
Boxxy out of its half-sleeping stupor, allowing it to think clearly once again.
“Nothing, just woke up.”
“Then what was that loud crash just now?”
“Just knocked over the well, nothing to worry about,” it said while digging itself out of the rubble.
“No, that’s plenty to worry about!”
Rather than get better, it actually seemed like Boxxy’s morning tantrums had only become worse.
“Master, we need to work on this bad habit of yours!” said Xera. “How are you supposed to fit in with
the elves if you wreck something every time you wake up?!”
“Nevermind that. Did you finish looking for all the shiny things?”
The succubus had been told to join the other two in their search of anything of value once she confirmed
there were no survivors making a run for it.
“I believe so, Master. We’ve found a total of 5,530 GP worth of coins and about 1,800 GP worth of
jewelry.”
“That much?!” asked Boxxy with surprised delight. “I don’t remember seeing that many shiny things in
the houses from last night!”
“You would be correct, Master. A lot of this came from those 3 adventurer guild buildings you so
graciously left wide open for us.”
The three guilds that had a presence here were the martial combat oriented Fighters’ Guild, the magic-
using Brotherhood of the Third Eye and the Union of Excavators, which supported the village’s mining
community.
“I see. Anything else in them?”
“They didn’t have any magic items,” continued Xera, “but we did find a cache of alchemical supplies in
the dark blue one. It contained about two dozen healing potions, half as many mana potions, 7 elixirs
and 5 different jars of oil.”
Elixirs and oils were alchemical products that provided long-lasting effects. Drinking a vial of the
former would fortify or strengthen the body in some way. The latter was a substance that imbued
weapons and/or armor it was applied to with a temporary magical effect. Boxxy was quite pleased to
have some extra insurance, although it spotted something rather worrying in the distance.
“Snack, are you sure there were no survivors?”
“I am certain of it, Master.”
“Then why is there a column of smoke rising towards the east?”
“Ah, your pet golem decided rummaging through all those houses was beneath her, so she disregarded
her orders and went to smithy. Something about forging components. I tried to stop her, but she didn’t
listen. I think some sort of punishment is necessary, Master.”
“It’s okay, was running low on parts anyway. Get Arms and meet me where the smoke is coming from.
We’ll be leaving soon.”
Boxxy walked off into the deathly-silent streets with a small spring in its step. Last night had proved to
be much more profitable than it had thought, although it had wished that its Level had risen more. It had
barely gotten up to Level 8 of its Doppelganger Job, despite murdering nearly 300 people. Even if the
vast majority of them would have been a low Level, it still expected more. And that wasn’t just simple
greed or impatience speaking, it honestly felt like this slow progression was out of place for a Job that
was still in the single-digit Levels.
One possible reason was that the maxed-out Mimic Job was absorbing a portion of the XP, essentially
wasting it. However, this seemed unlikely. The Rank Up process had made Doppelganger into the
monster’s Main Job, which meant that it should have priority on gaining XP from killing things, so this
didn’t seem like the right answer.
Maybe the two Monster Jobs were linked in a sequence rather than being separate? If that were the case,
then Boxxy’s Doppelganger Job would have actually been treated as Level 51 rather than Level 1. No,
on second thought that didn’t seem quite right, either. The progression was far too quick considering
how long it took to bridge the gap between Level 41 and 50.
Could it be that the Doppelganger Job simply required a lot more XP to Level Up when compared to a
Mimic or Warlock Job. It made sense considering it was supposed to be the Job of a higher, stronger
species and was supported by the clearly abnormal growth rate. Therefore, Boxxy decided it would
accept this explanation for the moment, as it was the best one it could come up with.
Regardless of the cause, however, it was a fact that achieving the next Rank Up would not be as easy as
Boxxy had expected. Other than reaching Level 25 of its Doppelganger Job, it also required that both
Biomass and Shapeshift be at Level 13. It was highly likely that the Rank Up beyond that would require
both of those Skills to be at 15, in addition to the Doppelganger Job being Level 50. It wasn’t a very
complicated pattern, so Boxxy felt this was most likely the case. It would be a lot of work, but it would
be worth it. Especially if the monster could obtain high-class Skills like the one it got after reaching
Level 5 last night.
Mirror Image
Description: The doppelganger creates body doubles to confuse and befuddle its opponents.
Requirements: Doppelganger Job, 100 INT, 100 WIS
Type: Active
Cost: 400 MP
Range: 5 Meters
Effects: Creates an autonomous replica of the user’s body.
Mirror Images will last for 15 seconds per Level of the Shapeshift Skill.
Mirror Images will inherit a portion of the original’s Attributes equal to 10% per Level of
this Skill.
Mirror Images cannot activate any Skills, Spells or Martial Arts.
This Skill seemed quite similar to the Conjure Fleshling Skill that Boxxy could’ve unlocked from its
Mimic Job, but one that had a lot more potential. Much like the Skill had described, activating it caused
an exact replica of Boxxy’s to quite literally leap out of the monster’s original body. The relatively high
MP cost was a bit daunting at first, but made sense considering the Skill activated instantly and did not
diminish the Mimic’s Biomass reserves.
These Mirror Images behaved a lot like living dolls - they didn’t appear to have any sense of self and
readily followed any orders that Boxxy gave them. However, they weren’t completely brainless like
Valeria’s undead and possessed some degree of forethought and judgement. It made them excellent
disposable pawns, and the Mimic had used them extensively to speed up the culling process last night.
Well, their actual fighting ability was lacking at the moment, but it was more than adequate to deal with
some sleeping villagers.
Still, the potential power and versatility of this Skill were undeniable - as expected of a high-class
shapeshifting species. Even if these duplicates couldn’t use active Skills such as Mend Flesh or Acid
Spray, they could still make use of passive ones such as Adaptive Defense or Metal Mimicry. They were
created without any weapons of their own, but could easily create weapons such as swords, daggers,
maces or shields through Metal Mimicry as necessary. They would then be equipped to fight with a
certain degree of expertise and finesse due to the various Mastery Skills under their disposal. Granted,
they would never be as quick-witted or ferocious as the original, but it still made them excellent
disposable pawns. Especially when Boxxy could create as many of these as it wanted, provided it had
the MP to do so.
It’s not like these flawed copies didn’t have downsides, though. For one thing, they lacked the
convenient telepathic link that Boxxy shared with its familiars. This meant that they had to communicate
the old fashioned way - through words and gestures. Killing things by proxy also meant that Boxxy
would get only about half of the XP. At least the Mirror Image Skill proficiency rose quite rapidly,
allowing the Mimic to reach Level 4 of the Skill in a single night.
Actually, wouldn’t it be possible to use these Mirror Images as a sort of workforce to mass-produce
traps, explosives and gadgets? No, on second thought that was a stupid idea. For one thing, it was highly
unlikely the Mimic’s Artificer Job would grow if such things were relegated the work to others. Not to
mention that there’s not much they could accomplish with a lifespan of only a few minutes. Besides, if it
wanted help with some Artificer project, then it already had an assistant/teacher that would gladly give
her all to assist it.
Boxxy started picking up the distinct noise of metal hitting metal as it made its way closer to the source
of that column of smoke it saw earlier. The rhythmic ringing noises echoed slightly through the now-
deserted village, almost like a funeral bell marking the death of the settlement. When the monster finally
reached the open-air smithy, it saw the peculiar sight of Fizzy hammering and shaping a piece of red-hot
iron with her bare hands.
“Oh, hey Boxxy!” she called out when she noticed it approach. “Give me a minute to finish this up,
okay?”
“Okay.”
Her smiling face turned focused once again as she resumed pounding the half-molten metal shard.
Sparks flew about as her tiny fist smashed into the strip of iron on top of the anvil. Those sparks were
probably the reason why she had taken off her clothes and was currently smithing in the nude. After all,
her outfit might just catch fire if she wore it under those circumstances, and it was the only set of clothes
that would fit her, even if loosely.
“Master, we have arrived,” stated Xera from somewhere off to the side.
“Hey, Boss! Have a nice nap?” waved Kora with a small laugh.
She was carrying a large sack on either shoulder. One was filled with coins and jewelry while the other
held the alchemical supply cache that Xera had mentioned. The fiend set them down in front of Boxxy
and then turned her attention towards the nude golem.
“Hey squirt. Nice rack like always,” she said with two thumbs up.
“Huh?” asked Fizzy. “What do you- Oh for fuck sake! It happened again!”
She suddenly stomped off towards the pile of clothes on the corner and started putting them on while
huffing and puffing in exasperation. It would seem that her stripping habit had resurfaced without her
noticing it. Just when she thought she finally had it under control, too. She immediately went back to
applying her Component Forging Skill after getting dressed. Kora stared curiously as the golem
continued working with a noticeable pout. The nosy fiend’s attention was then caught by how the golem
was actually smithing.
“Don’t your hands hurt from that?” she asked curiously.
“Nope!” said Fizzy with a large smile. “Don’t feel anything but the impact!”
“Sounds convenient, but won’t your hand melt if you keep doing that?”
“Hah! As if flames this weak could hope to hurt my glorious frame!” she replied with a proud look on
her face. “You shouldn’t underestimate forged steel!”
“Hoh ho! Is that right?” said Xera with a small grin.
“Oy, better watch yourself, pipsqueak,” cautioned Kora. “The Slutinator is getting that mad look in her
eye.”
“I’ll be sure to ram the handle of my wrench up her ass if she tries anything.”
“That’s exactly what she wants you to do, though…”
Fizzy wonderfully ignored the two demons as she continued shaping the iron plate in front of her.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I found a thing inside the smithy’s warehouse!”
She reached into her trousers’ back pocket and pulled out a rough, uncut gemstone. It was about 3
centimeters in diameter and had a deep, dark red color that bordered on black. She went over to Boxxy,
who was currently engrossed in counting up and appraising all of the loot the familiars brought with
them, and presented it to the monster with a huge smile.
“Here you go, Boxxy!”
The Mimic stopped what it was doing and stared at the gemstone intently. The rough surface was
distinctly lacking shininess, making this object seem more like a pebble than a precious stone. And yet
the monster could not help but notice the strange flow of mana that seemed to swirl around it.
“What is this?” it asked curiously.
“I think it’s an unrefined Midnight Ruby,” said Fizzy. “I’ve heard of them but never-”
“What?!”
Boxxy immediately shot out a tentacle and seized the gemstone out of her grasp. Xera and Kora were
both momentarily shocked that the monster would ignore the literal bag of gold in front of it in favor of
this thoroughly un-shiny thing. That’s when Xera remembered that this magical gemstone was an
ingredient that her Master had been after for quite a while.
The last thing it needed in order to perform the Ritual of Unholy Wealth.
Boxxy’s group kept trekking north through the wilderness for 4 more days without anything of note
really taking place. Although the monster was quite eager to perform the ritual said to call forth ‘Unholy
Wealth’ right away, it still needed to wait until a night where all three of this world’s moons were visible
in the sky at once. Unfortunately, it had no idea when that would be. It had no knowledge of their orbits,
nor did it really know what moons were in the first place. It just vaguely understood that they were these
big glowing shapes that sometimes appeared in the night sky.
The first and last time it saw all three of them in the sky felt like a lifetime ago. It was on the night it left
its birthplace for the first time. Could it be that the 3 moons aligning was a rare occurrence? Then again,
the ground-bound monster may have simply missed the celestial event since it really didn’t have a habit
of staring at the night sky. While it’s true that the stars shone like jewels, they were forever out of its
reach, like an unobtainable collection of shiny things that only existed to taunt the simple creature.
That’s why Boxxy actually made a point of ignoring the night sky as much as possible, a decision it was
now regretting.
The former Mimic tried to consult its minions on the matter, but that was a futile effort. Of course none
of them would have knowledge of the movements of celestial bodies. After all, the two demons were
more interested in their genitals than observing the heavens, and Fizzy had always been the early to bed,
early to rise type of person. Well, while she still needed sleep, that is.
Speaking of which, Boxxy noticed that its sleeping schedule did indeed go up in frequency. Rather than
once a week, it now felt the urge to sleep once every 3 or 4 days. It would appear that a Doppelganger’s
higher cognitive functions demanded more upkeep than that of a Mimic. It was worth it though, because
the monster’s ability to learn and recognize patterns had gone up immensely. It was able to soak in and
comprehend Xera’s acting lessons with ease, likely due to the Doppelganger’s innate nature as an
infiltrator and a spy. Becoming a species that was proficient in such things really felt like the right Rank
Up choice to Boxxy.
Of course, the immature monster had no way of knowing that Queen Slimes were considered a species
superior to Doppelgangers. In reality, a Queen Slime’s amorphous body was actually composed of
nearly a hundred smaller slimes that had melded and gelled together. It was essentially a self-contained
hivemind that had enormous growth potential when it came to its intelligence and learning capacity.
Their shapeshifting abilities were not particularly lacking, either. Not only could they compress and
shrink down their amorphous body in a manner similar to Doppelgangers, but lacking a base form meant
that a Queen Slime’s transformations were truly limitless. Most interesting of all was a Queen Slime’s
unique ability to divide its own body into multiple sentient blobs. After all, they had hundreds of slime
nuclei floating inside their bodies, so something like splitting up into multiple copies of themselves was
child’s play.
Granted, each one would possess only a fraction of the original’s Attributes, but doing this dramatically
increased the monster’s survival rate. Not only was fighting a group much more challenging than
attacking an individual, but a Queen Slime only needed about 20 or so slime cores to escape from a fight
in order to survive. Although losing a large chunk of its nuclei would temporarily reduce the creature’s
overall Attributes and cause severe memory problems, it was still preferable to being completely
destroyed.
However, while a Queen Slime’s shapeshifting ability could not be called inferior to a Doppelganger’s,
it would be hard to call it superior. It was rather the situation where both species were specialized
towards different types of shapeshifting. Putting it roughly, it was like comparing a Blacksmith who
mass-produced standard quality swords to one that would pour months into honing and refining a single
blade. It would be impossible to say which approach was the better one, as they served completely
different purposes.
But, at the very least, Doppelgangers would be far superior to Queen Slimes when it came to blending in
with their surroundings. In fact, these monsters used to be extremely widespread in civilized society in
the past, to the point where if one gathered a group of 20 random people in a room, at least 1 or 2 of
them would be a Doppelganger. They were completely indistinguishable from those they were imitating,
as body structure, skin tone, internal organs, language and mannerisms were all perfectly mimicked.
However, such things were ultimately put to an end several hundred years ago when the Doppelgangers
that controlled society from the shadows failed to stop the spread and usage of Appraisal. This magical
analysis would be able to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt whether a person was actually who they
claimed to be. Once word got out that shapeshifting monsters were among them, the enlightened races
quickly took measures to weed them out.
The cunning shapeshifters would not go out quietly, however. The Doppelganger communities started
aggressively eliminating and replacing key figures. They often posed as Scribes and tried to falsify
Appraisal results through any means necessary. After all, a Scribe could only give second hand accounts
for what they saw through Appraisal, so if a Doppelganger said that one of its kin was not a monster, the
other people had little choice but to accept it. Of course, they could not maintain this guise for long as
they didn’t actually have the Scribe Job, but it was still enough to let their compatriots escape or assume
new identities. This constant back-and-forth between the secretive shapeshifters and the authorities had
created a period of confusion and distrust that histories now refer to as the Silent Rebellion.
This Silent Rebellion lasted for nearly a decade before it ended rather abruptly when news of the
Doppelgangers’ Bane had come to light.
All monsters, without exception, possessed a weakness towards a specific substance or element, known
as their Bane. Being subjected to their Bane would not only cause severe damage to a monster, but also
inflict some kind of debilitating condition. In the case of the undead, holy magic would purify their
rotting bodies, greatly weakening them if not outright destroying them. Enlightened races such as
dwarves, elves and humans, on the other hand, did not posses such a glaring weakness. Grasping and
exploiting a monster’s Bane was their way of gaining the upper hand against a normally stronger and
more dangerous opponent, but they themselves were exempt from such things.
The Bane of Doppelgangers, and indeed all shapeshifters, was being hit by any and all forms of
electricity. Being struck by a lightning Spell, for example, would cause their nervous system to go
haywire, rendering them completely paralyzed for a few seconds and forcing them to revert back into
their base form. This was something Boxxy had already experienced firsthand back in Erosa, and the
one thing that ultimately led to the downfall of the Doppelgangers. No matter how they lie, cheat and
betray, getting zapped would instantly reveal their true nature to everyone around them.
Once this fact became widely known, Scribes started subjecting themselves to minor electrical shocks,
usually produced through a magic item. This allowed them to unquestionably prove themselves as the
real deal, which meant their Appraisals could be trusted on the matter of weeding out the
Doppelgangers. It was thus that an effective yet simple set of anti-shapeshifter measures had been
established.
First, all government-sanctioned officials had to subject themselves to mild electrocutions twice a year
while under the watchful eye of at least 20 armed guards. Once the Scribes were proven to not be
compromised, they began inspecting and Appraising the entire population, one household at a time.
Granted, this was a long and arduous process and it was believed many of the monsters were able to slip
away, but it proved to be sufficient.
The Lodrak Empire, for example, saw a massive drop in murders, theft, banditry and missing person
reports in as little as a year since implementing these measures. Of course, there was the rather touchy
subject of how Doppelgangers reproduced. No mother wanted to find out the child they had been raising
for years was actually a monster, and that their real son or daughter had disappeared without anyone
realizing it. Then there was the implication that they had copulated with a shapeshifter, often without
realizing it. Add onto that the directive that any confirmed Doppelgangers had to be put down on the
spot, and a recipe for tragedy unlike no other had been born. There were more than a few incidents
where distraught and confused mothers refused to accept reality and attempted to protect and safeguard
these things. They still saw them as ‘their children,’ despite the cold hard logic that stated their actual
offspring was long gone. Some of them even went as far as to escape society and attempt to live away
from others like hermits, all for the sake of raising their broken family in peace.
Needless to say, none of these women were ever heard from again, as the ones they were foolishly trying
to safeguard had, in all likelihood, murdered them once they were strong enough. To a Doppelganger,
their parent was nothing more than a cover, so once that was blown, they quickly turned on them. It was
a gruesome, cruel fate, but such things often befalled those who succumbed to foolishness.
In the grand scheme of things, the Silent Rebellion had ultimately been completely crushed. Not only
were active Doppelgangers hunted down, but they also lost their ability to reproduce in peace. This was
why they were now largely considered to be on the brink of extinction. They would never truly
disappear, however, as every now and then, a new one appeared through Rank Ups from lesser species.
Such monsters often found it impossible to successfully integrate into modern society in the long term,
as sooner or later they would need to be subjected to an Appraisal that would reveal their true colors.
But Boxxy was different. The former Mimic was a Hero, and as such possessed the Essence
Concealment Skill. This divine power to fool Appraisal was something no mortal Scribe could hope to
beat. Granted, the Juvenile Doppelganger still possessed a weakness to electricity, but that was a
relatively uncommon element. It didn’t exist in nature outside of thunderstorms, and only a select few
Jobs and certain species of monsters could conjure lightning with magic. Arclight Artificers and
Spellbinder Enchanters, on the other hand, were the only ones that were capable of creating items and
weapons that employed electrical effects.
All things considered, it was a manageable weakness, but still a deadly one. Boxxy had made the silent
decision to seek out magic items that provide additional defense against that particular element, or just
magic in general. Although it was impossible to completely neutralize a monster’s weakness, Boxxy
could at the very least severely dampen its negative effects. The monster had a hunch such equipment
could be easily obtained as long as it managed to integrate itself into a large enough city.
And therein lay the biggest problem, for in order to successfully do so, it had to act and speak in a
befitting manner - something Boxxy had to practice. Which is why the former Mimic had changed out of
its prefered chesty shape, and into the slightly uncomfortable form of a young elven male. It looked to
be about 16 or 17 years old, with pale green eyes and somewhat pale skin. The face was unremarkably
plain, while the trademark knife-like ears sprouted out from either side of its short, ginger hair.
It wore a long, dark red robe that had a purple eye-shaped insignia on the right shoulder and carried a
plain-looking wooden staff with a gray crystal orb serving as the head. This equipment, along with the
face, was something that was ‘borrowed’ from one of the adventurers in the village of Carran. Boxxy
had assumed this form ever since it and its party happened upon the imperial highway that headed north-
by-northeast. It felt uncomfortable and slightly irritated walking around like this, but understood it was
something it had to get used to eventually.
As for why it chose this form specifically, that much was simple. Its instincts as both a Doppelganger
and a Mimic drove it to pick something simple, plain and unassuming. The appearance of a snot-nosed
youngster was more or less perfect. This thin presence would undoubtedly make others ignore the
creature all on their own, allowing it to easily blend in with the crowd. It also helped that becoming a
Doppelganger had seemed to make it a natural at controlling its pigmentation, so it was quite confident
in its replication.
Of course, it didn’t use just its own skewed judgement to determine all this. The monster also asked its
minions for any opinions they had. According to Snack, Boxxy’s current face was so bland and
uninteresting that even she sometimes ignored it on reflex. Arms had a similar reaction while Fizzy just
offered a slightly disinterested ‘looks fine to me.’ Having received three mediocre reviews like that
meant that this form would do very well in avoiding any unwanted attention once Boxxy crossed the
border. It kept traveling along the imperial highway with the full intention of putting that assumption to
the test.
And inevitably, the quartet of monsters ran into people. More specifically, they came across a horse-
drawn carriage that was traveling in the opposite direction, towards the capital to the southwest. It was
large enough to accommodate its 6 passengers with room to spare, and a sizable pile of luggage was
strapped to the roof. The carriage itself looked distinctly fancy as it was painted white, and had gold
trimmings along the roof and windows. A gryphon-headed crest adorned either side of it, signifying its
passengers as people of importance to the Empire. Which also explained why 12 mounted knights in full
plate armor were escorting it along the road.
Boxxy tried using the ‘Smile And Wave’ strategy that Xera taught it over the last few days. Getting the
monster to abandon its vapid, carefree smile was proving more difficult than she thought, so for the time
being she decided to make use of it.
Except it didn’t really work. The armed guards, the passengers, the coach driver and even the horses all
gawked wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the ginger elf that was merrily waving at them as they
approached. They stared at it for a good 10 seconds before one of the escorts gave a hand signal for the
entire convoy stop some 20 meters away from the monster in disguise.
“Who goes there?!” shouted the veteran knight while adjusting the grip on his spear. He had the shiniest
helmet, so it was likely he was the man with the highest rank.
“Identify yourselves at once!” he demanded.
Boxxy wasn’t sure what it did wrong in order to warrant this aggressive reaction. It’s first thought was to
rip him apart and feast on his delicious entrails, but had to withhold itself. Doing so would ruin the
whole purpose of this training exercise.
“Hello. My name is Bo-”
“Not you, twig! I’m talking about those dangerous-looking over there!”
Boxxy turned around after being rudely interrupted, only to realize a major flaw in its cover. What made
these people suspicious wasn’t a problem with its disguise, but the company it kept.
“What’s that, pencil dick?!” jeered Kora. “You want a piece of this? Huh?!”
“Ankles, spine, neck,” mumbled Fizzy as she pondered the order in which she would dismantle this rude
infidel. After all, Boxxy was her God’s chosen Hero, so there’s no way she’d sit idly by and let it be
disrespected like that. “Oh, maybe shins, crotch then skull would be good too.”
Xera didn’t say anything, but instead facepalmed as she realized something so obvious that she honestly
felt like an idiot for not considering it. Thinking about it objectively, traveling with a four-armed
mountain of muscle, a walking steel statue and a practically naked buxom beauty would raise suspicion
no matter how unassuming or innocent her Master made itself out to be. Even if she disguised herself,
the other two simply stood out way too much.
She therefore quickly relayed a few silent instructions to Boxxy on how to deal with this particular
situation. It was quite obvious to her that this knight and the people behind him were nobles. Which
meant they were most likely self-righteous assholes who wouldn’t know left from right unless it was
pointed out to them. In other words, dealing with these people should be rather easy.
“I beg of you to forgive my minions, Sir Knight,” said Boxxy respectfully. “They are rather rude.”
The man’s eyesight returned to the figure of the young elf before him.
“Your minions?! Is a twerp like you really capable of controlling these things?!”
“Yes, milord. I may be incompetent, but I can do at least this much. Allow me to demonstrate.”
The knight raised an eyebrow questioningly as the young elf before him turned to face the clearly
aggressive demon.
“Arms. Punch yourself in the face 25 times. No holding back.”
“Oh man…” said Kora dejectedly before proceeding to viciously kick her own ass.
“The rest of you, bow before the brave Knight.”
Xera and Fizzy both prostrated themselves as instructed, and Boxxy itself took a knee in order to pander
to this person’s ego.
“Humpf. At least you know your place, twig.”
“It is so, milord. A lowly creature like me would not dare to presume itself equal to someone as great as
yourself. Surely your heroic exploits are beyond anything my feeble self could even dream of
performing.”
These were, of course, not its own words, but the pointless flattery that it spoke on Xera’s behalf. And it
appeared to be working, judging by the soldier’s pleased attitude. He was so full of himself he didn’t
even realize that the source of those goosebumps he felt weren’t coming from the demon currently
pounding on its own face, but from the ‘twig’ he dismissed offhandedly. Boxxy took note of this
misunderstanding, as this sort of misdirection was bound to be useful in the future.
“Very well! Since you have shown humility then I, the gracious Sir Graham Brown, shall spare your
worthless life!”
“I am grateful for such mercy, milord.”
“If you understand, then get out of the way, peasant!”
Boxxy stood up and, without lifting its gaze, moved to the side of the road to give the carriage plenty of
room to pass, with Fizzy and Xera following in kind. The man called Brown signaled the stupefied
coachman to resume their journey, while the other knights kept a close watch on the still bowing trio and
the fiend who was still hitting herself with enough force to send blood flying all over the place. The
well-dressed passengers inside kept gawking at the curious entourage, exchanging rather unflattering
comments in barely hushed whispers.
There was also one small boy who could be overheard as saying ‘I want one!’ while pointing
shamelessly at Fizzy. That was a rather dangerous request, for nobles were often known to do as they
please. Normally they would not hesitate to take the steel golem from this lowly elf by force just to spoil
their child, which would undoubtedly result in Boxxy doing its best to rip them apart and eat their rotten
heads. However, it would seem the monster’s eerie aura was keeping their selfishness in check, and they
merely ushered the driver to get a move on.
Several minutes passed before the convoy was out of sight, and Boxxy silently resumed its journey
north.
“Uh, Boxxy? Are we letting them go?” asked Fizzy.
“We are.”
“Why?”
“Those humans on the horses would be tricky to kill. Armor stinks of magic and there were a lot of
them.”
Even if it didn’t know the Levels of those people, their enchanted gear alone was enough to make them
hard to bring down.
“We could always stalk them and smash their heads in their sleep,” suggested the golem.
“No need to risk it.”

“But… But! They disrespected you!”
“So?”
“So?! Aren’t you angry! I’m fuming over here!”
The pint-sized Paladin was clearly raring to go on a one-woman crusade right about now.
“I’m sure we can crush those guys with ease!” she kept demanding.
“The soldiers, maybe. But that guy in the carriage was dangerous.”
“… Guy? What guy?”
“Master is probably referring to the old man with the black beard and the pointy hat,” clarified Xera. “It
was definitely someone well versed in magic, likely a Warlock himself. Not someone we can ignore
while trying to handle a dozen of those tin soldiers.”
“I… see. I guess I still have much to learn,” lamented Fizzy.
It was more or less as Xera stated. Boxxy simply didn’t want to raise the ire of yet another old man who
might turn out to be a monster. It still had some regrets about letting them go, though. It was sure that
looting those people would bring it even more wealth, but all the shinies in the world would be pointless
if it died trying to obtain them. Therefore, it let them go peacefully without causing any-
Okay, maybe a fight might have been the better option after all.
A cheap carriage rattled along the cobblestone imperial highway. Unlike the fancy, gilded stagecoach
that Boxxy saw the day before, this one was a simple unpainted wagon with a piece of stretched canvas
covering its contents as an awning. It was being pulled along by two quadruped creatures that looked
like oversized, green-furred anteaters. They were easily as big as donkeys and no less capable of hauling
ass. These predominantly subterranean creatures were a species known as limeticks, and were mostly
used by dwarves and gnomes as beasts of burden.
The one driving this old wagon was a dwarf - a relatively young one whose brown beard was only about
10 centimeters long. He had a full head of bushy hair and small, narrow eyes that made others doubt if
he even saw beyond his thick, round nose. His build as a whole could only be described as ‘a bit pudgy’
if one were flattering, or ‘a ball with limbs’ if they weren’t. He lazily turned his head around and
shouted towards the inside of the wagon.
“We’re almost at Bootsplit, laddie!”
“Thanks, Moron,” answered the ginger-haired elven lad from inside.
“Oh for the love of- it’s Mornon!” insisted the dwarf.
“Should blame your parents for picking such a stupid name,” pointed out the steel golem that was sitting
next to the elf.
“Yeah, I know. I’m thinking of having it changed, but I can’t think of anything good.”
“How about Moron?” suggested the disguised Boxxy. “It fits.”
“Come now, lad, there’s no need for that! Is that any way to talk to someone graciously giving you a
ride?”
That’s exactly why it fits, thought Fizzy. What sort of idiot just blindly picks up hitchhikers like this?!
Especially considering one of them was a sentient golem! That guy didn’t even bother asking about her
situation and just said ‘Hop on!’ with a stupid smile. Why the hell did she work so hard on practicing
her cover story if people won’t even ask her about it?!
Granted, judging from the contents of this cart, this dwarf wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. His
luggage was strewn about in a haphazard manner with no rhyme or reason. Crates of food, kegs of ale,
several bundles of firewood and other useless meatbag accessories all rattled around with the smallest
bump in the road. The least this guy could’ve done is tie them down so they don’t clatter about making a
racket.
The former gnome wasn’t sure exactly why they bothered to hitch a ride in the first place, though. If it
was about getting from point A to point B, then they could’ve easily just kept going on foot. She swore
they walked faster than those damned limeticks could pull the cart. But Boxxy had said it wanted to ride
the cart, which meant that they were riding the stupid cart.
The actual reason was rather simple. Although it could be called ‘practice at socializing,’ Boxxy just
wanted to ride a carriage. Not only was it a new experience, but being inside a giant box with wheels
helped alleviate the acute sense of agoraphobia it felt whenever it was outside its chesty shell. As for its
familiars, Snack and Arms were following from a safe distance and keeping out of sight. The Mimic
didn’t particularly like this arrangement since it was left slightly more vulnerable, but some sacrifices
had to be made for the sake of camouflage.
“We’re here, laddie!” called out Mornon. “You two might wanna get off the cart and let the guards sign
you in.”
Boxxy and Fizzy did as instructed and stepped out of the back of the wagon. The area around the
imperial highway was a hilly, untamed wilderness. Wild shrubs, patches of tall grass and the odd tree
dotted the landscape. A few fenced-off farms and ranches were visible in the distance as well. Directly
in front of the cart was the entrance to a small town called Bootsplit, a mostly dwarven settlement.
Although it might seem strange to the uneducated, dwarven-dominated towns and villages on the
territory of the human-centric Lodrak Empire were not all that rare. Historically speaking, humans had
always profited immensely from trade with the dwarven homeland of Horkensaft that lay across the
Dead Ocean to the northwest. Good relations with that kingdom had meant that there were quite a few
dwarven and gnomish immigrants who came over to the Empire.
The opposite was also true, although humans living abroad rarely established their own communities
and usually just mingled with the native people. The only reason dwarf-and-gnome-dominated places
like Bootsplit existed was due to cultural differences. These two races placed great importance on one’s
family and heritage, often stating that their loyalty was to their clan first and their country second. The
two species also seemed to be closely related as the slightly taller and stouter dwarves and the nimbler
and more quick-witted gnomes had shared a society since time immemorial.
So, all things considered, a place such as Bootsplit wasn’t really that odd. What was odd, however, was
how defenseless it seemed, despite being on the imperial highway. Its perimeter was marked not by a
sturdy wall, but a collection of 2-meter-tall wooden stakes that were driven into the ground and tied
together. It seemed more like a fence meant to keep out troublesome wild animals rather than a
fortification to safeguard the populace against dangerous creatures or bandits.
The reason for these seemingly lackluster defenses was that this much was all the town needed, as both
the number and Level of monsters along the imperial highway was typically extremely low. The Empire
took efforts to maintain a high level of security around this first-class road, often sending patrols to
exterminate monsters and clear out bandits that might pose a threat. In fact, the Empire’s leaders had
actually stepped up their efforts in that respect as they had already begun preparations for war with the
elves to the north. Securing their supply lines was the most basic of basics when it came to warfare, after
all.
Boxxy and Fizzy walked up to the guards - a rather intimidating pair of dwarves clad in extra-thick,
pitch-black full plate armor. Their helmets completely concealed their faces, save for the braided beards
that flowed out like waterfalls from beneath them. They carried shields that were 140 centimeters tall -
almost as much as themselves - and were armed with one-handed war axes attached to their waists.
“Who goes there?” called out the guard on the left with a slightly muffled voice. “Oh, Moro- *Ahem*
Mornon, is it?”
“Yeah, I’m back from my trip to the capital. I picked up these folks on the way back.”
The guard looked over the stupidly smiling elf and the frowning gnome-shaped golem, but wasn’t really
surprised since neither of them were uncommon sights around here. The elven border was relatively
nearby so they often had knife-ears passing through town in both directions. Golems were something
that dwarves and gnomes used for heavy lifting, although that was usually restricted to well-off
merchants and nobles. The guards assumed this female-shaped golem was one of those since she quietly
stood by her owner’s side rather than run around trying to stab people for no reason. Granted, having an
elf possess a golem was slightly unusual, but it was hardly unheard of.
“I see, so that’s how it was,” said the guard before turning around. “Hey Lenny!” he yelled. “Get your
ass out here you got work to do!”
“Ah, you’re free to go in, Mornon,” said the other armored dwarf, “we’ll take care of your mates here.”
“Thanks lads. I’ll be going ahead then!”
The brown-haired dwarf tugged on the reins, prompting his limeticks to pass through the gap in the
fence that was most likely one of the city’s gates.
“Alright then, what’s your story, lad?” asked the first guard while facing Boxxy.
“I’m headed north, past the border,” it answered.
“Ah, finally had enough of this place, eh?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Can’t blame you for wanting some time away from those humans. I can’t stand ‘em myself, that’s why
I live out here. The only reason I came to this bloody place was because my family decided to come here
for some reason.”
“Same here,” said Fizzy.
“Yeah, I honestly don’t- It can talk?!”
The guard practically shouted the last part, and his colleague seemed equally as surprised.
“Holy fuck! I’ve never seen a golem talk before! This thing must be really high class!”
“I’ll say! Now that I look at it, doesn’t the steel skin seem particularly sturdy? I mean, I’m no
Blacksmith, but I know good metal when I see it!”
However, rather than being distressed or suspicious, they actually seemed genuinely impressed.
“Huhuhu. You do well to recognize my greatness!” boasted Fizzy. She rather liked getting this sort of
attention, so she let the guards praise her as much as they pleased. The two dwarves made a few more
remarks regarding her steel frame and apparent construction when a third dwarf - this one wearing clean
commoner clothes - showed up from behind the fence.
“Oy, Lenny! Check this out! A talking golem!” said one of the guards.
“Huh?! Those exist?!” said the old, bald dwarf that just arrived.
“I most certainly do,” stated Fizzy with more than a hint of pride in her voice.
“Fascinating!” he exclaimed while stroking his waist-length white beard. “I must say, the way your
facial expressions move around are extremely lifelike! The torso itself seems to be quite natural and well
detailed too, almost like a wild golem rather than one produced in a workshop! The design around the
belly button and the nipples is particularly excellent!”
“N-nipples?”
Fizzy looked down at herself. As expected, her rather rude right hand had begun stripping her without
her realizing it yet again. However, she found herself hesitant to cover herself up. What she felt from the
trio’s stares and words wasn’t embarrassment, but a sense of accomplishment and fulfilment. The golem
genuinely felt like leaving her girls permanently exposed might not be all that bad.
“Ack! No!” she blurted out before hurriedly covering herself back up.
That was dangerous, she almost became a shameless pervert like a certain succubus. Besides, running
around naked would be an inconvenience to Boxxy. While unclothed personal golems weren’t exactly
illegal in gnomish and dwarven society, they were often frowned upon.
“Say laddie,” said the old dwarf while turning towards the elf. “How do you keep her so shiny? That
steel’s luster makes it seem like she’s practically brand new! Do you use some special oil or cleaning
fluid?!”
“No,” answered Boxxy. “I just lick her.”
“...”
The three dwarves stared in stunned silence while they processed this bit of information and all of its
implications.
“You… lick her?” muttered Lenny.
“Yes.”
“Like, with your tongue?”
“Yes.”
“All of her?!”
“Yes.”
“Is it really that strange?” questioned Fizzy. “Using spit to clean stains is a bit crude, but everyone does
it every now and then. Especially when access to clean water is limited.”
“S-stains?”
“Oh yeah. I get covered in bodily fluids almost every day, so it’s best to get them off before it dries up
and gets all crusty.”
All three dwarves silently and one-sidedly reached the same conclusion - that this elf was a total deviant.
They completely failed to understand that the ‘bodily fluids’ Fizzy was talking about were the brains,
blood and bile that splattered all over her whenever she fought something. Having her glorious steel
frame covered with such meatbag juices was not something she particularly enjoyed if she could avoid
it.
“Ahem!”
Lenny cleared his throat, clearly intending to get as far away from this topic as quickly as dwarfly
possible.
“Now then. I’ll be performing a Basic Appraisal to verify your identity. Any objections.”
“None,” answered Boxxy with a smile.
This sort of thing was common practice when entering a town or city for the first time, so the monster
was fully prepared in advance. Still, this was the first real test of the fake Status Screen that it had put up
with Essence Concealment Skill, so it couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. Worst case scenario of it
being discovered, it would toss Fizzy into its Storage and make a break for it.
“Alright, then hold out your right hand and- Wait, when’s the last time you washed it?”
“Does that matter?”
“Ah… No, I guess not…”
Lenny somewhat hesitantly grasped the elf’s palm as if they were shaking hands. It was obvious that his
imagination was running a bit wild.
“Basic Appraisal,” he chanted.
Unlike a Full Appraisal, a Basic Appraisal could be used as many times as the Scribe wished, although
the information provided by it would be extremely limited. It was completely unable to gauge Skills,
Attributes and Perks, but that data was not something that was necessary in order to perform the
mandatory security check.
“His name’s Chester Underwood,” said Lenny while reading off the details of the image that popped into
his head. “Male elf, aged 17. Only Job is Warlock at Level 25. No guild affiliation.”
He then pulled out a ledger from the large bag strapped around his shoulder and started leafing through
the pages. He first confirmed that ‘Chester Underwood’ was not on the list of wanted criminals, then
proceeded to mechanically copy the details still in his head onto the paper. Once he was done, he
dismissed the Basic Appraisal results window and turned his attention back to the odd visitor.
“And how long will you be staying in town, mister Underwood?”
“A few days at most.”
“Just passing through on your way to the border?”
“Yes.”
Lenny then wrote down the time and date of mister Underwood’s visit as well as the elf’s reason for
coming here.
“Alright, mister Underwood,” said Lenny while putting away the ledger. “Everything seems to be in
order. Enjoy your stay in Bootsplit.”
“No Appraisal for the golem?” asked Boxxy.
“This is your personal golem, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then there’s no problem.”
Personal golems were classified as ‘equipment’ as far as the law was concerned, so unless someone
reported it stolen or gone rogue, then there was no reason to bother with it. Lenny was of course curious
where this young elf got a fine piece of steel like that, but knew better than to pry about an adventurer’s
belongings. It was bound to be some embellished, long-winded story that had unflattering details
removed from it, all in order to make the adventurer look good. Lenny had heard his fair share of such
stories, so he opted to pass on this one as well.
And the old dwarf’s intuition was spot on, because the story Fizzy had prepared beforehand to explain
her origins was nothing less than a steaming pile of bullshit.
“I have another question,” stated Boxxy. “Do you know of any Warlock guilds in town?”
The elderly dwarf blinked a few times in surprise.
“I thought you were headed up north.”
“So?”
“You know all guilds in town are affiliated with the Empire, right? They don’t have branch offices
across the border.”
Someone joining an adventurer guild just before leaving the country seemed like an odd decision to say
the least. People very rarely changed their guilds once they chose one, and the few that did were often
treated like second-rate adventurers. After all, guilds invested in their members by providing training
and support, so having one of them jumping ship like that was considered a betrayal of sorts.
“I just want to advance my Job,” added Boxxy. “I’m not interested in joining full-time since I hate
politics.”
This was the response Xera had prepared for her Master beforehand. Freelance adventurers sometimes
showed up demanding Job advancement, so the various guilds were more than happy to take their gold.
Provided these wanderers subjected themselves to a Full Appraisal, of course.
“Ah, so that’s how it is. Well, the Order of the Black Wand has an office on the west side of town, near
the market plaza. Try there.”
“I see. Thanks.”
The young elf walked briskly into town, with his pet golem following immediately behind.
“Hey Lenny,” called out one of the guards. “You said he had no guild affiliation, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“I could’ve sworn that guy’s shoulder patch was the one belonging to a guild called the Brotherhood of
the Third Eye.”
He was referring to the eye-shaped insignia on the right shoulder of Boxxy’s robes.
“You’re sure of this?”
“Pretty sure, aye.”
“Maybe he got kicked out or something?” chimed in the other guard. “He did say something about
politics, and you know how rowdy some of those disputes can get.”
“I don’t know, it’s strange. That Brotherhood is a relatively small time guild, you know. They don’t have
the luxury of just kicking people out over trivialities like those big-timers.”
“You sure know a lot about an obscure organization like that, huh?” said Lenny. “I mean, I’ve never
even heard of them until just now.”
“Well, one of my drinking buddies used to be a part of it before he retired. He talks quite a bit about his
glory days, so a lot of the details stuck with me.”
“Should I go call that guy back and question him more thoroughly?” asked the other guard.
“Don’t do anything unnecessary,” cautioned Lenny. “It’s not illegal to change guilds, just unusual.
Besides, something tells me that lad has had it rough. You don’t become like that unless you’ve been
through something terrible.”
The two guards nodded in response. Anyone willing to cover a steel golem with their ‘bodily fluids’ and
then lick them off was undoubtedly not right in the head.
“Still, I think I’ll make a note of it, just in case.”
Lenny opened the ledger and went back to the page that he used to log new arrivals. He found the entry
for ‘Chester Underwood’ and added ‘Possible member of Brotherhood of 3rd Eye’ in the far right field
reserved for comments.
“Oh damn,” said the dwarven Scribe. “I messed up when writing the guy’s details earlier. Guess I was a
bit distracted.”
He then crossed out a word in the ledger and wrote something else in the margin above it.
“You’re sure about that?” asked one of the guards. “Shouldn’t you re-do the Appraisal if you messed
up?”
“No, it’s fine. Just a slip of the hand I suppose. That’s what I get for doing my job sober.”
He put away the ledger with a chuckle.
“After all, there’s no way the Appraisal actually said he was 17 fish old.”
Boxxy walked into the branch office of the Order of the Black Wand. It was one of the relatively bigger
buildings around town as it had 3 floors, although the interior was rather on the cramped side. Overall, it
looked to have considerably less total floor space than the 2-story Mercenary Guild back in Erosa.
Though this much was natural since this town barely had 4,300 people living in it. Having an
outlandishly large building in a lowly populated place like this would be pretty pointless. Those three
guilds back in the village of Carran were basically occupying old houses, so this place was pretty
extravagant in comparison.
It wasn’t just in size either. The waiting area immediately beyond the entrance was well decorated and
gave off a sense of dignity and class. A plush carpet lined the entrance and led to the receptionist desks
some 8 meters away from it. Magical lights adorned the walls and ceiling, making the space just bright
enough so as to not be unpleasant. Several framed paintings and portraits adorned the walls, while the
fancy stained glass windows displayed a number of strange symbols and sigils. Several benches lined
the sides of the room and a Quest Board was visible off to the left. The wall opposite the entrance had 3
counters, each performing a different service. There were several people in line at each of the clerks, all
of them draped in cloaks and robes of various colors.
The Order of the Black Wand was one of the largest caster-centric guilds in the country, so it made sense
that their clientele would be of a mystical persuasion. This organization was known for handling magical
matters that were usually of questionable repute, so they predominantly dealt with Warlocks,
Necromancers and Wizards, although the odd Cryomancer or Rogue could be seen skulking about as
well. It was the best place for Boxxy to finally advance its Warlock Job beyond Level 25.
The monster disguised as a ginger-haired elf lined up at the far right queue, the one that had a sign that
had a quill and parchment drawn on it and a word that was probably ‘Administration’ beneath it. The
other two lines of people also had notices hanging from the ceiling above them. The leftmost one
seemed like it handled Quest-related matters while the middle one processed the sale and purchase of
various magical and alchemical goods. The person immediately in front of Boxxy was a male gnome
draped in a black, hooded cloak. His face wasn’t visible from the back, but the Mimic’s magical
perception told it that this guy was relatively young, possibly around Fizzy’s age, and had some nasty
burn marks on the right side of his face.
Far more interesting than the gnome, however, was the thing that floated directly above him. It was a
spherical creature that was about 90 centimeters in diameter. Its skin was a bright red, almost pink hue
that was considerably bumpy and wrinkled. It had one massive eye in the middle of its face, and a large
mouth filled with needle-like teeth underneath. 10 tendril-like eyestalks came out of the top, sides and
back of the head, almost like errant strands of hair. Each eyeball had a different color, although the big
one at the front was a rich purple.
This creature was a Beholder, a demon that most likely served as the gnome’s familiar. According to the
lore contained in the Summon Familiar and Demonology Skills, Beholders were demons whose main
purpose was not combat, but information gathering through observation. They loved hoarding secrets
and knowledge for themselves, and made sure to avoid sharing what they knew as much as possible.
That didn’t mean they couldn’t fight, however. Although their offensive capabilities were lacking, the
various types of eye beams they could fire were capable of weakening, staggering or outright crippling
their target. They could also erect magical barriers in order to protect their master and allies, although
they probably had to be specifically ordered to do so as demons were quite fickle creatures.
Boxxy ended up staring unabashedly at the Beholder while it was calling up what it knew about its
species. This was only the second time the Mimic had seen a demon that wasn’t one of its familiars, the
first one being Punchy. Overcome with curiosity, the monster probed the Beholder’s insides, eager to
find out how it was put together. As expected, there were barely any internal organs and most of the
body mass was just thick muscle. The only things of note were a brain contained within a large skull, a
flat, circular organ at the roof of its mouth and an odd body part that looked like three hourglasses were
joined at their middle.
Actually that last part seemed oddly familiar. The Mimic suddenly realized that this thing was the
Beholder’s Mana Locator Gland, one that was far more advanced than its own. And being able to ‘see’ it
meant that the demon could do the same and spot the disguised monster’s own clearly out-of-place
MLG. In fact, judging from how the Beholder silently turned around in mid-air to stare back at Boxxy
with all 11 eyes, it most definitely noticed something was amiss.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”
The demon spoke directly into Boxxy’s mind with the voice of an old man, one that hinted of centuries’
worth of wisdom. The disguised monster also felt a slight disturbance in the mana around it, probably
due to the Beholder analyzing its body in some way. Boxxy understandably got a bad feeling about this
situation.
“A Doppelganger!” it exclaimed telepathically.
Those words sent Boxxy on high alert as its fears had been realized - the demon had determined the
shapeshifter’s true nature.
“How nostalgic! I haven’t seen one of your kind in centuries!”
Oddly enough, the demon actually sounded jovial and intrigued. Shouldn’t it be more suspicious that a
monster was right next to its master?
“Do not fret, young one. I have no intention of ratting you out to these mortals. In fact, I’m rather
looking forward to seeing what you’re up to.”
Ah, that’s right. Come to think of it, demonic familiars didn’t typically care about their masters or
mortals in general. It was highly unlikely that this Beholder would warn the gnome or anyone else that a
murderous monster was in their midst. Therefore, not alerting the gnome was actually the normal
response for a demon.
“I’m sure you won’t mind if I just quietly observe, right?”
The fake elf lightly shook its head in response. If this demon was content to simply analyze the creature
in order to sate its own curiousity, then the Mimic would be happy to oblige. Especially since the
unspoken alternative was rather clear. Boxxy was so very close to obtaining more power, so it wasn’t
about to ruin this chance by needlessly causing a ruckus.
“That gland you have there,” said the demon, “it’s not something typically found in Doppelgangers,
right?”
Boxxy shook its head.
“The shape and size looks familiar… That’s a mimic’s Mana Locator Gland, is it not?”
His question was answered with a slight nod.
“Could it be… a Ranked Up mimic!?”
Boxxy nodded once again.
“How unusual! And you’re in this place, then that means- Oh, I see! So that’s how it was! Wah hah hah
hah hah!”
The Beholder bared its fangs as it smiled viciously at the elf, its head bobbing up and down slightly as it
laughed inwardly.
“Thruumitt!” whispered the gnome underneath the demon. “I told you not to bother anyone in here!
Face the front and close your mouth!”
The Beholder, Thruumitt, rolled his near-dozen eyes and turned around to face the front. Technically
speaking, Boxxy wasn’t ‘in here’ when the order was given, so he had taken the opportunity to alleviate
its boredom somewhat. The gnome merely threw a quick glance at the elf behind him and tossed out a
curt ‘Sorry about that’ before turning back to the front.
Boxxy didn’t particularly mind. Far from it, it was actually relieved that its cover seemed to be safe for
the moment. However, it had to reconsider how shallow its shapeshifting was. It lucked out this time,
but being an elf only on the surface nearly got it in trouble and it didn’t want to repeat that mistake.
Reconstructing its entire internal structure was not something it had considered doing before, so it made
a mental note to practice it later. It wouldn’t be too difficult since elves were pretty much like humans on
the inside except for a few key differences, like how elven hearts were on the right side rather than the
left.
And if there was one thing Boxxy T. Morningwood knew everything about, it was human anatomy.
That little ‘conversation’ just now also served to remind the Mimic that it had been a bit complacent
lately. The monster’s turn in line was still several minutes away, so it made use of this time to run some
final checks before the moment of truth. That’s how it realized that something was indeed out of place.
The monster had accidentally set its fake age as ‘17 fish,’ a leftover from when it played around with the
Essence Concealment Skill a few weeks ago. If it wasn’t for that gatekeeper’s machine-like attitude
when performing his duties, then this was definitely going to cause trouble. The monster quickly
corrected it to display ‘17 years’ and turned its attention towards dealing with the other problem it
spotted.
Namely, the eye-shaped insignia on its right shoulder. It didn’t think much of it at first, but Boxxy
realized that most of the people on the other two lines to its left had identical insignias that were
different from its own. Theirs was a shield-shaped crest that had a short, vertical line across the middle -
the same symbol that was engraved on the front door. Boxxy’s shoulder patch, on the other hand, was in
the shape of an open eye.
“Snack,” it called out to its familiar, who should still be waiting outside of the town’s ‘wall.’
“What is it, Master?” replied Xera. “Did something happen?”
“Everyone in this guild has the same thing on their shoulder. It doesn’t match mine.”
“Ah, you mean the guild crest?”
“I guess?”
“Not an issue. Just say you left that guild due to personal reasons and you should be fine.”
“What was it called again?”
“Brotherhood of the Third Eye, Master.”
“That’s a strange name.”
“Is it? I think it’s a pretty good one to be honest. Definitely better than ‘Order of the Black Wand,’ at
least.”
“But what about the other two?
“... Other two what?”
“Isn’t there a Brotherhood of the First Eye Master?”
The succubus sighed through the thought link.
“No, Master, the guild is called the Brotherhood of the Third Eye.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Next!” shouted the blonde female clerk at the front, drawing the Mimic’s attention.
The gnome and its Beholder familiar went up to the now empty counter in response. She had to actually
lean over the counter in order to maintain eye contact with the tiny Warlock in a rather compromising
posture. They spoke briefly about making some kind of appointment, which caused the gnome to
become rather irate as the person he was looking for seemed to have left town yesterday. He said a few
unkind words before leaving in a huff. Thruumitt shot Boxxy a pleading look that seemed to say ‘please
kill this idiot’ as he floated by, but was brilliantly ignored.
“Next!”
The disguised Mimic took a few stops forward and greeted the elven clerk.
“Hello!” it said with a rather cheerful tone.
The monster was inwardly glad this receptionist wasn’t human, otherwise its Butcher of Humanity Perk
would have made things difficult.
“Hello there, sir,” she replied with a bright smile that didn’t lose to Boxxy’s. “What can I help you
with?”
“I need to see a Warlock trainer,” answered Boxxy.
“Then I will need to confirm a few things. Are you a member of the Order of the Black Wand?”
“No.”
“Do you have any current guild affiliations?”
“No.”
“What about past guild affiliations?”
“Yes.”
The receptionist craned her in order to get a good look at the ginger elf’s shoulder.
“Ah, Brotherhood of the Third Eye, right?”
“Yes.”
“Let me guess - left due to personal reasons?”
“That’s right.”
“I understand completely, sir. Those humans can be quite insufferable sometimes.”

“Indeed.”
As expected of Snack, things went quite smoothly.
“Would you be interested in joining our guild, instead? I can guarantee that we are very strict about anti-
elven discrimination around here.”
“No, thank you.”
“Ah, that’s a shame,” she mumbled with a slouch of her shoulders. She then straightened herself up and
resumed her questioning. “Are you alright with submitting yourself to a Full Appraisal?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, and lastly - what sort of Warlock training do you need?”
“I need to get past Level 25.”
“Well, you’re in luck, sir. We have a trainer available right now, so you can get set up immediately. I just
need you to pay the training fee of 500 GP and I can send you on your way.”
“...”
Boxxy hesitated for a moment. It was obvious there was going to be some fee involved, but 500 GP was
much more expensive than it thought. Even if the price was hiked up for non-members, this was clearly
too much, wasn’t it? The receptionist seemed to notice what it was thinking and smiled reassuringly.
“I understand it seems a bit expensive, but please understand that finding a Level 50 Warlock who also
has a Level 4 Mentor Skill is rather difficult. The individual I will be refering you to is also a Scribe, so
he is perfectly capable of performing the Appraisal as well.”
This receptionist had a point. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad considering it was a one-time fee. Especially
since this person would never meet with Boxxy under normal circumstances.
“Okay, I’ll pay.”
The monster reached inside its robes and pulled out a rather heavy coin pouch it had prepared
beforehand. It counted out 500 GP worth of coins and placed them in the counter in front of the wide-
eyed clerk. She was just about to suggest some sort of loan or payment plan since she didn’t expect a
young elven lad to have that much gold on him. Her experienced eyes told her the heavy pouch he
showed had at least 3, maybe 4 times more money in it. He was quite well off for a stray elf, wasn’t he?
“One moment, please,” she said while scooping up the coins and stowing them away somewhere behind
the counter. She then pulled out a small scrap of paper that already had some markings on it and started
writing on it. When she was done, she stamped it with the Order of the Black Wand’s seal and handed it
to her client.
“Here you go, sir. Just head through that door on your right and enter the third office on the left. Show
this ticket to the bearded gentleman inside and he’ll handle the rest.”
“I see,” said Boxxy while looking at the door in question.
“Is there anything else you will be needing today?”
“This trainer is a Scribe?”
“He is indeed.”
“Could he appraise a magic item for me?”
Boxxy was quite eager to find out the exact properties of the fancy skull-staff it picked up in that
dungeon. That’s why it had covertly brought it out of its Storage and currently had it slung over its
shoulder, although it had covered the intricate staff head in cloth so as to avoid attracting too much
attention.
“Of course, although that will be a separate charge of 25 GP.”
At least this fee was more reasonable. Boxxy promptly paid it and was given another scrap of paper half
a minute later. It had a bunch of numbers and letters that seemed like gibberish, much like the first one.
This was probably some code or shorthand that only the guild’s employees knew about.
“Just give that to the trainer along with the first one,” she explained. “Now, anything else I can help you
with?”
The way she asked that last question had a weird undertone to it that Boxxy couldn’t quite pick up on.
On second thought, this elven clerk was behaving in a subtly different way from when she spoke to that
gnome. She had a bright, natural smile instead of the forced one she wore earlier, and seemed to throw
some meaningful looks at the Mimic, even going so far as dropping a wink or two of her golden eyes.
“No, that will be all. Thank you,” said Boxxy in a dry manner, clearly intent on moving on with its day.
“”
“Ah… You’re welcome…” offered the receptionist with a voice full of disappointment.
The socially inept monster, on the other hand, had no idea this woman actually found its plain
appearance rather cute and was trying to flirt with it. She was usually the one getting hit on and she took
pride in her appearance, so having her advances shot down like that was a bitter pill to swallow. Even if
it was in her best interest.
Strictly speaking, though, she never even stood a chance. Her attempts at seduction would fail
completely even if she threw off her clothes, went on all fours, presented her exposed rear and wiggled
her butt at the creature while shouting ‘Do me!’ like a bitch in heat. Which, by the way, was something
Xera had already tried a few times with zero success.
Boxxy proceeded to the door in the corner of the waiting area while the clerk yelled out for the next
person in line to step up. It walked through it and found itself in a sparsely decorated hallway with a
number of doors lining either side of it and a staircase on the opposite end. It went to the third door on
the left as instructed and noted the plaque that was nailed to it. The monster couldn’t read the words ‘J.
Grimebeard, Warlock Trainer’ on it, but it could at least count to three so it was pretty confident this was
the right place. It then followed the common etiquette that Snack had taught it about and knocked on the
door.
“Come in,” came a dignified voice from within, prompting Boxxy to enter into the cramped, albeit tidy
office.
“G’day, laddie,” greeted the gray-haired gray-bearded dwarf sitting behind the desk in the corner.
“Name’s Grimebeard, in case ye couldn’t tell.”
He wore elegant-looking black robes and had a pointed, wide-brimmed hat. His face looked
considerably wrinkled, much older than the Scribe Boxxy met at the town gates, yet his voice was oddly
full of vigor.
“Hello,” replied the fake elf. “I’m Chester.”
“So what can I do fer ye, Chester?” he asked while putting away the letter he was writing.
“I’m here for some training and an item appraisal,” explained Boxxy while putting the two tickets it got
earlier on the desk. The dwarf promptly picked them up and gave them a once over.
“Alright, then we will start with the Full Appraisal,” he said while getting up from his seat and walking
around to where the would-be-elf was standing.
“Ah, do ye mind taking a seat?” he asked while gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. “I cannae
reach that high otherwise.”
The Mimic wasn’t quite sure what this was about, but did as instructed, putting its eyesight on the same
level as the dwarf’s. The Warlock called Grimebeard then placed a hand on either side of the monster’s
head and chanted “Full Appraisal.”
Boxxy was expecting to feel the same skin-crawling sensation it experienced when it was still in
captivity, but nothing of the sort happened. It instead had the odd feeling of something inside it itching
for a bit, signifying that the invasive Full Appraisal had been safely redirected.
Chester
Underwood
Species Elf STR 13 MNT 93 Warlock 25 MAX
Sex Male DEX 4
Age 17 years AGI 6

Guild END 71
368/368 (+0.7/
HP INT 136
sec)
680/680 (+0.4/
MP WIS 49
sec)
Skill List
Summon Familiar 9 76% Staff Mastery 3 48%
Power Overwhelming 8 60% Ruin Mastery 9 56%
Demonology 6 40% Domination Mastery 7 14%
Grimebeard frowned when he saw this unbalanced Status. Of particular concern were the Summon
Familiar and Demonology Skills. He usually told his pupils to avoid picking those since, while
powerful, demons would always conspire against their masters. And immortal beings with hundreds,
possibly thousands of years of life experience were bound to find a way to indirectly cause their master
harm if given enough time.
Still, he held in the urge to chastise what he thought was a foolish youth. Skill counseling was not what
this elf came into his office for, not to mention that he was an outsider, a freelancer. Those people always
did what they wanted and wouldn’t listen to his sage advice anyway.
“Right, gimme a sec.”
The dwarf walked back to his desk and quickly jotted down the details of the Full Appraisal, including
the Attributes and Skill composition, noting the apparent lack of Perks. He then walked back to where
Boxxy was sitting and put both hands on its head once more.
“Job Advancement: Warlock!”
A pale blue light engulfed the dwarf, which then flowed through his hands and into the shapeshifted
monster’s head. The whole process was over with in a few seconds.
The maximum Level of your Warlock Job has been increased to 50.
The maximum Level of your Ruin Mastery Skill has been increased to 15.
The maximum Level of your Domination Mastery Skill has been increased to 15.
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
You have learned a new Spell: True Darkness
You have learned a new Spell: Massive Rejection
“... What?” blurted out the Mimic.
“Hm? Something wrong, laddie?”
“I just… gained Warlock Levels… out of nowhere…”
“Ah yeah, that’s natural. Yer Job keeps gathering XP even if it’s capped out,” explained Grimebeard, “so
it’s not that strange to gain one or two Levels after the cap gets raised.”
“Oh! That’s pretty convenient!” noted Boxxy. It was quite pleased that all those things it killed with
Spells so far hadn’t gone completely to waste.
“Eh, not really. Even if it keeps accumulating, the XP ye get this way is hugely reduced. Ye’d probably
have gained at least twice the number of Levels by now if ye had advanced yer Job right away.”
The dwarf didn’t mind saying this much since it was directly related to the elf’s request. Besides, the
truly clueless face that young man was making was quite pitiful, so the old teacher couldn’t really help
himself.
“I see. Thank you.”
“Yer welcome, laddie. So let’s see this magic item ye brought.”
Boxxy stood up and unwrapped the staff on its back, then presented it to the dwarf. Grimebeard stared
wide-eyed at it, unable to contain his shock and surprise. He reached out a trembling hand and placed it
on the handle.
“Identify, Appraise Item, Detect Enchant,” he chanted with an almost quivering voice.
Information about the staff’s properties flowed into his mind. A strange glint appeared in his eye as he
smiled at the elven lad. He opened his mouth to speak, but the young mister Underwood had beaten him
to it.
“Bad things will happen if you lie to me, old man.”
The elf’s unveiled threat immediately cut off the dwarf’s train of thought. He bit back his words and
silently admitted that this dopey-looking kid was sharper than he looked. The dwarf was about to try and
deceive him that this was item was just a decorative walking stick and not even a mage’s staff, then offer
to buy it off him for ‘a good price.’ But his little scheme had been sunk before he even attempted it. The
guild was sure to have his ass on a platter if he was caught falsifying Appraisal results again, so he
decided to change his approach.
“I wouldn’t even dream of it, laddie! I was just shocked since it is quite the excellent item! Here, let me
write the details down for ye!”
The dwarf hurriedly returned to his desk, pulled out a form of some kind and started writing down the
staff’s information. Boxxy carefully observed him as he did so, keeping watch for any more suspicious
behavior. The monster may be oblivious when it came to matters of romance, but it was an expert in the
field of greed. There’s no way it would fail to notice the way this dwarf was blatantly coveting its shiny
thing.
Of course, the nature of its threat was a very direct one. ‘Lie to me and I will eat your face’ is pretty
much what it meant. In fact, it considered doing that anyway, but gave up on it since it would probably
cause more trouble than it was worth.
Once Grimebeard was done, he handed the sheet of paper to Boxxy, who looked it over while nodding to
itself.
Yup, can’t read a single word of it.
Its education regarding reading and writing was practically non-existent at this point, so it rolled up the
appraisal results and stowed them away inside its robes. Snack or Fizzy should be able to tell it what the
paper said, although its validity was questionable. The monster decided it would get a second opinion on
the staff and find another scribe to Appraise it. It wrapped up the valuable item, slung it over its back
and curtly left the office on its way out of the building.
Grimebeard sat in silence for about a minute after the door to his office was slammed shut. Once he
made sure that elf was gone and nobody was listening in, he reached under his desk and pulled out
crystalline cube that was about 8 centimeters on all sides. He tapped its topmost side 3 times, causing it
to flash in response. He then brought it up to his face and started whispering into it.
“Iretta. Chosoros. Elemus. Crokara. Ronbus. Epiporia. Afurte. Mekon.”
The cube flashed again and its insides flickered to life. The slightly transparent image of a face obscured
by a thick hood was projected in the air, directly in front of Grimebeard. The figure carefully observed
the stern-faced dwarf and spoke with a distorted voice that came out of the cube itself.
“You’re contacting us way ahead of schedule.”
“I know, but I have an urgent job for you. One that both of us are bound to profit from.”
It wasn’t every day that an Artifact-grade item crossed Grimebeard’s desk, and he wasn’t about to let it
go so easily.
The front door to the Bootlick Craftsman Union’s office was flung open and a ginger haired elf was
shoved through it and into the dusty street. A buxom succubus and a 1-meter tall steel golem were also
roughly kicked out of the building a few moments later.
“And don’t come back!” came a man’s voice from inside, just before the door was slammed shut.
“Hey!” shouted Fizzy while banging on the door. “What about my stuff?! I paid for those!”
The thick oak door flew open once again with enough force to make the golem stagger backwards. A
sealed wooden crate that was almost as tall as her was then roughly tossed through the gap, landing on
the dirty ground with a thunderous rattle.
“Watch it, asshole! There’s some delicate things in there!” she complained.
That crate was filled with freshly bought Artificer parts to help further the Mimic’s training. The thought
that that brick-headed bouncer might have bent or broken something just now was infuriating, to say the
least.
“Should’ve thought of that before you caused trouble!” shouted back the muscular dwarf from inside
before shutting the door closed once again.
“Hey, Bo- Chester,” said Fizzy while practically fuming with anger. “It’s okay if I smash this place,
right? Because I really want to smash this place right now!”
“While I agree with you that the building could be more on fire,” chimed in the scowling Xera, “this is
neither the time nor the place for that.”
Truthfully speaking, the succubus was far more outraged than the childish golem. She wanted to burn
not only this wooden warehouse-like building, but turn this entire shithole of a town into ash. How dare
they mistreat her beloved Master like that?! Unfortunately, doing so would be counterproductive to say
the least. Besides, the Master in question didn’t seem to care, so mass arson would have to remain as just
a fantasy. At least for the moment.
“You’re just gonna let them get away with this?!” insisted Fizzy.
“It’s fine, this much is nothing,” said the disguised Boxxy with an oddly cheerful tone. “I got what I
came here for anyway.”
The reason why the Mimic had set foot into the Craftsman Union building was to meet back up with
Fizzy and get a second opinion on its skull-adorned staff. It had to pay an extra 25 GP for the
identification service, but it honestly didn’t mind. At the very least, it proved that the shifty dwarf from
earlier actually did his job properly, since the two sets of Appraisal results were identical.
And they painted quite the tasty picture.
Voidcaller
An adamantite greatstaff said to have been created by the hands of a demon who crossed
into the physical realm under his own power. It is infused with the essence of the Beyond,
and only those who have embraced the shadows may fully unlock its potential.
Type: Staff
Quality: Artifact
Offensive Ability: C
Defensive Ability: E+
Durability: AA+
Magic Amplification: 10% All, 20% Shadow
Enchantments: Greater Channeling, Greater Intelligence, Lesser Magic Resistance,

Reduced Weight
Ignition Ability: Voidcaller
Estimated Value: Priceless
This was the information recorded on the two pieces of paper the Mimic held in its hands. Of course, it
knew very little about what any of these things meant at first, but the female elf that appraised the item
was kind enough to teach it the details. Much like the receptionist from earlier, she also seemed to fancy
the ginger-haired, plain-faced elf, which slightly confused the socially awkward monster. Still, she had
gone out of her way to educate the clueless creature for free, so it decided this behavior was probably a
good thing.
To begin with, the Type of the item was rather obvious. Its only real meaning was to make it clear which
Mastery Skill would apply to it. Boxxy had already acquired the Staff Mastery Skill by beating several
things to death with it, granting it a relatively tiny boost to STR and END. The staff’s heft and hardiness
actually made it a surprisingly effective bludgeoning weapon.
The next field was arguably the most important one. Every item could be categorized into one of 8 tiers
of Quality, and each tier had its own degree of performance. At the lower end was equipment of Poor,
Standard and Uncommon Quality, which made up the vast majority of items. These arms and armor
were completely mundane and entirely unmagical in every way. Most foot soldiers and beginner
adventurers very rarely had equipment above Uncommon quality.
Mid-range items were those of Superior or Masterwork Quality, which typically indicated one or two
enchantments in addition to increased effectiveness. It is said that no regular artisan could hope to
produce items that were above these tiers. Producing a Masterwork item usually required inborn talent,
decades of experience, months of hard work and the highest quality ingredients and materials, so to go
beyond this degree of Quality was widely considered as nothing but a pipe dream.
The high-end of the Quality spectrum were items whose origins were shrouded in mystery and often
involved some outrageous circumstances. Artifacts like Boxxy’s staff were relics of great power that
were truly one of a kind, and supposedly only a few hundred of those existed on the face of this world.
Phantasmal-tier items, on the other hand, were even more powerful than that. They numbered in the
dozens and each and every one of them was surrounded by a myriad of legends and myths. And the
ultimate tier of Divine Quality items were so exceptionally rare and powerful, that countries would
gladly wage wars in order to secure them for themselves. In fact, only 3 of them had ever been recorded
in the Lodrak Empire’s 640 years of history, and two of them had eventually led to armed conflict.
Suffice it to say, the staff called Voidcaller was an item with outstanding performance that dwarfed the
vast majority of its kind. An offensive rating of C and defensive rating of E+ meant if used as a weapon,
it would have the same effectiveness as a two-handed wrought iron warhammer if used as a melee
weapon. The guild official explained that most staves typically had the lowest possible score of F in both
fields, as they were typically used by spellslingers rather than close-quarters fighters, and that both of
those ratings did not take any magical properties into account.
The Durability on the other hand was how resistant the item was to being damaged. A weapon with poor
Durability, for example, would needed a lot of maintenance and would be extremely prone to breaking
in combat. This property would vary slightly depending on the quality of the material and the skill of the
crafter, but the deciding factor was the type of material used in its construction. Forged steel, for
example, had an average Durability rating of C+. Iron was usually around D level, while mithril was
around B+. Items forged out of adamantite, on the other hand, were nigh-indestructible, so Voidcaller
having a Durability rating of AA+ was not really out of place.
What was out of place, however, was its Magic Amplification. Most Enchanters struggled to produce
staves that went above 15% bonus damage to Spells, so seeing one that provided a 30% amplification
was quite extraordinary. The fact that this consisted of a 10% bonus to all magic and an additional 20%
boost to Shadow-attuned magic was extremely impressive, as the method to produce this type of
compound enchantment had been lost to time. It was truly befitting an Artifact-grade staff.
The number and quality of magical effects did not disappoint either. According to what the Scribe that
appraised it said, Greater Channeling reduced the MP cost of all Spells by 10% while Greater
Intelligence was what provided that truly tasty boost of +50 INT. Both of these effects were things that
Boxxy was able to confirm on its own, but the third one came as a pleasant surprise.
Lesser Magic Resistance provided it with an additional 3% defense against all forms of magic. The
Reduced Weight effect, on the other hand, cut down the weapon’s mass down to a third of what it should
be, which was a good thing considering it was still much heavier than it looked. Boxxy might manage to
handle the raw weight due to its high STR Attribute, but a regular caster would likely injure themselves
if they tried to lift that sort of weight.
The reason for this was that, although largely considered unbreakable, the pitch-black metal known as
adamantite was also extremely heavy. This drawback was so bad that the Reduced Weight enchantment
was something that was pretty much mandatory for all gear made out of this absurd and rare material.
And last, though by no means least, was the revelation that this item came with an Ignition Ability. This
was something that many items of Artifact and higher Quality possessed, and was what truly set these
priceless treasures apart from the rest. It allowed such arms and armor to produce a one-of-a-kind
magical effect when activated, which typically involved supplying the item with a certain amount of MP
while chanting the Ignition Ability’s name. There were some instances where a relic demanded specific
conditions or reagents in order to properly ‘ignite,’ although such cases were quite rare.
The staff called Voidcaller was capable of enhancing summoning-type magic when provided with 666
MP. Although the exact effects seemed to differ based on which Skill was being used, in Boxxy’s case it
meant that it allowed the Warlock to instantly activate the Summon Familiar Skill at no additional cost.
And the reason it knew this was that it ‘ignited’ the weapon to try it out immediately after it realized that
this was a thing it could do. This caused a bright red doorway of light to appear in the middle of the
office and a disoriented Xera to fell out of it, much to the dismay of the elven Scribe at the scene.
The startled girl attempted to chastise the elven boy for doing dangerous, unnecessary things like that,
but gave up when she realized that the unrepentant creature was completely ignoring her. The way this
Chester Underwood stared unabashedly at the practically naked succubus did not help soothe her ire in
the slightest, either.
Of course, the monster was not having lecherous thoughts, but merely confirming there was nothing
wrong with the succubus’s body. A summoned familiar’s strength would normally be based on how
much MP was used for the summoning, so having the Skill consume a grand total of 0 MP should have
meant that Xera wouldn’t even have a body. And yet the succubus was at her full strength, much to
Boxxy’s surprise. Then again, the actual method through which she appeared was quite different, so the
monster merely accepted it as the Artifact’s magic at work.
Although it was a bit unsure initially, it very quickly determined that this Ignition Ability was incredibly
tasty. Not only did it eliminate the activation time for the Summon Familiar Skill, but it also cut down
on the MP cost without sacrificing performance. Granted, it could only be activated once every 2 hours,
but it was still a major boon in an emergency situation. After all, the Mimic seriously doubted it would
have the spare MP and/or time to activate the Summon Familiar Skill normally if it was in the middle of
a fight, especially one where a familiar had lost its life and had to be re-summoned.
Actually, wasn’t this weapon too tasty?
This Voidcaller was so perfect for Boxxy that it almost seemed like it was custom made to fit its needs.
If the monster had found this weapon before it got captured, it would have attributed the event to good
fortune and moved on with its life. However, it now knew about the existence of the Goddess of Chance,
so it couldn’t help but notice the possibility of interference. Thinking back on the chain of events
immediately prior to its Rank Up, it wasn’t a stretch to say that the only reason it got its hands on this
Artifact was due to that guy’s manipulations.
Then again, as the God of Probability himself had said, a prediction is different from a prophecy. The
meaning behind those words was that there existed an element of randomness in everything, and that no
outcome had a 100% success rate. He also mentioned he doesn’t want to interfere directly too much
since it makes things boring. Therefore, it was also possible that Boxxy was overthinking things and that
it happened upon this item through blind luck and nothing more.
Ultimately, however, the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of things didn’t really matter. Whether Boxxy got Voidcaller
through some divine plan or good fortune was debatable, but irrelevant. Heck, those things were
practically one and the same whenever Willy was concerned, so the monster simply concluded it should
be thankful to the deity for the tasty stick and moved on with its life all the same.
While it was at it, the monster decided to have two other things appraised as well, one of which was
Fizzy’s gauntlet. The gnome had been in the same building for a while, so it quickly found her and
dragged her before the still upset Scribe. The female elf was a bit apprehensive about touching a cursed
item, but not enough to keep her from performing her job.
Left Hand of the Forsaken Sentinel
An ancient gauntlet from an age long past, forged out of a steel alloy and fortified with
magic. It is well made and has survived the passage of time as well as numerous battles
with no permanent damage to it. A terrible power dwells within, for it still bears the grudge
of its former wielder.
Type: Plate Armor

Quality: Artifact
Offensive Ability: E
Defensive Ability: B+
Durability: A
Magic Amplification: None
Enchantments: Curse of the Steelshaper, Enhanced Durability, Self Repair, Well Fitted
It was another Artifact, which was unsurprising considering both items were retrieved from a dungeon.
It seemed far less impressive than the staff at first glance, though. The enchantments were mostly self-
explanatory and seemed rather low-impact, not to mention it lacked an Ignition Ability. Then again,
being able to completely change one’s species was doubtless an impressive feat in and of itself.
Mithril Dirk
A long thrusting dagger. This weapon was forged out of pure mithril by the dwarven smiths
of Einharvel. It boasts superior sharpness and durability.
Type: Dagger
Quality: Superior
Offensive Ability: B
Defensive Ability: D+
Durability: A
Enchantments: None
Estimated Value: 550 GP
The monster’s trusty mithril daggers were the other thing it decided to get appraised. As expected, they
were completely unenchanted. Seeing this, the elven Scribe immediately offered her services as an
Enchanter, but Boxxy decided against it. An item could only be enchanted once, and the process carried
the risk of breaking the item completely. The monster therefore said in no uncertain terms that it did not
believe the elf was skilled enough to be allowed to work on its shiny dagger.
Those crass words really hurt the elven woman’s pride, which proved to be the last straw. Even if she
thought this elf was attractive, there was only so much rudeness she could forgive. First, he abruptly and
without warning ignited his weapon, an act that would be considered hostile under normal
circumstances. He then proceeded to shamelessly ogle the slutty demon it called forth, not to mention
how he stood up and left without saying a word, only to come back with a befuddled steel golem. The
elf woman was willing to look past those incidents as misunderstandings, but having her abilities as an
Enchanter blatantly insulted like that was the one thing she would not tolerate. Especially since she was
nice enough to educate this moron on things that should have been common sense.
Which is when she signaled for security, at which point the Mimic was ‘escorted’ out of the guild
building. Boxxy had already gotten everything it needed out of this place, so it simply went with the
flow and let the brick-headed bouncer show it the way out. It wasn’t about to cause a scene over
something as minor as being shoved about a bit, not to mention it was in a considerably good mood.
That’s how it found itself in the middle of the street, with two of its minions and a crate of parts. Come
to think of it, did that golem fulfil her duty?
“Fizzy, did you find out if you can get your Paladin Job advanced?” it asked matter-of-factly.
This was one of the things the golem was told to check out. She was given a bag of gold and told to stay
out of trouble while she did so, then meet up at the Bootlick Craftsman Union.
“I did better than that!” exclaimed Fizzy. She put her hands on her hips and thrust her chest out with
pride. “You’re now looking at a Level 28 Paladin!”
“Wait, you got past the Full Appraisal already?”
“Yep!”
“How?!”
There were quite a few out-of-place things on her Status, so Boxxy was certain she would be denied
outright. It was unlikely they’d attack her since these people seemed far more accepting of a talking
golem than it anticipated, which is why it let her go on her own.
“I told that Paladin trainer how my life was saved by the obscure God of Probability, which is why I
champion his name in return,” she explained. “I also fed them some line about how ‘bearing this
horrible curse is penance for my past sins’ or whatever.”
“And that worked?”
“Oh yeah, they ate that shit up! I just listened to Snack’s advice about how those righteous types were
suckers for self-sacrifice and repaying debts. Oh, right! Here’s the leftover money you gave me! Thanks
ever so much for this!”
Fizzy pulled out a coin pouch from her trousers and handed it to Boxxy with a wide smile.
“... There’s more gold left over than I thought,” noted the Mimic as it put it away inside its robes.
“Yeah, I got a good price for the parts since I’m technically still a member of Erosa’s Craftsman Union.”
Every major city and many towns had their own version of a Craftsman Union guild. The reason for
having multiple sister organizations instead of one big one was that, unlike adventurers, artisans very
rarely travel around. Each settlement’s production and manufacturing community was different, so each
place needed their own policies and standards. It just made management much easier on a whole, not to
mention that smaller guilds got a slight tax break from the government.
“What about the Paladin training fee?” asked Boxxy.
“Well, that did cost quite a bit, but the people over there were super-impressed by my sob story and
glorious steel frame, so I got it discounted to from 230 to 200 GP.”
“Geh!”
What was with this unfair treatment?! How come Paladin training was less than half the price of
Warlock training? Such blatant favoritism and discrimination was surely against the rules!
But on the other hand, that did mean that Boxxy didn’t have to shell out a whole 1,000 GP for training.
Having the cost on both the Job advancement and the Artificer components reduced was definitely a
good thing, especially since the monster had begrudgingly accepted those as necessary expenses for
getting stronger. Honestly, if the gold coins weren’t so wonderfully shiny, it wouldn’t even bat an eye at
spending them, but it didn’t have much choice. One typically had to use the power of money if they
wanted to obtain something in a civilized society.
And speaking of society, the one Boxxy was a part of right now was currently taking a healthy amount
of interest in the monster and its two companions. There were already 14 people who had stopped to
stare at the odd trio, and more would gather without question. Causing a scene here was the exact
opposite of ‘blending in,’ especially if any of those strangers had overheard the girls’ intentions of
wrecking the guild building next to them. Which is why the monster-in-disguise immediately gave the
order to leave the area.
The golem effortlessly picked up the heavy crate by lifting it above her head, then followed the other
two as they made their escape. The crowd of curious onlookers kept their eyes on them for several
seconds more before moving on with their lives. The monstrous trio ducked between some buildings and
kept walking through the quiet alleyways until they found a good spot that was away from prying eyes.
Boxxy quickly stowed away the heavy crate of parts inside its Storage, while Xera shifted her
appearance into that of a nondescript elven girl who wore a light leather outfit and changed her fake staff
into a fake bow. While Warlocks walking around with their familiars out wasn’t exactly illegal, it wasn’t
very covert, either. Masquerading as a group of adventurers was much more subtle, to say the least.
The Mimic then decided it was going to leave this place behind. It had already accomplished everything
it wanted to do here, so lingering was pointless. Dangerous, even. Fizzy’s Full Appraisal would have left
a record of her name and would serve as undeniable proof she had passed through here. Even if
Appraisal results were strictly confidential, someone with an important-sounding title like Spymaster
was sure to sniff them out eventually.
However, it would appear that the monster’s plans to head north would be slightly delayed. First it had
to deal with those strangers who were blocking the alley’s exit. All five of them were male dwarves, clad
in slightly matching light armor. Other common traits included strange tattoos around their eyes and on
their cheeks, not to mention that they were quite well armed. The two identical ones on the left held
compact crossbows that were already loaded. The one on the far right was unhooking a pair of axes from
his hip, while his friend immediately to the left was licking the blade of his dagger. He was probably
trying to be intimidating, but only made Boxxy wonder if that steel knife was particularly tasty.
The dwarf in the middle - the one carrying a large two-handed axe on his shoulder and was likely the
leader of this little posse - took a few steps forward.
“Pardon me for a moment, sir,” he called out with mock politeness, “but would you be willing to donate
to the Bootlick Charity Drive for Starving Orphans?”
The ginger-haired elf stared dumbly at this odd man, unable to comprehend what he was talking about.
“I don’t follow,” it said.
The thug-in-chief flashed an evil grin, showing a few of his gilded teeth.
“What, it’s no big deal. We’re just going relieve you of your excess baggage in order to help those in
need. Namely myself and my compatriots.”
The other 4 thugs chuckled grimly, but their leader’s roundabout way of speaking only served to confuse
the Mimic even more.
“Excuse me, Master,” said the disguised Xera through the telepathic link, “but I do believe these people
are trying to take your shinies.”
“You’re trying to rob me?” said Boxxy to the would-be-thieves.

“That’s such a nasty way of putting it,” said the leader with a smirk. “‘Forced donation’ sounds so much
better in my opinion.”
“Oh, how nice!” exclaimed Boxxy, much to everyone’s surprise.
“Really?” said Fizzy. “How is any of this ‘nice?’”
“I’ve never been mugged before,” said the strangely excited elf, “so I always wondered what it would be
like!”
The thug’s attitude turned rotten when he saw his mark’s carefree attitude. The information he was given
said that this guy was a clueless Warlock with more money than brains, so he wanted to toy with the boy
a little. However, he had underestimated just how idiotic this elf truly was. This whelp clearly had no
idea as to how deep the shit he was currently in truly was.
“You two,” he mumbled to the dwarves on his right. “Fire some warning shots. Into his face.”
The identical twins armed with crossbows didn’t hesitate in the slightest and fired a bolt each at the
smiling elf’s head. One of them hit his right eye while the other pierced his forehead, striking with
enough force to cause the young man to fall over backwards. The thug-in-chief scoffed mockingly at
how easy that was. Now they just had to get rid of that familiar and the tiny golem, and they’d be
practically rolling in it.
“Weak.”
What should have been a corpse suddenly spoke up, sending the five criminals on high alert.
“Level 25. 30 at most. Way too weak. Only good as afternoon snack.”
The ginger elf stood up slowly while saying some ominous things with a monotone voice. The wooden
bolts embedded in his skull fell out on their own as what should have been fatal wounds closed
themselves up in a matter of moments. The thugs felt chills going down their spines when they saw this
clearly unnatural creature before them. Nothing in the briefing said anything about this! Their
nervousness turned to fear and then to panic as they watched what should have been an easy mark
transform into a whirlwind of steel, teeth and flesh which descended upon them like Death incarnate.
The town of Bootlick was about to experience a drastic spike in murders, followed by a period of
unnaturally low crime rate.
A dwarf was napping pleasantly while leaning back in his simple wooden chair. His soft snoring echoed
slightly through the narrow stone hallway he was supposed to be keeping an eye on. Although this
behavior was not befitting someone who had been appointed to guard duty, none of his peers would fault
him for it. The actual ‘guarding’ consisted waiting for someone from the other side of the circular steel
door next to him to speak the password so that he can open it from the inside. This chore was closer to
being a doorman than an actual guard.
After all, not only was the door in question concealed as one of many wine casks inside a large
restaurant’s cellar, but it was also impossible to open it from the outside. Granted, this wasn’t the only
way in or out of the underground complex, but it was the one the grunts and enforcers of the Honeydew
Cartel used the most. They had a separate entrance at the opposite end that was mostly used for carrying
goods in and out of the hideout, but they avoided using that in broad daylight. After all, just because this
particular criminal organization was rather small-time didn’t mean they wouldn’t take a few extra
precautions so as to not be found out.
Especially considering their main source of income wasn’t something like extortion or armed robbery.
That stuff was for brainless bandits that lived in the woods and slept in the dirt. Granted, they still did
those things when the opportunity presented itself, but their specialty was smuggling. Being this close to
the northern border and along the imperial highway meant all manner of cargo, illegal or otherwise, had
to pass through this town of Bootlick, whether its owners wanted to or not.
The Honeydew Cartel’s main imports were narcotic substances that had a highly addictive nature, such
as Fairy Dust or the Honeydew they named themselves after. They were produced en-masse in the
Ishigar Republic to the north, where their use and sale wasn’t illegal like it was in the Empire, but was
still strictly regulated. These drugs were then smuggled across the border in large quantities and resold
to other organizations looking to peddle them to any commoners looking to get a fix. Overall, it was a
setup that ensured a steady stream of profit for everyone involved. Well, other than the end users, that is.
Of course, that was not the Cartel’s only revenue stream. They also sold superior Empire-forged
weaponry to the elves across the border. Purchasing and then smuggling quantities of weapons over the
lang route was risky, but the payout was well worth the danger involved. All things said and done, this
organization was doing quite well for itself even though its members didn’t even reach 3 digits.
Unfortunately, they were rather lacking in the information department. Most humans and elves simply
passed through the town, at most stopping only to rest for the night before moving on towards the
capital. It made gathering sensitive intel quite the challenge.
That didn’t mean they did not try, however. The cartel had an informant in pretty much every guild in
town, offering them a bounty of gold for any juicy info that flowed in from the Empire’s heartland. One
such mole was a Warlock that went by the rather unsavory name of Grimebeard. In fact, he had
informed the organization earlier today of a relatively low-leveled elven Warlock who had an Artifact-
grade item in his possession. It was clear that he wanted the item for himself, but the Cartel had other
ideas.
A single one of those ancient treasures could fetch thousands of GP if sold to the right bidder, far more
than what the old Warlock could offer them. He was told in no uncertain terms that the Cartel would take
charge of the Artifact and sell it to their contacts across the border. The old dwarf had momentarily
forgotten that, no matter how amicable they seemed, this Cartel was still a criminal gang that placed
their own profits first. He therefore had to begrudgingly give up on getting his hands on that staff and
would need to be satisfied with the extra large finder’s fee. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but it
would still be a lot more than the big fat nothing he would get otherwise.
After agreeing to his contact’s terms, he gave them everything he knew about one Chester Underwood,
including the confidential information gleaned from his Full Appraisal. The Cartel quickly learned that
this was the same ginger-haired elf with the personal steel golem that one of their own had identified as
a potential person of interest earlier today. The chance of getting their hands on not only the Artifact, but
also on that golem’s control rod was simply too good to pass up.
So the Cartel’s boss decided they would gobble the unsuspecting elf up. This was hardly the first time
they’d done something like this, and this mark would be easy enough to deal with as long as they could
take him out quickly and quietly. Six of the organization’s enforcers were immediately dispatched to
track down and relieve mister Underwood of his valuables. Although a few of them thought that sending
so many was perhaps overkill, none of them particularly minded ganging up on a single kid if it meant
they’d get paid without losing any of their accomplices.
That was over 5 hours ago.
*Bam bam bam*
“Frozen pickles!” shouted the dwarven doorman as the sudden banging noise woke him from his
slumber. It took him a few seconds to realize that there was someone outside the hidden entrance to the
hideout.
“Fifteen!” came a panicked male voice from the other end. “Twenty-two! Sixty-four! Uh, th-thirty?
Yeah, thirty!”
The dwarf rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he double checked the note on the wall, confirming that
those numbers were indeed this week’s password. He got off his chair and walked up to circular metal
door next to his station, kicking it once to show that he was about to open it. He placed a hand on the
large valve-like locking mechanism and was about to start turning it when the voice from the other side
called out again.
“Hurry it up!”
“Hold yer horses, asshole!” he shouted back.
Everyone knew the door was too heavy to just magically swing open all on its own. Not that this wasn’t
possible, it’s just that it was far cheaper to have a low-ranking grunt do the heavy lifting. The large valve
was turned two full revolutions before the heavy locks allowed the door to open inwardly. He pulled on
it with a bit of effort, and a draft of fresh air rushed in as the main entrance opened slowly.
The doorman looked through the ajar door and saw the figure of a thin, tattooed, black-haired dwarf
drenched in sweat standing in the middle of a wine cellar that held dozens of wine casks. The visitor
lunged through the open entrance, roughly shoving the guard out of his way as he did so, then hurriedly
pushed the door closed and spun the lock. Once the entrance had been firmly sealed, he slid down to the
ground, panting heavily.
“Tubbs? What the heck are ya doin’?” asked the other dwarf as he stared in shock. “Wait, where are the
others?”
The ironically nicknamed ‘Tubbs’ had been one of the six people that left earlier today. The fact that he
was returning alone and in such a dire state was distressing to say the least.
“Th- They’re dead!” he blurted out in between gasps for air.
“Dead? What you mean dead?! I thought you guys were just going to nab an elf!”
It was supposed to be a sure thing, so how did-
“That was no fucking elf!” screamed Tubbs, both his voice and his body quivering. “I don’t know what
that… thing was but it’s nothing like what we were told!”
“So then the others-”
“It ate them, man! It fucking gobbled them up like nothing! There’s nothing I could do! It would’ve
gotten me too if I didn’t run with all I had!”
“By Goroth’s tits… Did- Did that guy follow you here?!”
“I-I-I don’t know, I don’t think so- But we can’t take chances! If that bastard Grimebeard set us up, then
he might have sold us out to someone! We gotta warn the boss!”
“Fuck, yer right! Wait, why ‘we?’”
“I- I need your help… I can barely walk…”
The gatekeeper looked the sweat-drenched Tubbs over one more time. To say he looked like fuck would
be an understatement. The oddly slender dwarf must have run clear across town at full speed for him to
be this worn out. It was also readily apparent that not all of this sweat was due to physical exertion.
Although he would technically be deserting his post, this was hardly the time to nitpick.
Besides, manning the front door at this point was pointless, as the group Tubbs was a part of were the
only ones scheduled to return tonight. Not to mention that their boss would want to hear what happened
to her men right away. Even if she was ruthless to outsiders, she took good care of the boys under her
wing. This fostered an odd sense of trust and camaraderie one wouldn’t expect from a gang of criminals.
In fact, to say that the Honeydew Cartel treated each other like family would not be an understatement.
“Alright, take my shoulder!” he said while propping the exhausted Rogue up.
The pair of dwarves hurriedly moved down the hallway, making their way out of the passage and into a
wide-open cavern that was dug into the side of a hill that was near the edge of town. The dome-shaped
structure was created by magic and served as the hub of the Honeydew Cartel’s operations. The main
chamber served as a shared living space that was dotted with tables and chairs. One side of it had been
turned into a large kitchen while the center was dominated by a small arena where organized fistfights
often took place. A number of doors lined the walls, each leading to a small room that served as either
storage or sleeping areas.
Tubbs and his escort circled around the edge of the chamber towards the wall opposite the one they
came in from, drawing curious and worried glances from the two dozen dwarves that were milling
about. All of them had similar facial tattoos, marking them as belonging to the Honeydew Cartel. It
served as a warning to people around the area the hideout was in. The unspoken rule in this
neighbourhood was ‘don’t mess with the Cartel and they won’t mess with you.’
The pair quickly reached a pair of heavy wooden doors, beyond which lied the boss’s chambers.
“Hey Jammy, what’s up with Tubbs?” called out one of the two dwarves guarding the room.
“Got bad news, Rocker!” replied the doorman called Jammy. “Tubbs here says Hammerhead’s group got
wiped out!”
“Holy sh- Here, let me help!”
The muscular dwarf in the plate armor quickly opened the heavy doors and supported Tubbs from the
other side. The three of them walked into a rather simple room with sparse decorations, such as some
paintings, an old vase and a few carpets. Some old wooden furniture such as a few armchairs, a large
bed and a few bookshelves were lined up against the walls while 3 lanterns illuminated the inside,
providing plenty of visibility.
A tiny, wrinkled, gray-haired woman was sitting idly in a rocking chair off to the side, enjoying a rather
thick book. She shifted her bespectacled gaze away from it and stared inquisitively at the trio before
them. “What’s the matter, dearie?” she asked with a soft, worried voice.
This was Granny Hilda. Everything from her demeanor, to her simple clothes gave off the impression of
a kindly old grandmother, rather than the cold, calculating criminal she was underneath that facade.
“Tubbs said his group got wiped out, Gran!” reported Jammy.
The kind grandmother facade disappeared in an instant and the stern face befitting a gang boss appeared
instead. The change was so drastic that 8 out of 10 people would think she had been replaced by a
different person. She motioned for Rocker to leave and close the door behind him, which he did
immediately. This was a dire matter that she needed to handle without being disturbed.
“Is this true, Tubbs?”
He was supposed to serve as his group’s lookout, the one who watched over them and kept an eye out
for any witnesses or authorities that might interrupt their work. He was supposed to support his fellow
Cartel members from the rooftops and could drop down and assassinate any troublesome pests. The fact
that he claimed he was the only survivor was dire news indeed.
However, Tubbs did not answer right away. He stared blankly at his feet while mumbling something. If
Granny Hilda didn’t know any better, it would almost seem like he was chanting a Spell. That was
impossible, however. The Tubbs she raised was a Rogue, a damn good one at that. He was quick on his
feet and skilled with his hands, but did not have a head suited for anything complicated like magic.
Unfortunately for her, this wasn’t the Tubbs she knew.

“True Darkness!”
The entire room rapidly faded to black at the black-haired dwarf’s words, as if light itself was not
permitted to exist within this confined space. There were some surprised gasps and a few muffled yells,
after which nothing but silence. When the darkness cleared up about a minute later, the only thing left of
the dwarves in that room were two puddles of blood and one chest-shaped Doppelganger savoring its
meal.
The dwarf called Tubbs had been long dead. Boxxy had noticed him when he was trying to get the drop
on what he thought was a simple Warlock while his 5 compatriots provided a distraction. Once the
monster cleaned up the people in the alley, it quickly scaled the walls and restrained the last survivor
who was skulking on the rooftops. Xera then flexed her Dreamweaver Skill to probe the unwilling
dwarf’s recent memory, which is how Boxxy knew how to get into this hideout.
The plan it hatched was simple - pose as this dwarf, infiltrate the base, meet with his leader and take her
out before she could organize a defense. It managed to pull off this little masquerade surprisingly well,
mostly because the Mimic had played the part of the panicked and distraught dwarven Rogue. The
monster already had plenty of experience watching people flee in terror from it, so it was able to
replicate that unfortunate state without much difficulty. This little scenario had been good training so far,
but it was far from over. The next step after removing the head was to devour the body.
Boxxy opened its Storage and brought Fizzy out of it, much to her relief. It’s a good thing the gnome no
longer needed to breathe, otherwise she would have definitely suffocated by now. Still, that confined,
black space was extremely unsettling, so she would prefer if she didn’t have to spend more time in there
than necessary.
The monster then pulled out Voidcaller and activated its ability. The black, demonic skull’s jaw flew
open as if it were laughing, while its four jeweled eyes started glowing with unnatural intensity. A
doorway of bright red light almost as tall as the room opened up, and Kora stepped through it in the next
instant.
“Ugh,” she grunted while holding her head. “Bubble-butt was right, doing it this way is super weird.”
It would appear the forced summoning did not allow the time needed for the demon’s consciousness to
fully bond with its hastily created body. Although not dangerous to the immortal being’s soul, it still left
them dizzy and disoriented for several seconds while they settled into their instantaneously conjured
flesh.
“At least you weren’t treated as luggage…” said Fizzy with a small pout.
“Hey, Gran!” came a muffled shout from outside room. “You alright in there?”
It would appear that the dwarf called Rocker had heard the unfamiliar voices and was about to barge in.
“What’s the word, Boss?” asked Kora while cracking her knuckles.
“At least 27 targets, 10 of them armed,” explained Boxxy. “Likely more in the other rooms or outside,
but this should be this gang’s main force. Snack is keeping watch on the exit in case any of them try to
break out.”
The half-chest-half-spider then put Voidcaller back into Storage and exchanged it for its favorite mithril
daggers.
“I need three or four of them alive, get rid of the rest,” it commanded.
“Gran, I’m coming in!” yelled the guard from outside.
He put his hand on the door handle and was about to open it when Kora’s armored boot sent the heavy
wooden object flying off its hinges along with the dwarf that was on the wrong side of it. It smashed into
a nearby table, pinning Rocker and another befuddled Cartel member under its weight.
The loud crash gathered the attention of everyone present, who stared in shock as a gigantic pile of
muscle more than twice their own height stepped out of the relatively tiny door. Then came a flash of
something shiny and the sound of steel scraping against stone as the golem activated her Armored
Charge Skill. She closed the gap between herself and the nearest unfortunate meatbag in an instant,
slamming into the poor sod with enough force to break multiple bones and send him crashing into a
group of his friends.
“Alarm! Enemy attack!” shouted someone, sending all the dwarves into high gear.
The ones who weren’t armed quickly went to retrieve their weapons, while the ones that were engaged
the strange duo. They wanted to confirm on Granny Hilda’s condition, but most of them had already
reached the grim conclusion that she was done for. These monsters emerged from her private chambers,
so hoping she was still alive was a fool’s errand. The least they could do right now was avenge her.
Arrows, throwing knives and Spells flew at the bigger target while a trio of dwarves armed with maces,
axes and shields engaged the smaller one.
Kora activated her Demonic Carapace, which covered her skin in tough metal scales. She took the
barrage of projectiles head on as per usual as she charged forward, intent on stomping these dwarves
into paste. After a few running steps, she leapt through the air and landed right in the middle of a group
of 4 crossbow-wielding targets, who rolled away and scattered in panicked response. However, the
fiend’s long and powerful legs easily caught up to them as she kicked at them with all her might. Having
to fight this way was a bit irksome, but these guys were way too short for her to throw any good punches
at them.
Fizzy on the other hand was struggling. Her wrench flew at the heads and bodies of her opponents with
deadly force, but the experienced combatants either deflected the strikes or evaded them completely. It
was ludicrous to think that the former gnome could match up to these people. After all, she hadn’t even
been in a real fight until about a month ago, and even then she only fought monsters. These dwarves on
the other hand would have had ample experience fighting other enlightened due to the nature of their
occupation, so they managed to fend off her amateurish attacks despite being of a lower Level. Even if
the pint-sized Paladin’s Champion of Chaos Skill gave her glimpses into the future, it wasn’t particularly
useful when dealing with reactions rather than actions.
However, the other side had their own share of troubles. The golem’s thick steel hide and cursed shield
repelled all attacks aimed at her. She still suffered minor damage, but not nearly enough to be worried
about. If things got bad, she could use her Holy magic to heal herself in the middle of combat. And if
this turned into an endurance race, then her near-tireless body would win without question. Not that this
scuffle would get a chance to reach that stage, though.
Boxxy had quietly and stealthily skittered out of the boss’s room while the dwarves were preoccupied
with its minions. It crawled along the chamber’s dome-shaped ceiling, looking for a good place to strike.
Once it was in position, it dropped a Mirror Image of itself onto the dwarves Fizzy was having trouble
with. Its imperfect copy landed directly behind them, using its downward momentum to pierce their
scalps with a trio of iron sickles it had forged out of its own flesh. It then proceeded to follow its orders
and provide backup for the inexperienced gnome as she charged towards the next group of combatants.
Kora on the other hand was faring better than the Mimic was expecting. The fiend had already stomped
3 of her assailants flat and was currently chasing down the last one. Her body was riddled with wounds
from all the projectiles she took, but she seemed to still be going strong. She hadn’t even used her
Second Wind Skill yet, which would provide her with an instantaneous burst of HP should the need
arise. Still, it created another Mirror Image to watch her back all the same.
Chaotic energies swirl around you. Your MP has been depleted.
“Geh!”
The ceiling-bound monster nearly fell to the ground when its Chaotic Disposition triggered with a really
dangerous effect. Even if it had mountains of HP, its MP was still a very important lifeline. Thankfully it
wasn’t in any immediate danger as the dwarves on the ground were too busy dealing with its copies and
its minions. After several seconds it had recovered enough MP to open its Storage and take out a few
mana potions, which were immediately consumed to restore 600 of its MP.
It was just in time too, because Boxxy spotted a troop of 10 or so dwarves pour in from one of the side
chambers while fully armed and armored. It re-opened its pocket dimension and withdrew two of the
Big Bang Balls it had prepared in advance. The Spell Crystals were triggered and thrown into the pack
of dwarves a few seconds later. The Cartel’s reinforcements were hit by two high-powered magical
explosions that turned them into a fine red paste before they could even react.
Level up!
Not wasting any time, the monster dropped down onto the ground and went through the same door those
people had come out of. This appeared to be some sort of armory, as weapons and armor sets lined the
walls. Several of the slower dwarves were still gearing up in a rush, but the monster had no intention of
letting them finish what they started. It dashed through the room, slitting throats and severing spines
with every movement. Once these had been dealt with, it quickly gobbled up the corpses and returned to
the main chamber, where the battle had already been settled.
It was another relatively easy victory, just like Boxxy wanted. Except for that speed bump where it lost
all of its MP due to an unlucky Chaotic Disposition. It honestly felt like one of these days it might just
hit a ‘Your HP has been depleted’ effect and just die on the spot. Well, that was probably not going to
happen. Surely even that whimsical God of Chance wouldn’t give his Hero a Skill that might just
outright kill it.
No, that was actually exactly the kind of thing that deity would do. Knowing him, it would probably be
some incredibly tiny chance that would bring him no small measure of entertainment should it happen.
Then again, Chaotic Disposition’s effects were always temporary, so maybe instant suicide wasn’t a part
of the deal. Boxxy one-sidedly decided this latter possibility was the more probable one and that it
wouldn’t worry about it. The monster then shifted its attention to the remnants of the criminal
organization it had dismantled.
Three of the dwarves were still alive and were currently being restrained by Kora, just as her Master had
instructed. 30-something corpses were strewn about the area with varying degrees of damage. A quick
check-in with Xera revealed that only 2 of the dwarves had tried to run and were immediately burnt to
ashes. The other entrance to the hideout appeared to still be sealed shut, so it didn’t seem like any
witnesses escaped.
In short, the underground compound was completely under the monster’s control. Boxxy told Kora and
Fizzy to keep an eye on the three captives and make sure they didn’t die just yet. It then quickly checked
all the rooms at the edge of the large chamber. Other than the armory, there was also a warehouse with a
number of unmarked crates, a well-stocked pantry brimming with good food and alcohol and several
common sleeping quarters that had enough beds for 80 people.
That last one was a bit worrying, as it likely meant there were still quite a few of these Cartel people on
the outside. Boxxy didn’t fret too much over them, though. It was going to leave this town behind after it
was done with this place anyway, so having a few rats scurry around the place was probably not a big
deal. It had already tracked down and assassinated Grimebeard before coming here, so it really had no
more reasons to stick around.
And so the warehouse was looted, the food in the pantry devoured, the corpses diligently absorbed or
eaten and anything else of value was taken. Overall, the haul from this place was rather disappointing as
it amounted to only about 2,400 GP worth of coins and valuables, much lower than the haul it got from
that village. Still, the monster was able to get a lot of infiltration practice and filled its Storage with a
number of interesting substances, so it was hardly a bad day.
Wait, actually, wasn’t this day going almost too smoothly? The last time it had so much good fortune in
a single day, it got captured and imprisoned. Fearing the backswing of bad luck, Boxxy immediately
moved onto the last thing it would need to do in the Lodrak Empire. It would perform a certain demonic
ritual, right here on the edge of town. That was why it was so adamant about keeping a few of those
dwarves alive, as this particular ritual demanded a sacrifice of three lives. The ceremony itself was a bit
complicated since it involved a bunch of dancing in addition to the weird chanting and squiggly blood
sigils, but Boxxy was confident it could pull it off on the first try. This was hardly its first time
performing this sort of ritual, after all.
The tricky part was to make sure it had a clear escape route before it performed the Offering to Liusolra.
The door leading onto the rooftop of the restaurant known as The Cracked Flagon flung open and a
ginger-haired elf stepped out into the night. The sun had already set a few hours ago since Boxxy’s
ransacking of the Honeydew Cartel’s hideout hidden beneath this place had taken longer than expected.
There were a lot of crates and boxes to rummage through - too many to fit into the monster’s house-
sized Storage. It therefore had to decide on the best bits to bring along, which was what took up most of
the time.
In the end it mostly loaded up on all the decent arms and armor it could find. The intel Xera had gotten
out of that dwarf called Tubbs claimed they could be sold for a good price across the border, unlike the
shipments of illicit substances. The monster did end up taking two crates’ worth of Honeydew-filled
glass jars, though. Not because it was going to sell or eat them, but simply because they were shiny. The
narcotic substance had a radiant golden color and glittered dazzlingly when bathed in light, so the Mimic
happily added the 4 dozen jars of it to its collection.
It still had extra room so it took this opportunity to raid the Cartel’s food supplies. A big part of them
were eaten, while the rest were stored for later. Boxxy also made a point of taking 6 kegs of ale due to
Fizzy’s input. According to her, this high-quality dwarven-brewed ale was immensely valuable.
And now that the looting was over, the Mimic looked up at the night sky, but as expected there weren’t
enough moons in it. Boxxy had managed to get a tip around town saying that a night when all three of
those giant glowy things appear in the sky simultaneously happened only once every few months. This
event, known as the Lunar Convergence, would only last for about 5 or 6 hours at most, and the next
time it would occur would be 20 to 25 days from now.
So as things stood, the monster was going to be unable to attempt the Unholy Wealth ritual for quite
some time, which was disappointing. Gathering and preparing all the necessary components and tools
for that ritual just so it could proceed with the ritual at a moment’s notice turned out to be for naught. At
the very least, that particular ceremony required a material sacrifice rather than a living one, so the
monster merely had to wait patiently until the opportunity presented itself.
Tonight, however, it be performing the Offering to Liusolra. This ceremony, much like the Offering to
Nagnamor, would allow one of the four demonic Overlords to manifest itself in the physical realm in its
true form, albeit for a very short time. And the reason it wanted to do this right in the middle of town
was simple. It had found out months ago that the proper way to gain Demonology Proficiency involved
not only performing the rituals, but also utilizing them fully. If the ritual was to call forth an unbound
demon, then it had to convince or force that demon to do things.
That is, other than punching itself in the face over and over again.
In other words, as long as it could get the being called Liusolra to run wild in this town, then it was sure
to gain a lot of proficiency. Of course, it also had to make sure it wouldn’t get stomped flat by an irate
Overlord. That’s why this wide-open rooftop served as the ideal ritual site. Not only was it flat and large
enough to house the demonic markings, but it also meant that Boxxy would be able to make a run for it
by jumping off and using the buildings for cover. Well, that and summoning a gigantic, powerful demon
underground was counterproductive when the goal was to have it go on a rampage.
Come to think of it, would this Liusolra really be like that? True, Punchy did try to squash the little box
into goop almost immediately back then, but maybe that was because it was the most powerful fiend.
Which would also make him first-class when it came to irritability, aggression and violence. The
monster turned around to face its minions that had followed it onto the rooftop.
“What’s Liusolra actually like?” it asked curiously.
Kora, who was busy carrying a bound and gagged dwarf under three out of her four arms, simply
shrugged her shoulders.
“Dunno. I’ve heard of the name, but nothing about what they’re like.”
“How can you not know about Liusolra?” asked Xera incredulously. “Did you have your head up your
ass the whole time you were in the Beyond?”
“Well no, it was just that-”
“It was a rhetorical question you idiot,” she interrupted while shaking her head. “I don’t actually want to
know.”
“Snack, do you know him?”
“I know about her,” replied the succubus. “Liusolra is the eldest of the Overlords and the most reclusive
one. Very few demons have actually spoken to her, even among her peers or kin.”
“And what type of demon is she?”
“I don’t know her exact species, but she’s said to be the first Stalker.”
“Oh, one of those, huh?”
Stalkers were an arachnid species of demons that were anti-magic specialists. The lore gleaned from
Demonology said they were rather cold and calculating and just wanted to devour and feed on magic for
their own enjoyment. They also enjoyed skulking around dark places and didn’t appreciate being seen,
so it made sense that Liusolra would be like that, based on what Snack had said so far.
“Think I can reason with her?” it asked curiously.
“I would advise against it, Master,” answered Xera. “Her kin can be just as violent and selfish as any
other demon.”
“I see… So summon and run would be the best, huh?”
“Indeed.”
“What are you two nodding about?” asked Fizzy.
As someone not privy to their telepathic communication, she had no idea about the rather ominous
conversation that just transpired.
“Nothing important,” stated Boxxy out loud. “Just be sure the prisoners don’t die until I need to sacrifice
them”
The only conscious dwarf that Kora was holding started groaning and struggling against his bindings at
the elf’s words.
“Yo, Titty McTitface!” called out the fiend. “One of these guys woke up!”
The succubus calmly turned around and placed a hand on the unfortunate dwarf’s cheek, then put him to
sleep with magic. It’s not that they could break free from the fiend’s grip, it’s just that they might hurt
themselves or do something stupid like bite off their own tongues. It was her duty to make sure they
wouldn’t throw their lives away like that, not when her Master had a better use for them.
“By the way Boss, why don’t you just make an appo?” suggested Kora.
“A what?”
“An appointment. For a summoning.”
“You can do that?” asked Xera with a curious look.
“Now who has her head up her own ass?!” said Kora with a sneer. “That’s how things are normally
done, aren’t they? You know, I heard the main reason uncle Naggy was so mad that time was because
you pulled him away from the bi-annual 5-dimensional Tic Tac Toe Tournament. Probably would’ve
gone down better if you scheduled it beforehand.”
“Wait, is that the event Queen Shridiaphrial managed to win a while back?”
Shridiaphrial, the strongest among the succubi and their self-proclaimed Queen, was also one of the four
demonic Overlords. Boxxy recognized the name since the Offering to Shridiaphrial was also one of the
rituals it knew about, but had no intention of performing. That particular ceremony was basically a
gigantic orgy that demanded a literal cartload of semen to be prepared in advance. It was just too much
work when compared to the others.
“That’s the one,” confirmed Kora. “Having lost to the Queen Bitch herself was bad enough, but she
won’t shut up about it. As if finally breaking Uncle Naggy’s win streak of 362 victories in a row by
winning on a technicality was something worth bragging about!”
It would appear that the two Overlords have some sort of rivalry going on. Although Boxxy had no idea
what this ‘5-dimensional Tic Tac Toe’ was, it sounded rather complicated to say the least. The fact that
the Archfiend was apparently good enough to rival the ultimate succubus sounded strangely impressive.
As expected, Punchy’s performance really was top-of-the-line.
Still, this provided some rather interesting insight to the young Warlock. It made sense that Punchy
would be pissed off if he was pulled away from something he found fun. Then again, he’d probably
rampage all on his own regardless of when he was summoned, so Boxxy didn’t particularly fret over it.
“How do I make an appointment?” it asked.
“Just give Carl a call, I’m sure he can set it up.”
“Oh! Great idea, Arms!”
“Now there are 3 words I never expected to hear,” mumbled the wide-eyed Xera. Then again, the two
simpletons always were on a rather similar wavelength. One of violence and not thinking things through
properly, but a wavelength nonetheless.
“Okay, I’ll be busy talking to Carl so don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency,” commanded Boxxy out
loud for Fizzy’s benefit. “Keep watch on those three, especially the one on the left. He’s awake and
pretending to be asleep.”
The three girls then set about keeping a watchful eye on the prisoners as Boxxy mind-dialed Demons
‘R’ Us.
1-800-7355-9687-7685
*Ring-ring*
*Ring-ring*
*Click*
“Hello, you’ve reached Demons ‘R’ Us. My name is Carl and I’ll be- Oh, hey Boxxy!”
“You knew it was me?”
“Yeah, I asked the boss to install some Caller ID so that I know when it’s you on the line.”
“What’s a Caller ID? Is it tasty?”
“Kind of, yeah,” answered the demon without a drop of hesitation. It would appear Carl had also
become somewhat of an expert on Mimicanese.
“So, what can I help you with today, buddy?”
“I want to make an appointment.”
“An appointment?!” asked Carl without even trying to hide the surprise in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m about to summon an unbound demon with a ritual.”

“Ohhh! Right, of course! Sorry about that, it was an unusual request so it caught me a bit off guard.”
“Really? Arms said this was normal though.”
“Well, it’s proper procedure, but it’s hardly common practice,” he explained with a sigh. “Mortals
usually avoid calling us once the contract is set up, you know. That bad habit of theirs gets them into all
heaps of trouble.”
“I see…”
“Alrighty then, who is it you want to make an appointment with?”
“Liusolra.”
“Another Overlord, huh?” mumbled Carl.
*Tak taktak tak takatak*
“And how will you be performing the summoning?”
Boxxy briefly pondered why that was a question. Were there perhaps other ways to call forth the four
demonic Overlords? That did seem to be the case now that it thought back on the time it made the deal
not to summon Punchy ever again.
“I’ll be doing the Offering.”
“... You’re not using your familiars as collateral, right?” asked Carl in a rather stern voice.
“No.”
“Okay, good. Just checking to make sure you didn’t forget.”
*Tak tak taka-ta-tatak*
“And when will you be planning on performing this Offering?”
“Right away.”
“Hmmm, the short notice might be a problem… Hold on, let me check her schedule real quick.”
*Takatatak taktak tak-tatatak taka-tak*
“Ah, you’re in luck. Overlord Liusolra is available for the next 6 hours. If you miss that window, then
the next opening is 4 days from now.”
“... What is it that you guys actually do over there?”
The Mimic just realized that these Overlords were surprisingly busy considering they spent every
waking moment inside a realm of naught but thoughts and dreams. It was under the impression demons
were perpetually bored and mostly just lazed around telling stories when they were over there.
“Afraid I can’t tell you,” answered Carl. “It’s classified. Plus, you seem the type that wouldn’t
understand even if I told you.”
“Yeah, probably not,” admitted Boxxy.
It was still hard for the monster to grasp concepts and ideas through words alone. That’s why it needed
so much practice with its shapeshifting and infiltration.
“So then do you still want to perform the ritual right away?”
“Yes.”
*Takaktak taktak tak*
“M’kay, you’re all set. Just have to wait for her assistant to respond to the D-mail I sent and- Oh,
nevermind. She’s already agreed to the summoning. As expected, huh?”
“So I can just carry on with the ritual?”
“She won’t try to eat me when she comes out, right?”
“Ah, can’t say for certain, but probably not. Just, uh, make sure you don’t have any magical items of
terrible power lying around.”
“Anytime, buddy. Will that be all for today?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then. I’m looking forward to seeing how this one turns out! Buh-bye!”
*Click*
“Wait! What did- Oh.”
Carl hung up before Boxxy could question him about what he just said. Come to think of it, he
mentioned something about observing the Mimic the last time they spoke, too. Perhaps Demons ‘R’ Us
was keeping a special eye on it to make sure it didn’t violate its amended contract? That certainly
seemed plausible, though Boxxy somehow felt that wasn’t the case. Well, the Mimic seemed to have a
good working relationship with Demons ‘R’ Us for the moment, so it didn’t worry too much about it and
began its preparations.
The monster opened its Storage and pulled out several items in order to prepare for the ritual. A wooden
bucket, a large brush with some dried blood on it, four vials of blue-tinted mana potion and a bottle of
clear alcohol called vodka. That last one wasn’t looted from the Cartel’s pantry, but taken from the
restaurant the organization used as a front. Boxxy had very little interest in alcohol as it found the taste
to be rather disgusting, but this bottle wasn’t something it was going to drink anyway.
It poured the vodka and mana potions into the bucket, then used the brush to stir and mix them together.
It then held out its human-looking hand over it, morphed one of its fingers into a steel razor and slit its
wrist open. Copious amounts of dark red blood bordering on black flowed out of the wound and into the
bucket. It would have gladly used one of the dwarves’ fluids, but this part required ‘the lifeblood of the
summoner,’ so it really had no choice in the matter.
Once Boxxy was sure the mixture was equal parts alcohol, blood and mana potion, it reactivated its
Mend Flesh Skill to seal the wound and continued stirring. The various fluids mixed together and had
some sort of reaction, as the mixture adopted a rich purple color and became rather viscous in its
consistency.
Now that the ‘paint’ was ready, the Mimic set about preparing the actual ritual site. First, it made a large
circle that was about 5 meters in diameter, then drew a equal-sided triangle inside it so that its three
angles were up against the edges of the circle. It then added another circle inside the triangle, making
sure its circumference touched each of its three sides.
Satisfied with the concentric geometric shapes, it then proceeded to draw three demonic sigils in the
wide spaces between the triangle and the outer circle. As expected, they were quite squiggly and
complicated, even more so than the ones it used to call Punchy. Boxxy quietly pondered how come this
ritual was so much more complicated than the other one, but it sort of made sense if this Liusolra really
was the eldest of the demonic Overlords.
After finishing the sigils, it ordered Kora to place the bound, gagged and sleeping dwarves inside the
demonic formation, warning her to be extra careful not to step on the still-wet mixture. A sacrifice was
placed in each space between the triangle and the inner circle. Their unconscious bodies were made to
sit, although their upper bodies naturally lurched forward. It was an awkward posture, but it was good
enough since their heads were within arm’s reach of the middle of the formation.
Making sure everything was in order, Boxxy thought back on Carl’s advice regarding magic items.
Stalkers were supposed to quite literally feast on mana, so it was likely they might suck the
enchantments out of its priceless staff, curse or no curse. An alternate dimension would probably be
good enough, so it opened its Storage and put Voidcaller inside for safekeeping. It then took out a few
sets of plate armor in order to make room for Fizzy.
Well, even if the Left Hand of the Forsaken Sentinel was a part of her body, it was still an Artifact-grade
magic item. And since it couldn’t be removed, that meant the golem herself had to be put inside its
Storage, much to her disappointment. Not only was she loathe to go back in that claustrophobic space,
but she was also extremely curious what the actual ritual would look like. Still, spending some time in
Boxxy’s Storage was preferable to having her left arm eaten by a demon, so she begrudgingly accepted
it and crawled inside the swirling dark portal.
With all preparations complete, the elf-shaped monster stood in the center of the formation while
gripping an iron dagger in each hand and cleared its throat. Now was the time to perform the actual
ceremony. It rested its arms against its sides and reversed the grip on its weapons so they were pointing
backwards. It then started bouncing lightly in place by using only its ankles and knees, causing its entire
body moved up and down to some unheard rhythm.
Once the elf had reached a frequency of about 2 or 3 bounces per second, it started shaking its hips in a
rather exaggerated manner. They swayed left and right in time with its bounces, much to Kora’s
amusement. Boxxy then lifted its arms over its head and pressed the handles of the two daggers it was
holding against the top of its skull so that the blades were pointing upwards. Its wrists started twisting
slightly shortly after, causing the weapons to tilt forward and back up, also in time with its strange
movements. Overall, they gave off the strange impression of irresponsibly sharp rabbit ears that bobbed
and swayed along with their owner’s movements.
The elf then opened his mouth and started chanting while bouncing in place.
Morbi aliquet eu dolor amet,

Nulla auctor enim non foncet.
Rhoncus el…
Portus cora fore alet!
Boxxy’s strange words took on an oddly melodic tone which, combined with the deliberate timing, made
it clear it wasn’t just chanting, but actually singing. It was a strangely upbeat and energetic song.
Nectum felis magna, wah-ah-ah!

Ovika era helftum, lah-lah-lah!
Yo sol mi…
Til deu la melodi!
The elf made a smooth crouching motion with its lower body while its upper body leaned forward with
arms stretched out. The two iron daggers it was holding easily pierced the top of a dwarf’s skull,
relieving him of his life in an instant. The weapons were immediately withdrawn as the elf spun around
with a little pirouette, turning to face the sigil opposite the sacrifice before resuming its bounce-assisted
hip swaying.
Dans sal melous, klappar ena handen,

Yors, onleyors, tora sindel dansden,
Misslao lye, meesa inda clansen,
Leek nari haradi caramelltansen!
The purplish paint on the ground started pulsing with a soft pink light that flashed for a split second
every time Boxxy finished a downward motion. A strange mist started gathering over the arcane sigil as
the intensifying flashes from below cast a vaguely humanoid shadow within the off-white vapor cloud,
even though nobody was there.
Det blir ensensat yon verfelt stoss,

Puester komm erala slip alloss,
Kom igen…
Nu tar vi stegen om igen!
A thumping noise with a steady beat could be heard coming from below, as if accompanying the strange
dance and song that the Mimic was performing. The figure in the mist became more and more defined
until it became a solid, feminine shadow that was mirroring the monster’s bizarre movements.

Yo sol mi…
Til deu la melodi!
The Mimic repeated the second verse, along with the spinning motion that pierced the second dwarf’s
skull. It then once again performed a light spin on one leg as it turned to face the next arcane sigil.

The odd mist had spread itself throughout the rooftop, obscuring the view of the town around it. A
second feminine figure appeared, which was also mimicking the Mimic’s movements.
Curabitur mattis, diam a rutrum,

Quisque id pellen vestibulum.
Yo portus…
Nulla vitae auf lectus!
Its voice had been steadily rising in pitch this whole time, and by now it sounded like something one
would expect to hear out of a chipmunk. The strange colors that flashed within the inexplicable fog
became brighter and more varied as it carried on unperturbed.

Yo sol mi…
Til deu la melodi!
The third and last dwarf’s life was severed in a fluid motion as Boxxy tended to the final sigil.

It now had three shadowy backup dancers. It kept going for a few more minutes while letting out shouts
of “Ooh, ooh, oowah, oowah!” every now and then. The three dwarven corpses rapidly deteriorated until
all that was left of them were bleached bones, at which point both the thumping and the lightshow
suddenly subsided and became much weaker. Boxxy took its cue and stood perfectly still with both
blood-soaked daggers crossed in front of its face. However, judging by the shadowy dancers that kept
bouncing, the ritual wasn’t over quite yet.
“Sed ornare dolor erat! Quis placerat augue dignissim et!”
Boxxy’s high pitched voice rose to the heavens as its MP rapidly started decreasing. The simple iron
daggers in its hand glowed with an intense neon-pink hue that spread across the mist like ink in water.
“Praesent ultricies Liusolra!”
It shouted the final part of the incantation as it threw the daggers upward with all its might. The two
objects exploded in an impossible flash of light accompanied by an overwhelmingly loud bang. Boxxy
didn’t waste any time and had already leapt off the side of the building. It landed onto the street and tried
to execute a forward roll to redirect its momentum, but slipped on the wet ice that had started melting
due to the morning sun and fell on its ass.
“Wait, what?”
The confused Boxxy looked around in a panic and hurriedly made note of four inexplicable changes.
The first was that it was now apparently morning. The second was that the street and the surrounding
townscape had been entombed in clear, slightly blue ice. The third was that its Demonology Skill had
gone up to Level 7. The final, and somehow most bizarre thing, was that it had been stabbed through the
chest with a large, sword-shaped icicle.
And stuck to that icicle was a piece of parchment. The monster unhesitantly pulled out the sharp object
and looked at the note that had been pinned to its body. As expected, it couldn’t read a single word of it.
Since its familiars had apparently been killed during the… whatever happened last night… it opened its
Storage and brought Fizzy out of it.
“Finally!” complained the golem. “I was stuck in there… for… for…”
Her words trailed off as she beheld the out of place winter wonderland she found herself in.
“Read this,” commanded Boxxy while thrusting the parchment into her face.
Fizzy, whose thought processes were currently busy… well, processing, ground to a halt when she saw
the note. She knew many things, but how to respond to what was written there was not one of them.
Dear Boxxy,
Sorry for freezing you in time like that, I’m a bit shy you see! I appreciated the chance to
come out and play though! It was a lot of fun ???! Call on me again if you need something
else put on ice, kay!?!
XOXOXO
~Liusolra of the Endless Swarm
(85) Interlude An Ass Out Of U And Me
Spymaster Edward Allen walked briskly along the cobblestone road while being mindful of his footing.
He had wore a thick, brown cloak that hid his entire body from view. He still had his official officer’s
uniform underneath, which consisted of a set of thick, dark gray leather armor and a pale blue tabard,
but such clothing would not shield him from the cold.
The similarly clothed figure to his right a the black-haired beauty with the callsign ‘Zone.’ She kept a
silent vigil on their frozen surroundings with a face so utterly cold and devoid of emotion, that onlookers
would find it oddly fitting with the frigid weather. Not that there were any onlookers around to begin
with. For even though they were walking through the middle of Bootlick - a lively dwarven town along
the imperial highway - their surroundings were completely devoid of life.
The road the two officers were walking on, and indeed most of that neighborhood, had been encased in a
thick layer of unbreakable ice quite literally overnight. Nearly 500 of the town’s residents had been
caught up in the inexplicable and clearly unnatural event, and several adventurer guilds outside the
circular disaster area had also been turned into glaciers. The fact those offices seemed to be targeted was
a clear sign that this tragedy was no accident or random quirk of nature, but a targeted, deliberate act of
terrorism. One that was carried out without leaving a single witness.
Which is why Edward and his team had been dispatched to investigate. The Spymaster himself didn’t
particularly see the need to come out here himself, but a direct order from his Emperor isn’t something
he could just ignore. And now that he was actually here, he felt an odd sense of foreboding. It was the
same sensation he experienced when he first laid eyes on the Rift that had formed over the smouldering
crater that was once Monotal.
For this place was still frozen solid, despite that event taking place 6 days ago. The clearly unnatural ice
that permeated this place seemed to melt somewhat in during the day, but grew thick and heavy once the
sun went down. The Arcaneum dispatch that came along with the Spymaster had been steadily working
on thawing the place out with magic, but it would probably take them weeks before they finished. Even
then, the damage had already been done. This disaster would be forever embedded in the memory of the
town’s residents.
Again, much like Monotal.
Edward and Zone kept striding along the frozen ground until they made it to their destination - the local
branch of the Order of the Black Wand. The Arcaneum boys had already liberated this building from the
incredibly persistent ice and were using it as a temporary HQ. The armed guards at the front door gave a
silent salute as the two officers entered the water-damaged remnants of the guild’s waiting area. Several
people in various robes could be seen milling about, as well as a few civilians that had been brought in
for questioning.
“Hey, old man! How’s it hanging!?”

A cheerful voice completely ill-befitting this solemn atmosphere called out to Edward. The Spymaster’s
scarred face made a scowl as he turned to face the lightly tanned man who so brazenly called out to him.
His short, blonde hair glistened with moisture, although whether it was sweat or water was difficult to
tell. His deep, purple eyes were barely visible inside his squinting eyelids, while the youthful, clean-
shaven face showed a thoroughly carefree smile. His outfit consisted of a set of light, blue robes that had
a pale blue officer’s tabard draped over it.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to address me so casually?” asked Edward.
“Hahaha, sorry old ma- I mean, sir. Force of habit!”
“Drop the antics, Question. Show me what you found.”
“Ah, right. Walk this way.”
Edward and Zone followed the man called Question into the back of the building and onto the second
floor. They went into a conference room with a massive table and a number of chairs, although it
appears to have been turned into an office of some sort. Dozens of stacks of papers were strewn about
the massive table in the middle and long the floor, while a huge map of the surrounding area was pinned
to one of the walls.
Question spent half a minute moving some papers around to make room for his compatriots to take a
seat and then stood next to the map. He picked up a wooden pointer from the floor and slammed it
against the map with a bit of a flourish.
“Right, so,” he began his presentation. “The good news is I believe we’ve identified the root cause of
what we’re tentatively calling ‘F-day.’ The bad news is that it’s your fault, old man.”
Edward let out an exasperated sigh.
“For the last time, Question, not every single bad thing that happens is my fault.”
He would have already slapped the upstart into next week if he didn’t know about his problematic
personality. Seriously, how come every single youngster under his care was a problem child?
“No, of course not,” chuckled Question before tapping on the map once more. “This one is though.
Look, I even made you a diagram!”
He reached into his robe and pulled out a rolled up parchment. He unrolled it to reveal a number of
graphs and pie charts he had neatly drawn up, along with the words ‘most likely Edward’s fault’ in large,
blocky letters that were circled and underlined in the corner.
“The facts don’t lie, you know,” he said with a carefree smile.
Edward sighed once again. Regardless of his bad personality, if there’s one thing Question was good at,
it was finding answers. The man’s skill at gathering, organizing and analyzing information was top-
notch. His ability to spot patterns was also quite extraordinary. His main problem was that although
these qualities made him quite good at piecing a puzzle together, they also made him an insufferable
know-it-all. Not to mention that he always found a way to blame Edward for every single bad thing that
has ever happened. It would actually be rather impressive, if it wasn’t so thoroughly annoying.
Still, if Question had some insight on this particular mystery, then it was Edward’s duty as his superior
to hear him out. This sort of thing was why the Spymaster tolerated the young analyst’s borderline
insubordination in the first place.
“Alright, let’s hear it,” he said dejectedly. “Show me what you got.”
“Do you want the short version or the long version?” asked the blonde man.
“Is the short version supposed to be ‘this whole Bootlick incident is Edward’s fault?’”
“... Maybe.”
“Then give me the long version.”
“Gladly!” said Question with a wide smile, then began his explanation.
“So let’s begin by establishing the ways in which Edward failed to prevent this catastrophe. First of all,
you let your Mimic prisoner escape.”
Zone, who was fittingly zoning out until then, suddenly started paying attention to their conversation. It
was readily evident that she had a personal interest in the topic of ‘the one that got away.’ Her mentor,
on the other hand was much less enthusiastic, judging by the way he furrowed his brow and pinched the
bridge of his nose.
“... So that thing’s involved after all, huh?”
This incident already had way too much in common with the Monotal case, so part of him expected this.
The Mimic called Boxxy T. Morningwood had proven to be far more annoying than the Spymaster
initially anticipated. First came the inane answers that somehow managed to confuse his Eyes of Truth.
Then it somehow managed to escape its bindings mid-flight which, while impressive in its own way, had
drastically set back the Spymaster’s attempts at replicating the Calamity.
Based on the information Edward got out of it, it sent Zone along with a few other subordinates and
some scholars on an expedition to Redrock Ravine - a weak, out-of-the-way dungeon on the Empire’s
eastern fringe. Their task was to extract the dungeon core and find out how to make it go into meltdown.
And while conquering the Ravine and locating the core were both easily accomplished with Zone’s
absurd strength, the research team’s efforts immediately ground to a halt.
They were completely unable to dislodge the dungeon core from its magically affixed spot. They had
arrived at the site with various theories and guesses, but hadn’t made any progress after weeks of poking
and prodding at the crystal sphere. There they were, a gathering of the Empire’s foremost ‘experts’ on
dungeons, and they were losing to a 2 month old monster that didn’t even know how to tie its
hypothetical shoe. Not a single one of them had any idea how they could make that blasted core move a
single millimeter from its original position.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Zone did have the idea of ‘hitting it really hard.’ A suggestion that was
immediately shot down by the scholars at the site. They were adamant that there’s no way brute force
could overcome a dungeon’s peculiar brand of magic when their own Spells, potions and magic tools
had failed. The eggheads claimed that the most her ‘idea’ would do was damage or rupture the dungeon
core, maybe even cause it to explode right on the spot.
Zone merely shrugged her shoulders and kept following her orders of keeping them out of danger. Her
orders were to keep them safe, not assist in the actual experiments, so she just quietly fulfilled her duty
without sticking her neck out until she was relieved by someone else two weeks ago. And judging from
her mentor’s perpetually bad mood, those self-proclaimed experts hadn’t made a single shred of progress
ever since.
So in the end Edward was left without the weapon of mass destruction he wanted. At least until he could
recapture Boxxy and properly interrogate it. That, however, was easier said than done. The possible
places where that monster could’ve escaped to were just too many to launch any sort of coordinated
search party. Of course, its name had been added to the country’s list of wanted criminals, but that was
only going to pan out if it was stupid enough to try to do Mercenary Guild work again.
As for the gnome that was with it, Edward had pretty much declared her dead. As far as he knew, the
monster had merely been using her until she ended up betraying it. So seeing the way her cage had been
literally chewed open without a single drop of blood made it abundantly clear she had been swallowed
whole.
“Alright Question. Let’s hear it,” said Edward with a tired voice.
“Hear what?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about. Just get it out of your system so we can move on with
this.”
“Oh, do you mean the fact that I told you so? Because I did tell you that monster was definitely going to
come up north! But nooo! My ‘baseless conjecture’ wasn’t enough for you! You didn’t want to waste
‘precious manpower’ to search the Sawblade Mountains and ignored the words of your analyst! Because
we were certain to figure out the Calamity method all on our own! Well guess what?! We got done in by
a fuckin box! Not once! Not twice! But three fucking times! All because you refuse to listen to me, you
senile old geezer!”
Question took a few deep breaths to calm himself down somewhat. He had gotten a bit over-excited
from that rant just now.
“Are you done?” asked Edward.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m done.”
“Good.”
*THWACK*
“So once this monster escaped from the gryphon,” continued Question after regaining consciousness, “it
most likely landed somewhere in the Sawblade mountains, then moved steadily northward while
avoiding civilization for the most part.”
Zone made a mental note of the blonde analyst’s toughness and dedication. It took a special kind of
mental fortitude to speak and act in such a calm manner after having just been kicked through a wall.
Especially since Edward’s bootprint on his face didn’t seem like it would go away anytime soon.
“Given Zone’s Appraisal of the creature and the average Level of monsters in those mountains, then it’s
highly likely it has already Ranked Up.”
Edward cursed under his breath, because he agreed with Question’s words. Not only was that thing a
shapeshifting monster, which was difficult enough to track down on its own, but it was also bound to
have become a completely different and unknown species. The chances his agents were going to find
this beast had gone drastically down.
“We then received a report that the mountain village of Carran due south from here was completely
deserted, with not a single soul in sight. After sending some scouts to investigate, we’ve been able to
determine that the village wasn’t deserted, but eaten.”
“Come again? A whole village was eaten?!”
“Indeed. There were no signs of combat and no bodies to be found, just empty house after empty house
where the only thing of notice was bloodied bedding. Except for what appeared to be a bunch of guards
or militia that were protecting the wall. Those had been turned into piles of black ash.”
“I see… That’s definitely our monster’s M.O.”
Boxxy had left behind a similar trail at the site of a certain caravan that had been ambushed on its way
from Erosa to Monotal. The remnants left behind by Cadaver Absorption were a dead giveaway.
However, Edward and his colleagues knew not what exactly caused this odd cremation, only that the
Mimic in question was the only creature confirmed to leave behind such odd leftovers.
“How many casualties?”
“285. Well, assumed anyway. Couldn’t confirm the exact count, but given the circumstances…”
“... So it must have spent several days feasting on them, huh?”
The Spymaster’s human perspective had severely underestimated Boxxy’s appetite at the time. He
wasn’t the only one, as his analyst seemed to mirror that statement.
“Then it continued going north,” he added, “meaning it arrived here, didn’t it?”
“Yup,” nodded Question.

“And that’s when it somehow caused ‘F-day,’ huh?”
“Nope.”
“... What do you mean ‘nope?’ This sort of disaster is clearly right up its alley!”
“That may be so, but I believe the perpetrator in this case is someone else. Although this Mimic is likely
an accomplice. Ah, just a sec!”
The young analyst stepped away from the map for a second to rummage through his notes for a moment.
He brought out a large rolled up parchment, which he unfurled and stuck roughly to the wall with a
couple of small knives. Generally speaking, pinning things up in a borrowed space was quite rude and
slightly unnecessary. However, these people had already put a Question-shaped hole in the wooden wall,
so nobody was going to notice a few knife marks in it. Besides, the intelligence organization that called
itself The Gilded Hand was hardly one to hesitate when it came to property damage.
“Now then,” said Question while standing next to the newly put up map of the Empire’s northern
territory. He pointed towards the country’s imperial capital visible towards the south end of the map. “I
spoke briefly with Master Shinji in the capital, before we were dispatched to this place.”
“Your old teacher, huh?”
That name rang a bell in Edward’s mind. The two of them had only met in passing, but the Spymaster
still knew about him. Arakawa Shinji was a Level 100 Warlock who lived in this northern province, not
too far from the town of Bootlick. He was an odd man with a dubious background, but one whose
services and loyalty to the Empire could not be denied. Although not quite a meritocracy, the Lordak
Empire had a long-standing tradition of lifting those who proved capable to power. Shinji was one of
them, as his position of viscount was earned through his blood, sweat and tears, and not simply handed
to him because of a noble birth.
“Indeed,” said Question. “That old geezer told me he saw a most intriguing ginger-haired elf on his way
to the capital. He very rarely notices people around him, so this struck me as unusual. Although he
admitted the elf himself looked plain and unassuming, his entourage was anything but. He had been
accompanied by a small steel golem and two demons that appeared to be his familiars. Namely a
succubus that was extremely voluptuous even by her species’ standards, and a female four-armed fiend
with huge knockers of her own.”
“Huh,” remarked Edward. “Sounds like their owner is quite the-”
He froze mid sentence as a crazy idea leapt into his mind. He pulled out his booklet and quickly leafed
through it until he reached his notes on a certain interview from over a month ago. He quickly skimmed
over the page that had the words ‘perverted box’ circled and underlined at the top.
“This elf was our Mimic?!”
“Good try, old timer, but no cigar! He is, however, our main suspect!”
Question pointed back to the smaller scale map of Bootlick, more specifically its southern gate.
“An elf whose description matched the one Master Shinji saw was recorded entering the town on the
next day. This was the morning of F-day.”
The blonde haired man’s carefree expression became uncharacteristically serious.
“The Basic Appraisal had him tagged as a 17 year old male elf who was a Level 25 Warlock. His name
was Chester Underwood.”
Edward nearly leapt from his seat.
“An Underwood? Here?!”
The elves of the Underwood clan were notorious within the world of international espionage. Theirs was
a long line of spies and sleeper agents with strong ties to the Ishigar Republic’s Foreign Intelligence
Bureau. They had a strong reputation for being meticulous, efficient and highly adaptive, one that
Edward had been able to confirm with his own body during his years of service. Just thinking about
those people made the deep scars on his left cheek and forehead ache.
“And you’re certain of this?” he asked with a slightly dubious expression. It was said that one would
never know an Underwood was in their midst until well after they were gone, if they even noticed at all.
“Those twigs would never leave an obvious trail like this,” he added.
“Normally I would agree. However, I believe that this was a deliberate act rather than an oversight.”
“... So they wanted us to know they’ve been through here?”
Question replied with a nod.
“To what purpose though?”
“I’m getting to that.”
Question once again went through the stacks of papers and pulled one that had the Order of the Black
Wand’s official stamp on it.
“These here are the ‘confidential’ results of the Full Appraisal of one Chester Underwood. He visited
this guild in order to have his Warlock Job advanced and have a magic item Appraised. His Warlock
Skill set is… Well, it’s exactly the same as the ones the Mimic had, based on Zone’s report from back
then.”
Edward took the documented Appraisal results and mulled them over.
“Hmm, so he had the Demonology Skill… No Mentor Skill, so he wasn’t the one who gave that monster
its Warlock Job. Perhaps they had the same teacher? Wait, who was the trainer that this elf met with it?”
“One Joshua Grimebeard. Someone who was reported missing ever since F-day.”
“Missing, huh? So he’s not one of the frozen dwarfcicles littered about the place?”
The people of Bootlick who died that day had been encased in the same magical ice that dominated this
part of town. If the freezing temperature didn’t kill them outright, then they suffocated shortly after. If
there was one good thing about this disaster, it was that the surrounding scenery had been perfectly
preserved.
“Nope. Although several of the corpses matched his description, none of them wore anything linking
them to this guild. His place of residence also appeared to have been picked clean.”
“I see.”
It was quite obvious that this dwarf had split town immediately after meeting with this Underwood. He
might have been the one who shared the knowledge of the Warlock Job with the monster in the first
place. The link was there, after all.
Wait, was it?”
“How are the Mimic and this elf related?”
“Ah! Well, it’s a bit circumstantial, but the ledger at the south gate said he wore a robe that bore the
insignia of the Brotherhood of the Third Eye, a small-time caster-oriented guild. One that had an office
in Carran.”
Question twacked the marked village’s position on the map with a bit of a flourish.
“Based on that, and the sighting my Master Shinji, I have concluded that this elf was most likely hiding
out in that village.”
“And you’re sure they’re working together?”
“I honestly don’t see how else that elf survived otherwise. A Level 25 Warlock would be no match for a
monster that was over Level 50.”
“Hmm, I see. It’s definitely possible.”
This assumption was, as Question had stated, based on rather circumstantial evidence. Still, there were
simply way too things that pointed to this outcome. Not to mention that this Boxxy T. Morningwood had
proven capable of cooperating with enlightened rather than killing them outright. The question then
became, what sort of deal could be made that was worth it for both sides? Well, the answer to that
question was painfully obvious.
“Heh. Those F.I.B. bastards got us good, didn’t they?” said Edward with a small, dry chuckle.
That elf must have promised it asylum across the border in exchange for information on the Calamity.
That way he gets to keep his life and would bring a nice present for his superiors, while the monster
would receive their protection in return.
“Oh? Could it be that this old geezer has not gone completely senile?!”
“What about this F-day though? Have you found the cause?”
“Indeed we have! According to our investigation of the area, the epicenter is an establishment called the
Broken Flagon.”
He pointed towards a particular spot on the town map on the wall, marked with a small red X and
directly in the middle of a large red circle, presumably the frozen disaster zone.
“That sounds familiar,” noted Edward.
“It should! It serves- well, served as a front for the Honeydew Cartel. You know, the one we
occasionally hired to- *Ahem* I mean, this Cartel that we have absolutely no connection to sometimes
came up in our reports since they smuggled weapons and drugs in and out of the elven Republic.”
“Right, those small-timers. What about them?”
“Well, their entire outfit had been dismantled, likely prior to the town being frozen solid. Their
underground hideout was mostly untouched by the ice, so we were able to confirm signs of a battle, not
to mention the complete lack of corpses aside from a dozen or so piles of ash.”
“Meaning our monster single-handedly wiped them out.”
“Exactly. Also, judging from the scene, it would appear that the fighting broke out around the innermost
chamber, near what is probably the boss’s room.”
“So the Mimic didn’t fight its way in, but started at the head. It’s not a bad approach to dealing with
punks like this, but why would it even bother?”
“Well, a large portion of their warehouses appeared to have been rummaged through and a looted. We
have no idea of what exactly was taken, but were able to confirm that a large number of weapons, armor
and provisions were taken.”
“Any signs of our elven Warlock at the scene?”
“Indeed, on the rooftop of the Broken Flagon. Not to mention traces of what Arcaneum boys confirmed
to be a Warlock’s shadow-attuned magic.”
“So the elf and the box walked into the bar, tried to strike a deal that went bad and took the things they
wanted with them.”
It was a bit of a cliche scenario, but that’s what made it more likely.
“I’m lacking information to make a concrete call on that front,” pointed out Question, “but it seems
likely. Especially since our investigation of that Warlock trainer’s residence and office showed he had
dealing with them.”
“That Grimbeard fellow?”
“Grimebeard. But yes, him. He was probably the elf’s ‘in’ on that Cartel.”
“I don’t like this,” said Edward with a scowl. “Too many if-s, likely-s and probably-s. It’s not like you,
Question.”
“Hey, I’m not omniscient,” shrugged the analyst.
At least I have the decency to admit it, unlike you! he added in his mind.
“You’re thinking something rude, aren’t you?”
“No such thing, sir.”
“... What was that about the roof?”
“Oh, right! We found this formation drawn on that rooftop. It was visible under the ice so the scouts
were able to copy it easily.”
He reached into his robes and took out a small piece of paper, which he showed to Edward. Nearly
drawn on it was a diagram that consisted of a circle inside a triangle inside a second, bigger circle. Three
strange symbols were scribbled in the gaps between the concentric shapes.
“Arcaneum confirmed this was a formation related to a demonic ritual linked with the Demonology
Skill,” explained Question, “and judging from the entombed skeletal remains they were able to complete
it successfully. The ritual in question was identified as the Offering to Lulu- Luso-”
He took a brief pause to double check what was written next to the diagram.
“Liusolra?” offered Zone.
“Ah, yeah. What she said.”
“Hmm, so there exist fools in this day and age who would perform one of those?”
Edward knew about these Offerings since he made a point to educate himself on such matters during his
investigation of the Monotal incident. He swiftly came to the conclusion that those rituals were nothing
but a grand form of suicide. Summoning some big-shot demonic Overlord sounded intriguing at first,
but being unable to control those beings meant that their summoner would definitely get caught up in
their rampage. Although, in the Spymaster’s honest opinion, anyone willing to sacrifice his fellow man
to curry a demon’s favor deserved everything that happened to them afterwards.
“You’re certain this ritual was the cause of this F-day?”
“That’s right,” said Question. “Although Arcaneum couldn’t tell me much about the demon in question,
they identified this peculiar ice as the effects of an Ancient Spell called Ice Age. Definitely the work of
an Overlord.”
‘Ancient Spells’ referred to a phantasmal school of magic that could not be learned through Jobs or
Skills. Knowledge of it had to be obtained the hard way - by seeking it out, studying it and practicing it
diligently. However, that was easier said than done. The actual incantations and magical formulas
needed to cast a lot of these Ancient Spells had been lost to the unceasing march of time. Even the
organization called Arcaneum only knew of them thanks to records and eyewitness accounts of powerful
magic users of ages past unleashing them on their enemies during times of war.
“Well, that answers the ‘how’ of things,” noted Edward, “but not the ‘why.’ I really can’t see a reason
why this elven spy would sacrifice his life for something like this?”
“Ah, the summoner most definitely survived,” said Question, completely derailing Edward’s train of
thought.
“... He did?”
“There’s no sign of a body anywhere on or near that rooftop,” explained the analyst, “Or at least, not a
mortal one. The scouts did report two hollowed out ice statues that were on that rooftop, though. They
were both had horns and were mostly humanoid in appearance, except that one was well over 2 meters
high and the other had wings and rather… outrageous curves. They were undoubtedly left behind by the
two demons Master Shinji told me about.”
“So the Warlock’s familiars got caught up in the Overlord’s rampage, but the actual Warlock is nowhere
to be seen. Meaning he and that stupid box are probably already across the border, aren’t they?”
“Yep,” nodded the blonde man.
“And we have no way of tracking them.”
“Nope.”
Edward cupped his chin in thought. The painfully obvious and deliberate trail, the extremely
conspicuous attack and the way those elves normally did things all pointed to a single conclusion.
“So this whole incident… was to send a message, wasn’t it?”
“Yep.”
And the contents of that message were quite clear. If the Empire officially declared war on the Republic,
then the F.I.B. would retaliate with terrible consequences.
“Those fucking twigs!” growled Edward. “They really got us good! Zone!”
“Yes, sir?”
The woman who had been quietly listening in the corner responded with a quiet, monotone voice.
“Send word to our agents across the border! Tell them to keep a close eye on the Republic’s dungeons
and make sure nobody brings out anything suspicious out of them. That goes double for the dungeons on
our own territory. I want to be notified the instant someone even so much as sees a dungeon core!”
“Understood.”
“Question, give me projections for suitable targets those twigs might hit! I also want a threat assessment
on whether they can launch an attack on the capital!”
“So we’re still going ahead with this war thing?” asked Question.
“Of course we are! You think those F.I.B. bastards are just going to let bygones be bygones? We have to
hit them before they get a chance to use that Calamity against us! Actually, where’s Sparky?”
“I think he’s out back helping Arcaneum-”
*SLAM*
“-with... the… thawing…”
The Spymaster had left the room and slammed the door behind him before Question could finish his
sentence.
“Crazy old bastard has no chill,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Question.”
“Hmm? What is it, Zone? Finally fallen for my natural good looks, superior intellect and charming
attitude? It’s okay if you want to leap into my arms and embrace me at any time.”
“Wanna die?”
The sheer amount of bloodlust flooding out of those two simple words made Question break out in a
cold sweat. The Spymaster was hardly the only one who had a deficiency in the ‘chill’ department.
“... N-no, I’m good… So, uh, what do you need?”
“Have you considered the likelihood that this elf and our Mimic are one and the same?”
“Of course I have.”
“And?”
“And what? It’s impossible.”
“Completely, absolutely, 100% impossible? There’s no conceivable way they’re the same person?”
“... This is unlike you, Zone.”
“Just answer the question, Question.”

‘It’s all you’re good for anyway’ were the words she bit back.
“Haaah,” he sighed. “Well no. It’s theoretically possible if this monster obtained the Essence
Concealment Skill. Nothing else could possibly confuse an Appraisal to this extent. Even if the guy in
the guild was in cahoots with them, the gate guard would have noticed. However, I don’t know of any
God that’s crazy enough to make that chaotic creature into its Hero.”
“And if one did?” asked Zone.
“Even if that miracle were to somehow happen, Essence Concealment can only make one appear
weaker, not stronger. Meaning that if it was indeed this elf in disguise, then it would have had to find a
way to reclaim its Warlock Job and raise it back up to Level 25. And train its related Skills to this high a
degree. And Rank Up into a species capable of disguising itself so completely.”
The blonde man gave an exaggerated shrug.
“I just don’t see a way anything could accomplish all that in under a month. Especially considering the
average monster Level in that mountain. I mean, the reports even said our elf had a personal steel golem
of the highest quality! Where the hell would a moronic box even find the opportunity and resources to
obtain such a thing?!”
Question finished his explanation with another sigh.
“Honestly, the odds that Chester Underwood and Boxxy T. Morningwood are one and the same are so
astronomically low that they might as well be negative.”
“I see,” replied Zone after a brief pause. “Thanks, Question.”
She gave the analyst a small nod and calmly walked out of the room. She proceeded along the hallway
and went down the steps towards the first floor. But there was something different about her. The corners
of her mouth were ever so slightly turned upwards. In other words, her normally emotionless, doll-like
face was showing a small smile.
She unintentionally tightened her grip around a piece of parchment under her cloak. This was something
she found yesterday, something she assumed to be just a soggy piece of litter, but turned out to be some
sort of letter or message. And although the ink had smudged a bit due to water damage, the parchment’s
contents were still largely legible. Zone’s first thought was to give this to her colleagues for analysis, and
she would have done so under normal circumstances.
But that responsible decision was rapidly overturned when she saw that the first two words of that
message were ‘Dear Boxxy.’
(86) Moonlighting 1
“Hmmnn…”
A soft groan filled the messy room as one of its occupants gradually woke from her slumber. A slender
girl with platinum blonde hair and pointed ears rose from the double bed while yawning pleasantly. She
rubbed the sleep from her emerald green eyes as she lazily looked around her modest, single-room
home.
There was a stone stove-and-oven combo embedded halfway into the wooden wall opposite the bed. It
had a rectangular brick chimney sticking out of it and leading up into the ceiling. The corner
immediately to the left side of the stove held a plain dining table with three chairs lazily strewn around
the place. To the right of the stove was a simple wooden cabinet filled with dishes, jugs and other eating
utensils. A sturdy-looking desk with a few quills, an inkwell and a small pile of paper stood opposite
that cabinet, next to the same wall that the bed was up against. A few chests and drawers were lined up
on the other side of the bed, under the only window in the house. Needless to say, those held the
residents’ few worldly possessions such as clothes, mementos and-
“... Window?” mumbled the young elf.
Why was the window important? This was most definitely her window, exactly the same as it was the
night before, so why did it seem so out of place? True, the double glass panes were so filthy that barely
any sunlight got through it, but she liked it better this way. Having too much light pour in from that side
of the room was annoying if she wanted to focus on her work.
“Sunlight?” she mumbled again. She blinked her eyes a few more times before she realized what had
happened.
“Sunlight!” she shouted suddenly. “Keira, wake up!”
She shook the other person that lived in her house and slept in her bed. A head of fiery red, short, and
slightly curly hair emerged from underneath the covers. Two triangular, cat-like ears with matching
crimson fur perked up as their owner gradually woke up. The face of a young, plainly cute girl emerged
next. It was yawning with a wide-open mouth, showing her extra-sharp canines to anyone who might be
looking her way, which consisted solely of an elf girl by the name of Rowana Slyth.
“Keira!”
The cat-eared girl slowly turned her head to face the panicked elf. Her dull expression blossomed into a
full blown, open mouthed smile.
“Hehee! Good meowrning, Rowanaaa!”
She leaned forward and wrapped the other girl in a tight hug. Her long, bright red tail waved about
happily as she rubbed her cheek against Rowana’s.
“Yes, I’m happy to see you too, but you need to go! You’ll be late!”
“Hmm? Late?”
“Yeah! The sun’s out already! Didn’t you have a thing to do today?!”
“... Oh, snap!”
Keira’s yellow, cat-like eyes became wide as dinner plates as she realized Rowana was right. She leapt
out of bed, grabbed the shortbow propped up by the wall and went for the front door at the far end of the
room.
“Wait!” screamed the elf. “You’re forgetting something!”
“Ah! Of course! How silly of me!”
The catgirl ran back to the bed and gave the elf a big, wet kiss on the mouth. Their lips separated several
seconds later with a loud smack.
“I was about to leave without giving you a goodbye kiss ~?!”
“N-not that!” said the red-faced Rowana with a fluster. “Clothes, Keira! Put on some clothes!”
The red-haired catgirl was about to run out into the street completely in the nude. Although Rowana
appreciated the sight of her girlfriend’s slim figure, tanned skin and adorably small breasts, she didn’t
particularly feel like sharing it with the rest of the city.
“Uwah! That was close!” said Keira while beginning to dress herself.
“Honestly!” exclaimed the elf with a huff. “How are you this much of an airhead!?”
“It’s your fault!” shot back the other girl while pulling up her custom-tailored leather pants. “If you
didn’t want to cuddle in the nude until late last night then I wouldn’t have overslept!”
“I-I can’t help it, okay? Your skin just feels way too good against mine!”
“That’s why you elves can’t,” Keira paused for a second as she pulled her chainmail tunic over her head,
“can’t get along with others! You’re way too selfish!”
“You weren’t complaining last night though…”
“Th-this and that are completely unrelated!”
The pair shared an embarrassed chuckle as Rowana idly watched her new sweetheart get ready for her
day. Keira put on a pair of wrist-length fingerless gloves made of the same gray leather material as her
trousers.
“... You be careful out there, alright?” said the elf without trying to hide her concern.
“I’ll be fine, Rowie,” answered Keira with a reassuring smile. “Mister Faehorn said we’ll just be doing
some light termite hunting today. Our class average is barely Level 13 so I’m sure he won’t make us do
anything reckless.”
“He’s not bullying you, right? I heard some bad things about that guy…”
“Nah, he’s cool. He acts all tough and distant, but that’s just because he takes his job seriously and really
cares about his students. He doesn’t treat me differently even though I’m not an elf you know!”
“Hmmm… I guess he’s unexpectedly a nice guy, huh?”
Rowana watched in silence as the beastkin pulled a dark green cloth tunic over her chainmail armor and
strapped an empty quiver across her torso. Once that was in place, she put on a pair of metal plated
bracers on her forearms, and finished up by buckling a set of matching shin-guards to her lower legs and
ankles.
“There, all done!” she declared while doing a little spin as if to show off.
“No shoes, though?” asked the elf while glancing at her lover’s bare feet.
“Ah, mister Faehorn says a true Ranger must be in tune with his or her surroundings at all times, so
going barefoot is a must!”
While most of the aged elf’s other students were of the opinion that this sort of thinking was outdated
and old-fashioned, Keira took those words to heart. She considered herself extremely lucky to be able to
study under a famous archer like him, so she wasn’t going to let a single drop of his wisdom go to waste.
Besides, she didn’t particularly mind it, as feeling the grass between her toes felt oddly nice.
“Keira, promise me you’ll be back by sundown.”
“Ehhhh? But the night breeze feels so good around here!”
“I know, but yesterday I heard more rumors about that crazy vigilante that appeared recently…”
“Hm? Oh, you mean that Sandman character? Isn’t he one of the good guys, though?”
“He kills people, Keira! There’s no way that’s a ‘good guy’ no matter how I look at it!”
“So what, he should just have a nice chat with the murderers, rapists and slavers?”
“No! But, I mean, surely even they don’t deserve to be killed off without a fair trial!”
“The only reason you can say that sort of thing is because you’ve never been a victim.”
Keira’s uncharacteristically cold words and grim face made the elf realize she said something she
shouldn’t have.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault.”
The elf had momentarily forgotten that her new sweetheart carried with her some deep scars from her
childhood, despite being only 16 years old. The beastkin had already stated that the whole reason she
came to this country in the first place was so she could escape her past, so unintentionally digging it up
like this made Rowana feel bad. Sure, she didn’t know the specifics, but she didn’t particularly need to.
All that mattered was that she would be there for Keira the moment the oddly energetic and slightly
airheaded girl felt like sharing her sorrows.
The beastkin grabbed her shortbow once more and, after making sure her backup dagger was on her belt,
turned towards the exit to the hovel.
“I’ll be going then, see you tonight,” she said in a dry monotone while looking over her shoulder.
“No you don’t! Let me make it up to you!” insisted the elf. “What sort of girlfriend am I if I send you
off with a distraught face like that?!”
“Rowie, I’ll be okay. You don’t have to-”
“Nonsense! Just have to think of something good... Oh, I know! I’ll make your favorite steamed salmon
for dinner, so look forward to it!”
“Really?! Alright! You’re the best!”
Seeing her lover cheer up in an instant was enough to put a beaming smile on the elf’s face.
“Fufufu, I am pretty great aren’t I? Go on now! And stay safe out there, love!”
“I always do!”
Keira walked out the front door in high spirits and breathed in the fresh morning air while looking up at
the sky. Far above her head was the loose canopy formed by a dozen or so Hylt trees, much like the one
Rowana’s house was attached to. These magnificent plants grew to a dizzying height of nearly 1
kilometer, and served as traditional homes to the elves since time immemorial.
The Ishigar Republic’s capital city of Azurvale where Keira was currently living in was like that.
Elaborate residences of various sizes and shapes were carved into the side of the tree’s thick trunk or
built along its colossal branches as if they were streets. Countless suspension bridges connected one Hylt
tree to another while sprawling wooden walkways spanned between neighboring branches to form
plazas.
All in all, about half of the city’s 25,000 residents lived inside or around the colossal tree trunks up to an
altitude of about 200 meters. The other half made their homes on the ground, where they were
surrounded on all sides by the Hylt trees’ gigantic, exposed roots. This created a natural wall, turning the
city into a nigh-impregnable fortress. For not only were those roots tens of meters thick and just as tall,
but the Ironbark that covered every part of a Hylt tree was heavily resistant to both impacts and magic.
Rowana’s house wasn’t built on the ground, though. It was a little hovel built into the side of the Hylt
tree’s colossal trunk, near the upper edge of the district’s residential area. This placed it a good 140
meters off the ground, which was more than a little inconvenient to someone like Keira who was used to
plain old two-dimensional cities. That didn’t last long though, as the aspiring adventurer had already
gotten used to getting around this strangely vertical city.
The catgirl took a running start and leapt unhesitantly from the large wooden platform that served as
Rowana’s front yard. A sea of dull-red rooftops sprawled out beneath her as her small body threatened to
drop towards them like a rock. Her arms reached out and grabbed one of the many vines that dangled off
the Hylt branch directly overhead, her forward momentum causing the rope-like plant to sway back and
forth wildly. Undisturbed by the erratic lateral motion, she wrapped her legs and arms around it and let
herself slide down to the ground with practiced ease.
Once she reached the end of it, she threw herself off and landed deftly onto the slanted roof of one of the
buildings that was erected at the ground level. Taking another small run up, she leapt down from the
3-story-high rooftop, kicked off the wall of the neighboring building to redirect her momentum and
landed on the mossy ground with a small roll for a perfect 10-point landing.
*THWACK*
“Ow! What gives?!” she protested while turning around. A wrinkled old elf with balding gray hair had
lightly but firmly bonked her on the head with his cane.
“Oh, it’s only Pedro,” she mumbled while rubbing her head.
“Don’t ‘Pedro’ me, you hooligan!” said the clearly annoyed elf. “How many times do I have to tell you
to stop doing that sort of thing!”
“How else am I supposed to get down, then?!”
Although cozy, Rowana’s cheap house was located in a really awkward part of the neighborhood. Keira
had to go all the way down to ground level or climb up to the thick branch further up the tree if she
wanted to access any of the city’s shops, guilds or services. At the very least the government had
installed a robust plumbing infrastructure into every tree, so that those living in the upper levels didn’t
have to worry about clean drinking water or waste disposal.
“Use the public elevators like the rest of us!” shouted the old elf while waving his cane around.
Of course Keira’s method of swinging on vines was hardly the standard way of getting around. Large,
house-sized platforms served to provide the city’s residents with easy vertical access to all major levels
of a Hylt tree. One merely had to patiently wait at a designated spot for one of those enchanted slabs of
Ironbark to float by and stop briefly, then ride it until it reached a stop closest to their destination.
“Those elevators don’t stop anywhere near our house!” protested Keira.
“Then use the damned walkways! That’s what they’re there for!” shouted Pedro while waving his cane
around.
Those who were unwilling or unable to use the elevators still had the option of traveling up and down
the large ramps that spiraled around the trunk of every Hylt tree. That was how the elves of old typically
got around before those magical floating platforms were introduced. All things said and done, the
number of people in Azurvale who performed elaborate acrobatics just to get from A to B was limited to
one.
“But doing it my way is much faster!” insisted the catgirl while getting off the ground. “Besides, t’s
super fun!”
“Fun?! You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep doing those antics! Not to mention you’ll ruin the
roof tiles of my inn! And my guests are already complaining about the racket you make up there every
morning! How are you going to reimburse me if my business suffers because of your careless behavior,
huh!?”
“Business? Geh! That’s right, I’m late!”
She suddenly remembered the whole reason she had to land on this geezer’s building in the first place.
“I can’t waste my time around here! Catch you later, Pedro!”
“And for the last time, my name is not Pedro!”
Keira ran off towards her destination while magnificently ignoring the elder elf’s protests about some
‘crazy whippersnapper.’ She’d be in big trouble if she missed today’s outing, as Faehorn was quite the
strict instructor. Even if she managed to catch up with the rest of her group, she’d likely still have to
suffer some sort of punishment for her tardiness. And the scale of her punishment would be directly
proportional to how late she was.
That’s why she wasn’t using just her legs, but ran through the streets on all fours. Beastkin like her had a
natural aptitude for quadruped running, which made them considerably faster than any other enlightened
species. Keira demonstrated this trait magnificently as her graceful, coordinated movements allowed her
to move at nearly double the speed of her ‘human’ way of running. Granted it was also far more tiring,
but this was an emergency.
In her haste to avoid getting on her instructor’s bad side, Keira caused quite a bit of trouble for the
people she passed by on the streets. She ducked under carriages, leaped over stalls, swung around street
lights, charged between people’s legs and other such unbridled behavior. While she didn’t really cause
any property damage, that wasn’t to say she didn’t startle the crap out of a lot of bystanders.
One such person was a stocky elven housewife who was carrying a bucket of water when the beastkin
girl suddenly zoomed past her at breakneck speeds. The old woman freaked out a bit, causing her to
drop her bucket on top of an old, disused well she was walking past. Although the rusty grating covering
the top prevented the bucket from falling through, the clean water inside it ended up spilling out into the
dried up water hole. And although the old housewife was more than a little perturbed at this turn of
events, the one who was the most upset about the situation was a certain fiend at the bottom of that well.
“GAH! What the fuck?!” screamed Kora as the cold, filthy water splashed over her head.
“Be quiet you moron!” chastised Xera in a harsh whisper. “This area is off limits, remember?! Nobody’s
supposed to know we’re down here!”
“Yeah, I know, I know.”
The two demons continued scouring the old, disused tunnels much as they had been doing for the past
week. The reason Xera and Kora were down here was because Boxxy had been looking for a good place
to establish a hidden lair ever since it infiltrated the city 12 days ago. It couldn’t just pick any old place
for this, because it wanted to make a home using the dungeon core it had stolen from the Spire of the
jade King. The blue crystal orb had shrunk down to about 50 centimeters in diameter once it completely
lost its MP charge and had been sitting quietly in Boxxy’s storage ever since.
However, in order to properly establish a dungeon, the crystalline core needed to be installed in an
environment that already had a high concentration of ambient mana. The Mimic had learned that those
colossal plants the elves used as apartment buildings were magical in nature. They pulled vast amounts
of mana up from the soil in order to sustain themselves, which sounded like just the thing it was looking
for. After all, there was bound to be an overflowing stream of magical energy coursing through the
ground somewhere near or under those gigantic roots.
Which is where this ancient, decrepit series of tunnels came into play. Unfortunately, they were
unmapped and in horrible disrepair. Searching through this literal maze of tight, winding passages based
on nothing more than simple assumption was not the most productive use of the Mimic’s time. The
shapeshifting monster was already hard at work establishing a new identity within this city, so it had
neither the opportunity nor desire to waste time and energy on something that might end up being a wild
goose chase. Thankfully, it knew of two eager demons who could be volunteered to do the grunt work in
its stead.
“I just don’t see why that damned pipsqueak was the one who got the fun assignment,” complained Kora
as she cleared out a collapsed section of the tunnel.
“Because she actually knows the value of gold. Unlike you, who only knows the value of a tight hole.”
“... Okay, can’t argue with that.”
“Besides, it will be a good opportunity for that girl to spread the Progenitor’s name, not to mention
practice her anti-personnel combat.”
Fizzy’s current task was really a win-win-win, no matter how one looked at it. Well, provided she didn’t
go and get herself killed while fulfilling her duty, but that was unlikely. Mostly because her recent Rank
Up had made her far too durable for her own good.
“Yo, bubblebutt,” whispered Kora. “I think I see something.”
The fiend had just opened a small hole in the pile of rubble blocking their way and was peering through
it. Xera leaned in and put her cheek next to Kora’s in order to get a look for herself. And indeed, just as
the red-skinned meathead had said, there was a lit torch visible on the other side of the tunnel. Distant
shouts could be heard coming down it, although no words could be made out. The succubus immediately
contacted Boxxy through the telepathic link.
“Master, sorry to disturb your practice, but I think we found another group down here.”
Xera and Kora were hardly the only ones skulking through these decrepit tunnels, as many gangs and
other unsavory elements often occupied them and turned them into hideouts. This was the third time the
two demons had discovered one such place. The first time they ran into people down here turned out to
be an illegal slave market. The second occurrence was some weird underground pub that could only be
described as a wretched hive of pickpockets, thieves, con artists and other assorted scum and villainy.
Needless to say, none of those people survived their encounter with Boxxy and its familiars.
“Have you been spotted?” inquired the Mimic.
“No. Not yet, at least.”
“Then stand by and keep an eye on things. I’ll come clean them up in a few hours.”
And it would appear that ‘Mister Sandman’ was about to make yet another appearance.
(87) Moonlighting 2
“Snack, get ready for the transfer.”
Boxxy’s sudden telepathic communication caught Xera slightly off-guard. She and Kora had been on
standby for the past 2 hours, ever since they found traces of life in those decrepit sewer tunnels. Of
course, in their case ‘on standby’ meant that the fiend was buried balls-deep in Xera’s ass. However, as
fun as it was for them, it was hardly the ideal position for what was about to happen next, so they
hurriedly separated and straightened themselves out.
“Ready, Master,” reported the still out-of-breath succubus.
Several seconds passed in silence as Xera braced herself for what was to come. Her body suddenly
started shaking, vibrating even. It grew blurry, almost as if it were out of focus, and then grew slightly
transparent. There was a soft, barely audible popping noise, followed by a puff of thick, green smoke
that came out from around her feet and smelled vaguely of sulfur. The smoke cleared up a second later
to reveal that Xera was gone, and in her place was a 130 centimeter tall, black-skinned humanoid with
no face.
Boxxy grumbled slightly as it curled up on the floor and wrapped itself in its favorite chest-shaped shell.
Even if it had gotten more or less used to humanoid forms by now, this was still far more comfortable. It
was just a pity that it didn’t get a lot of opportunities where it could assume this form in peace since it
had to work on maintaining its fake identity.
“What should I do, Master?” asked Xera through the telepathic link.
“Stay out of sight until I have to go back. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Understood.”
What the Doppelganger pretending to be a Mimic pretending to be a chest had used just now was a Spell
called Transfamiliar. It was a type of teleportation that allowed the Warlock and one of its familiars to
change places by tapping into the reality-warping energy of the Beyond. It employed radically different
principles to the more traditional Spatial Magic, which was why it differed slightly in function and
application. And the reason Boxxy knew about this oddly named Spell, was because of its most recently
acquired Warlock Skill.
Demonic Insight
Description: The Warlock’s connection with the demonic realm allows him to tap into the
unstable powers of the Beyond.
Requirements: Level 35 Warlock, Demonology
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effect: Grants knowledge of a Demonic Spell at Level 1, 3, 6, 8 and 10 of this Skill.
Increases the effectiveness of the INT Attribute by 1% per Level of this Skill.
This was the monster’s third demon-related Skill after Summon Familiar and Demonology. It was a
natural choice to look for ways to strengthen its familiars further, especially since Snack and Arms were
the main way it applied its Warlock Job. Both of them were excellent minions that were just the right
combination of dependable, flexible and expendable. And this demonic duo would become a trio within
the week, as the Mimic’s Demonology Skill was poised to reach Level 8 almost any day now. It was
looking forward to having yet another minion do its bidding and help further its goals.
However, the Demonic Insight Skill didn’t seem particularly useful in and of itself. The rather modest
boost to the monster’s INT Attribute was welcome, but the Spells it provided seemed to be oriented
towards utility rather than enhancement or offense. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though.
Transfamiliar, which was gained at Level 3 of the Skill, was quite the convenient Spell, although it did
have an obnoxiously long chant. At least that drawback was alleviated somewhat by the Chant
Reduction Skill the Mimic acquired at Warlock Level 30. This passive Skill allowed the monster to
activate all of its Spells a bit faster by skipping certain parts of their chants without affecting their
effectiveness.
“Arms, where’s the prey?” it asked once it had gotten its bearings.
“Over there, behind that rubble.”
Kora pointed towards the collapsed section of the cylindrical tunnel they were in. Boxxy walked up to
the pile of rubble and peered through the small, head-sized opening its familiar had made earlier. It saw
the swaying, reddish light of torches and heard the distant voices of people. This place was most
definitely home to someone, which meant it was a perfect spot for it to feed on people without attracting
too much unwanted attention.
Well, that was the plan initially, although things didn’t work out quite as expected. When the Mimic had
first arrived here it had sought out some unsavory criminal elements in order to unload the Empire-
forged arms and armor it was carrying. And while it did find people willing to buy them without too
much trouble, it had a disagreement with them concerning the price.
The representatives it met with demanded that Boxxy sell them goods in question for the nominal price
of ‘fuck all,’ which was obviously unacceptable. Finding themselves at an impasse, the two parties then
engaged in an intense bout of negotiation. When an amicable agreement couldn’t be reached, the Mimic
kindly requested to meet with the employer of these stubborn individuals so that they could work things
out between them like gentlemen. It was a request to which those fellows readily consented.
Long story short, an influential mob boss and 30 of his top men had disappeared without a trace, literally
overnight. Word of this shocking event spread through the city like wildfire. That particular criminal was
known to have connections to many influential people and was largely considered to be untouchable. He
was known to employ corruption, blackmail, hostages and all other sorts of underhanded methods in
order to keep the authorities out of his hair.
So it really should come as no surprise that having his mansion ransacked, smashed up and partially
burned down would be big news. The dire state his place of residence was found in made it abundantly
clear that its residents did not meet with a pleasant fate, even though there was no concrete evidence that
they were killed. It was as if a vengeful tornado of violence and anger had swept through it without
leaving more than a few drops of blood behind at the scene.
However, that was hardly the end of it. The bizarre event repeated itself the very next day as another
allegedly criminal organization had been dismantled completely, including their illegal slavery racket.
This was then followed by the news that an underground guild of thieves and robbers was wiped out the
day after in much the same way.
Both the citizens and the authorities had become convinced that someone was targeting these criminal
elements, likely out of some personal sense of justice or thirst for revenge. It didn’t take long for them to
start referring to this mysterious individual or group as ‘the Sandman,’ although the vigilante in question
had no idea as to why they were calling it that.
While it was true that the black, dried up ashes left behind by Boxxy’s Cadaver Absorption Skill could
be seen as sand-like, the Mimic didn’t actually leave any of those behind. It was planning to stick around
here for quite a while, so it wanted to avoid leaving conspicuous remains like those behind. That was
why it made a point of carrying a bucket, a mop, and several jugs of clean water inside its Storage at all
times in order to clean those up. It could of course simply eat the ashes, but it didn’t want to do that
unless it really had to. After all, they tasted almost as bad as Nasty did.
And so, despite its best efforts, the Mimic still ended up causing a commotion. It didn’t like this
development one bit, as it had intended to prey on targets that society wouldn’t miss. Surely notorious
criminals fit that bill, right? However, that was clearly not the case, and now it had a reputation it didn’t
want. Rumors that a merciless vigilante was hunting criminal elements was sure to cause said elements
to go into hiding or step up their security, which in turn would make Boxxy’s search for dinner all the
more difficult.
At the very least the city of Azurvale didn’t seem to have a clue as to this Sandman’s real identity, which
was good. The monster briefly considered lying low for a while, but the damage was already done.
Besides Xera had pointed out that this ‘Sandman’ persona might even prove to be useful later on, so
there was no real reason for Boxxy to change its habits. Which was why it was currently in an
underground tunnel, looking to make lunch out of yet more undesirables.
It was eager to finish things up down here and get back to blending in with the other adventurers, so it
momentarily undid its chesty transformation. Once it was back to being the size of a young child, it
crawled through the opening in the rubble that Kora had made earlier. It then quietly re-cast the
Transfamiliar Spell to get the oversized fiend on the other size of the blockage, as making enough room
for the fiend to pass through it would raise too much noise. Boxxy crawled through the hole a second
time and assumed its preferred shape once more.
Now that both of them were through, they started walking through the abandoned waterways. The stone
brick passage they found themselves in was only about 2 meters tall, so Kora had to move forward while
crouching down in order to fit inside. She also had to keep her head low, otherwise her horns might
scrape against the low ceiling. Her posture was uncomfortable and awkward, but at the very least this
part of the tunnel system didn’t have any stagnant water stinking it up, so there was that.
The two of them steadily made their way along the straight tunnel, towards the flickering torchlight
ahead. They arrived at a small T-shaped junction, with the passage splitting left and right. Boxxy
commanded Kora to stay put, activated its Stealth Skill, and peered around the right corner - the one the
light was coming from. The passage it was in fed into a large cylindrical chamber that appeared to have
people in it. It couldn’t quite see them, but it most definitely heard multiple voices coming from within.
The Mimic colored its chest-shaped shell a dark gray to match its surroundings and crept steadily
forward, making sure to remain on high alert. Once the spider-chest reached the end of the tunnel, it
pressed itself against the right side of it and took a good look around. The chamber appeared to be some
sort of old cistern or water reservoir, as it was at least 30 meters in diameter and had a height of about 7
meters, although any water that was once here had long ago dried up. Several columns of light shone
down from round holes in the ceiling - likely old wells that had been sealed up by metal grates.
However, the things that provided most of the visibility down here were numerous torches that lined the
far edge of the room and were placed around the numerous stone columns that kept the ceiling from
collapsing.
And in that lit-up portion of the room stood a group of 9 elves. Five of them were huddled around a
small bonfire with a metal pot on it, preparing what appeared to be some type of soup. The other three
were lying down on some makeshift bedding, while the final one was off to the side with his back turned
towards the rest and appeared to be taking a leak. Judging from their clothing and depressing
atmosphere, not to mention the torn up tents that barely provided any shelter, these 9 appeared to be
nothing more than simple hobos squatting down here. Upon closer inspection, the Mimic spotted a
frayed rope ladder was dangling from one of the well openings overhead, likely their way in and out of
the place.
Boxxy then suddenly had an epiphany. Thinking back on its brief stay in Erosa, the monster realized it
had killed a large number of bums, and yet it attracted zero attention. Which meant that those people
right there were the ones ‘society wouldn’t miss.’ The poor, destitute and homeless existed in every
major city, and were largely ignored by the vast majority of citizens, so nobody of importance would
care if they disappeared. If it had just preyed on these guys rather than go after notorious criminals, then
that questionable Sandman rumor would never have started in the first place!
Well, it didn’t really regret doing that. Attacking those criminals provided the monster with a sizable
chunk of XP and were quite delicious in their own right. These bums, on the other hand, were barely
even people as their bodies were skinny, disease-ridden sacks of stringy flesh. The most Boxxy could do
with their corpses was to use them as fodder for its Cadaver Absorption Proficiency, as even a success
would likely yield very little. Right now though, it would probably just devour them. Even if they
weren’t particularly tasty or filling, they were still very much edible. Not to mention that they would
serve as a good source of proficiency for its newly acquired Demonic Insight Skill.
Boxxy went out of the tunnel it was hiding in and stealthily climbed the walls. It then crawled along the
ceiling, making sure to stick behind the supporting pillars whenever possible so as to hide its body from
view. Once it got close enough, it started chanting the Spell it got at Level 1 of Demonic Insight. Being
under the effects of Stealth allowed the monster’s Arcane Assassin Perk to kick in. It muffled the sound
of its voice, allowing it to cast the Spell in total silence, albeit at a significantly higher MP cost.
The Mimic finished invoking its Spell a few seconds later with a silent utterance of ‘Implosion!’
*PAKINNN*
There was a flash of blinding green light accompanied by a high-pitched wail that sent all 9 of the
homeless elves into a panic. The inexplicable phenomenon had occurred directly over their little bonfire,
so the 5 sitting around it were losing their shit at a rapid pace. They managed to calm themselves down
for a moment when they realized they weren’t actually injured, but that relief disappeared just as quickly
as it had arrived.
“Waaaakwakawaka!”
“Kuweekakaka!”
“Arrrkaaakaraaaa!”
A large number of high-pitched, squawking voices filled the chamber, as the elves found themselves
surrounded by nearly 30 squirrel-sized monsters. The tiny creatures resembled miniature satyr due to
their humanoid upper halves and furry, goat-like lower bodies. Their bodies and their fur came in all
manner of colors, although most of them were either a dull yellow or a dark red. Their pointy horns,
long noses and ears, and thin, rodent-like tails poking out of their backsides gave them a strangely
comical appearance.
These things were imps, the demonic equivalent of rats. These otherworldly vermin barely had any self-
awareness or strength of their own, which made them wildly unpredictable. They cackled and pranced
about randomly, as the elves were too shocked by this sudden turn of events to even scream. For the
briefest moment, it seemed like these strange creatures would just go away as long as they stood
perfectly still.
But that wouldn’t last. All it took was for one of the elves to inhale a bit too sharply, which somehow
sent every last one of those tiny demons into a frenzy. Some of them started clawing and biting at the
unfortunate bums, while others bombarded them with volley after volley of tiny Firebolts.
However, almost none of their ‘attacks’ actually did any damage. Their tiny hands and short teeth could
barely even draw blood, while the puny magical power behind their fiery projectiles would at most singe
the filthy rags these homeless elves draped themselves in. Their assault was painful and annoying, but
by no means lethal.
It didn’t take long for the bums to rally and start kicking them around, stomping them underfoot or
smashing them with whatever blunt object was at hand. They had no idea what the hell was going on,
but they weren’t about to just roll over and die this easily. Not that there was any chance of that
happening, though. Imps were so pathetically weak, that they probably wouldn’t even beat a 9-year old
kid in a fight unless 6 or 7 of the demons ganged up on it. So this situation of 30 of them taking on 9
fully-grown males was a foregone conclusion.
However, Boxxy wasn’t done quite yet.
*PAKINNN*
There was another loud bang and blinding flash as the Mimic used the misleadingly named Implosion
Spell yet again. Another 30 or so of the demonic vermin popped out from the rift that momentarily
opened to the Beyond, bringing the total number of imps up to about 50. The new arrivals happily joined
the fray as the homeless elves kept trying to fight them off.
*PAKINNN*
Yet another 30 imps appeared out of nowhere, but they still wouldn’t be enough to actually defeat those
elves. Not that he one that called them really cared about their chances though. Boxxy was currently
busy training its Demonic Insight Skill, so having those people struggle against the effects of its
Implosion Spell was exactly what it wanted. The aforementioned Skill’s Proficiency would steadily go
up just so long as the imps it summoned had someone or something to play with. It would keep using the
Spell as many times as its MP would allow, which wasn’t a lot considering it consumed 10% of its
maximum MP and was paying an extra 25% of that in order to cast it silently.
This oddity struck the Mimic as strange at first. Typically speaking, Spells appeared to have a fixed cost
and would increase in power with the related Mastery Skill, the INT Attribute and any Magical
Amplification gained from items. However, these Demonic Spells worked by their own rules, and did
not seem to actually have a related Mastery Skill. In fact, they weren’t even recognized as an official
school of magic, considering how the monster’s Spell List had categorized them as ‘Other’ rather than
‘Beyond’ or ‘Demonic.’
*PAKINNN*
But the monster quickly realized that this was simply how Beyond-related magic worked. Looking at the
Summon Familiar Skill or the Offering rituals, it was obvious that the strength of the magical effect was
directly proportional to the amount of mana used to invoke it. In the case of the former, a higher amount
of spent MP would result in a stronger familiar. For the latter, it wouldn’t affect the power that the
summoned Overlord could exhibit, but supplying the demonic big-shot with more mana would allow
them to maintain their physical form for longer. As for the Implosion Spell, it would increase the
number of imps called forth from the Beyond at a rate of 1 imp for every 10 MP spent.
*PAKINNN*
However, unlike the ritual or the Skill, the Mimic could repeat this Spell as many times as it wanted,
which was precisely what it did. It was actually starting to enjoy watching the spontaneous hobo-imp
war that had broken out. There was just so much going on that it was impossible to keep track of
everything and made for a surprisingly entertaining show. In fact, the imps were so numerous by now
that the idiotic creatures had started fighting one another since they couldn’t really reach the elves with
all their kin in the way.
As for those homeless bums, it appeared they were already at their limits. Their bodies were covered in
scratches, bite marks and burns, their feeble stamina was quickly running out and their faces were
gripped by despair. Even if the enemy was pitiful in comparison, they had no chance of winning against
what appeared to be a never-ending sea of enemies. And the Mimic had every intention to prove this.
*PAKINNN*
Chaotic energies swirl around you. You will be teleported in a random direction within the
next 5 seconds.
However, it would seem that the Chaotic Disposition Skill would disagree. Boxxy didn’t even have time
to react as its chesty body suddenly vanished with a flash of blue light and reappeared some 15 meters
from its original location with another flash. The place the Mimic appeared in was in midair, and
directly above the cacophony of bum-on-imp combat. It fell right in the middle of the melee with a loud
thud, crushing a few of the imps underchest. The elves were so preoccupied with their struggle, that they
completely failed to notice the spider-legged box that appeared literally out of thin air.
The monster calmly picked itself up off the ground and let out a sigh. It had gotten perhaps a bit too
carried away, as it suddenly remembered it had places to be and things to do. Deciding not to waste any
more time, it sprouted four long whip-like tentacles covered in tiny blades. It then spun around in place
like a horrific weedwacker, severing the lives of imp and elf alike and bathing the chamber in their
blood. It waited for half a minute for the demonic corpses and their bodily fluids to disappear into thin
air before it quickly chowed down on the mutilated homeless elves.
Once it was done, it sent a telepathic communication to Xera.
“Snack, I’m done here. How are things on your end?”
“All good, Master. I think your, uh, ‘colleagues’ are starting to notice your absence, though.”
“Okay, then prepare for another transfer.”
“Understood, just let me find a good spot that’s hidden from view.”
“Arms, the chamber is clear, come here and resume the search with Snack once she returns.”
“You got it, boss.”
Boxxy let out another sigh. It really wanted to stay in its chesty form a while longer, but it wasn’t
something it could afford to do just yet. It had recently obtained a new Job, and it wanted to avoid
learning things the hard way like it did with its Warlock Job. Thankfully, most of the adventurer guilds
in this city provided excellent training courses for aspiring adventurers, so at least it wouldn’t have to
look for a teacher. It didn’t have much trouble blending in either, although it struggled to contain its
appetite around the other students when it was hungry.
Especially around that one positively delicious-looking apprentice in Faehorn’s class.
(88) Moonlighting 3
“Man, I am beat!” complained Keira while sweat dripped down her face.
“Are you alright, kitty-face?” asked the female elf that was sitting next to her.
She had long, leaf-green hair that was tied in a stylish ponytail, and was a young woman that looked to
be in her early 20s or late teens. She was wearing a set of chainmail equipment identical to the
beastkin’s, which was standard issue gear among Ranger trainees of the Hidden Arrow guild.
“I’ll be fine, Lia. Just gotta… rest a bit…”
“Hmm, if you say so.”
The two of them were riding a cart on their way back from their training session. Today’s hunting
expedition had turned out to be much harsher than the beastkin was expecting, so it was only natural that
she was dead tired. It wasn’t because the 10-man class’s targets were particularly challenging though.
Those sheep-sized termites that ate away at the elves’ Hylt tree farm to the south of the city were simple
enough to deal with. Their shells weren’t particularly tough and they lacked any form of ranged attack,
so a small team of Rangers could easily take down a large number of the overgrown bugs with little
difficulty.
In fact, trainees like Keira were often dispatched to act as pest control since fighting those things
allowed them to safely and steadily acquire Levels and Skill Proficiency. Well, provided they steered
clear of the actual nest, as that particular threat required copious amounts of fire-based magic to be
safely cleared out. What these fledgling archers had to do was merely cull the termite population to
make it easier to manage and contain their spread.
“So how many did you get today?” asked Lia.
“I got 20!”
“Oh, not bad! I got 23 myself!”
“Hehehe! I’ll beat you next time!”
“We’ll see about that! I don’t intend to lose to you!”
The two’s scores for the day were rather impressive, as most trainees only managed to bring down about
a dozen termites on average within a single day. Those pests loved to climb up the sides of the
40-to-60-meter tall Hylt saplings and nibble on their bark and branches, so hunting them often involved
dealing with the numerous branches and leaves that got in the way.
This was typically accomplished either by climbing up the side of the tree in order to get a clean shot or
relying on pure marksmanship to take them down from the ground. Keira had gone for the first approach
while Lia opted for the latter. Both of them performed exceptionally well for their Level, but neither of
them could hope to match the guy who came in first today. And every day.
“... I just wish that guy wouldn’t show off so much,” said Lia while glaring at the plain-looking male elf
riding the cart in front of theirs. “I mean I appreciate a little rivalry, but he just makes me feel
inadequate.”
“Why? How many did he get?”
“33.”
“Wow. Okay.”
“It’s not just the body count either,” said the female elf while biting her lower lip. “The way he runs up
those trees and that scary accuracy of his both make me wonder if he’s really in the Level 10 to 15
bracket like we are…”
“He’s not.”
“Eep!”
A sudden voice from the side made both girls jump a little in surprise. A grizzled old elf with slicked
back brown hair and most of his left ear missing was walking alongside the cart. A thick, rune-inscribed
longbow was slung across his torso and he wore fancy, silver-colored scale armor.
“Ah! In-instructor Faehorn!” exclaimed Lia.
“Wh-what do you mean he’s not in the bracket?” asked Keira.
“His Ranger Level is significantly higher than yours,” explained the old elf, “but his actual skill level is
atrocious.”
“A power-leveler, huh?”
“You are correct, miss Torlee,” he said with a nod to Lia. “If he had the same Attributes as you two, he’d
struggle to get even 15 of the buggers.”
“Hmm, so that’s why he seems to have it so easy.”
“Indeed. Well, he’s properly absorbing my teachings and isn’t as arrogant as most power-levelers, so I’m
sure I can fix him right up before the end of the course!”
“Uhm, wh-what’s a power-leveler?” asked Keira sheepishly. “I’ve heard about it before, but…”
“It’s what we call people who get their Job Level artificially raised,” said the instructor. “Attacking a
high-Leveled monster and then having someone else finish it off in order to gain easy XP is a fast way to
raise Job Levels, but I disapprove of that approach since those people never learn to apply themselves
properly.”
‘Don’t mistake Status for ability’ and ‘power without direction is meaningless’ were the two lessons that
Faehorn tried to instil in all his students. While such things as Attributes and Levels did make one more
powerful, being able to properly utilize that power was what made the difference between a good
adventurer and a great one.
“There are just some things you won’t learn from a Job or Skill, after all,” continued Faehorn. “Like for
example punctuality, miss Morgana.”
Having her last name called out so suddenly made Keira freeze in place with a stiff smile. Being
subjected to the instructor’s piercing gaze didn’t help matters, either.
“C-come on, mister Faehorn,” she pleaded, “I already did a 20 kilometer sprint this morning, didn’t I?”
That was her punishment for being late earlier today, and also the main reason she looked like she was
about to pass out. The instructor purposefully kept pushing her for the remainder of the day, not willing
to give her exhausted body the chance to properly rest. There was a good chance the catgirl might not
have made it back to the city if she wasn’t allowed to ride the supply cart. Faehorn had every intention
of making her walk the whole way, but he did promise he’d let her rest on the way back if she made it in
the top 4 today. Which, surprisingly, she did. It was amazing how motivated she became at the prospect
of being able to laze about.
“You did, though I think another 50 or so kilometers are in order,” he said sternly.
“S-such a thing…”
“Ah, this is unrelated to you being tardy, though.”
“It… it’s not?”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but you get tired way too easily. Your need to learn to pace
yourself better.”
“Uhm, teacher?” spoke up Lia. “I don’t think it’s a matter of pacing. Don’t all beastkin get easily tired in
general?”
The young elf had a point. Compared to the elves, beastkin in general were faster, more agile and had
slightly sharper senses, but their stamina was atrocious. An elf Ranger of Keira’s Level would normally
be able to run those 20 kilometers without so much as breaking a sweat, and yet she appeared to be a
total wreck from just that.
“Hmm, you may have a point,” said Faehorn, much to the two girls’ surprise. “We don’t get many of her
kind around these parts, so I didn’t take that into account at all. It was my fault as a teacher, for which I
apologize.”
“It-it’s okay, mister Faehorn!” insisted the flustered Keira while waving her hands in front of her face.
“You really don’t need to mind it!”
“No, no, I really need to consider your race when thinking up your training menu.”
The grizzled Ranger cupped his chin in thought as he sped up to check on the slow-moving cart up
ahead.
“Perhaps a 20 kilometer run every morning and evening to help build stamina…” he mumbled as he
speed-walked away.
“Lia! Don’t say unnecessary things!” exclaimed Keira accusingly, causing the green-haired elf to avert
her gaze out of guilt.
“W-well, he does have a point,” she offered weakly. “Being a Ranger is a taxing Job so having more
endurance is hardly a bad thing.”
“I’ll die! I’ll seriously die if I have to run that much each day!” complained the catgirl while shaking her
companion lightly.
“Hm? Hey, Keira, not for nothing, but I think that guy is staring at you again.”
Lia’s rather clumsy attempt at changing the subject seemed to work, as the catgirl’s accusatory stare was
redirected to follow the elf’s line of sight. Looking forward, she noticed that the supposedly high-
Leveled elf they were talking about earlier was staring at her over his shoulder. Their eyes met for a
brief moment, after which he turned his gaze back forward.
“That boy, I bet he has a crush on you,” said the elf teasingly. “He’s been sneaking glances at you for a
while now.”
“I guess you may be right.”
“... So? Aren’t you going to talk to him!”
“Why?”
“Y-you don’t plan on responding to his feelings?”
“Not in the slightest. It may be a bit cruel of me, but I don’t see that happening.”
“Really? I agree he looks a bit plain, but he’s still kind of cute, right?”
“He’s not my type, okay? Besides, I already have someone.”
“Eh? You’re in a relationship?!”

The catgirl’s pouting face lit up with a brilliant smile one might compare to a sunrise.
“I am indeed!”
“How!? Why?! When!? I mean, you only got here a week ago, right?!”
“What can I say? When you meet that special someone, you just know right away!”
The dreamy look in Keira’s eyes made it abundantly clear she believed that.
“Details! Give me details!” insisted Lia.
“W-well, it’s not that big a deal. I mean, I was just looking for a cheap place to stay when I arrived here,
but didn’t have a lot of luck finding one. I was having lunch wondering what I should do about it, when
this stranger sits down next to me. The restaurant was full and there were no other open seats, you see,
so I didn’t particularly mind. We then started talking and seemed to click together immediately.”
Lia swallowed audibly as she clung onto every word.
“Then the guy tried to feel me up, so I clawed him across the face.”
“... Huh?”
“Oh yeah. He must have gotten some mixed signals or something and groped my butt when I got up to
pay the bill, so I reflexively slashed at him. It was a shame too, cuz he got blood all over my outfit.”
“No, that’s clearly a big deal! I mean, I guess the guy sort of deserved it, but surely attacking him with
those things was going overboard!”
Lia had seen the retractable claws hidden in Keira’s otherwise normal-looking toes and fingertips. One
really wouldn’t know they were there unless she brought them out. They looked rather small and
unthreatening at first glance, but the elf knew better. She had seen firsthand just how sharp and tough
they really were when Keira used them to scale those Hylt saplings with absolutely no difficulty. That’s
how she was able to get 3rd place in today’s hunting expedition, despite being dead tired the whole time.
“... My butt is really sensitive you know,” offered the beastkin in her defense, albeit with a slight blush
on her cheeks.
“That’s not the point!”
“Anyway, the guy raised a huge fuss over that tiny scratch,” continued Keira while completely ignoring
Lia’s protests. “Some guards showed up to investigate the ruckus and he insisted that I attacked him
completely unprovoked. That scumbag wanted to shift the blame on me even though he was the guilty
one!”
“No, you weren’t entirely innocent in that scenario, either!” retorted Lia.
“That’s when someone in the crowd stood up for me and argued with the guards that the guy started it
and that he should be the one that got locked up. Her action inspired some of the other bystanders to
speak up as well, which was enough to convince the guards that he was not without fault. Well, we both
got thrown in jail in the end though.”
The elf drooped her shoulders and let off a sigh, as if to say ‘of course that’s what would happen.’
“But the one that stood up for me came to visit me in jail right away! She said her name was Rowana
and that she felt really bad about how I was treated and we ended up talking about this and that for
several hours until the guards chased her out since they wanted to lock up for the night. Well, they were
going to let me go in the morning, so it wasn’t a big deal. In fact, I was kind of glad since I found a
cheap place to stay the night after all!”
“Please don’t treat the city’s dungeons as a free motel…”
“So anyway, Rowana showed up the next day to check up on me since she was worried. She offered to
show me around town, so I gladly accepted. One thing led to another and we ended up living together.”
There was a brief moment of silence as Keira stood there with a light smile while hugging her knees.
“... So?” asked Lia after the brief pause.
“So… what?”
“Isn’t there more to this story?”
“No... That’s pretty much it, really.”
“But, wasn’t that the story of how you met your lover?”
“Of course it was, silly! What else would it be? You’re the one who said you wanted to hear it in the first
place, weren’t you?”
“Well yeah, but you didn’t mention a boyfriend or anything.”
“Why would I be talking about something like that?”
“I mean how else would this… this… Oh.”
Lia’s words trailed off as realization washed over her like a cold shower.
“Ah, sorry! I was just a bit surprised… I mean, your face and voice are just so feminine that I just
assumed you were a girl. That was bad of me.”
“I am a girl,” said Keira with a sharp glare.
“... You are?”
“What’s with that dubious expression! I’m most definitely a girl you know! I mean, I know my chest is a
bit small, but I have room to grow! Here, I’ll prove it to you!”
Keira’s hands grabbed the edge of her chainmail tunic and started rolling it up.
“Okay! Okay! I believe you, so please stop stripping!”
Lia waved her hands around in a fluster, somehow managing to calm down the ticked off catgirl. If she
denied it to that extent, then it was obvious the elf was misunderstanding that she made a
misunderstanding. That did, however, raise another question.
“So you, uh, are in a relationship with another girl?” asked Lia after another awkward pause.
“Yup! Rowie’s the best girlfriend I could ever ask for!”
Keira’s previous dissatisfaction disappeared in an instant when the topic of her special someone was
brought up. Her wide smile and sparkling eyes made it seem like her angry pouting from a few moments
ago was an illusion.
“And you said you two… live together?”
“Uuu, it’s a bit embarrassing to hear someone else say it…”
The petite catgirl hid her blushing cheeks with her palms while shaking her head lightly, although her
goofy grin did not diminish in the slightest. It was without a doubt the image of a maiden in love.
Wait, was she actually still a ‘maiden?’
“Th-then… have you two… done it?” asked Lia, unable to contain her curiosity.
Keira’s tanned skin flushed with an even darker shade of red at the slightly inappropriate question. She
didn’t deny it, but couldn’t bring herself to admit it either. Which was more or less the same as
screaming ‘yes, we had sex’ with all her might.
“Wow… Keira’s already an adult, huh…”
“Lia!”
“Ahaha, sorry, sorry! I was just a little surprised, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
The elf let out an embarrassed chuckle and apology while trying to calm down the hyperactive beastkin
she was riding with. However, both her face and tone turned rather serious a few seconds later.
“Look, Keira, I appreciate you sharing this with me, but you might want to avoid telling too many
people about that relationship of yours.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“Just please, hear me out. I don’t know how things were back where you grew up, but Azurvale is hardly
the best place for… those like you. While a lot of people don’t really care, there are quite a few fanatics
that think same-sex couples should be outlawed. You probably had no idea about any of this, right?”
Keira shook her head with a troubled expression.
“As I thought… Look, you have to understand it’s a religious thing. The vast majority of elves worship
Nyrie, the Goddess of fertility who governs over plants and watches over children. Technically
speaking, her realm also extends over, uh, *Cough* babymaking.”
“So what? She hates people who don’t make kids?”
“No, she doesn’t. At least, I don’t believe she does. There are those who say otherwise, however. There’s
a certain… movement that claims same-gendered couples are an affront to Her and should be
prohibited… or worse. And while such a stupid law is unlikely to become reality, it doesn’t stop them
from doing terrible things to innocent people.”
Keira had no idea how to respond to that. She had absolutely no idea this was the case, but it made sense
now that she thought about her various interactions ever since she came to this city.
“My point is,” added Lia, “you might be targeted if word got out. Your girlfriend was probably scared to
tell you since it’s a difficult subject for her.”
“I see… Thanks for telling me this.”
“Don’t mention it. All I ask is that you don’t let that vocal minority warp your perception of us elves.
We got a bad enough reputation out there as it is.”
“I won’t,” answered Keira with a forced smile. “After all, Lia doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Yeah, well, I personally think those people are just full of shit,” she scowled. “Those fanatics are all
dirty old men, you know. Just pigs who want women to serve as baby factories and nothing else.”
“... Do elves struggle with having kids that much? I mean there are a lot more humans than elves around
so-”
“That is most certainly not the case. We’re not any less fertile than humans or dwarves, you know! It’s
just that we’re more in control of our lower halves!”
“Really? That’s not the impression I got from Rowie...”
“Keira.”
“What?”
“Too much information.”

(89) Moonlighting 4
The door to Rowana’s humble abode swung open, and Keira walked through it with her trademark
carefree grin.
“Honey, I’m home!” she called out in a cheerful voice.
“You don’t need to shout so loud, Keira!” protested the elf sitting at her desk. “I’m right here, you
know!”
“Oh come on! Is that any way to greet me!”
“... Haah,” sighed the elf, then forced a tired smile. “Welcome back, sweetie.”
Those three simple words were all Keira wanted to hear. She nodded with a satisfied expression and
closed the door behind her, then walked up to where Rowana was sitting at.
“More paperwork?” she asked, pointing at the small stack of parchments next to her girlfriend.
“Yeah. Apparently there was an outbreak of Snake Eye at a nearby restaurant, so we got swamped with
patients suffering from tunnel vision. It really strained our supplies at the clinic, so I’m writing up
requisition orders.”
The 19 year old elf was an Alchemist who worked as a healer and doctor. Open wounds could easily be
patched up with magic by her colleagues, but those persistent problems such as rashes, diseases and
toothaches were best dealt with by applying the right poultice or elixir. Her wages were still a bit low
since she was relatively inexperienced, but it was still a steady job that involved helping people, which
is all she really wanted. She could do with less paperwork, but that was an inevitability of government-
provided jobs.
“Hmm… sounds rough,” commented Keira.
“Not as rough as you’ve had it, apparently. You positively reek of sweat.”
“Ugh… don’t remind me… I’m gonna go wash up.”
“Okay,” said Rowana while stretching her tired body. “I’ll get dinner ready while you do that.”
“Steamed salmon, right?!”
“Yup! It’s super fresh, too! I got a good deal for it at the market earlier!”
“Alright!”
The catgirl bounced off towards the rear of the house and went down a narrow staircase into the cellar.
She hurriedly took off her gear, threw it into a pile in the corner and went into the small bathroom. It
appeared to be literally carved into the magical Hylt tree’s bark, much like the rest of the cellar. A small
magic lamp dangled from the ceiling to provide ample light while Keira filled the wooden tub with hot
water and started washing herself off. Being able to leisurely take a bath in one’s own home, even one as
small as this, was a luxury that only those living in the capital could enjoy. The special scented soaps
and shampoo that her girlfriend made herself were only icing on the cake.
Keira emerged from the cellar 20 minutes later, wearing a plain, dull red dress, much like the one
Rowana had on. She found that, much to her delight, a plate of piping hot, bright-red steam salmon filets
were already waiting for her. The elf set out another serving for herself and the two sat down next to
each other to have a nice, quiet dinner while sharing how their respective days went.
“-but then he slipped on some bird poop and fell of the branch!”
Or at least, that’s what the elf intended, but Keira’s way of explaining things turned it into a surprisingly
boisterous meal. The lively gesturing, random arm flailing and excited tail wagging that accompanied
her tales were completely devoid of manners or coherence.
“Oh my! I hope the poor lad didn’t hurt himself!”
Rowana quite enjoyed that unrestrained side of her, though. The beastkin girl’s hyperactive, overtly-
animated explanations were always superbly entertaining.
“I thought he was gonna get injured too,” continued Keira, “but mister Faehorn managed to save him
with an amazing Power Shot! I didn’t even see the arrow in flight!”
She had the power to make even the dullest, most mundane event seem much more exciting than it
actually was.
“One moment it was on his bow and the next thing I knew it had already pierced Jeremy’s collar and had
pinned him to the side of the tree!”
“Oh, he’s a good guy after all, isn’t he?”
“I told you he was!”
The catgirl finished her story and ate the piece of salmon that had been on her fork since a few minutes
ago. The way she was waving it around sent juices flying everywhere. But even if it was messy and
noisy, Rowana much preferred this lively atmosphere rather than the lonely, depressing evenings she had
gotten used to.
“Soo gooood!”
Keira let out a few squeals of delight as she happily chewed on the delicious fish, then swallowed it with
an audible gulp. She then put another piece of meat into her mouth and resumed her story.
“So anyway, that’s when the instructor decided to call it quits for the day since everyone was starting to
lose focus. He even let me ride the cart on the way back since I did a good job today! And then- Ah…”
The catgirl suddenly stopped speaking and cast her eyes downward.
“Keira? What’s wrong?”
Rowana didn’t fail to notice her girlfriend’s sudden change in behavior. Usually she ate with great gusto,
so her stopping suddenly like this was unusual, especially considering this was her favorite dish. That,
combined with the troubled face she was making, made it abundantly clear something was the matter.
There was a short pause before Keira swallowed her mouthful, then brought up the issue that had been
brought to her attention earlier that afternoon.
“I wish you would have told me about the Nyrie thing.”
“... You found out about that after all,” answered Rowana with a glum look.
“So it’s true? There are selfish people out there that wouldn’t approve of our relationship?”
“I’m afraid so.”
The elf cast her eyes downward and took a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry, I know I should have told you right away, but you’re just so cheerful and easygoing that I… I
was afraid I might scare you off so I couldn’t bring myself to tell you…”
Rowana had wanted to tell her about this the moment they confirmed they had feelings for each other,
but the words got stuck in her throat like a lump. She just couldn’t bring herself to bring that heavy topic
up.
“Then the real reason you don’t want to go out on dates or even hold hands in public is because of that?”
“Y-yes…”
Of course she understood this was a terrible, selfish decision, but part of her just wanted to pretend like
her homophobic countrymen didn’t exist. Not to mention she had no idea how that hyperactive girl
might react.
“Oh thank goodness!” exclaimed Keira.
“... What?”
Okay, she may have held some expectations about her reaction. And a relieved ‘thank goodness’ was
definitely not among them.
“I thought maybe you were ashamed of being seen with me or something like that, so that’s why you
kept making excuses.”
“Th-that’s definitely not it! I’d love nothing more than to show the world how much you mean to me!
It’s just that… that…”
“-you’re worried about someone tearing us apart by force.”
“... Yeah.”
Being harassed by strangers was one thing, but Rowana’s parents were a much bigger obstacle. The
Slyth household had always been one bogged down by tradition, so there was no chance that her mother
and father would approve of her relationship. She hadn’t even told them of her orientation, for fear of
what they might do.
“I see, I see!” said the catgirl with a serious look while crossing her arms in front of her flat chest. “Then
I must take some rather extreme measures.”
“Extreme measures?”
“That’s right! Don’t you worry one bit, for I have come up with a brilliant, foolproof plan to fix this!”
“Ahah. You did, did you?”
The catgirl’s relentlessly cheerful atmosphere was steadily infecting Rowana, drawing out both a smile
and a chuckle from her.
“I’ll just become the best damned adventurer there ever was!”
“... And how does that fix anything?”
“If I become famous and strong enough, then nobody would dare get in our way! Those pathetic bigots
would be sent running for the hills with just a glare from yours truly!”
It was outlandish, childish and unrealistic reasoning, but the sheer conviction with which she said it
almost made Rowana believe she could achieve it. Of course, even if the outrageous ‘best damned
adventurer’ title was a thing that existed, she doubted it would be enough to dissuade people.
“And if anyone even dares to lay a finger on you, then I’ll send them flying with a single hit!”
“My, my, is that so?”
However, rather than rain on her parade, she just happily accepted her feelings.
“It is! And then we can be lovey-dovey all we want wherever we want!”
“Is the current level of lovey-dovey not enough for you?”
Rowana leaned in closer to Keira as she spoke in a sultry voice. Their faces were so close to each other
that their noses were almost touching.
“I mean, w-well,” stammered the suddenly flustered catgirl. She reflexively leaned back a bit as her eyes
darted all over the place. “It’s just that I- Mmmmpf?!”
The elf suddenly threw her arms around Keira’s neck and sealed those thin, quivering lips with her own.
The beastkin’s eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before she eagerly returned both the embrace
and the kiss. Both of them moaned quietly as their tongues entwined around each other. Rowana pulled
her face away from her lover’s after about a minute, licking and smacking her lips as she did so.
“Lovey-dovey enough for you?” she whispered.
“C-could use a little more…” answered the suddenly bashful Keira.
“Mfufu, then shall we move onto the main event?”
The two of them got up from the table and made their way towards the bed while kissing, caressing and
undressing each other. Rowana pushed the smaller girl down and proceeded to thoroughly worship her
small body. She toyed with Keira’s tiny, dusky nipples, eagerly lapped at her crotch and thoroughly
massaged her sensitive bum. The catgirl moaned and wailed seemingly without end as Rowana
mercilessly and aggressively made love to her.
What Lia had said earlier that day regarding her people’s biology was no lie. The knife-eared elves had
no trouble conceiving children, it was just that their libido and desire to have offspring were quite
subdued, bordering on non-existent. Rowana was pretty much the same, despite her sexual preference.
She of course felt attracted to beautiful women, but never outright lusted after them. She also knew that
her people’s naturally weak sex drive was often a strain on cross-species couples, so she was worried it
would negatively affect her own relationship with the more primal beastkin girl in her arms.
However, such fears were almost immediately shattered, as there was something about Keira that sent
Rowana’s passions ablaze like nothing else could. Although the elf didn’t want to openly admit it, the
most likely cause for this was her own nose. Her sense of smell had always been strangely acute, which
was partly why she became an Alchemist. It was a great asset when creating magical mixtures, as the
fumes of a potion-in-progress often gave clues as to how the brewing process was going. This sharp
sense of smell was then further amplified by her Perception (PER) Attribute as she gained Job and Skill
Levels, and currently rivaled that of high-Leveled Rangers. It also had the side-effect of making her
thoroughly aware of Keira’s scent when they first met.
And she smelled good.
It wasn’t like Rowana had a vulgar habit of sniffing others or anything like that, though. It was just that
the animalistic musk that the young catgirl gave off drifted into her nostrils all on its own. It was
completely unlike anyone or anything else she had ever smelled before, and it had the curious effect of
waking up the elf’s wild side. Tonight was no different. In fact, the elf had been ‘in the mood’ pretty
much ever since her lover came back stinking of sweat, and was planning on devouring her girlfriend the
entire time they were having dinner.
She wasn’t sure whether this strangely arousing scent was due to some trait of the beastkin species, or
whether she might secretly be a pervert, or perhaps even a bit of both, but none of that mattered to her at
this point. The only thing that did, was that this phenomenon allowed her and girlfriend to share their joy
in carnal bliss with enviable frequency. Their compatibility was so good, that the elf almost felt like they
were made for each other, as if their meeting a little over a week ago was fated. And although others
might call this a naive or childish notion, those people could go suck a lemon for all she cared.
While the two lovebirds were steadily working on staining Rowana’s bedsheets for the upteempth time,
another pair of girls were also getting busy in their own way. Roughly 200 meters below the elf and
catgirl’s love nest were Xera and Kora, who were still busy searching the old decrepit sewers under
Azurvale for a good spot to establish their Master’s lair. And it would appear that they had just made an
interesting discovery.
“Master, we’ve found a group of R.O.U.S. down here,” reported the succubus.
This section of the underground maze was much more spacious that the rest of it, much to Kora’s relief.
It was shaped like an upside-down half-pipe that was nearly as wide as a street. The middle of it had a
shallow trench running through it and was probably once filled with water. Right now, however, it was
bone dry.
“What’s an Arr Oh You Ess? Is it tasty?”
“Not particularly tasty, no,” she replied without skipping a beat. “They’re basically horse-sized rats or
mice. I think one of them’s a chipmunk, actually.”
“So, monsters?”
“Indeed, Master.”
“Very good!”
It was an unwritten law of this world that a high enough concentration of ambient magical energy
would, in time, give birth to the aberrant creatures called monsters. The excess mana would either
mutate existing, normally harmless animals, draw in magical beings from afar or bring inanimate objects
and substances to life, but the end result was always the appearance of monsters. The large termites that
plagued the surrounding Hylt trees were a perfect example of this phenomenon.
In other words, the presence of these Rodents Of Unusual Size was a sure sign that the area around this
section of the tunnel was likely dense in ambient mana. Just the thing that Xera and Kora were looking
for down here, and also the likely reason why these tunnels were shut down in the first place. A monster
infestation took decades, maybe even centuries to set in, but was nigh impossible to completely clear out
after that point. The government had likely decided to cut their losses and seal off the vermin while
taking the opportunity to renovate the city’s plumbing infrastructure completely.
“How’s the mana density?” asked Boxxy.
“... I can’t sense it.”
Xera was both a demon and a Caster, which made her naturally sensitive to the intangible and normally
invisible substance known as mana. However, she lacked her Master’s perceptiveness in that regard, so
she couldn’t pick up on magical signatures that were too faint. Which also meant that the mana around
this place was not thick enough to serve as nourishment for the Mimic’s dungeon core.
“I see. Keep searching and find the source,” commanded the Mimic.
“Understood.”
“So, we’re going in deeper, right?” asked Kora while scraping the rat blood off the soles of her boots.
The 6 R.O.U.S. the pair came across were a total joke in terms of actual strength and were completely
splattered with just the lightest kick. It wasn’t enough to sate her thirst for violence, so she was eagerly
looking forward to smashing more of the filthy vermin.
“That’s right,” confirmed Xera. “Let’s check out the direction these things came from.”
They dynamic demonic duo kept making their way through the ruined tunnels, clearing out the odd pack
of R.O.U.S. that they came across. They couldn’t tell if the mana density in the air was getting weaker or
stronger, so they mostly just looked for large concentrations of the overgrown rodents. It took them a
few hours, but they eventually made another promising discovery. The tunnel they found themselves in
was sealed off completely due to a wall of mossy bark.
“Master,” called out Xera, “I think we’ve found the source of the monsters down here. There’s a gigantic
tree root poking through the side of the tunnel, and it has a huge hole in the side of it that’s leaking a
good amount mana from inside.”
“Inside?”
“Yes, Master. It’s hollowed out and there seems to be a tunnel leading up into the tree’s trunk.”
Boxxy quickly thought back to all the things it had learned from the elves during its stay in the city,
especially concerning those trees’ unique biology. It was highly likely that this hole and tunnel were
made by a termite colony. If a nest was nearby, then it would be a huge chance for it to obtain the lair it
wanted. Well, the place still had to be scouted out, as it wasn’t completely sure whether this was actually
the case.
“How wide is the hole?”
The succubus looked at the narrow opening that was barely a meter in diameter. The circular wooden
tunnel inside wasn’t much wider.
“Big enough for me or you to squeeze in, but the meat-head will probably get stuck.”
“Go in and investigate it, let me know if you find a termite nest. Arms will stand by outside the entrance
in case I need to use Transfamiliar.”
“Haah. Understood, Master.”
Xera sighed in dissatisfaction as she climbed into the tight passage, while Kora grumbled at the fact she
was being made to stand around doing nothing again. They would follow their orders, but that didn’t
mean they had to like them. Neither of the two demons were keen to stick around these tunnels any
longer than they had to, and both of them were quite sure that this task would have been completed a lot
sooner if their Master actually helped them out.
However, Boxxy had no intention of personally coming down there unless it was absolutely necessary.
This wasn’t because it was being lazy or somehow felt that trudging through ruined sewers was
somehow beneath it. It was just busy raising its Doppelganger Job at the moment, and the method it was
using didn’t leave it with a lot of opportunities to go skulking about in a sewer. At least, not quite yet.
The thing about Doppelgangers was that they were infiltrators, which was why Boxxy’s actions prior to
leaving Bootlick 19 days ago gave it far fewer Levels than it was expecting. Although the monster still
thought of itself as a Mimic, which was to say a creature that lived to prey on enlightened beings, this
was no longer the case. Even though it still had its old Job and most of its chest-bound instincts
remained intact, its species and Main Job were both a Doppelganger. Once it thought about it more
deeply, the monster realized that doing the same things it did prior to its Rank Up and expecting the
same outcome was a mistake.
The truth of the matter was that not all Jobs Leveled Up through combat. An Alchemist raised their
Level by brewing potions. A Farmer would tend his crops and raise livestock. A Bard would sing songs,
play instruments and tell stories. So while a Mimic was expected to kill and eat people by ambushing
them, a Doppelganger would have to interact and mingle with them. Hunting alongside other apprentice
Rangers, conversing with people at the market or just shaking hands with someone it met for the first
time - any and all social interactions with the unsuspecting elves contributed towards the monster’s next
Doppelganger Level. It was a steady stream of XP that meant it could get stronger as long as it
maintained its cover.
Well, that wasn’t to say that it would suddenly become a pacifist. Being a monster meant that
Doppelgangers still thrived on bloodshed and carnage somewhat, even if it wasn’t the ‘correct’ way to
raise the Job’s Levels. Besides, even if it could sate its hunger by filling up on termites or Hylt fruit all it
wanted, the former Mimic still wanted to dine on people. Eating tasty things was still more or less its
main goal in life, so it saw no reason to avoid chowing down on people whenever the opportunity
presented itself.
However, those opportunities were few and far between, as Boxxy didn’t really have the option to skulk
around in the sewers or back alleys looking for dinner. It had to work hard if it was to establish an
identity, forge relationships and earn the trust of others. Doing so would allow it to gain Doppelganger
Levels much faster than if it simply hid in a dark corner somewhere and only came out in order to buy or
sell things. And the more people it fooled, the more XP it would earn.
It was therefore important to stand out just enough that it would leave a favorable or otherwise lasting
impression, but not too much so as to raise suspicion as to its true identity. However, walking that fine
line was quite challenging and had to be done carefully. Even if Boxxy felt like a wolf hiding among
sheep, a lot of those sheep were heavily armed and more than a few of them were considerably stronger
than the wolf.
Honestly speaking, the Mimic never thought it would find itself in such a position. If someone had told
Boxxy’s past self that it would end up with social obligations, it would have stabbed them in the face
and eaten them. Granted, it would’ve probably tried to do that anyway, but it would have done so much
more maliciously if they insinuated it would prefer to talk to its dinner rather than eat it. And yet it
ended up doing just that for a whole week.
It couldn’t really complain though. It had already gotten up to Level 13 of its Doppelganger Job, despite
doing relatively little fighting and/or murdering. And although its schedule was a bit full at the moment,
this was bound to change as soon as it graduated from Faehorn’s Ranger class. After that it would have a
lot more free time to focus on its Artificer Job or just enjoy its ever-growing collection of shiny things. It
was also to that end that it really wanted to establish a lair and use the dungeon core as a sort of security
and home management system.
“Master,” called out Xera once again, “I think I’ve found the nest.”
Something which looked like it would happen sooner rather than later.
(90) Moonlighting 5
Xera had spent a good half hour climbing up the narrow passage inside the Hylt tree’s root. Thankfully it
got a bit wider as she got higher up, though not wide enough to let her fly up it on her wings. Eventually
it stopped going upwards and evened out a bit, allowing her to crawl rather than climb. She really had no
idea what her position relative to the ground was, as her entire world consisted of nothing but the
chewed up walls of a lumber tunnel.
A few minutes later, the tight passage opened up into the side of a large, hollowed out chamber that was
vaguely cylindrical in shape. It was mind-bogglingly tall, as it went so far straight up that she couldn’t
even see the top. As for the shape itself, it was irregular to say the least. The termites had eaten away at
the insides of the mighty tree with reckless abandon, leaving the walls of this tall cavern riddled with
numerous ridges, cliffs and caves. In fact, the passage that Xera was currently poking her head out of
was only one of what appeared to be hundreds of tunnels that lined the walls of this space.
Looking down from her tiny perch, she saw the uneven bottom of the hollowed-out tree trunk some 40
or 50 meters below her. Well, she assumed the bottom was down there, but she couldn’t actually see it.
What must have been hundreds of large insects crawled all over it, completely hiding the ‘ground floor’
from view. The walls surrounding the succubus were also thick with the creatures, easily putting their
numbers in the four digit range, possibly beyond that.
The seasoned succubus cast her gaze further upwards and noted that, thankfully, the writhing mass of
termites did not extend all the way up to the top of this place. The extra-large-sized colony appeared to
have been steadily eating their way downwards over the course of a long time, so the vast majority of
the swarm was concentrated here. And while the succubus wasn’t sure what her current altitude was, she
had a sneaking suspicion these guys had started at the very top of the tree.
“Master, I think I’ve found the nest,” she reported with a hint of sarcasm.
“Can you take care of it out yourself?”
“Probably, but… are you sure? I mean, using fire in a cave made out of wood is a little…”
“It’ll be fine. That timber is resistant to magic so it won’t catch fire. The elves do this sort of thing all
the time.”
“Understood. What about the enemy? There’s quite a lot of them you know.”
“So?”
“So… wouldn’t they be good fodder for your Job Levels?”
“Those termites are barely Level 3 or 4. I’d just be wasting my time on them.”
If there was a huge gap between Levels, then practically no XP would be given. There was nothing to be
learned from stomping on a few defenseless ants, which was exactly what would happen if Boxxy did
things personally. Okay, maybe this particular hive counted as more than ‘a few,’ but that was besides
the point.
“What about your Ranger Job?”
That one was a different story altogether though. Since the Mimic’s newly acquired Ranger Job was still
relatively low Level, it was bound to go up significantly with this much prey.
“Can’t let it grow too quickly, otherwise that Faehorn guy will realize something’s up.”
As expected of a seasoned elf Ranger, he had sharp intuition and easily spotted things that were out of
place. Boxxy had to hold back immensely whenever that guy was around, and performing down to those
other apprentices’ Level was surprisingly difficult. However, the monster learned quite a bit by doing so.
It was ironic, in a way. Faehorn’s teachings about being able to control one’s power to the utmost were
intended as a way to maximize a Ranger’s effectiveness when fighting monsters. Yet a monster in his
care was applying that approach in order to minimize its power in an attempt to blend in completely with
a group of Rangers. And it seemed to be working out beautifully.
That wasn’t why it enlisted as a Ranger in the first place, but it was a welcome boon. It wanted to be one
because those nimble hunters were unmatched when it came to stalking, tracking, pursuing and
cornering down their target. Not only that, but it was a Job that benefited greatly from the monster’s
already high Dexterity (DEX) and Agility (AGI) Attributes.
The bow was also a very useful and versatile weapon. Even if it lacked the destructive power of Spells
and required expendable ammunition, it was perfectly silent and had a far greater range. There also
existed the possibility of using special arrowheads in order to produce a variety of effects, and it had
several plans in that regard that involved its slowly growing Artificer Job.
“So I should take them on by myself?” asked Xera for confirmation.
If the summoned familiar were to take them out, then there would still be some improvement regarding
Boxxy’s Warlock Job. That particular occupation could grow as much as it wanted since Spell-related
Attributes and Skills had no way of interfering with a thoroughly non-magical bow and arrow. It also
had no intention of revealing its identity as a Warlock to others. At least, none of the people that knew
its identity as a Ranger. It still didn’t have to go down there personally, though. A termite’s weakness
was fire, and its favorite Snack, who had currently grown to a Level 39 Succubus and Level 28
Pyromancer, was more than suited to the task at hand.
“Wipe them out,” it ordered.
“Yes, Master!” she replied with an oddly enthusiastic voice.
The succubus did not particularly enjoy violence like a certain four-armed sex friend of hers, but she did
have an intense desire to set the world on fire. And while making the literal world go up in flame was
beyond her means, turning these blissfully unaware insects’ reality to ashes was the next best thing. Her
pyromaniac side hadn’t been given a chance to shine in a long while, so being able to incinerate so many
squishy things at once practically made her giddy.
To begin with, she crawled out of the small tunnel she was in and spread her wings, allowing her to take
flight. She then snapped her fingers, causing her fake staff to appear out of nowhere and float idly next
to her for a moment before she grabbed it out of the air. This wasn’t really a magic item, but more of an
empty shell she held onto out of habit. Gesturing with it while casting her Pyroclasm Spells just felt…
right. It was only natural to hold onto her long and hard thing while spraying a hot load all over-
*Ahem*
Xera cleared her throat in order to help reign in her errant thoughts and focused on the task at hand. The
termites were bound to notice her presence soon, so she had to take advantage of the element of surprise.
She floated down to the bottom and pointed her imitation staff towards the writhing mass of insects
beneath her and activated one of her Pyromancer Skills.
“Summon Molten Guardian!”
An intense red glow flashed for an instant within the crawling abyss, followed by an explosion of molten
rock and flames. Numerous termites were sent flying everywhere as the Molten Guardian quite literally
erupted from beneath them with a deep roar. It was a fearsome creature in the vague shape of a 1 meter
tall lizard. Its thick torso and short, pudgy legs were made up of black, smouldering rocks with red-hot
molten lava dripping slightly from the gaps between them, giving off the bizarre appearance of blood
vessels filled with liquid fire. Its long, thick tail and short, flat face on the other hand were pure fire
given form. It had a row of white-hot stone spikes running along its back, right where its spine would be
if it had one of those.
“Get ‘em Smokey!’ commanded the succubus who had inherited her Master’s naming sense.
The Molten Guardian obeyed with a roar as it leapt into the swarm that had noticed too late there was an
intruder in their nest. However, their instincts were torn between repelling the intruder and not getting
roasted alive, so the termites had fallen into disarray. ‘Smokey’ wasn’t going to give them a choice in
the matter, though. Its fiery jaws and tail, burning claws and incinerating breath washed over the
defenseless creatures with the heat of a miniature volcano. Smoke, steam and disgusting juices flew
everywhere as the pests quite literally popped open en masse from the intense heat.
“Flamethrower!”
A cone-shaped torrent of flames erupted from Xera’s staff at her call, bathing the chamber’s wall in an
almost literal sea of fire. There was an ear wrenching squeaking and intense hissing as dozens of
termites were burned to a crisp in a matter of seconds. Their flaming bodies fell down to the ground,
causing Xera’s Devouring Flames to spread even further.
Noticing the airborne threat, the insects attempted to leap off the walls and latch onto the succubus. At
least this was a target they could sink their mandibles on. Or so they thought.
“Blast Wave!”
A pulse of intense heat erupted from the winged demon, sending the termites who were about to envelop
her flying in every direction while also setting them ablaze. She turned her attention to another section
of the wall and doused it in a Flamethrower Spell, followed by another Blast Wave. She then threw her
trademark Inferno Spell towards the ground, right on top of the rampaging Molten Guardian.
Rather than being harmed by the roaring tornado of flames, the lava lizard actually absorbed them into
itself, causing it to grow slightly in size. It gave off a gut-wrenching roar before flying into yet another
bug stomping spree, only this time with much more speed and ferocity than it had displayed until then.
A Molten Guardian was an elemental, a mindless golem-like construct conjured out of raw mana and
imbued with a composite magic that was attuned to both earth and fire. Much like other summoning-
type Skills, it was a manifestation of the caster’s magical power. It fed off magical flames in order to
momentarily grow stronger and was impervious to physical attacks, but the downside was that its
summoner had to constantly supply it with MP in order to sustain it. Even Xera’s impressive capacity of
nearly 4,000 MP would only allow it to exist for about 6, maybe 7 minutes before she ran dry.
Which actually raised a troubling question. The succubus looked at her surroundings carefully, gauging
how much of the pests she and Smokey had managed to clear out over the past minute or so.
“Slow. Too slow!” she complained to nobody in particular.
No matter how many termites were squashed or burned, more of them just kept pouring in from the
tunnels that lined the walls. They just kept coming, seemingly without end. Even if they were
pathetically weak, there were just too many of them. If things carried on like this, she’d run out of MP
before she could deal with all of those critters. The staggering amount of work it would take to fully
clean up this place made her wish this blasted tree would just explode already.
“... Yeah, that’s a thing I could try,” she mumbled.
An idea had formed in her mind while she stared upward. It was a stupid idea, but one that might just
work, given the size of the place. Well, she was sure to enjoy the outcome, even if it was a failure, so she
decided it was worth a try. She lowered her altitude and touched down on the charcoal-like ground. She
gave the order for Smokey to keep those things away from her and started chanting. It was a long
incantation, one that went on for a good 6 or 7 seconds before she finished it.
“Meteor!”
Xera braced herself for the backlash that would follow in case she messed up the Spell. However, it
would appear that wasn’t the case, as the top of the impossibly tall cavern suddenly lit up with a bright
yellow light. As illogical as it was, a huge ball of molten rock that was at least 6 meters in diameter was
currently falling through the air, directly towards the succubus and her summoned pet.
“Wow. That worked, huh?”
She honestly surprised herself with this. Although incredibly powerful, the Meteor Spell had quite a few
problems with usability. The MP cost was high, both the incantation and the delay before it hit were long
and it required a lot of headroom in order to pull off successfully. Trying to use it indoors would
normally result in the Spell failing and the errant mana lashing out and ripping the caster’s body apart
due to the magical backlash.
But even if she succeeded in casting the Spell due to the chamber’s absurd proportions, it still wouldn’t
do much in the grand scheme of things. Sure, it would completely annihilate 30, 40, maybe even 50 of
the termites, but that was a huge waste of magical power. A Flamethrower or Inferno Spell would be far
more efficient in that regard.
However, calling down this miniature sun was merely the first part.
Xera pointed her staff directly at the rapidly approaching ball of death, and activated yet another Skill.
One that let her detonate any of her Pyroclasm Spells while they were in mid-flight in order to massively
increase their area of effect.
“Burst!”
In the next instant, the mass of molten rock and flames exploded violently. Bright red-and-yellow debris
spread in every direction, bathing the insides of the colossal Hylt tree in flaming plumes of liquid lava.
Hissing and popping noises could be heard from all over as the wriggling walls were coated in Xera’s
flames. Highly potent, magical flames created by a Pyromancer with an INT Attribute of over 750. The
kind of flames that clung incessantly to everything and anything they touched.
What Boxxy had said earlier was the truth, as Hylt trees were quite resistant not only to physical trauma,
but magic in general. That was why gear made of their Ironbark was considered highly reliable, despite
being made of wood. This trait also allowed the elves to purge termite nests they found with flames, as it
would take a significant effort to actually set this lumber ablaze.
And yet the insides of this Hylt tree had wonderfully caught fire. Not just the insects, but the magically-
infused timber itself was burning up. If left alone, the unquenchable flames would surely spread and
consume the entire tree in a matter of minutes.
“Kuhihihihihi… Huhuhuhuhuhuhu. HAHAHAHAHA! AAAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!”
The perpetrator herself didn’t seem to actually care, though. Her manic laughter echoed through the
chamber that was set ablaze, accompanied by the crackle and pop of hundreds of termites losing their
lives each second. She didn’t even notice that she herself was being burned by her own magic, nor
would she care even if she did. Her entire mind was engrossed by the wondrous sight of being
surrounded by flames, smoke and ashes on all sides. It was as if reality itself was set ablaze, and she was
loving every single moment of it.
“Snack! What did you do?!”
Boxxy’s sudden communication broke the succubus out of her reverie. Her Master sounded less than
pleased, to say the least. And now that she had partly regained her composure, Xera realized that it had
good reason to do so.
“I, um, went a bit overboard…”
“A bit?! I can see the smoke from out here! Put it out right away!”
“Even if you tell me that… Oh! Right! Smokey!”
The Molten Guardian that was busy mopping up the few surviving bugs on the ground stopped what it
was doing and ran back to her side. It stood at attention, ready to receive new orders.
“Eat all of the fire in here!” commanded the succubus.
The flat-faced lava lizard turned its head to stare up at the roaring tower of fire. It then looked back at its
summoner, then back up, then back to Xera once more. Almost as if it were trying to say ‘Are you
kidding me with this shit?’ Even if one could theoretically order a minion to drink up the entire ocean or
leap up into the stars, impossible things were impossible. And one such thing was expecting a single
Molten Guardian to consume with a mountain of flames seemingly hundreds of times larger than itself.
Something the succubus realized moments later.
“Don’t question me just fucking do it!” she demanded.
The wholly un-sentient and completely mindless Molten Guardian seemed to roll the bright red flames
of its eyes as it ran towards the edge of the chamber and started climbing up the burning wall. It sucked
in all the flames in a small area around it as it made its way upwards, but the charred embers it left
behind in its wake reignited mere seconds after it had passed over them. The succubus would have more
luck trying to put this raging inferno out by squirting her pussy juices all over it.
And Xera was just desperate enough to try that ludicrous idea, because it’s all she had. The last thing she
wanted was to let down her beloved Master. It was hardly the first time she’d messed up, and Boxxy had
gotten angry with her many times in the past, but things had always more or less worked out. But this?
This would probably the first time her Master would be disappointed in her, and that thought was…
difficult to stomach. If asked to put that strange feeling into words, the succubus would probably reply
that it was ‘not tasty.’
The succubus passed out moments later. Well, as close to ‘passing out’ as she could get considering her
high MNT Attribute. She still clung to consciousness and could perceive the burning inferno around her,
but her body no longer listened to her. Even if it was born of magic, her flesh was still a living being that
needed to breathe, and the air had become so thick and heavy with smoke that she could no longer
endure it and simply collapsed. Yet there was a faint smile on her lips. Even under these circumstances,
the relentlessly rotten part of her looked forward to the sweet agony of her skin being consumed by the
flames.
Just then, she heard a noise. A thunderous, roaring sound coming from the smoke-obscured air above
her and seemed to bear down on her at a frightening speed. It was so loud that it effortlessly drowned out
the crackling of the flames. The mystery didn’t last long though, as a literal waterfall came crashing
down on her. The sudden deluge of foamy water completely and entirely quenched the flames, putting
them out in an instant. The Molten Guardian that was still trying its best got swept up in it, and fizzled
out like a match that had been submerged in a pond.
The barely conscious succubus was flabbergasted. Well, the good news was that the tree her Master
wanted to use wouldn’t burn down due to her ineptitude, plus she was no longer choking. The bad news
was that she was now drowning instead. Her limp body got tossed back and forth as the turbulent current
settled itself. She no longer knew which way was up or down, nor did she have a method of finding out.
And yet, despite taking in so much water, her body outright refused to die.
You are suffocating. HP -364.

You have bathed in the Waters of Life. HP +500.
It would appear this strange liquid was also magical in nature, and was as potent as the highest grade
healing potion, yet had none of the toxicity that could lead to potion poisoning. Or at least, that’s what it
looked like considering Xera was both being killed and healed by the stuff for a good 3 or 4 minutes
before the green-tinted liquid eventually started draining away.
“Koff koff! Hack! Koff!”
The succubus soon found herself sputtering up water while standing on all fours atop a small
outcropping of timber. She looked around her to find that, much to her surprise, the wooden insides of
the tree were not charred or burned in the slightest. In fact, they actually seemed to be healthier than
ever as the jagged, bug-eaten wooden surface had become covered in healthy, strong bark that even had
white and yellow flowers blooming out of it here and there. It would appear that the mysterious flood of
these so-called Waters of Life not only quenched the fire, but completely healed and reinvigorated the
tree.
“Good morrow to you, madam,” said an eloquent voice from directly above Xera.
The succubus dumbly looked upwards to see a green-skinned woman with long, flowing vines for hair
poking halfway out of the rejuvenated wooden ground directly in front of her. Her ears were pointed like
an elf’s and she had a pair of long antlers poking out of the top of her head. Her breasts as bountiful as
Xera’s, although they were wrapped in leaves and vines that kept her somewhat decent. Her beautiful
face bore a green-lipped smile that exuded a sense of class and dignity.
“What?” stammered out the succubus. She had never even heard of a creature such as this.
“Grant thee mercy for chasing those insects hence.”

“... What?!”
She also had difficulty understanding that odd way of speaking.
“I owe thee one,” clarified the dryad with a small bow before disappearing into the bark. She quite
literally sank into it as if it were the surface of a pond, complete with tiny ripples that expanded
outwards from it.
It would appear that this tree already had a resident.
(91) Moonlighting 6
The 12 Trees of Azurvale were a species of magical plant known as Hylt, said to have been planted by
the Goddess Nyrie herself. This was not actually the case, as they had been on this world since long
before the deity in question came into existence - a living testament to nature’s perseverance and
endurance. So while the tree-hugging Goddess did not create them, she most certainly blessed them.
And it was the combination of her divine power and this sparse forest’s ancient, venerable magic that
caused a truly unprecedented reaction.
A new type of existence had been born within each and every one of those colossal trees. The Goddess’s
blessing had drawn out and given form to their primordial will, while the Hylt’s unique nature had
bestowed it with life and meaning. It was thus that the beings known as dryads came to be. Although
little was known about them, they were largely believed to be spirits charged with the never-ending duty
of protecting and nourishing the tree they had been born from.
Truthfully, it was folly to think of a dryad and her Hylt as separate entities. They were two parts of the
same whole, and one could not survive without the other. The sacrilegious act chopping or burning down
a Hylt tree would cause the death of the dryad, while separating the tree’s spirit from its home by force
would cause both of them to gradually wither and die. Which is why these plant-like women very rarely
showed themselves to outsiders, and knowledge of their existence was limited to legends and myths,
even to the elves that lived within their branches and around their roots. There were, of course, a select
few individuals that these reclusive beings showed themselves to, but they would need to have
performed a considerable service to the tree in question for that to happen.
Which was probably why one of them had shown herself to the strange winged woman that had helped
rid her of that persistent termite problem. Although she was starting to regret that decision.
“Come on out!”
A loud shout echoed within the former termites’ nest. Its source was a bizarre creature unlike anything
else the dryad had seen before. Granted, she hadn’t seen much since her kind typically remained
blissfully unaware of the world at large, but she was still able to classify that thing as clearly abnormal.
“I said get out here! I have to talk with you!”

It wasn’t because the magic user from earlier disappeared in a puff a smoke and was replaced by this
thing. Teleportation magic was something the elves used quite a bit, so she already knew of its existence.
It also wasn’t because of this creature’s strange appearance of a wooden treasure chest walking on eight
spider-like legs. Even if she was mostly clueless, the dryad still knew about mimics and what they were
capable of.
What she took issue with was the fact that this creature was mimicking the appearance of a mimic,
despite not being one itself. She had clearly seen its original humanoid form following its appearance, so
she was completely baffled as to why it would take on such an odd shape. If it was just a simple box
with legs, then she might humor it with an appearance. If it was a mindless beast, then she wouldn’t
particularly mind playing with it for a while, maybe even taken it in as a pet. Wouldn’t be the first nor
the last time she had done something like that, but that thought was far from her mind right now.
“I know you’re around here!”
Because, whatever this thing was, it was clearly intelligent. Beings that showed intent in their actions
were inherently suspicious, as they almost always had ulterior motives. Which is why even if she were
to show herself in the past, she did so very briefly. The ones who had seen her were usually left
awestruck, considered themselves lucky and moved on with their lives. Many of them were even
inspired to continue protecting her beloved tree or spreading her precious seeds. The rest of them - the
individuals that stuck around and wanted to ‘talk’ with her - always had selfish goals in mind, and this
one would surely be no different.
“If you don’t show yourself, then I will assume you have no problem with me living here!”
Wait, what? It wanted to live here? Inside of her?! Was this thing nuts?
“Okay! Since you have no complaints, then I will just do as I please!”
She had plenty of complaints, actually. Branches and roots were one thing, but dryads absolutely
despised having other creatures inside themselves. After all, what living being would willingly welcome
parasites? On the other hand, a single monster like this was nothing compared to the thousands of
termites that were here beforehand, so she could probably put up with it. Besides, she doubted this thing
was actually serious and was merely bluffing. It would probably get bored and leave soon enough
anyway.
That’s when it opened a swirling black portal, and a clear crystal ball that was 50 centimeters in
diameter fell out of the abyss. The dryad had no idea what that thing was, but she had a bad feeling
about it. One that was proven to be justified when it started sucking up all of the mana in the air like
some sort of sponge. She needed that mana! Especially since she just spent so much energy in order to
douse that fire and heal her burns!
Realizing that continuing to ignore this creature was probably a bad idea, the dryad decided she would
need to make an appearance after all.
Boxxy had just taken out the dormant dungeon core out of its Storage and was looking for a good place
to serve as the dungeon’s heart when the wooden outcropping it was standing on started rippling like the
surface of a puddle in the wind. A green, plant-like woman rose out of it as if something was pushing
her out from beneath the surface. Her skin glowed with an eerie green light, chasing away much of the
surrounding darkness. Her proportions were outrageously voluptuous and her figure could easily rival
that succubus’s. She was mostly naked, except for a series of leaves that covered the underside of her
breasts as well as her pelvic area. This was obviously the ‘resident’ that Snack reported about earlier,
and her emerald eyes showed that she was clearly not amused.
“Alright, let us speaketh,” she said in a deep, mature voice while crossing her arms under her outrageous
cleavage.
“You talk funny,” commented the Mimic.
“Thy speech is the comical one from mine perspective,” she retorted.
“I see…”
“I pray thee, put away thy profane object so that we may converse.”
She pointed at the dungeon core that was already gathering up the ambient mana. It was something it
started doing all on its own in order to test the environment and determine whether it would serve as its
home or not. The mana density in this area wasn’t as quite as high as the core’s former home, but it
seems to have determined that it would be sufficient. However, it was obvious that the Mimic’s intention
to claim this cavern as its dungeon would have to wait, so it obediently put it back inside its Storage.
“Very good,” commented the green woman. “Now then, what doth thee need of me?”
“I want to live here,” repeated Boxxy.
“... Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Why?”
“It’s convenient.”
“How so?”
“It’s safe, hidden and is right in the middle of the city. I can hide my shiny things here while I’m out
getting more shiny things, and I can work on my Jobs and Skills in peace.”
“What doth thou mean by shiny things?”
Boxxy momentarily opened its Storage and took out several gold coins, then presented them to the
dryad, using its tongue-tentacle in lieu of a hand.
“Ah, I see. Gold, is it?”
“Not only gold,” pointed out the Mimic.

It then took out several other things from its collection. It showed off some sparkling gemstones, a few
glowing rocks, several pieces of gilded silverware, a small silver statue of a knight and even its prized
mithril daggers, but the plant lady seemed thoroughly unimpressed. She briefly raised an eyebrow when
Boxxy took out a jar of Shiny Juice, formally known as Honeydew, but didn’t seem to care enough to
comment about it.
“So thou shall not attempt to consume mine bark and branches?”
“No. Wood isn’t very tasty. Fruits are okay, though.”
“Then tell me, creature-”
“Boxxy.”
“Pardon?”
“My name. Boxxy T. Morningwood.”
“Oh? Thou hast a splendid name,” she said with a hint of admiration.
“Thanks,” replied the Mimic in good humor.
“Mine is Ambrosia, the dryad of this tree. ‘Tis a pleasure to make thy acquaintance.”
“Likewise.”
The green woman seemed to relax a bit now that the formal introductions were out of the way. She
behaved strangely like a person, even though she should technically be a monster, which meant that
Boxxy’s recently acquired social skills were being put to surprisingly good use.
“So Boxxy, what be thy relation to the… chill-challenged woman that cleansed mine insides from those
hateful vermin?”
“That’s Snack, one of my minions. Ah, she went overboard with the fire, so sorry about that.”
It wasn’t a sincere apology of course, more of a formality.
“‘Tis of no consequence, young one. Extreme measures were necessary to purge that infestation. It
would have surely devoured mine whole being if left unattended. Therefore, I owe thee and thy servant
thanks.”
“Then I will gladly accept them. But how come you couldn’t chase them out on your own? You should
be able to do at least that much, right?”
The dryad’s stoic expression gradually became one of sadness and shame.
“I am no longer able to defend myself from those creatures. I hath tried poisoning them, flooding them
out and trapping them in brambles. It worked the first few times, but those tenacious heathens always
overcame mine attempts and returned stronger and more numerous. The power of fire remains their
constant weakness, but I find myself unable to conjure flames by my own power. Eventually I ran out of
ways to fend them off, and found myself at their mercy.”
“Such is the natural order of things,” commented the Mimic.
“‘Tis so.”
Those who did not adapt were devoured. It was the cruel truth of nature, something both parties
understood firsthand.
“What of those Waters of Life you used earlier?”
“Ah. That substance is a mixture of the dew gathered from mine leaves and the sap from mine body.”
“Don’t suppose you can let me have some?”
“‘Tis a simple matter, but would be of little use to thee as medicine,” she cautioned. “Thou art not the
first to express interest in it mine fluids, but one must fully submerge themselves in the Waters of Life in
order to be healed. Simply drinking some will not accomplish much more than satiate one’s thirst.”
Boxxy had more or less expected this response. Of course a literal waterfall of high-grade, toxicity-free
healing potion would be too good to be true. Not to mention that it did already sample some of the stuff
from the puddles that were strewn around the place. Although it was tasty, it showed absolutely no
magical effects, just as she claimed. And since it was highly unlikely that it would be able to take a bath
in the middle of a fight, then this substance’s practical usefulness to it was rapidly approaching zero.
There ought to be some way to use this for profit, but such thoughts would have to wait until later.
It still wanted to establish a dungeon within this tree, and judging from the way this dryad spoke she was
more than just a resident here - she was the owner. Perhaps even a manifestation of the tree itself, seeing
as how she referred to it as if it were her own body. And although it was unaware as to the true
capabilities of her species, the avatar of a millennia-old magical plant was clearly not one to be trifled
with.
However, Boxxy had seen a way to obtain not only her permission in establishing a dungeon, but also
her cooperation. Perhaps her servitude as well.
“So about these termites, they’ll come back, right?”
“‘Tis so, young Morningwood. The biggest nest was cleared out due to thy servant’s efforts, but ‘tis
hardly the only one. Could be in a month, a year, or a decade, but they shall return to full strength
without fail.”
“What if I told you I have a way for you to control those bugs?”
“Control, not exterminate?”
“That’s right. Tell me, do you know what a dungeon is?”

“Does thou mean the underground prisons those elves have built beneath mine roots?”
“No. Wrong type of dungeon. The one I’m talking about involves the, um, ‘profane object’ you saw
earlier.”
The Mimic then spoke at length about what it had learned about dungeon cores over the past month or
so. First, they had absorb a certain amount of magical energy and attune themselves to their magically
enriched environment. After that, they had to be anchored in a magically affixed position, at which point
the dungeon would be officially established, and its territory could be expanded so long as the
surrounding mana density permitted it. All of that was controlled by the core’s first basic function -
Dungeon Expansion.
The second one - Item Allocation - had to do with distributing rewards to any and all adventurers that
managed to fulfil certain conditions. For example, reaching a specific point in the dungeon in a set
amount of time, defeating a tough enemy or simply coming across a treasure chest. The items in
question had to be supplied through external means and stored inside the dungeon core’s Vault - a pocket
dimension similar to the Mimic’s Storage. It was possible to forge items out of pure mana, but such
things would disappear the instant someone tried to take them out of the dungeon.
Well, the Mimic didn’t particularly plan to use this function, nor did it have any idea why the hell
someone would willingly give out treasures. It was like breaking into someone’s house, killing their dog,
and having the residents happily cook and serve the poor animal to the intruder. However, it took this
opportunity to point out that it was possible to create temporary or single-use magic items with which
one could fend off intruders. And that one of said items was a Rod of Fire, which produced a
Flamethrower-like effect at will.
The third basic function was Mana Collection. This allowed the dungeon core’s master to regulate the
rate at which the surrounding mana was absorbed. Maintaining the dungeon’s various functions required
MP as fuel and not all of it could be recycled. Even if it would eventually come back on its own, it was
important to properly manage this resource in order to keep all of the dungeon’s facilities running. This
was also of importance to the dryad, the magical energy in question was something she needed in order
to sustain herself and her Hylt tree.
However, the basic function that really caught her attention was the fourth one. The Monster Spawner
menu could be used to determine the type of monsters that appeared inside the dungeon and could exert
a certain amount of control over them. Meaning it was entirely possible to gain dominion over those
simple-minded termites and order them to kill themselves en-masse. If not, there was also the option of
spawning some of their natural predators in order to control and contain their spread, perhaps wipe them
out completely.
The fifth function - the Surveillance Net - was the one Boxxy wanted to take advantage of the most. It
collected information regarding everything that happened within the dungeon core’s sphere of influence.
It was possible to Appraise any and all intruders and their gear, not to mention it would automatically
log their progress through the dungeon. The Mimic, as the owner, would be immediately notified if any
suspicious individuals tried to encroach on its stash of shinies. Well, that wasn’t to say that the
individual directly in front of it wasn’t suspicious, but she seemed genuinely disinterested in its
collection.
There were also five advanced features to a dungeon core, although those demanded a much larger
amount of MP to operate compared to the basic ones. Guardian Assignment allowed the appointment of
extra-powerful monsters to guard key junctions. Again, something Boxxy had no interest in actually
putting to use.
Nexus Access, on the other hand, was a curious one that allowed both the core’s owner to instantly
teleport to anywhere within the dungeon, as well as transport them to any other dungeons that might be
under their rule.
Prison Management was there in case Boxxy wanted to keep certain individuals alive for extended
periods of time. It would provide them with a living space and cater to their basic needs using magic.
There was also the matter of the ominously-named Interrogation Room that could be built and
maintained through the Prison Management menu.
Next up was Terrain Sculpting, a feature that would allow the dungeon’s owner to change the layout of
their dungeon at will. Well, it was unclear as to whether a living mass of timber would count as ‘terrain,’
but there was a good possibility that it would. After all, that hedge maze in the Spire of the Jade King
was clearly plant-like in origin, and could still benefit from the dungeon’s auto-repair feature, courtesy
of Terrain Sculpting. This was also the thing that maintained the warped space inside the Spire itself,
which opened up a lot of interesting possibilities.
Finally came Trap Construction, the one Boxxy was looking forward to the most. Teleportation circles,
spiked floors, poisonous gas, trap doors, swinging guillotines, crushing ceilings, anti-air
countermeasures - all manner of deliciously devious devices could be built in an instant. The former
Mimic was particularly eager to see what those booby-trapped chests were like.
“How wondrous!” exclaimed the dryad once Boxxy finished its presentation. Her face was practically lit
up with joy. “If this dungeon core is truly as powerful as thou claims, then I would no longer have to
worry about any pests nibbling at mine bark or sensitive heartwood!”
“It’s only as powerful as the mana in the environment,” reiterated Boxxy, “but inside here should prove
to be more than enough to handle some pesky bugs. So how about it, Ambrosia? I will establish a
dungeon inside this chamber, and you can be my- the dungeon master.”
“A dungeon master, hm? What does that entail?”
“You get to control all of the basic functions I told you about, but only I get to play around with the
advanced ones.”
“So like a steward?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Are there any other limitations?”
“I will have supreme authority within the dungeon since I’m the core’s owner, but I’ll mostly leave you
to do your thing.”
That first bit seemed to make her eyelids twitch slightly. Well, saying someone else would be the
‘supreme authority’ of part of her body was understandably not to her liking. However, she didn’t deny
the offer outright.
“What if thou were to perish?”
“Then I suppose you would become the owner.”
“Oh? Thou art rather forthcoming with such sensitive information.”
“I’m not even 6 months old. Assuming I would outlive someone as… experienced as you is a stupid
notion.”
“Hmm, I suppose so.”
“So, what do you say? If we team up, then you can manage your pest problems under your own power,
and I have a hideout to use as I see fit.”
“I must say, ‘tis a very tempting proposition.”
Ambrosia closed her eyes in thought. She didn’t particularly mind having this creature called Boxxy
take up residence inside her tree, not when it was offering this much rent in return. Of course, she would
have to give up a certain amount of her ‘food’ in order to maintain this dungeon it wanted to make, but it
wasn’t that big a deal. The mana coursing through this cavern only accounted for about a quarter of the
total she pulled up from the ground, so parting with a portion of it was no problem. Heck, she’d survive
even if that strange crystal ball sucked up every last drop of it, although she wouldn’t be able to produce
fruits and spread her seeds if that happened.
“I just have one more inquiry.”
Countless numbers of vines sprouted from the ground beneath Boxxy and wrapped around it in an
instant. They completely bound the creature and tightened their grip on its faux-wood shell as if
threatening to squeeze the life right out of it. Numerous sharp brambles also dug furiously into its ‘skin,’
causing its dark red Doppelganger blood to ooze out of the wounds.
“What’s to stop me from crushing thee right here and now, and claiming this dungeon core for mine
own?” asked the dryad with a clearly hostile attitude.
“Right back at you.”
Dozens of short, steel blades suddenly sprouted from the fake Mimic’s surface, cutting apart the plants
that had entwined themselves around it. After breaking free, the creature rapidly grew in size many
times until it became a 3 meter tall imitation of Punchy, complete with Metal Mimicry-created armor
and glaive.
“What’s to stop me from ripping this tree apart and having my minion burn it to the ground?”
It even spoke with the same deep, booming voice, although the non-flaming skull meant it didn’t have
nearly the same impact as the original.
“Do not presume to treat me like one of those idiotic bugs!” it roared.
The dryad did not even flinch at the obvious threat and normally terrifying demonic appearance. Rather
than being intimidated, she actually broke into a large smile and stared ferociously at it.
“Heh. Hehehehe! Huhuhuhuhuhuhu!”
“Hah hah hah hah hah hah!”
Each of them gave off a malicious, dry laugh while staring the other down and baring their fangs, literal
or otherwise. In the end, both of them were monsters. So what if they were intelligent or appeared
amicable? Ultimately, the only thing that mattered to to either of them was themselves, and they would
not hesitate to kill in order to fulfil their selfish desires.
“Very well, Boxxy T. Morningwood! This one shall agree to thine bargain!”
“Looking forward to working with you, Ambrosia!”
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t compromise. The Mimic would have to share its living space with
this plant woman, but it didn’t particularly mind since it would mean added security. The dryad, on the
other hand, would receive the means by which to exterminate everything and anything she deemed as
pests, but had to agree to serve as this creature’s house. Both of them stood to profit immensely if they
worked together, and would gain very little from each other’s destruction, other than massive injuries.
“Well then!” declared Boxxy while reverting to its prefered chesty form. “I shall find a good spot to
form the dungeon’s heart!”
Having obtained the dryad’s consent, the Mimic once again took out the dungeon core from Storage.
Much like before, the crystal orb immediately began sucking in the ambient magical energy at a
staggering rate. After about 5 minutes of this, it had grown back to its initial size of about 1 meter in
diameter and was now tinged a bright yellow, almost like a miniature sun. The monster had spent that
time climbing the walls of this cavernous nest and scouting out a prime location. Ultimately, it decided
to use a fairly flat and considerably wide wooden plateau as the dungeon’s innermost sanctum. It stood
in the middle of it, and held the now-charged dungeon core above its head.
“Dungeon Expansion: Create Dungeon!” it shouted
The core shone with a bright yellow light and rose steadily into the air, climbing to an altitude of 4 or 5
meters above its owner. It then sprouted 8 thick chains made of solid white light, which stretched out
and waved around like living things. Two of them latched onto the floor, three onto the surrounding
walls and three more onto the air itself. Once all 8 were in place, they gradually faded from view as the
core became firmly affixed to that one spot. The crystal orb then let out a massive wave of mana that
washed over its surroundings. It was a burst of magic thick enough to make both Boxxy and Ambrosia
wobble a bit on their feet.
Congratulations, your dungeon has been established!
Please state the name this dungeon.
“Dryad’s Domain,” it spoke aloud, and the core flashed two times in response.
The dryad wondered what that was about, but got her answer in the next instant.
You have now entered Dryad’s Domain.
“Appoint Dungeon Master: Ambrosia.”
Dryad’s Domain has recognized you as its rightful ruler.

Yes
No
“Oh. How flattering,” she said dryly while selecting the ‘Yes’ option in her head.
Ambrosia has been appointed as the dungeon master of Dryad’s Domain.
“What is?” asked the Mimic, curiously.
“Thou named it after myself.”
“It’s not flattery. It’s misdirection.”
“Misdirection? How so?”
“If someone comes here, I want them to think you’re in charge.”
“I am in charge.”
“Of course you are. I merely meant that I don’t want my presence to be known.”
“I see. So how do I actually control this thing?”
“Just say ‘Dungeon Management.’ You can figure it out from there.”
“Dungeon Management.”
Dungeon Management
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Dungeon Guardian Access

Core ID PT-5484-BM Active
Expansion Assignment Denied
Active (Dryad’s Item Access

Core Status Disabled Nexus Access
Domain) Allocation Denied
Dungeon Mana Prison Access

Ambrosia Active
Master Collection Management Denied
Monster Terrain Access

Integrity 92% Disabled
Spawner Sculpting Denied
4,532/20,000 Surveillance Trap Access

MP Disabled
(+15.6/sec) Net Construction Denied
“Oh, how curious!” exclaimed the dryad. “Hmm? The Integrity is… this thing is damaged?!”
“It’ll fix itself with time. Part of the Mana Collection function,” explained the owner. “Anyway, I’m
sorry to run, but it’s nearly dawn and I have other matters to attend to. I’ll leave you to get better
acquainted with the dungeon’s functions.”
“Very well, lord Morningwood. I look forward to thine return.”
Boxxy disappeared several seconds later by activating the Transfamiliar Spell and changing places with
Xera in a puff of smoke. The succubus shook her head a few times as she got her bearings. She looked at
the glowing dungeon core and then at the plant lady from before, who was currently investigating the
various menus and features she was given control over.
“Ah, forgive me milady,” she said politely. “This one is called Ambrosia. Thou art milord
Morningwood’s servant called ‘Snack,’ correct?”
“Hmm, that’s more or less right. Good to meet you, Ambrosia.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Milady Snack is quite the capable magic user, so I expect to learn a lot from
thou.”
“So it managed to catch another one, huh?” mumbled the demoness.
“Pardon, milady?”
“No, nothing dearie,” replied the succubus with a small smile. “Don’t mind me.”
“Understood. Now, if thou will excuse me, milord has given this one much to learn, so I must take mine
leave and focus on the task at hand.”
The dryad submerged into the wooden ground with a polite bow while Xera’s smile spread wider until it
became a wide, shit-eating grin. She wondered how long it would take for that dryad to realize what was
happening to her. No, thinking about it more logically, the question wasn’t ‘when,’ but ‘if.’
After all, a dungeon core’s ability to reprogram a monster’s way of thinking was scarily effective.
(92) Moonlighting 7
The morning sun rose over a 4-story building that could only be called a mansion. It was painted in an
eye-catching sky blue color, with the same slanted, red-tiled roof as most of the ground-based buildings
in Azurvale. It had numerous windows that let in plenty of light, although a few of them seemed to have
been boarded up from the inside. This grand building, known as the Central Consortium, was home to 8
different guilds who had a long-standing history of cooperation, mostly due to the fact they had no
conflicting interests.
The Hidden Arrow trained Rangers and Rogues into scouts and the Knights of Elena provided heavily-
armored combatants to serve as vanguards. The Maleficium mostly dealt with Warlocks, Witches and
the odd Necromancer while the Blessed of Nyrie, their polar opposite, handled adventurers of a religious
persuasion. The final two adventurer guilds were the Children of the Wild and the ominously-named
Broken Mirror. The former consisted of Shamans, Druids, Monster Tamers and other Jobs that
demanded a high affinity to nature. The latter attracted Wizards, Pyromancers, Cryomancers,
Warlocks and any other Job that harnessed the raw, destructive power of magic.
Of course, it wasn’t just the adventurer guilds that were part of the Central Consortium, as the building
also housed two groups of artisans. The Hammers of Horkensaft were a predominantly dwarven and
gnomish guild that handled anything and everything to do with metal. Not just arms and armor, but also
various tools and trade goods necessary for other craftsmen or the general populace at large. The other
crafting-oriented guild was the Magus Emporium, which dealt with enchanting, alchemy and magic
items in general, not to mention basic provisions and supplies necessary for long expeditions.
This Consortium building was a gathering spot where adventurers could form versatile teams to embark
on difficult Quests or prepare for arduous journeys. They also benefited greatly from cross-guild training
exercises that taught them to work together with others. It was important to be knowledgeable about
other Jobs if adventurer parties hoped to combine and synergize their various Skills, Spells and Martial
Arts to achieve the best effect.
However, this group-oriented approach was very different from the Empire’s policies that put emphasis
on individual strength and achievement. It was widely believed in human culture that those who attain
greatness through their own efforts were superior to those who only relied on others, and that such
individuals would naturally find companions worthy of standing on equal ground with them. From the
elves’ perspective, this mentality was reckless and unnecessarily promoted jealousy and betrayal. While
they were right in that regard, the humans merely saw it as weeding out the weak. Those who took up
arms, magical or otherwise, then got themselves killed on the field of battle only had themselves to
blame. It was a ruthless culture, but it showed results as it produced many outstanding individuals over
the Empire’s long history.
The people of the Ishigar Republic, on the other hand, simply did not have the luxury to ‘cull’ their own
like that. The less numerous elves put emphasis on group tactics, preferring decisions that would benefit
the whole rather than the individual. Bluntly put, they didn’t have much to work with, so they had to
maximize what they had. It was cruel and unfortunate, but such was the reality they faced themselves
with. Of course, they were convinced their ideology was the right one, despite centuries of conflict with
the Empire saying otherwise.
Not that its people disliked it. Quite the contrary, actually. The living standard in elven cities and towns
was markedly higher than that of dwarven or human settlements. Their way of life may not be the most
suited when it came to military matters, but it spoke volumes for their civilization as a whole. They
actually had a stable economy during times of peace, unlike the ever-expanding war machine that was
the Empire.
It was this ‘group-first’ ideology that drove the Republic-based guilds to have much more extensive
and more supervised training for people who were just setting out on their Jobs. While it was a more
expensive and time-consuming process than that of Empire-based guilds, it allowed for a larger
proportion of adventurers to survive until they were Level 25.
This was also the reason why a group of 10 men and women were lined up in a yard outside the
Consortium building. The dirt beneath their feet was completely devoid of vegetation, as it had been
walked on by so many pairs of legs that the dry ground had become akin to sand. All of them waited
patiently for their Ranger instructor to arrive, and passed the time by chatting idly.
Well, except for one cat-eared beastkin girl that was sitting cross legged on the ground, breathing
heavily.
“You ran all the way here again, didn’t you?” asked Lia while looming over her with a stern face. “You
still would’ve been made to run a marathon again if Faehorn wasn’t running late himself!”
“Haah, haah, haah, please don’t, haah, tell him!” she pleaded between gasps for air.
“I won’t, but you seriously need to start waking up earlier!”
“I did! Haah, haah, I woke up right before dawn! It’s just that, haah, I had dropped one of my rings last
night and, haah, spent way too long looking for it!”
The catgirl showed Lia the back of her right hand. A trio of plain-looking silver rings were on her index,
middle and pinky finger.
“Those things? Come to think of it, you always have those on, don’t you? Are they enchanted or
something?”
“Yeah, they have some weak magic on them, haah, but that’s not why I’m wearing them. Haah, haah,
fuu… They’re mementos from my homeland, so I cannot afford to lose them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They’re very precious to me,” answered Keira with a soft smile while gently rubbing them with
her left hand. She seemed to have finally stabilized her breathing.
“Well they don’t look like much, but I think they suit you.”
“Thanks. Rowie complained about them at first though,” she added with a bit of a pout.
“Rowie? Oh, your girlf- *Ahem* partner, right?”
“Yeah. She said they felt weird at first, but she’s gotten used to them by now.”
“Felt weird? What’s that supposed to- No! Nevermind! I don’t need to know!”
The slightly blushing elf waved her hands around to chase away the naughty image her imagination
conjured up just now.
“Not like that!” protested Keira. “I meant when we held hands and interlinked our fingers!”
“Right! I knew that! I was definitely not thinking about anything lewd in the slightest!”
“Haha. Of course not! W-well…” stammered the bashful catgirl. “She did say that the cold metal
actually felt nice when I-”
“Keira!”
“TMI?”
“TMI.”
Lia sighed in the awkward silence that ensued. Keira was just too honest for her own good. She had
trouble knowing when to draw the line when sharing about her personal life, probably due to culture
shock. Elves were quite a bit more prudish than other people, after at all, so it was hardly unexpected.
Lia offered to help her adjust on the cart ride yesterday, and the two had decided on using ‘TMI,’ short
for ‘Too Much Information,’ to signal when she had gone too far.
“Alright everyone, sorry for the delay!”
Faehorn’s clear voice rang out from behind them, prompting the entire Ranger class to stand at attention.
He briskly walked up to the front of the group and stood there with his arms crossed while carefully
looking over each and every student. This much was his normal routine, but something was clearly off
today, and not just because he was late. Instead of his impressive-looking scale armor, he wore what
could only be described as a parade uniform. It consisted of a long, dark green overcoat, freshly pressed
black trousers and black boots that were so polished one could see their own reflection.
He uncrossed his arms, put them behind his back and walked up to Keira, who reflexively stiffened up.
“Miss Morgana. I’ve given your stamina situation a lot of thought, and I’ve come up with a good
solution.”
Despair welled up in the catgirl’s eyes at those words.
“Relax, I’m not making you run 40 kilometers a day. At least, not yet.”
She almost let out a sigh of relief, but it got stuck in her throat at those last few words.
“What’s your Level?” he asked matter-of-factly.
“14, mister Faehorn.”
“Okay, when you get to Level 20, I urge you to unlock the Fleet Footed Skill. It will help increase your
overall stamina and reduce its consumption when you run or sprint. That’s when we’ll start doing 40
kilometers a day, just to help your Proficiency along.”
“Geh! D-do I get a say in this?!”
“Of course. You can do whatever you want, just so long as you don’t expect to ever graduate from my
class.”
“... Understood, mister Faehorn,” she said while drooping her shoulders.
“Hahaha, worry not, kiddo! I’ll make a proper Ranger out of you yet!”
Faehorn walked back to the front of the class while they tried to stifle their giggling, and spoke in a loud
voice.
“Now then. Today we’ll be having a special field trip! We’ll be heading towards the amphitheater to
watch a few fights! The guild has kindly sponsored the tickets, so be grateful!”
Everyone present gave the instructor a strange look. They expected they wouldn’t be doing another
hunting expedition, given Faehorn’s uncharacteristic tardiness and formal attire, but this was certainly
not what they expected.
“Yes, what is it Miller?” asked Faehorn in response to the black-haired elf raising his hand. It was the
power-leveler who came in first in the termite hunt the day before.
“Sir, I fail to see how this will be beneficial to us.”
“‘Fail to see,’ huh? Interesting choice of words, Miller! The fighter we’ll be watching is someone who I
believe to be the natural enemy of us Rangers! Your first assignment for the day will be to closely study
her fighting style and think up of any and all countermeasures!”
It would seem to be an observational and mental exercise, rather than a physical one. A good scout
needed to be able to quickly analyze and gauge a situation, so this sort of practice was to be expected.
The format was a bit odd, but none of the students were about to complain about getting free tickets to a
fight.
“It’s not just us!” continued Faehorn. “A group of Warriors from the Knights of Elena and several
Paladins from the Blessed of Nyrie will be joining us, so I expect each and every one of you to be on
your best behavior!”
It suddenly made sense why the instructor was wearing that stiff-looking uniform. It was a well known
fact that he and the Knights’ Warrior instructor called Hilda had some sort of old rivalry going and were
constantly trying to outdo each other. ‘That old bat,’ as he called her, would definitely try to do show off
in some way during this outing, so he didn’t want to feel left behind. Well, that and marching an armed
group of people through the city was probably a bad idea.
Faehorn organized his class and made them leave their weapons and armor behind at the Hidden
Arrow’s office. They set out in whatever casual underclothes they had on, but still wore the dark green
tunic that bore the image of a downward-pointing arrowhead on each shoulder. They met up with a
group of 14 adventurers that were similarly dressed in light clothing and wearing a uniform.
9 of them wore navy blue tunics with the image of a stone tower on their chests, which marked them as
the Warriors they were told about. 5 of them were dwarves, while 3 more were human. The only elf in
that group was a woman-shaped battering ram that was well over 2 meters tall.
The tunics of the remaining 5 were a dull yellow, and had a dark brown sickle - the symbol of Nyrie - on
their right shoulders. These were obviously holy men and women in service to the Goddess. All of them
were elves, much like the Ranger troupe if one were to ignore the highly conspicuous crimson-haired,
tan-skinned, cat-eared-and-tailed girl that was smiling dumbly for no good reason.
Standing off to the side were two people who were probably their instructors. One was a tall, well built
male elf that wore a uniform similar to Faehorn’s, only dyed in the colors of the Blessed of Nyrie. The
other was a gray-haired and wrinkled dwarf woman in thick, full plate armor with a blue sash draped
across her shoulder. She also had a short war axe on her hip and a large shield strapped to her back.
The two dozen apprentice adventurers and soldiers greeted each other and exchanged pleasantries. The
students seemed to get along with each other for the most part, unlike their teachers. Faehorn and Hilda
had already gotten into an argument regarding the dwarf being armed quite literally to the teeth. Surely
there was no need to gear up so much for a peaceful outing. The Paladin instructor by the name of
Lichter had to intervene and put an end to their squabble before the group could set out.
They walked along the elven capital’s streets, their procession turning more than a few heads, though
mostly because of the dwarf in the noisy, clanging armor at the front and the curious sight of a cat-eared
beastkin towards the rear. Keira spotted a rather drastic change in her surroundings at one point, as the
wooden buildings with red-tiled roofs suddenly gave way to ones made out of stone or clay bricks. The
people around the street were also of a considerably shorter stature.
The group had entered Azurvale’s Stone District. Keira had never been here before, so she looked
around curiously at the dwarves and gnomes that milled about the place. There were also a fair bit more
humans compared to her own neighborhood, and she even saw a short, dog-eared beastkin lugging a
heavy barrel around. It was a much noisier part of the city than the ones she had been to before, though
that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The group of adventurers and their instructors arrived at the amphitheater Faehorn mentioned earlier. It
was a large, unroofed, oval-shaped stone building managed by the dwarven community. Faehorn, Hilda
and Lichter spoke briefly with some fancily-dressed dwarven officials, after which they and the students
were escorted inside. They were seated at a VIP box that provided an excellent, front-row view of the
circular, dirt-covered arena below. The tiered stone seats that surrounded it gave off the strange
impression of a gigantic staircase, and already had people filling them.
“Wow, so many people!” exclaimed Keira after sitting down the cushioned chairs she and the other
students were provided with.
“This place was built to house 4,000 spectators, you know,” explained Lia, who was sitting next to her.
“Although I don’t think they usually fill up all the way like this…”
In fact, judging from the amount of people that kept pouring in, the venue might actually be slightly over
capacity.
“Probably because of the fighter we’re here to see in the first place.”
Keira jumped slightly in her seat due to the unexpected voice from behind. She turned around to see that
the only elven Warrior in the group, the giantess that introduced herself as Lola, was sitting directly
behind her. She didn’t look particularly well muscled or sturdily built. In fact, she had the same
generally slender proportions as other elven women, except that her shoulders were noticeably wider.
Both her hair and her eyes were pitch black in color, much like that guy called Miller in Keira’s class.
“You know something about it, Lola?” asked the catgirl after a moment.
“Oh yeah. Truth be told, I’ve already seen her fight before. She’s unpredictable, vicious, and a real
nutjob to boot.”
“Ugh,” groaned Lia. “Sounds terrifying… She’s not one of those violent convicts you hear about, right?”
“Nah, she’s not. I hear she’s actually really nice outside the arena,” claimed Lola.
“That sounds hard to believe.”
“Well, you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean.”
“Ah, no, nothing. Oh look, it’s already starting!”
The girls turned their attention towards the arena. A clean-shaven dwarf in an eye-catching purple suit
and top hat had walked out of one of the side passages and was standing in the middle of the arena.
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
His voice was unnaturally loud, allowing even the people in the far back rows to hear him clearly. This
was likely due to the small, gray stone he was pressing against his throat.
“I want to welcome you to today’s performance! We have another trio of blood-curling and hair-raising
fights for your enjoyment!”
The crowd let out a large cheer. Even those who had no idea what was going on, like Lia and Keira,
ended up getting excited.
“So, without further ado, let me present the first match! Innn this corner, we have a quartet of hardened
criminals! These men have been caught and found guilty of many crimes in the wake of the mysterious
mister Sandman!”
Four grim-faced dwarves in prisoner’s rags were taken out into the ring under armed guard while the
crowd booed and jeered at them.
“Hey Lia,” half-shouted Keira, trying to make herself heard over the noisy audience. “What’s with the
Sandman thing?!”
She’d been curious about it for a while now, but hadn’t really gotten a good chance to ask.
“It’s an old elven myth!” replied Lia, also trying to out-shout the crowd. “They say he spirits away elves
who turn their back on nature and banishes them to a realm with nothing but sand and sun!”
“Is he real?!”
“Nah! Just a silly story parents use to scare their unruly children!”
It would appear that the mysterious individual or group that had been making criminals disappear was
given the name of a bogeyman from elven folklore. Not that the residents genuinely believed the actual
Sandman was responsible, it was just that many of them found it oddly fitting.
“Their crimes have been weighed and judged in a fair and just trial,” continued the announcer, “and their
lives have been declared forfeit in recognition of their heavy and numerous sins! However! These four
have demanded to fight for their right to live within the arena, as begets ancient dwarven custom! And
Azurvale’s wise judges have seen fit to recognize our people’s heritage and granted them this chance! If
they best their opponent in honorable combat, then their sentences will be lessened! If not, then justice
will have been served!”
The crowd, which seemed half-divided between elves and non-elves, gave a noisy, uncertain murmur. It
would appear they had mixed feelings about this situation. Some of them wondered if the ring of honor
was really a place for such people, while others questioned whether these scumbags were deserving of
another chance in the first place. There were also those who applauded the judges for their tolerant and
respectful ruling.
“But!” shouted the announcer. “Do they stand a chance against… her?!”
The crowd suddenly went silent with anticipation. This person would be the one the Ranger, Warrior and
Paladin students had all come to see and study, and only 4 of them had seen her before.
“You know her! And I know her! She crashed onto the scene like a storm of swearing, smashing and
smiling! Barely a week since her first appearance and already 11 consecutive victories! Please welcome
back the executioner who volunteered to undertake this grim and righteous task! The one! The only! The
Rust! Blood! Juggernaaaaaaaaut!”
The spectators practically exploded in cheers as the gladiator that most of them had come here to see
walked out onto the field from the entrance directly opposite the quartet of criminals. She sported a pair
of baggy trousers that hung loosely from one side, a ripped up shirt with belts wrapped around her chest
to emphasize her well-rounded breasts, a cursed shield permanently affixed to her left arm and a
relatively massive, bloodstained wrench in her right hand. Her metal hair was forever styled into a pair
of eye-catching pigtails, and her shiny face sported a disturbingly wide smile with a strange look in her
eye. Her skin, once made of shiny steel, had been upgraded into series of lustrous, almost blindingly
white mithril plates after her Rank Up, much to her Hero’s delight.
“Haah haaaaaaa!”
Fizzy raised a loud cheer of her own as she waved her signature weapon around. Nothing made the
Mithril Golem feel alive like moments like these. Thousands of people’s eyes were fixed on her new-
and-improved glorious frame, feeding the inherent narcissism found in all golems. Not only did she get
to show off immensely, but she also got to please Boxxy by earning fight money. Out of all of the
Mimic’s minions, she was most definitely having the most fun.
The guards undid the shackles of their prisoners and left a collection of basic steel weapons at their feet.
They and the announcer then retreated to the sides of the arena, as Fizzy carefully sized them up. Two of
them armed themselves with heavy, two-handed warhammers, the third with a pair of one-handed war-
axes and the last one picked up a plain-looking staff. According to what Fizzy had been told beforehand,
these guys were a pair of Warriors, a Rogue and a Pyromancer, respectively. A few tense minutes passed
at the two sides sized each other up and made their preparations. Once they were ready, they took their
starting positions some 20 meters apart, as was tradition.
“Our combatants are in position!” declared the announcer. “In that case let the match… Begin!”
He barely even finished saying the words when Fizzy shot out from her position. She shield-smashed
into the first Warrior with her Armored Charge Skill with enough force and weight to send him flying
backwards. He bounced twice, tumbled head over heels and slammed into the far wall with a heavy
thud. Although he didn’t lose his life outright, he had broken a shoulder and several ribs.
Fizzy then proceeded to swing her heavy wrench sideways, hitting the still stupefied Rogue in his thigh.
There was an unpleasant cracking noise, followed by a piercing scream as the leg bent in a completely
unnatural way. The Pyromancer backed off and started throwing Fireballs at her. Fizzy blocked them all
with her shield, not letting a single cinder touch her actual body. However, this left her wide open to
attacks from the rear. Something the other mace-wielder took advantage of as he landed a direct blow on
the back of her metal skull.
Your target has suffered light trauma. Target HP -52.
The golem’s head rang out like a gong, yet she barely suffered any damage. Rather than reeling or
recoiling from the heavy strike, she instead returned the blow with a one-handed swing of her own
weapon. The Warrior tried to block the attack with the haft of his hammer, but Fizzy’s wrench snapped
the iron handle in half as if it were a twig. The business end of her murdering tool buried itself into his
side, causing him to keel over and black out briefly from the pain. She then swung the improvised
weapon once more and flung it at the Pyromancer’s head. The dwarf just barely managed to avoid the
steel meteorite hurtling towards his face by falling flat on his belly.
He was just about to get up from his precarious position when he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his
shoulder. Fizzy had run up to him while he was dodging her attack and skewered him with the Hidden
Blade on her right forearm and pinned him under her massive weight. She stabbed him over and over
again, her unflinching, toothy smile only becoming wider as his blood gushed all over her. And then she
did something that no merciful being would ever consider.
“Holy Light!”
She used her divine magic to heal his wounds. And then continued stabbing him. She kept alternating
between healing and violence, keeping him on the edge of death for what felt like hours, but was
actually closer to 4 minutes. The other 3 dwarves had more or less regained their footing, but the
horrifying sight of their comrade kicking, screaming and literally begging to die had made them freeze
out of fear.
What the hell were those officials thinking?! This was no ‘fair chance!’ Surely even a hanging would be
preferable to this! Of course, such complaints were completely unfounded, as these guys had never once
given pause to those innocent people whose lives they ruined or outright ended.
By the time the Pyromancer finally passed away, Fizzy was covered almost head-to-toe in his blood.
Both the audience and her opponents watched on in silent shock as she stood up from the corpse and
looked over the remaining survivors. She held a hand out towards where her wrench had landed and
activated her Magnetize Skill. The heavy steel tool started vibrating, then leapt into the air and landed in
her waiting, open palm. She pointed the weapon towards one of the dwarves at random.
“Eeny…”
Then to the next.
“Meeny…”
Then to the third.
“Miney…”
Back to the first.
“Die.”
It took her less than 5 minutes to finish administering justice on behalf of the city’s authority. The three
dwarves put up a desperate struggle, but they had no chance. The only reason they lasted that long was
because Fizzy was having fun torturing and playing with the hapless meatbags. When the last criminal
died by having his body pummeled into goop, she raised her blood-and-brains-soaked weapon above her
head and showed the most disturbing grin yet.
And then, of all things, she started singing.
“Oh do you know the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man?
Do you know the muffin man,
That lives inside my head?”
It was an upbeat, cheerful tune that seemed to well up from her very soul and was completely out of
place. She even swayed her head back in forth in rhythm with her words. And, much to the surprise of
the entire stupefied Ranger class, a large portion crowd, including Lola, sang back to her with an equally
cheery tone.
“Oh yes we know the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man!
Now we know the muffin man,
That lives inside your head!”
The golem repeated her first verse, while the crowd once again replied with the second. The odd
exchange repeated itself a third and final time, by which point even those who had no idea what was
going on ended up singing along. The bizarre spectacle finished with a round of applause, and Fizzy’s
manic smile was replaced with a much calmer, sweeter one.
“Stay safe out there!” she shouted while walking off the ‘stage’ and waving back at the still cheering
audience. The announcer came out afterwards, stating there would be a brief intermission while they
clean up and fix the arena.
“What… just happened?” asked Lia.
“Oh, she always sings that song after a fight,” explained Lola.
“But… why?”
“Dunno. It’s good fun though. Helps calm down the troubled heart.”
“Now that you mention it, I do feel a lot less on edge. Huh? Keira, you okay?”
The catgirl, who had been staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the spectacle, wiped the drool from
the corner of her mouth. She regained a bit of composure and gave her green-haired friend a weak smile
and an embarrassed laugh.
“Hahaha, sorry, I got a bit too into it. I mean, I could really go for a muffin right now.”
“Yeah, me too, actually,” agreed Lia, and Lola echoed that statement from behind.
“I hope you people were watching carefully!” shouted Faehorn. His voice was clearly audible over the
buzzing and milling of the crowd.
“Because you’ll be sparring against her later this afternoon!”

(93) Moonlighting 8
Fizzy was following after Boxxy while fidgeting slightly. It was the first time in 4 days since they’d met
face to face, so she was a bit nervous. The spider-chest was currently leading her towards the newly
created Dryad’s Domain hidden within a certain Hylt tree. However, it still lacked a good entry point, so
they had to make their way there through the sewer. Xera and Kora had already mapped out the route so
it wasn’t like they would get lost, but it was still a long trip.
“Di-did I do good, Boxxy?”
The golem finally asked the question that had been on her mind.
“Yeah, you did okay.”
“I’m glad. I didn’t get a chance to tell you in advance so I was a bit unprepared.”
The offer to assist a bunch of guilds with their training exercises for a day was a bit sudden, but she
accepted it anyway since her orders were to make nice with the authorities. The extra paycheck was
good to have as well, although she failed to realize that one of the guilds would be the Hidden Arrow
that Boxxy was currently attending.
“I just… I wasn’t sure how you’d react so-”
“I said it was okay,” repeated the Mimic. “You didn’t treat me any differently, so they don’t seem to
suspect a thing. It was a stupid exercise anyway.”
It was a total farce, in Boxxy’s opinion, although Faehorn seemed rather pleased with himself. The
‘spar’ that Faehorn had told them about turned into nothing but a glorified game of tag, whereby the
unarmed golem had to chase down and capture her opponent. All of them were caught within a minute,
regardless of how they tried to run or jump around the Consortium’s barren training ground. The bow-
wielding Ranger students also found themselves completely unable to hit the small target that rapidly
changed direction and could close the distance between them in an instant. Even if one of them managed
to get a lucky shot in, the arrow would just bounce harmlessly off her skin.
Her lustrous, flawless, sparkling mithril skin.
“So shiny…” it mumbled, causing Fizzy to squirm a little in delight.
She knew that Boxxy was actively probing her insides, marveling at the tough-yet-light metal that was
also called ‘white gold.’ Having the attention of thousands of people felt good, great even. However,
that couldn’t compare to being laid bare to the extreme before her Hero. It was a sensation that felt
positively divine.
“Y-your acting was way too good though,” she said after a few more minutes of trudging through sewer
tunnels. “I completely couldn’t tell it was you, even though I knew it was. I almost thought I had the
wrong person!”
“Yeah. I still have a long way to go, though,” lamented Boxxy.
The monster had learned much from Snack on the way to the capital. As both a Doppelganger and a
Mimic, it naturally learned best through mimicking the actions of others. The succubus had taken on
many different forms and guises to demonstrate the proper way to act in civilized society, and Boxxy
had etched her mannerisms into its memory. It had learned much about how to convince others it was a
real person and not a monster that would probably eat them in a heartbeat.
People, as it found out, were inherently flawed. They had concerns and worries, things they liked and
disliked, motivations and fears that drove them to act a certain way, personal quirks that made them
likeable to a certain type of people, yet infuriating to others. A real person would be able to do certain
things naturally, but would perform poorly at others. Therefore, Boxxy couldn’t just go through life with
a dumb smile on its face at all times. Learning which expression goes with each situation was difficult,
especially when taking into account its fabricated persona. It also had to display strong opinions on
topics it genuinely cared nothing about, but only when the time was right. Still, it more or less had the
hang of it by now, although it was rather stiff and awkward the first few days after it actually began its
infiltration. A fact which somehow ended up helping its cause rather than hindering it.
“Oh, is that it?!” asked Fizzy when the pair arrived at the giant, half-eaten tree root that Kora and Xera
had found last night.
“That’s it. I’ll go in first, you climb in after me.”
Boxxy and its devout follower went into the tree root and started clambering up the cramped tunnel. The
Mimic could have just thrown Fizzy into its Storage and transported her with the Transfamiliar Spell,
but the golem needed to know the way in and out of this place so that she could come and go as needed.
At least until it found an easier way to access it. It took them another short while, but they eventually
made it out of the tunnel and into the former termite nest.
You have now entered Dryad’s Domain.

An intruder has entered your dungeon.
“Ah!”
Boxxy suddenly realized that, although its familiars were considered extensions of itself, Fizzy wasn’t.
She was a completely separate entity, and was not welcomed into the dungeon with open arms. Which
meant that the newly appointed dungeon master would probably not like her presence here.
“Who goes there?!”
And indeed, the dryad in question practically leapt out of the nearby wall, her face twisted with anger as
if she were ready to strangle a bitch. It immediately softened when she saw Boxxy, though.
“My liege,” she greeted it with a deep bow. “‘Tis good to see thou art in good health.”
“Hey Ambrosia,” it greeted back. “I see the dungeon is growing steadily.”
“‘Tis so, milord. It has almost completely encompassed mine entire body. The Surveillance Net and thy
servants have been extremely effective in finding and culling the vile vermin that inhabited mine bark.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve done a good job so far.”
The Mimic more or less knew about her actions since it had been tracking things remotely through the
Surveillance Net. It had also managed to acquire the Butcher of Termites Perk in the meantime, meaning
its familiars had slain over 5,000 of the things over the last day. Its Warlock Job Levels barely even
progressed though. Not only were these opponents far too weak, but killing them by proxy while it was
far away meant the actual XP it had gotten was greatly diminished. Thinking back on the big boom at
Monotal, it probably would have gotten a lot more Levels if it was closer to the explosion. Then again,
there was a good chance it wouldn’t have actually survived the event if it did that, so it didn’t feel bad
about its decision.
“Milord, what is this accursed being thou had brought into the Dryad’s Domain?”
The dryad was pointing rudely at the gnome-shaped golem, clearly disproving of her being here.
“You got a problem, mosshead?” replied Fizzy with obvious hostility.
“Thou art tainted with foul magic, and do not belong in this sacred place.”
It would seem the dryad was able to sense the curse permeating through the golem’s body. Her condition
had naturally caused quite a stir among the adventurer community, as it was an extremly curious and
exceptional case. Fizzy was actually a bit worried people who didn’t know how to mind their business
would forcefully try to dispel the curse from her. However, she later found out that the curse was so
deeply ingrained within her body, that it would be impossible to remove it through conventional means.
Even cutting off the cursed gauntlet and purifying her body would not to return her to the flesh she so
willingly and eagerly threw away.
Which was good news for the former gnome. Because while she liked her steel body, she absolutely
loved her new-and-improved mithril self. The Rank Up had finally let her become perfectly attuned to it
and to the strange instincts that welled up within her, which meant she no longer involuntarily stripped.
She still took off her clothes in public sometimes, but that was a result of her own conscious decision
rather than some strange reflex. This change also meant she became considerably more aggressive,
especially towards people who looked down on her.
“We’ll see how sacred it is when I carve it into a giant dildo and shove it up your ass!”
“Thou shalt regret-!”
“That’s enough!” shouted Boxxy, causing both monsters to shut up. It had chosen to intervene before
things had gotten out of hand. Having its minions pointlessly go at each other’s throats was neither smart
nor useful.
“Fizzy, you’re technically an intruder here, so don’t antagonize my dungeon master.”

“Yes, Boxxy. Sorry, Boxxy.”
“And Ambrosia, this is Fizzy. She is one of my servants, so you will treat and address her with the same
respect you show me. Are we clear?”
“Yes, milord. This one apologizes for her rude words, milady Fizzy.”
The dryad gave a deep bow, as if her snide attitude from moments ago was a lie.
“Doth milord and milady have any other use of me?”
“Not right now.”
“Uhm… No, I’m good…”
“Then I shall return to attending to milord’s other servants.”
The plant-lady disappeared into the ground with another polite bow.
“Wow!” exclaimed Fizzy. “So this is what that core does to people, huh?”
“Yup,” said Boxxy nonchalantly.
Dungeon cores were a curious thing whereby each and every monster bound to its service would have
their perceptions twisted into believing the dungeon was absolute. This was something the shapeshifting
chest understood firsthand, which was why it didn’t want Fizzy as its dungeon master. The golem would
not be useful if she was forever bound to a dungeon, and had already pledged herself into its service, so
having her fill that role would be counter-productive.
However, this ancient-yet-naive dryad had willingly become ensnared by it. It was honestly surprising to
see how quickly she recognized Boxxy as the supreme authority within her own body. Which was good,
because the Mimic honestly couldn’t trust her, nor did it want to be on hostile terms with her. Although
the dungeon core’s Basic Appraisal of her was unable to tell her Skills and Attributes, what it did reveal
still told a rather terrifying story.
A Level 50 Primordial Spirit, Level 50 Tree Spirit, Level 100 Semi-divine Being, Level 100 Dryad and
Level 100 Hamadryad. Over 30,000 years old and with a staggering Level of 400, she had clearly
reached the zenith of her evolutionary path. But most terrifying of all, was her literally infinite HP. She
was not only immortal, but outright indestructible so long as her tree was in good health and she
remained in close proximity to it. And yet, despite all that, she was strangely powerless in the face of
some termites. It would seem even Ambrosia, a being that could rightfully be called a demigod, had
some things she could not deal with. A harsh truth that applied to all things, probably even the actual
Gods themselves.
“Dungeon Management.”
Dungeon Management
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Dungeon Guardian
Core ID PT-5484-BM Active Ready
Active (Dryad’s Item

Core Status Disabled Nexus Access Ready
Domain) Allocation
Dungeon Mana Prison

Ambrosia Active Ready
Monster Terrain
Integrity 96% Disabled Ready
Spawner Sculpting
20,000/20,000 Surveillance Trap

MP Active Ready
(+0.0/sec) Net Construction
Not much had changed since it last checked on the dungeon, other than the Integrity had improved a
little and that the Mana Collection had auto-regulated itself to prevent the core from overloading. The
dungeon’s ever-expanding sphere of influence had at one point allowed the core to absorb nearly 120
MP per second from the surrounding area. And although that seemed a lot, it actually wasn’t.
Regulating the Monster Spawner, for example, could demand up to 30 MP per second in order to
perform its function to the fullest. It wasn’t needed right now, though, as the only monsters that could
appear within this tree naturally were termites, and Ambrosia and the demons already had a handle on
those. The Surveillance Net, on the other hand, had a very light, almost insignificant upkeep.
However, the advanced features were even more taxing than that. Although Terrain Sculpting and Nexus
Access were functions that consumed a chunk of MP with each use, each trap, guardian or prisoner
would be a constant drain on this precious resource. That’s why Boxxy had to make sure it didn’t strain
this place too hard. Even if the brainwashing on Ambrosia appeared to be working as intended, it didn’t
want to push its luck and drive her to starvation. A monster driven to starvation would definitely try to
break free from its dungeon, as not even the core could completely suppress its survival instincts. Heck,
that was how Boxxy broke free of its dungeon in the first place. Therefore, it decided it would only do as
much as was necessary, and no more.
And first things first, it needed to provide Fizzy with a place to stay, as well as a good way for her to
move around this place.
“Terrain Sculpting!” it chanted.
The wooden surface of the surrounding cavern suddenly became covered in countless, bright blue lines,
as if someone had covered the walls and floor with a net of light. The golem next to it didn’t seem to
react, meaning this was most likely only something it could see. It walked over to a good-looking spot in
the ground and made a gesture with a tentacle as if it was lifting something off the ground. Part of the
intangible wire mesh suddenly jumped in response to its actions, which was followed by creaking and
rumbling sounds as the wooden surface twisted itself to conform to the new shape. It took only a second
to form a gigantic pillar of wood that was over 15 meters tall.
“Woah! That’s so cool!” exclaimed Fizzy.
Boxxy turned its attention towards the gnome and realized that the lines only it could see around her
were tinged red. It would appear that the dungeon core was unwilling to perform terrain changes if there
was an intruder within 5 meters of the spot, probably as some sort of failsafe mechanism. That crystal
ball had a lot of those to make sure that the one using it didn’t accidentally cause a calamity. The God of
Causality probably knew of a way to bypass those safety measures by force, as the Mimic realized it was
normally impossible to overload the core with mana even if it wanted to.
“Fizzy, stand back,” it ordered, “I have to build a thing.”
“Ah! You got it Boxxy!”
The offending golem walked further away, allowing Boxxy to finish what it was doing. It extended the
wooden pillar further upward, steadily draining away thousands of the core’s MP reserves. The Mana
Collection automatically kicked into high gear and began replenishing them at a rate of 135.6 MP per
second. The impossibly tall wooden pillar was attached with branch-like growths to the surrounding
caves, plateaus and walls, which would serve both to keep it from collapsing under its own weight and
as well as providing access to those parts of the dungeon. The massive wooden pole was then steadily
turned into a grand circular staircase. Boxxy and Fizzy started climbing it as the monster made some
adjustments here and there as it saw fit.
Ambrosia: Milord! What art thou doing down there?!
This window that popped up into the Mimic’s consciousness was a communication function of the
Surveillance Net that allowed notable individuals within the dungeon to exchange messages. It wasn’t
quite as convenient as the telepathic link with its familiars and consumed a negligible amount of MP, but
it was still very useful. The monster briefly wondered why the dryad used this instead of showing up in
person, but it didn’t really matter much.
Boxxy: I’m just making your insides a bit more accessible. Is it unpleasant?
Ambrosia: Nay, though it doth tickle verily!
Boxxy: I’ll be done soon, so please bear with it.
Ambrosia: Understood, milord.
Boxxy kept climbing the ever-growing staircase until it reached the platform where the dungeon core
was. It was a good 120 meter climb, although neither it nor Fizzy were tired in the slightest. A monster’s
endurance really was on a different level.
“Oh, so that’s the core?” asked the golem while looking up at the yellow orb floating in mid-air.
It bathed the surroundings in a bright light, almost as if it were a miniature sun. She had spotted the glow
from the base of the impossibly tall chamber since it was the only source of light, but seeing it up close
was really something else. Her eyes still had trouble penetrating the darkness, so she had to rely on the
Illuminate Holy Spell to assist her vision. However, that wouldn’t be a problem so long as this thing
shone its reliable light on her.
Boxxy was also slightly taken aback by the sight before it. Not only was the dungeon core shining with
its favorite color, but it also made Fizzy’s mithril frame practically dazzle and sparkle. It wanted to lick
and touch her all over, wrap itself around her and keep her to itself for all eternity. Well, it would get
plenty of chance to do that in the future if it played its cards right, so it withheld itself and turned its
attention to the scene that was developing directly underneath the dungeon core.
Although Kora and Xera were busy performing lewd acts as expected, it would appear they have mixed
things up for once. The succubus was currently suspended in mid-air, with numerous vines wrapped
tight around her arms and legs. They were violating all her holes at once, while also simultaneously
whipping her plush ass cheeks and mercilessly groping and mauling her soft breasts. It was a blatantly
obvious recreation of Boxxy’s ‘Shapeshift practice’ from awhile back, and the wanton slut was enjoying
every moment of it.
Kora on the other hand was sitting off to the side, with her legs spread wide and Ambrosia’s face buried
in her crotch. All four of the demon’s hands were hanging onto the antlers on top of the dryad’s head and
forced it up and down her engorged length as she eagerly fucked her face. The plant lady’s throat bulged
out obscenely as it stretched to accommodate the fiend’s impressive girth, but she neither struggled nor
protested.
“What the hell are you doing?!” asked Fizzy when she saw the bizarre scene.
Since Boxxy’s familiars were extensions of its magic power, the dungeon core recognized them as co-
owners, of a sort. As a result, they could access all of the core’s functions, although Boxxy had
forbidden them from doing so without permission. It also meant that the dungeon master - in this case
Ambrosia - would willingly and eagerly obey any order they gave her. And it was quite clear that they
had told her to ‘attend’ to their needs.
“Oh! Hey - Umpf! - squirt!” called out Kora in-between grunts. “I’m just- Umpf! - breaking in - Umpf! -
the new girl’s throat! Umpf!”
“Yeah! I can see that! But why?!”
“Well, she - Umpf! - doesn’t have - Umpf! - anything between her legs - Umpf! - so I’m making do!
Umpf! It’s surprisingly - Umpf! - hot though, so - Umpf! - I don’t mind!”
“That’s not what I- Okay, never mind!”
“No, for real! Umpf! She swallows like a champ! Umpf! Watch!”
The fiend then growled and roared as she ejaculated down Ambrosia’s throat, who just sort of stood
there and gulped it down as if it were her mission in life.
“Ugh,” scowled Fizzy as she turned away in disgust. Those meatbag processes were as repulsive ever.
Boxxy on the other hand didn’t really care one way or the other. Its sex drive was still as non-existent as
ever. Although it did learn to find some pleasure in the act recently, eating tasty things or playing with
shiny things were far more enjoyable in its opinion. Still, it had work to do, so it quickly made the girls
stop their antics and gave them their orders.
Arms and Snack were to help the golem set up an Artificer workshop, including a forge, but using the
dungeon core’s power. Boxxy then laid out some spike and dart traps around the entrance to the sewers
that should be enough to take care of any wandering creature or vagrant that stumbled onto this place.
They’d also activate when Fizzy used the passage, but her mithril hide would have no problems
deflecting that level of damage. The dungeon core would maintain and re-arm the traps as needed, so
Boxxy didn’t need to give them any special attention.
The Mimic wanted to build a few more things, but the dungeon core was rapidly running out of MP, not
to mention that the monster was running late and had places to be. It therefore decided to wrap things up
for the day and return to maintaining its facade as an apprentice Ranger. The Job itself was more than
just a cover, of course, as the Mimic legitimately thought it would be a great asset to its toolkit. Unlike
that other Job its Cadaver Absorption picked up a few weeks ago, or the thoroughly useless Divine
Attunement Skill it got off a Priest. Well, the former turned out to be a bit convenient in some
unexpected ways, while the latter unlocked the advanced Faith (FTH) Attribute, so it wasn’t like their
acquisition was a bad thing.
The spider-chest leapt over to the edge of the plateau it was standing on and clung onto the far wall. It
used a combination of Terrain Sculpting and Dungeon Expansion to make a tunnel into the side of the
tree, one that led straight to the outside. The narrow passage opened up into the side of the Hylt tree’s
trunk, with nothing immediately around it. The city of Azurvale stretched out underneath, dyed a vibrant
shade of red by the setting sun, meaning its position was actually much higher than it thought at first.
After getting its bearings and making sure to memorize this entrance’s position, Boxxy sealed the tunnel
behind it, turning it into a very shallow cave that was still technically part of the dungeon. In the future,
it would just need to enter this tight space and transport itself into the dungeon proper through Nexus
Access. That way, even if this hole-in-the-tree was discovered, nobody would be able to gain entry
through it. Realizing that the rectangular hole it made in the side of the tree was clearly unnatural on its
own, it decided to camouflage it with a special door courtesy of the Trap Construction module.
Satisfied that its secret entrance was now complete, it changed its coloration to dark brown, matching
that of the bark behind it, then climbed down the tree. On second thought, it might have to revise this
entrance’s location as it felt exposed, but it was probably good enough for now. It passed by the tallest
branch with people living on it, and kept going down until it reached a lonely, cheap-looking house built
into the side of the Hylt tree.
Standing in front of its fake home, it actually found itself looking forward to getting some actual rest
instead of pretending to sleep while working on its Meditation Skill. It had the effect of passively
increasing its automatic MP recovery, so it was well worth the effort. Still, these past few days had been
slightly more mentally draining than usual, so it decided to take its bi-weekly dose of sleep a bit earlier
than usual. It quickly ducked behind the house and changed into its fabricated persona, the same one it
had been adopting ever since a week ago. Once it was sure its form was complete, it opened its Storage
and deftly took out some clothes and chainmail armor, which it put on immediately. After making itself
decent, it walked around the house while equipping a set of three high-grade magic items it acquired on
the way to the capital.
Your mass has been reduced by 40%.

Your weight has been reduced by 40%.
Your resistance to electricity has increased by 15%.
Satisfied with the trio of silver rings on its slender right hand, it started releasing lust-inducing
pheromones, put on its ‘game face’ and opened the front door boldly.
“Honey, I’m home!” it called out in a cheerful voice.
“Welcome back, Keira,” answered Rowana with a wide smile.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Doppelganger
Species STR 384 LCK 186 Doppelganger 13 44%
(Juvenile)
Age 5 months AGI 434 CHR 166 Cat 5 MAX
Hidden
Guild END 563 PER 177 Warlock 38 35%
Arrow
3199/3199
HP INT 494 FTH 16 Artificer 17 21%
(+11.7/sec)
2544/2544
MP WIS 363 Ranger 14 61%
(+4.6/sec)
Skill List
Name Level Proficiency Name Level Proficiency Name Level Proficie
Summon Essence
Assassination 10 MAX 10 MAX 1 MAX
Familiar Concealment
Power
Storage 10 MAX 9 13% Shapeshift 10 84%
Overwhelming
Cadaver 8 42% Demonology 7 83% Stealth 10 MAX

Absorption
Crystallize
Biomass 11 23% 8 44% Lockpick 3 55%
Magic
Chant
Natural Armor 10 MAX 2 52% Meditation 4 41%
Reduction
Demonic Sword
Metal Mimicry 9 57% 3 79% 7 74%
Insight Mastery
Clockwork Projectile
Mend Flesh 10 MAX 5 54% 8 52%
Expertise Mastery
Explosives Dagger
Adaptive Defense 5 34% 3 72% 10 MAX
Handling Mastery
Ruin
Acid Spray 10 MAX Deconstruction 3 21% 11 15%
Mastery
Domination
Divine Attunement 4 10% Tracking 2 53% 7 51%
Mastery
Shield
Feline Agility 6 95% Marksman 3 51% 7 83%
Mastery
Chaotic Staff
Mirror Image 5 63% 1 MAX 5 32%
Disposition Mastery
Agent of Bow
Pheromone Control 2 74% 1 MAX 4 74%
Chaos Mastery
Spell List Martial Arts List
Ruin Domination Other Marksman
Shadowbolt Mass Panic Implosion Power Shot
Ebonfire Delirium Transfamiliar Guided Arrow
Frostbite Dark Infusion Multishot
Shadowbind Hysteria
Singularity
True Darkness
Massive Rejection
(94) Interlude Good News Travels Slowly Bad N
A group of three seasoned adventurers were having a little get together at a nearby pub. They had just
seen three rather exciting fights earlier that afternoon, and their blood was still boiling with excitement,
despite being of a rather advanced age.
“Look! Ah’m tellin’ ye, ye cannae take down a cyclops just by aimin’ fer the eye!” said Hilda in a loud
voice.
“And I’m telling you, that teaching your students to ‘go for the dick’ will just get themselves flattened
under his feet!” insisted Faehorn.
The female dwarf Warrior and the elven Ranger were at each other’s throats as per usual. This time they
were heatedly discussing ‘proper takedown procedures’ for a cyclops, a 6 meter-tall, one-eyed mountain
of muscle that usually hovered around the Level 60 to 70 threat range. Lichter, the Paladin trainer, was
just watching them have at it with a nostalgic smile on his face.
The three of them had been a team many years ago, and those two bickered and argued even back then,
and Lichter would be the one that had to put a stop to their quarreling. Still, they were able to put aside
petty differences when it counted, and trusted each other without question. Something that Lichter was
sure still continued to this day, despite them living out the past decade or so in peace.
“As if! Ye just need to slice his cock off and he’ll be down fer the count!”
Well, relative peace.
“Hilda,” said Lichter calmly, “please refrain from screaming about slicing cocks at the top of your
lungs.”
“Huh?! Oh.”
The dwarf just now realized they were in a public space, and the other patrons were throwing curious
glances their way. She gave the onlookers a curt ‘Sorry ‘bout that’ before turning her attention back to
the drink in her mug.
“Honestly,” said the Paladin with a sigh, “I wish you’d consider your position already. How is that the
behavior of a Stonekin?”
“I’m a Stonekin,” said the dwarf after taking a swig of her drink, “so anythin’ I do is the behavior of a
Stonekin.”
Hilda, Faehorn and Lichter had all reached Level 100 of their respective Jobs at roughly the same time
and achieved their respective Rank Ups. Hilda was a Stonekin Dwarf, who were not only naturally
stronger and sturdier than regular dwarves, but also highly resistant to toxins and disease. Faehorn had
become a High Elf, granting him superior kinetic vision and reflexes. Lichter, however, was different.
Normally when an enlightened being Ranks Up upon reaching Level 100 of their Main Job, their bodies
become that of a stronger variant of their species. Normally this happened regardless of the type of Job
they had, unless it happened to be of a religious nature. Lichter, who was a Level 100 Paladin and a
Champion of Nyrie, was technically no longer an elf. Although he looked like one outwardly, his species
had become that of an Angel.
These quasi-divine beings were granted a tiny fragment of their chosen deity’s power. This manifested
itself as the ability to manifest a pair of gigantic, dove-like wings from their backs at will. Although
normally concealed, these limbs allowed them to soar majestically through the air with little effort.
However, even though they had extended lifespans like other enlightened Rank Ups, Angels were still
very much mortal. Ranking up a second time would let them become Archangels that were truly
immortal, although very few people managed to reach that far. And what lay beyond was the realm of
rumors, myths and legends.
Regardless, these three had seen enough violence and bloodshed in their lifetimes. Much like all
adventurers at their Level, they had gone through more than a few horrifying and mentally scarring
events. They had therefore decided to take a step back and focus on passing on the knowledge and
experiences they had accumulated during their storied careers to future generations. Like true
adventurers, they still aimed to grow even stronger, although right now they were focusing on enjoying
these peaceful, laid back times while they lasted.
“... Think the Empire’s gonna be comin’ fer us?” asked Hilda with a grim look.
Although a dwarf, she honestly considered Azurvale and the Republic to be her home, while her
students and those two pansies she was sharing a drink with were her family. If push came to shove,
she’d defend them all without a second’s notice, regardless of who the enemy was.
“Probably,” half-sighed Faehorn. “Actually, a friend in the government gave me some rather solid advice
on the matter.”
“Oh? Let’s hear it,” urged Lichter.
“She said to stock up on lubricant and burn medicine,” he said while giving the others a wry grin,
“because we’re about to get F’d up the A. Without the sweet talk.”
Hilda gave a hearty laugh while the Paladin covered his face with his palms.
“Seriously though,” continued the Ranger, “It was a long time coming. Those humans will always be
like that. I mean, we all know Jennifer, right?”
He was referring to the human Monk that had been a part of their troupe in their glory days. They had to
eventually part ways with her years back due to how ruthless, merciless and greedy she was.
“Knew Jennifer,” said Lichter. “I heard that problem child’s bad attitude earned her the ire of some bad
people and she got herself killed.”
“Ah… That’s a shame,” lamented Hilda. “I liked her, she was funny.”
“Yeah, you muscle-heads were always on the same wavelength. I mean, violence was the only thing you
agreed on, but then again that was, and still is your answer to everything.”
“Now see, I know yer tryin’ to insult me Faehorn, but I ain’t gonna fall fer it. Not when I’ve had a few
drinks in me.”
“Still, her skill in combat was quite promising,” offered the Paladin. He was trying to change topic
before those two got into another petty squabble. “Compared to her, my students are a little… lacking.
You saw them yourself, right?”
“I don’t know, Lichter, I think that guy with the buzz cut and the scar on his cheek was quite good. He
actually recognized that Juggernaut as the superior fighter and was far more cautious than the others.”
“Still got his ass handed to him,” pointed out the dwarf. “Me lot fared no better though.”
It wasn’t just the Ranger students that sparred against the so-called Rustblood Juggernaut today. The
Warriors and Paladins also had a go at her, though unsurprisingly none could even come close to even
scratching her. Still, it meant the trio were able to see all of their respective pupils in action, which was
more or less the point of the whole affair.
“There’s sumfin’ about the way she moves,” she continued. “I swear she could see the blows comin’
before they even took a swing at her!”
“You still gave her a good few dents, though,” pointed out Lichter.
“Well yeh. Don’t matter who or what it belongs to, all armor is naturally weak in certain places. Golems
ain’t no different ya know! What sorta teacher would I be if I didn’t show my lot how to fight a well-
armored target like that?”
She gave an accusing glare at Faehorn, who returned it with a dagger stare of his own.
“Any Ranger that tries to fight that thing head on is already a failure in my book.”
“Bullshit! Ye could take her easy!”
“I’m not so sure about that. I mean I could definitely do it if she were an ordinary steel or iron golem,
but a mithril one that’s also a Paladin?! I’m not saying I can’t beat her if push came to shove, but it
certainly wouldn’t be ‘easy.’”
“Ye about that, how in the blazes did a golem become a Paladin?”
“Well, Hilda, as it turns out she used to be a gnome,” said Lichter.
“Get out!”
“No, I’m serious. I was one of the people the authorities consulted regarding her strange condition. I
won’t divulge her circumstances beyond that though. It would be rude to her as a person.”
“Betcha you woulda loved to make her yer student, huh?”
“Oh, immensely so. Unfortunately, she already follows another path, different from that of Nyrie.”
“Lemme guess. She follows the good ol’ God of Probability, right?”
“Figures. She fits right in with the rest of those nutjobs.”
The three of them had come across several of the God of Chance’s followers. There weren’t many of
them, but one or two always turned up whenever big things were going down. Whether they were
involved in said events directly or ‘just happened to be there’ was unclear, but it didn’t matter. Any
adventurer that traveled the continent for long enough eventually learned that the appearance of the
faithful of the Goddess of Uncertainty heralded great and sudden change, both good and bad.
“No wonder she’s so fecking random. I mean that muffin song? Seriously?!” complained Hilda.
“You sang along with the rest though,” retorted Faehorn.
“... It’s a funny song, okay?”
“I suppose spreading that jingle is her way of worshipping her God,” offered Lichter. “I suspect that’s
who she refers to when she sings of the muffin man that lives inside her head.”
It was way better than trying to write out the deity’s ever-changing name with pig entrails like that one
guy they met years back.
“That or she’s completely bonkers,” said the dwarf. “That sort of viciousness she showed in the arena?
That’s not something a sane person would do.”
“Perhaps,” agreed the Paladin, “but she knows enough to hold back outside the ring and obey the same
laws as everyone else. Even if turbulent, her life still seems like an honorable one.”
“I’m actually with the old bat on this one. The way her attitude changes in the blink of an eye is
downright terrifying.”
“Anyway, I think we’ve gotten a bit off topic. Tell me Faehorn, do any of your Rangers show any
promise?”
“Hmm… there’s none that are completely hopeless and all of them should graduate the way things are
going. Only three of the bunch show any real promise though.”
“Ah, that’d be the green haired lass, the black-haired lad and the kitty, right?” asked Hilda.
“Yeah them. Miller shows a lot of promise, despite being an Empire-born elf and a power-leveler. The
fact he’s willing to throw away his old mentality and mend his ways is truly worthy of praise.”
“Isn’t the green-haired one Lia Torlee? The innkeeper’s daughter?” asked Lichter while cupping his chin
in thought.
“That’s her. She has great aim and superb judgement. I expect her to go far if she specializes as a
sharpshooter.”
“What’s the deal with the kitty though?”
“Please don’t call her that, Hilda,” said Faehorn. “She’s my precious student, and I’d prefer if you didn’t
belittle her.”
“Bah, ye know I mean nothin’ by it! Go on, then! Out with it!”
“She’s… strange. I don’t mean the way she looks or acts, but the way she uses a bow. It’s like - both her
stance and draw are good while her hands and eyes are steady, right? Yet I could swear she shifts her
aim at the very last moment. As if she misses her targets on purpose, like she doesn’t want to stand out
because of her ability.”
“Her Appraisal showed she’s a normal girl, right?” guessed Hilda.
“Think she’s a Hero?” asked Lichter in a hushed tone.
It was a little known secret that those chosen by the Gods could choose to hide their strength from an
Appraisal so as to not attract the wrong kind of attention. The only reason these three knew about it was
because they worked with the Hero of Rain for a time. He was a raptor, a species of beings that looked
like lizard beastkin, although their animalistic features were far more pronounced. Rather than a man
with scales and a tail, he looked more like a crocodile that head learned to walk on its two hind legs. The
type of visage that sometimes got him mistaken for a monster. He was also rightly fucked in the head,
and that was putting it mildly.
“That’s what I thought too, so I tried to confirm it,” said Faehorn while speaking softly. “I tried attacking
her from her blind spot, directing all my bloodlust towards her as I swung a dagger at the nape of her
neck. I figured if she’s hiding her strength, then she’d avoid or catch it.”
“Oh my Goddess…”
“Sweet fuck, Faehorn!” shout-whispered the dwarf. “What if ye were wrong and the poor lass was just a
messed up kid?!”
“I wasn’t actually going to hurt her, okay?! I was planning on stopping short, maybe giving her a small
cut at most, you know!”
They exchanged some difficult looks. All three of them knew what he did was a terrible idea that could
have gone horribly wrong. That clearly didn’t happen though, considering how the girl was alive and
healthy just a few hours ago.
“So?” asked Hilda. Even if she didn’t exactly approve, she still wanted to know.
“So, nothing. She didn’t even notice my presence until my dagger pressed against her skin, at which
point she leapt in shock and cut herself on it. I managed to play it off as a training exercise, but…”
He shook his head in remorse before continuing.
“I feel really terrible for pulling that on her. I was probably just imagining things since I expect too
much from her.”
Only truly exceptional individuals got chosen as Heroes - people who already had the potential to
become legends. It wasn’t hard to imagine a teacher yearning to have such a promising individual under
his or her wing.
“She’s honestly the most promising one of the bunch, even if her stamina is terrible,” he added.
“Wasn’t she the one that turned tail and ran like her life depended on her the instant the spar started?”
asked Hilda. “Well, she still got caught in the end though, despite being a scaredy cat.”
“That’s exactly why she has potential. You know, I asked my students to think up of countermeasures
against that golem ahead of time? Morgana’s the only one that had the right answer.”
‘It’s okay to run away,’ was the lesson Faehorn had been trying to teach today. Rangers often worked
separated from others as it was their duty to scout out the enemy, look for traps or ambushes, and
highlight targets of high importance. The ability to know when to withdraw was a vital skill in that sort
of situation.
“Heh, she’s a scaredy cat! Hee hee hee!” laughed Hilda into her cup, clearly not paying attention to
Faehorn’s words.
“Still better than that moron that just kept mindlessly swinging at the Juggernaut until her weapon
broke,” mumbled the clearly irritated Ranger.
“Hey! Lola had the right idea, okay?” snapped back the dwarf. “Mithril is stubborn, so it doesn’t
crumble unless you really put yer back into it! She would’ve done better if her weapon was dwarven-
made or Empire forged! Not this shitty Republic pig iron! No wonder you elves got your asses handed to
you in the last war!”
The dwarf’s sudden outburst reminded the rowdy group that a war was looming over them, and they
grew quiet once more.
“Those kids will probably be sent off to fight, won’t they?” lamented Faehorn.
“Yeah,” agreed Lichter. “Best we can do is prepare them for the worst, and hope they survive. Think we
ought to start teaching mixed unit tactics ahead of schedule?”
“Aye, that might be for the best... I’m thinking of pulling some favors from my days in Horkensaft, try
and get me lot geared up in the good shit on the down-low. Enchanted Azurite, probably.”
“Don’t suppose you can spare a few of those armor sets for mine, Hilda?” asked the Paladin.
“I’ll try. Cannae promise anything though. Faehorn, any idea when it’ll start?”
“My contact in the government said they’ll likely hit us in a month or two.”
“What? Right before winter?”
Common sense dictated that forced marches during the cold season were tantamount to suicide,
especially this far up north where the winters were harsher. Azurvale was still more or less comfortable
due to the blessed Hylt trees, but long distance travel across the Republic was basically gridlocked.
“Something about occupying a bunch of land and using the season to consolidate their power while the
armies are unable to move freely. My contact’s an Underwood that owes me one, so I’m sure she’d only
tell me if she believed that.”
He took a sip of his drink and gave the dwarf a humorless smile.
“You know what else she told me?”
“What?” asked Hilda.
“That there was a ‘non-zero chance’ of the Sandman moving in to repel those humans.”
“Ye, right,” said the dwarf with a snort while nursing her drink. “There’s also a ‘non-zero chance’ that a
bloody meteorite was the cause of that Hylt fire last night.”
(95) All That Glitters 1
“Waaah!”
Keira suddenly woke up, flailing and screaming as she did so.
“Wuh? Keira?! Are you okay?” asked Rowana, woken up by her girlfriend’s bizarre actions.
How could she not, considering they shared a bed every night. And just like every night, both of them
were completely in the nude. The platinum-blonde elf rubbed the sleep from her eyes and saw that red-
haired catgirl was breathing roughly, while looking around in a distressed state. She calmed down a
second later, lay back down and curled up in the fetal position.
“... More night terrors?” she asked while gently rubbing her back.
“Uh-huh…”
“It’s okay, sweetie, I’m here.”
She then hugged the frightened catgirl around her waist and buried her face in that shoulder-length
crimson hair, nuzzling against her neck. She didn’t know the reason, but Keira woke up violently every
2 or 3 days like this. The beastkin told her that she suffered from recurring nightmares every now and
then, but couldn’t remember what they were after they woke her up. Being the understanding person that
she was, Rowana didn’t pry into it and merely tried to comfort her lover.
Of course, this wasn’t actually the case, as Keira did not dream. She wasn’t even a person, but a former
Mimic and current Doppelganger in disguise. One that had never quite gotten used to waking up without
causing a fuss. Although it had gotten better at controlling those outbursts as of late, it was still one of
the things it could never quite get the hang of, so it made up some plausible excuse to explain it. With
Xera’s help, of course.
At first it thought this might become a problem, but Rowana actually seemed to get more infatuated with
the lie that was Keira Morgana because of it. Of course, such a person never existed in the first place,
and had come to be out of necessity. The worthless Cat Job that Boxxy acquired through Cadaver
Absorption of an alley cat, the need to appear as a foreigner who was ignorant to elven culture, and the
want of an excuse for any bizarre or out-of-place behavior all combined together to create this persona.
Keira was observant, bold and energetic, but surprisingly shy and lacking in confidence when it came to
intimate relationships. She smelled nice, had a pretty, smiling face, was a bit of a glutton, and knew
absolutely nothing of elven society. She had come here to escape some terrible event she suffered in her
past and forge a new life for herself. Her body was lithe, agile and quick, had a sensitive butt and ears,
and got tired pretty easily.
It was this mixed bag of half-truths and blatant lies that made it easy for Boxxy to assume the identity
while also keeping it believable. Any quirky behavior was just explained away as ‘Keira being Keira’
and any deeper inquiries into her past were met with a firm, borderline angry refusal. The downside was
that it had to keep a constant mental checklist of dos and don’ts, as well as making sure to properly
restrain itself. The fact that it was several times heavier than it looked was also a problem, but a
combination of two magic rings alleviated that somewhat. The Mimic wasn’t quite sure what was the
difference between a 40% reduction in weight and a 40% reduction in mass, but the outcome was that its
body was almost 3 times lighter than normal. It’s body felt floaty and a bit awkward to move in at first,
but it got used to it pretty quickly as it was a necessary thing. After all, Rowana was sure to notice
Keira’s illogical weight during their night-time activities, or at times like these where she was embracing
the catgirl with an arm stuck between her and the bed.
As the two lay there and Boxxy silently allowed Rowana to have her fill of cuddling, it realized
something. Doppelgangers were apparently more widespread in the past, at least according to what that
Beholder mentioned awhile back. How did they deal with issues like these? Surely not all of them had to
resort to moderately expensive magic items, right? Did they avoid forging fake relationships because of
that? Thinking it could learn something from their mistakes, Boxxy decided it would do some research
on the subject. There was a shared library in the Central Consortium building that all of the associated
guilds had access to, and that was bound to have some good information. It was finally time to put those
newly-acquired reading skills to work.
Filled with motivation, it tried to get out of bed, but was pulled back in by Rowana.
“Nuh-uh! I haven’t given you enough cuddles to chase away the bad dreams!” she said selfishly. “You’re
not going anywhere!”
It could easily break out of her grasp of course, but doing so would not be in Keira’s character.
“But Rowie! I have things to dooo!” it complained.
“Not today! You told me your class was taking a break today!”
“Oh, right! I almost forgot!”
“I even took a day off from work, just so I could get you all to myself!” declared the elf.
Boxxy thought perhaps it had overdone it with the Pheromone Control Skill it acquired at Level 10 of its
Doppelganger Job. At first it was a way to cloud Rowana’s judgement by filling her head with pink
thoughts, something Xera wholeheartedly recommended. Just a smoke screen to help cover up any little
details that might tip her off to its true identity until it managed to cover them up. But recently she was
becoming downright clingy.Well, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, as their interactions gave the monster
a relatively huge amount of XP for its Doppelganger Job. Therefore, now was the time to return those
affections.
Keira’s body twisted around in Rowana’s embrace so the two were face-to-face. They then shared a light
kiss.
“Hehehe, I wouldn’t have it any other way!” said the make-believe-catgirl with a smile.
Of course, it wasn’t like it specifically targeted this elf. Rowana Slyth just happened to be the first one it
caught in its sweet-smelling trap. It honestly didn’t expect to get a bite so quickly, but it wasn’t about to
look a gift horse in the mouth. Unfortunately, it failed to realize that same-sex relationships were such a
big deal in elven society. After all, its familiars ‘got along’ quite well and both of them were technically
female, so it assumed it wasn’t a big deal. Still, it decided it would run with it rather than disappear and
start over again, as the elf had fallen head over heels for the Mimic in just 3 days.
Besides, getting a little bit of extra attention and establishing its identity as ‘the girl fighting for her
forbidden love’ would serve as Keira’s excuse and motivation to become a great adventurer. Once the
Mimic had established itself as a reliable and dependable adventurer, then it would gain access to more
powerful items and information. Not only that, but the gold and XP earned while ‘on the job’ would be
quite tasty in their own way.
And to that end, it thought it was perhaps time to take things a step further.
“Say Rowie… will you go out on a date with me?”
In other words, if others were to believe Keira truly cared about someone, then the two of them would
need to be seen in public together. Plus, it seriously didn’t want to spend the whole day cooped up in this
one house.
“A d-date? But-!”
“I don’t care what people think! I just want to share a romantic day with you!”
The elf looked troubled by this proposal, but Keira almost never made any demands like this, so she was
figured it must mean a lot to the beastkin.
“... Okay,” she consented, “but no kissing in public!”
“Aw… Hugs are okay though, right?”
“Uhm… m-maybe?”
“Yay!”
Keira pulled her in tighter and affectionately rubbed her cheeks against hers.
“Okay! N-none of that either!”
“Meanie,” said the catgirl with a pout.
“Maybe, but this is just how things are, so bear with it, okay?!”
“Okay…”
“Now then, where were we…”
Rowana’s hands stroked Keira’s back as they moved lower and lower until they were groping her well-
toned bum. She had been buried in that lust-inducing smell for a while now, so she was already raring to
go. Especially since she didn’t get enough last night due to Boxxy legitimately needing some sleep.
After a quick morning romp, the two of them got up and got dressed. Rowana started cleaning up and
preparing breakfast while Keira helped out. The Mimic didn’t normally find cooked food to be
particularly tasty unless there was meat involved, so it made sure to establish Keira’s character as a
voracious meat eater. As it turned out, however, meat was rather expensive, meaning it would often have
to make do without. After all, Keira was supposed to be someone who just came here and had just
enough money with her to pay for Ranger training and buy the standard armor-and-weapon kit provided
by the Hidden Arrow guild. Someone like that would not normally be able to afford eating meat for
every single meal.
After a breakfast of eggs, bread, jam and some porridge, the two of them put on their town clothes and
went out into the city. Rowana wore a modest, long, navy blue dress while Keira wore her guild-issued
green tunic and custom-tailored leather pants that had a special opening in the back for her tail.
“We have got to get you some new clothes,” stated the elf. “That one set is all you have, and frankly I
need to wash it.”
“Probably, but I don’t have much money left over from that pest control expedition a few days back.”
Even if they were trainees, the guild still paid Keira and her class for their assistance with the termite
control. The Hylt tree farm they were at was a source of timber and fruit for the city as well as the
surrounding area, so it was important to look after it. Granted, the students’ pay wasn’t much as part of it
went towards paying for their training fees, but it was enough to cover their day-to-day expenses.
“Nonsense!” declared Rowana. “I’m the one that wants to see you in cute clothes, so I’ll be the one
paying!”
Even if she lived in apparent poverty, she wasn’t exactly struggling to survive. Although she was frugal
when it came to herself, she just really felt like spoiling Keira a bit. Besides, even if it was small, her
girlfriend’s contribution to the household’s finances was not insignificant.
“Really?! Then I’ll be taking you up on that!”
Of course, said girlfriend could probably purchase a mansion with what was tucked away inside her
Storage and owned what was steadily becoming one of the largest dungeons in the country, but that was
besides the point. Speaking of which-
Message from Ambrosia: Milord, we hath finished establishing milady Fizzy’s workshop.
That was fast, though hardly unwelcome. There was just one problem.
Message to Ambrosia: How come you’re the one telling me this and not Snack or Arms?
The familiars should have been the only ones capable of using the features necessary to creating the
facilities the former gnome required. Surely they should be the ones doing the reporting.
Message from Ambrosia: We had a friendly competition to see which one of us would give
milord the good news. I won.
The Mimic had no idea what they were on about. Was such a thing really that important?
Message to Ambrosia: Does Fizzy need anything else?

Message from Ambrosia: Yes, milord. Milady Fizzy spoke about procuring additional
materials and tools and is currently on her way out of the Dryad’s Domain.
Message to Ambrosia: Very good. I’ll come back to check on it later tonight.
Message from Ambrosia: Yes, milord.
“Keira?”
Rowana called out to the catgirl who had suddenly gone silent as they were walking up some steps.
“Ah, sorry Rowie. I spaced out for a bit. You were saying?”
“I asked what’s your favorite color?”
“I don’t know. Yellow, I guess? Maybe white.”
“Hm, I figured you’d like bright colors like those.”
Well, they were the colors of gold and mithril, both of which were extremely shiny.
“Okay!” said the elf, full of motivation. “I think I know just the place!”
The two of them kept climbing up the long staircase that circled around the massive tree until they
reached the thick, street-sized branch that was normally directly over their house. Various shops and
markets were built around the edges, allowing pedestrians to comfortably walk along the flattened
middle of it. Living on tree limbs like this wasn’t for everyone, as they ever-so-gently swayed in the
wind. It was barely noticeable and people got used to it fairly quick, but it made some individuals quite
nauseous. Of course, city officials kept a close eye on the health of these branches as one them suddenly
snapping off would be a disaster that would result in many deaths and incalculable property damage.
Rowana led Keira to a small boutique, manned by a kindly-looking, gray-haired old woman.
Unfortunately, the Tailor in question was human, which made her naturally apprehensive of being
around Boxxy. It was the same with the few human Warrior students from the day before, as they were
loathe to shake hands with the catgirl that bore the Butcher of Humanity Perk.
It was okay though, because Boxxy’s Pheromone Control was capable of counteracting the
psychological effects of the perk. It was able to release a calming scent that chased away any inherent
uneasiness or distrust humans felt around it, although its range was rather limited.
Having calmed down the old granny before she could raise a fuss, the Mimic then proceeded to get
measured and looked through several clothing designs the elf found cute. Rowana ended up placing an
order for 4 outfits in total - 2 dresses, one set of rather risque-looking nightwear and a lighter blouse-
and-skirt combo. She explained it away as helping Keira get ready for her future wedding, something
she said more like a wish than an excuse.
Afterwards the couple just walked around and chatted idly for a while, before getting on one of the
floating public elevators and riding it all the way down to the ground. They sat quietly in a park while
discreetly holding hands, then looked for a place to have lunch. Rowana said she knew a place that
served great food at a reasonable price, even though it wasn’t a restaurant. And the place she led Keira to
was a certain inn that was 3 stories tall.
“Well, well, well,” said the old elven innkeeper when he saw the conspicuous catgirl enter his
establishment. “If it isn’t the hooligan who won’t stop jumping on my roof!?”
“The roof!? … Keira, is there something you want to tell me?”
“Uhm. I may have… leapt down onto this building… a few times…”
“Leapt down?!”
“You know this girl, miss?”
“You could say that. We’re, uh, roommates,” answered Rowana.
“Well please tell her that vine-swinging is dangerous, and I won’t be held responsible if she hurts
herself.”
“Oh-hoh!” said Rowana while crossing her arms. “Vine-swinging, huh? You mean that dangerous thing I
told you to stop doing?”
“It’s just! Uh, Ranger training! Yeah, that’s it! Gotta get used to traversing difficult terrain!”
This was a blatant lie, of course. The real reason Boxxy did those things was because it helped build
proficiency for its Feline Agility Skill, the only one derived from its Cat Job. Plus, it was genuinely
faster than using the ‘proper’ way.
“Bullshit!” said the old innkeeper. “My daughter’s never had to do things like that! Isn’t that right,
Lia?!” he called out to the back.
“What is it now, dad?” said the green-haired elf in question as she poked her head out of the kitchen.
“Oh! Keira!”
Her pained expression became pleasantly surprised when she saw her classmate. She shouted something
about taking a break into the kitchen and went out to greet her properly.
“Hey there, didn’t expect to see you here!” she said, completely ignoring her father’s surprised look.
“Lia! What are you doing here?!” asked Keira in genuine surprise.
“I’m helping my dad out in the kitchen. I may not look like it, but my croquettes are pretty great you
know!”
“You know this hooligan!?” butted in the innkeeper, causing the young elf to roll her eyes.
“She’s no hooligan, dad. This is Keira, the one I told you about, remember?!”
“What? That’s her?!”
“Duh! How many catkin girls do you think there are in this city?!”
“Well, I never! Lia, I forbid you to-!”
“Oh put a sock in it dad, your roof’s fine.”
Lia grabbed her father by the shoulders and pushed him into the back where they had a few quick words
in private, after which she returned by herself.
“Sorry about that. My dad likes to yell at people for no good reason. I think I need to find him a hobby.”
“Is that so…” said the stupefied Rowana.
“Ah sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Lia Torlee, one of Keira’s classmates. And you… must be
‘Rowie.’”
“I am Rowana Slyth, yes.”
“I heard a lot about you.”
“Well, you have me at a disadvantage. I had no idea you existed.”
Boxxy was momentarily stumped. Rowana’s tone of voice was subtly different. More harsh, accusatory
even. And why did she keep glancing at Lia’s breasts as if she were comparing it to her own?
“*Ahem* I assure you, Keira is not my type,” said Lia in a hushed voice. “I have no intention of stealing
her from you so please stop giving me the stink-eye.”
“R-right. Of course. Sorry it’s just that… I don’t get a lot of chances at finding lo- love so I got a bit…
jealous.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
Oh, so she was being jealous! Boxxy hadn’t seen that emotion up close before, so it made sure to
memorize it for later use. Now was probably a good time for a response, but what kind? If Rowana was
jealous, that meant she suspected her lover might be seeing someone else behind her back. Which meant
she apparently didn’t trust her girlfriend completely. Of course, Boxxy had no intention of ‘cheating’ on
her. According to her made-up profile, Keira was the devoted and faithful type, so that sort of thing
would not happen, even if Lia did smell incredibly delicious for some reason. Therefore, the appropriate
response in this situation was to vehemently deny there was anything between them.
“Rowie! You should know better!” it stated in a harsh whisper. “I’m not gonna go after any woman I see
just because her tits are bigger!”
“Hey!” responded both elves in unison while covering up their chests by crossing their arms. Realizing
they had the same reaction, they shared a small, embarrassed laugh.
“Come on, you two, let’s get you a table,” offered Lia, and showed them to their seats. She ended up
joining them for lunch and even said it was on the house. They chatted while they ate, and Rowana and
Lia seemed to get along quite well. Boxxy didn’t particularly plan for this, but it was hardly a bad thing.
After all, the Agent of Chaos Skill had not triggered at all recently, so its recent actions would probably
not have some deep, profound impact on it surroundings.
Come to think of it, the last time that Skill came up was during the time it was making its way towards
the elven border, after it passed by that fancy carriage with the armed escort. That particular chain of
events was still in motion, so maybe the Agent of Chaos Skill could only manage one such thing at a
time? Then again, it was only the second time it activated, so it knew too little about it right now.
“Say Lia, you wanna join us for a girls’ day out?”
Rowana made an odd suggestion as they were finishing lunch.
“Huh?! I thought you two were, you know,” Lia lowered her voice, “on a date?”
She really did not want to make herself a third wheel.
“We are but… honestly I could really use a friend…”
Friendships were hard for Rowana to maintain. Men mostly wanted to get into her pants, and other
women would start acting distant once they found out her inclinations. Lia, however, seemed to more or
less be fine with it. She felt she could be herself around her, and share things she couldn’t really say to
her girlfriend.
“Well… the lunch rush is over so I can take a few hours off from helping my dad in the kitchen… But is
Keira okay with it?”
“I don’t mind!” declared the catgirl instantly.
More people to socialize with meant more XP for its Doppelganger Job. In fact, if things kept going this
way it would probably hit Level 14 before the day was over.
“Alright then, I’ll keep you company for a while. Just let me know if I’m a bother and I’ll make myself
scarce.”
Lia excused herself to change out of her stained apron and came out in a casual dress similar to
Rowana’s, except that it was cream-colored and the three of them left the building.
“Keira really needs some cuter clothes,” said Lia while they were walking down the street.
“I know, right? Don’t worry though! I already placed an order for some this morning! The blouse and
skirt I picked out would look positively adorable on her!”
“Wow, she has it bad, huh?” mumbled Lia.
The way Rowana squirmed and squealed was almost exactly like how Keira behaved whenever the
catgirl talked about her girlfriend. That sort of behavior fit the youthful beastkin perfectly, but seeing a
grown elf act that way was a bit weird. Then again, Lia had never been in love before, so she had no
right to judge others. Especially not these two.
“Hmm? Keira what’s wrong?”
The catgirl in question had suddenly stopped in her tracks and was staring into the window of a pawn
shop they had passed by. Rowana was still daydreaming so it took her a few seconds to realize it too.
“Oh, see anything you like?” asked Lia.

She leaned in closer and looked through the glass as well, but couldn’t tell which of the myriad of items
lined up on the windowsill had caught her interest.
“Yeah, I gotta check something out.”
Keira walked into the shop, the door frame ringing a small bell as she did so. It was a decently-sized
place, slightly bigger than Fizzy’s store back in Erosa. Numerous curious objects of all types lined the
shelves along the walls or were put on display inside the glass cases that doubled as counters. Books,
bells, weapons, jewelry, jugs, jars, board games, dolls, statues, flutes, lutes, hammers, screwdrivers, even
the odd potion - this place had it all.
“Welcome to Orym’s Pawn shop!” said the dark-green-haired elf behind the counter. “I’m Orym. Oh, I
see the little missy already has her eye on something, eh?”
The sight of a beastkin entering his shop was rare, but he didn’t question it one bit. This type of place
attracted all manner of odd individuals looking to buy or sell various goods, and it wasn’t his business to
ask about their circumstances. He just needed some proof or confirmation the items he was buying were
not stolen, and that those he was selling to were not wanted criminals. And he was sure he’d not heard of
the authorities looking for a cute catgirl.
“Ah, sorry,” apologized Keira. “I was just wondering, where did mister Orym get this?”
She was pointing towards an ornate jewelry box in the windowsill. It was 15 centimeters wide, 9
centimeters long and 5 centimeters tall. It appeared to be made of wood, which had some vine-like
patterns carved on the sides of it, and stood on four very short legs. The rectangular lid was also wooden
and had a small rose carved into each corner of it, while a single, circular red gem was faceted right into
the middle of it. The corners, the legs and the rim of the lid were gilded, giving the small box the
undeniable feel of a miniature treasure chest.
“That, huh?” said Orym while staring at it.
He blinked a few times trying to jog his memory, but couldn’t remember where he obtained it. Well, it
didn’t matter much where he got it anyway.
“I can’t divulge that information.”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Geh! Of course I know! It’s in my shop, so I should obviously know how it got there, right?!”
“No, I mean… do you even know what that is?”
“... It’s just a vanity box, right?”
The catgirl shook her head.
“Can I pick it up for a moment? I want to show you something.”

“Okay, but if you break it - you buy it.”
“Keira,” whispered Rowana, “are you sure about this? We don’t really have the money to afford that
thing in the first place.”
Splurging on some outfits or a day out on the town was one thing, but that expensive-looking box was
completely out of the question.
“It’s okay, I got this,” came the whispered answer.
The Mimic in disguise then reached over, took the shiny box off the shelf and placed it on the counter in
front of the pawnbroker. It then smiled, directed as much animosity towards the box as it could, and
firmly knocked on its lid.
“Yap!”
All three elves in the room jumped in surprise when the jewelry box gave out a high-pitched yell. It
suddenly sprang to life and moved along its small legs towards the edge of the counter, trying to get
away from the terrifying creature that had caught onto its identity. However, Keira’s hands deftly
grabbed it by the sides, denying its attempts at escaping.
The pawnbroker and both elven girls all stared in silent disbelief as the catgirl dragged the living jewelry
box back in front of her and held it down. She then forced its lid open to reveal two rows of short, flat
teeth and a long, coiled tongue.
“I’m sure you won’t mind if I take this mimic off your hands, right?”
The shopkeeper gave a few short nods of his head.
“Thanks, mister!”
Keira then hugged the miniature chest against her underdeveloped chest and left the shop with a huge
smile on her face.
“What… just happened?” asked Rowana.
“I think you just got a new pet,” answered Lia.
“C’mon Keira, you can’t be serious!” protested Rowana. “That thing’s a monster, isn’t it?”
Of course she was upset. Her girlfriend had just picked up a rather outrageous thing from a random
pawn shop and seemed like she had the intention of looking after it. She wasn’t an adventurer herself, so
she wasn’t 100% sure what the small, animate box really was, but it certainly didn’t look like a puppy.
“But! It’s so pretty! And it’s kinda cute, isn’t it?!” argued the catgirl in question.
Boxxy’s actual reason for wanting to look after this thing was a deep, nagging curiosity. Whatever this
thing was, its internal structure was much different from its own. It was undoubtedly a type of mimic,
but what kind was a mystery. It certainly wasn’t a Lesser or Greater variant of its old species, which
meant it was likely a completely different being. Not to mention that looking after this thing was the
perfect excuse to look up research materials regarding shapeshifters.
It certainly wasn’t because the thing was exceptionally shiny or anything.
“Rowana! Keira! Wait up!” shouted Lia from further back.
She had stayed behind for a few seconds to make sure the distressed pawnbroker was alright before
following the other two. Luckily they’d only taken a few steps by the time she got out of the shop
herself.
“Lia! Help me out here!” said both of the lovebirds at once.
“Okay! Let’s take a deep breath, calm down, and think this through. First of all, Keira, how in the blazes
did you actually spot that creature?”
“... I thought I saw it twitch outside the corner of my eye. When I went into the shop, it realized it had
this weird smell about it. That’s how I knew it wasn’t a simple box.”
What actually had happened was that it spotted the odd creature with its Mana Locator Gland. Since
that’s not something it could state outright, it made up a believable excuse. The notion that beastkin had
sharper senses than elves was not something Boxxy made up, but a sort of general knowledge that it
found out from Xera when planning its disguise. Without this bit of convenient trivia, it would have
made up some dubious reason like ‘I just knew’ or ‘it winked at me.’
“Wait, does it?”
Rowana leaned in and took a sniff of the mini-mimic that Keira had pressed against her chest. However,
although that thing did have a scent of its own, it was being overpowered by the catgirl’s ‘perfume.’
Realizing that Lia was looking at her weirdly, the young Alchemist gave an embarrassed cough and
straightened herself out.
“I, uh, guess it does,” she half-lied out of shame. She did think she detected an earthy odor rather than a
woody one, so it was good enough.
“Anyway… Keira, do you know what that actually is?” asked Lia.
“It’s a type of mimic, obviously. But it’s different from what I heard they were like.”
“Yeah, you do have a point.”
“What’s a mimic?” asked Rowana, who was clearly out of the loop.
“They’re dungeon-born monsters that usually look like treasure chests,” explained Lia. “Pretty much all
the dungeons in the Republic have them, so they warn us in advance.”
“So it’s a monster after all, isn’t it?!”
“Maybe? I mean the ones I know of are supposed to be big enough to swallow a person whole and have
rows of sharp teeth. This one seems… a lot less so.”
“How about dropping by the CC to check it out?” offered Keira. “Surely mister Faehorn or one of the
others would know about it.”
“You sure it won’t just attack you?” asked Rowana nervously.
“It’ll be fine,” claimed the green-haired elf. “Keira clearly has a handle on things.”
It wasn’t because Boxxy was putting in any effort into it, either. The creature struggling inside its arms
was so pathetically weak that even Rowana would be able to hold it down if she tried. Even if it were to
bite something, those flat teeth didn’t look like they’d do a lot of damage.
“Well… okay… I can come with, right?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Rowie!”
“Oh, you!”
The trio proceeded towards the Central Consortium building. Despite everything, Lia did end up feeling
like a third wheel as the other two flirted the entire way there. It made her more than a little bit
uncomfortable, but she too was curious about that weird thing Keira had found. They arrived at the
massive mansion-like building 15 minutes later. Inside it was a grand hallway, with a staircase at either
end of it. Each floor was divided into two wings - a north and a south one - and each of the 8 guilds were
assigned to a single wing. There were also a few common areas like the library, cafeteria or a number of
meeting rooms, but the vast majority of each floor belonged to one guild or another.
The trio climbed up to the 2nd floor and went into the Hidden Arrow guild in the north wing.
Unfortunately, it would appear all the high-ranking members, including instructors, were currently away.
Apparently there was some big meeting or conference and they were called away, which was why there
were no Ranger classes today.
Not to be discouraged, they visited the other guild on the same floor - the Children of the Wild. Rangers
and Rogues meshed well with nature-oriented Jobs, so the two organizations usually got along famously.
The Blessed of Nyrie and the Maleficum on the 3rd floor, however, had a bit of a strained relationship to
say the least. Lia wasn’t sure who put the devout believes literally next to the people most likely to
violate the taboo of the gods, but she hoped he or she got fired.
Regardless of such inter-guild politics, the group actually lucked out with their visit to the Children of
the Wild, as a Level 63 Monster Tamer was available for a consultation right away. They were escorted
into one of the shared meeting rooms after all of them pitched in for the 50 GP consultation fee, and
were told to wait. The room itself was a bit bare, but pretty nice. The walls were a soothing cream color
and lacked in any decoration. Three tall windows allowed plenty of natural light, while a large
rectangular table sat in the middle, with nearly 20 seats available.
The three girls waited rather nervously, with Keira still hanging onto the mini-mimic. The creature
seemed to realize it wasn’t about to get squished and it was already abundantly clear it wouldn’t be able
to get away, so it had stopped squirming. Besides, it felt a strange sense of both awe and fear from the
cat-eared man-thing holding onto it. The same sort of feeling a house cat would get when it was
introduced to a janther.
The door swung open, and a bald gnome wearing a bushy black beard and a dark brown tunic walked in.
He introduced himself as Jeremy Rizzlecrank, the Monster Tamer they had asked for, and the girls gave
him their names in kind.
“Now then,” he said once introductions were out of the way. “Let’s see this peculiar beastie you found.”
Keira got off her seat and placed the ‘beastie’ on the ground. Having finally been freed from her grasp,
the jewelry box didn’t actually run as she expected. In fact, it just sort of stood there, completely still.
Rather than ask questions, Jeremy grabbed onto it and forced its lid open. It finally squirmed to show
signs of life, but more or less just let the gnome inspect its mouth cavity. Not that it had a lot of choice in
the matter.
“Hmm, teeth like that of a herbivore, tongue similar to a frog’s…”
He let go of the box, which closed its jaws and growled a bit. The gnome took off his leather glove and
poked at its mouth and teeth with an unprotected finger, seemingly trying to provoke it. However, it
didn’t bite or attack the gnome, just gave his finger a few licks before backing off.
“Doesn’t seem particularly aggressive either.”
Jeremy then reached into a pouch on his waist and pulled out a jar that looked far too big to fit into it.
That pouch was a Bag of Holding, a popular Superior-quality magic item that was 10 times bigger on the
inside than the outside, and items stored in it would only weigh a quarter of what they normally would.
He twisted open the lid of the jar and took out what appeared to be a dried piece of peach, then presented
it to the strangely docile mimic. The creature immediately stretched its tongue out and snateched the
tasty treat out of his hand, then happily munched on it. The gnome fed it two more pieces of dried Hylt
fruit before he was convinced.
“What you folks have here is a House Mimic,” he declared with a smile on his face. “Quite the rare
thing you’ve found there.”
“So… it’s not dangerous?” asked Rowana with a bit of apprehension.
“Nah, no more dangerous than a puppy or kitty. It’s not even a monster, not in the truest sense of the
word.”
He slightly patted the jewelry box’s lid as it happily munched on its snacks to prove a point. The House
Mimic didn’t seem to shrink back or flinch this time.
“It’s actually kinda cute, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, guess it is,” admitted Rowana. It was a strangely endearing sight.
“So can we keep it?!” asked Keira with a face full of expectation.
“I don’t know… How would we even care for that thing?”
“Ah, that’s easy really,” said Jeremy. “These buggers mostly care for themselves. They don’t poop or
shed, and will eat pretty much anything so long as it’s small enough. They even go after bugs or other
small vermin all on their own if you forget to feed ‘em, though they like Hylt fruits the most. Fresh ones
are best, but dried works too.”
“You sure seem to know a lot about them,” noted Lia.
“Well yeah, I got one back home, although that one’s in the shape of a cookie jar. Found it 3 years ago
while raiding the cafeteria’s pantry at ni- I mean, I found it in the cafeteria. Been looking after it ever
since.”
He fed it a few more pieces of fruit before putting away the jar.
“They’re pretty stupid, but make surprisingly good pets. Just don’t expect them to scare off any burglars
or whatnot. Poor guys’ jaws are so weak they won’t even draw blood if they bite a person. Er, not that
they have a habit of biting things bigger than themselves you see.”
He then gently picked the animate box and tickled its underside, which it seemed to enjoy.
“Their bottoms seem to be sensitive, so while they like having them stroked, they’ll get mad if you
overdo it.”
“Oh look sweetie, something you two have in common,” said Rowana with a coy smile.
“Rowie!”
“Sweet Nyrie, they’re both like that,” mumbled Lia while hiding her reddening face in her palms.
“So yeah, if you guys don’t wanna keep it, I’ll gladly take it off your hands,” offered Jeremy, who
seemed to not notice their exchange.
“We’ll keep it! Definitely keeping it! Right, Rowie?!”
“Jeremy, can you promise me it’s safe?”
“I swear it on my life, miss Slyth.”
“... Okay then. I’ll trust Keira’s judgment on this.”

“Alright! Thanks, Rowie! You’re the best!”
Following with Keira’s excitable character, Boxxy threw its arms around the elf and gave her a wet
smack on the lips, much to Lia’s discomfort and Jeremy’s shock.
“Keira!”
“Ah… sorry… I got carried away…”
“So um, Jeremy, please don’t… I mean-”
“Fret not, miss Slyth. I’m a professional, and what happens in this room is strictly confidential. Besides,
I’m not in the business of spreading salacious rumors.”
“Thanks.”
“Anyway, I suggest you folks get the little guy tagged and have him registered. You can do both of those
at our guild’s office.”
“Uhm, mister Rizzlecrank? Can you recommend some books on mimics or just shapeshifters in
general?”
“Oh ho, good attitude, miss Morgana! Educating oneself about their pet is crucial if they plan to raise
them properly.”
Well, that wasn’t really the reason Boxxy asked for those. If anything, it was already an expert on the
matter of mimics. It’s just that it wanted to know what the world at large knew about its kind, lest it
reveal too much information in the future.
“Riften’s Monster Encyclopedia vol. 3 should have what you need, miss,” he added. “Just, uh, take heed
of the dark history attached to it.”
“Okay, thanks!”
“Sure thing. Do drop by if you have any more questions. I’ll answer them free of charge, of course.”
“We’ll take you up on that offer when the time comes,” said Rowana with a business-like smile.
The disguised Mimic picked up its smaller cousin and the three girls parted ways with the gnome.
“So, what are you guys gonna call it?” asked Lia while they made their way over to the Children of the
Wild guild.
“... How about… Goldie?” suggested Rowana.
“I don’t know that’s a little… common?”
“... Shiny?”
“That’s just puerile, Rowana.”
“Maybe… Oh, I know! Red Eye!”
“What, after the gem in its lid? Is that real, by the way?”
“I don’t know, but it’s very pretty.”
“Anyway, ‘Red Eye’ isn’t bad, but makes it sound a lot more vicious than it appears.”
“Minic,” stated Keira suddenly.
“... I’m sorry?”
“It’s a mini-mimic, so I’m gonna call it Minic!”
“That… I’m not sure if that’s genius or idiotic,” said Lia with a sigh.
“I think Minic sounds cute! Let’s go with that!”
The catgirl held the living jewelry box up above her head and gave it a wide smile.
“Pleasure to meet you, Minic!”
“Yap yap!”
The House Mimic seemed to have calmed down considerably after being fed and let out a few high-
pitched, bark-like sounds. The trio went into the Children of the Wild’s office once more and, with
Jeremy’s assistance, made its name official. A bright blue string was tied around one of its legs and a
light wooden chip serving as a tag was attached to it. It clearly marked the creature as being named
Minic and belonging to Keira Morgana. The girls also dropped by the library and checked out Riften’s
Monster Encyclopedia vol. 3 as per Jeremy’s suggestion. Eager to learn more, they all gathered around
the same table inside and looked up the entry on House Mimics.
The tale revealed inside was more than a little upsetting to the elves though.
It would seem House Mimics were actually the original mimics. Their creator, as it turned out, was an
elven scholar and magic user of great power called Tol-Saroth, who lived some 430 years ago. Although
the exact method had been lost to time, he claimed to have used an original combination of both Druid
and Warlock magic to bring his own furniture to life. Apparently he had lived in seclusion most of his
life, and had created them to be his companions, guardians and servants, dubbing them House Mimics
after what they looked after. However, these creatures were created with purely good intention and were
innocent in their purpose. He even made sure to raise them to be as unaggressive as possible to
humanoids - a far cry from the murderous chest that Boxxy had been born as, and in essence still was.
Unfortunately, it would appear growing hostilities with the Empire had driven the royal elven bloodline
of the time - the Ishigar - to seek alternative means with which to repel these human aggressors. The two
nations were at each other’s throats even back then, and the Elven Dominion, as it was called at the time,
was on more or less equal terms with the fledgling Empire when it came to military strength.
And yet, wanting to secure victory against ‘those violent upstarts’ with minimal losses, the Forest King
at the time had sent for Tol-Saroth’s help. Although the scholar originally wanted to reject using his
knowledge to breed death and destruction, he could not go against the authority of the king. Literally.
The Authority of the King was a Phantasmal-grade relic of great power that made it impossible for any
of their people to reject the wishes of their King.
Tol-Saroth was therefore forced to subject his beloved creations to various experiments, twisting their
purpose from that of companionship to guerilla warfare. He produced monsters of great cunning and
formidable strength, programmed to hide within Empire settlements and hunt humans down
indiscriminately. Elven agents would then spread these murderous chairs, beds and cupboards across the
Empire while passing them off as simple furniture salesmen. The Mimics in question were essentially
sleeper agents, waiting for the right moment to be activated.
That moment came when increased hostilities between humans and elves eventually led to all out war.
However, human spies had caught onto the elves’ scheme and moved to secure the lynchpin of their
operation. They had found and captured Tol-Saroth after a protracted battle that lasted for several days
and cost them dearly. They brought the elven Warlock and Druid out of the Dominion and into the
Empire, with the goals of having him disarm those ticking timebombs he and his cohorts had sewn
across their nation. They even managed to break him free from the Authority of the King’s control, and
he willingly began working to undo his mistake.
However, he found out the humans were no different than the scum that forced him to twist and pervert
his own creations. They intended him to produce weapons of mass destruction or even utilize said
Mimics against his own people. Once he found out their hidden agenda, Tol-Saroth had begun to
sabotage his own work. It is unknown how or why, but he set off a Calamity that left a permanent scar
on the landscape, wiping out the remote fort that served as both his prison and research laboratory.
Scholars have since then determined that this Calamity had sent out some sort of magical pulse that
spread far and wide, waking up the creatures known as Mimics, causing them to wreak havoc across the
empire. It was also by his vengeful hand that the royal elven bloodline was extinguished, as their own
beds and thrones had turned out to be sleeper Mimics. And while a part of the remaining murderous
furniture was killed off, many ran off into the wilderness. Although historians were not certain what
became of these creatures, they noted that it was only a few years later that Mimics started cropping up
in dungeons across the world.
Lia closed the book in front of her with a glum expression. She and her companions had to look through
several dusty tomes which they had gathered as a result of their own, morbid curiosity. The story they
pieced together was fragmented, full of holes and conjectures, but they reached a single, morbid
conclusion.
“Our ancestors had done some terrible things,” stated the elf Ranger.
“This is… unbelievable. Are we sure these books are accurate?” asked Rowana, clearly wanting to deny
the history they had just learned about.
“... This library is normally exclusive to members of the Consortium. Adventurers live and die based on
how accurate their information and preparations are, so I have no doubt these accounts are accurate. I
also heard that some of the books here are not publicly available, likely due to the sensitive information
they hold.”
“The humans… are not entirely blameless, either,” pointed out Keira, to which the other two fell into
silence once more.
Boxxy, the one who was the most concerned with this turn of events, didn’t know what to think.
Learning about its origins was harder to swallow than it expected to. 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
so much tastier than other elves, as she had stated that her mother was apparently born of the love
between a human male and an elf. And although the resulting children of such couplings were always
the same race as the mother, they still carried the father's traits. Boxxy could quite literally smell the
traces of humanity that were passed down 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 Mimic had sworn to itself that it would not let anything or anyone
control it like that ever again. And as it turns out, it was being influenced by some long-dead asshole
from hundreds of years ago.
“Yip?”
And Minic, who was idly sitting 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 here and now, but that subsided almost
as quickly as it came. It 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 on empathy. Rowana embraced her girlfriend from the side, seeming to
comfort the solemn-looking Keira. Lia sat on the other side and put a tender hand on Minic, stroking it
gently.
“Those poor creatures,” said Rowana. “Such a horrible fate, made to kill others and-”
“Rowana, don’t get the wrong idea,” interrupted Lia. “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 with not a single shred of remorse. ”
“I see… yes, you’re right.”
“Therefore, if you’re going to feel bad about any of them, then be sure to spoil this little guy rotten.”
“Yeah!”
“Thanks, Lia,” said Keira. “I really needed to hear that.”
These were Boxxy’s honest feelings. Although her words were meant to be a cautionary speech for
Rowana, they actually ended up being a surprisingly effective pep-talk for the monster in their midst.
That’s right, it didn’t need to doubt itself and suddenly change its homicidal ways. Boxxy knew who it
was, and it wasn’t going to let some 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 ancestors. Therefore, rather than
feel conflicted about its past, it chose to focus on its future and would 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 and went their separate ways. Their day out on the town had taken an
unexpected turn, but it was hardly a waste of time.
For there was one more point of interest in Tol-Saroth’s story. Something Boxxy was quite surprised to
see, but something that also made sense in a way. That elf was not only a Druid, but also a Warlock. And
although his Job 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 the 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, it was highly likely that Mimics, Boxxy included, were partly
demonic in origin. Perhaps that was why it had gotten along with its summoned familiars so well, and
also why the Goddess of Impossibilities was so interested in it.
And yet, that wasn’t the most surprising thing. Rather, it was the ancient elf’s familiars themselves.
Although their names weren’t recorded, their appearances and actions were. One of them was a
Beholder, and the other was a fiend. It hadn’t met either of these, as the Beholder was described as
having green skin while the fiend was male, had a tail and used a gigantic greatsword as its weapon. The
third one was quite suspect however. It was described as an outrageously nubile female, with light blue
skin, lips and hair the color of the night sky, a disdainful look in her glowing red eyes, two golden, ram-
like horns on her head, a slender tail with a spaded tip, and a pair of large, red wings sprouting from her
back.
And judging from the few accounts of her exploits, this Cerulean Succubus had quite the penchant for
burning things down to the ground.
“Oh yeah! There was a guy who had living 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 actually 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, often leaving us familiars in the Beyond or just told us to hang around and
guard his tower. He was also a total homo and never got so much as a semi no matter how many times I
thrust my breasts in his face or sensually caressed his thighs.”
“What about after he left the Dominion?”
“Hmm, he did get a bit more interesting after moving in with those humans. That’s the point where he
started obsessing over Rank Ups for some reason. I really didn’t pay much attention, but it was fun to
see him literally rip his hair out from stress and frustration. Well, up until he detonated that dungeon
core he was experimenting on.”
So it would seem this was what Snack was alluding 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 while cooped up in his room. 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
that’s where I picked up my staff-twirling habits from, actually. They don’t really do anything, but
they’re kinda fun to do. 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 sort of interesting. The only reason
the Mimic was questioning 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 dungeon core until then.”
The Mimic cut off the telepathic communication and walked out of the restroom.
“All done, Keira?” asked Rowana with an idle smile.
“Yup!”
Boxxy found it difficult to maintain its cover while talking to its familiars. Splitting its attention between
physical and mental conversations was difficult, so it decided it was better to excuse itself for a while
rather than seemingly space out in the middle of a talk.
“Where’s Lia?” asked the catgirl.

“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 in question gave a small happy-sounding cry from in between the elf’s arms. She was
holding 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. Well, Boxxy’s own undercarriage was
pretty sensitive while it was still a Mimic, so it sort of understood where it was coming from. It made a
mental note to get the little guy a soft pillow to sit on in the future.
“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Shall we get home, sweetie?” offered Rowana.
“Sure!” replied Keira.
The two of them proceeded to walk down the road while chatting away happily about thoroughly
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 artisan-type Job, so perhaps this was a good opportunity to make
Keira’s Artificer Job public.
Actually no, it was still too early for that. Faehorn had told all his students to put off on acquiring a
second Job until they got past 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 ridiculous
that it almost wanted to give that a try just for the fuck of it. That would be a waste of time though, as
the former Mimic’s ability and willingness to look after living creatures was 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.
Besides, Boxxy had to be very careful in regards to what Jobs it got in the future. It learned it was
impossible for a living being to have more than a certain amount of Jobs, although it would appear that
number varied between races.
Elves, for example, could have as many as 8, while dwarves and gnomes were a bit lower at 7. Humans
on the other hand could get all the way up to 10 and beastkin were normally limited to 6. Well, it was
normally hard to find a person with more than 4 or 5 of them, so it wasn’t much of an issue for them. It
was, however, an issue for Boxxy. The Consortium’s library had no information regarding the maximum
number of Jobs a monster could posses, but records showed Appraisals of creatures that had as many as
13. After all, a Monster could Rank Up many times durings its lifespan, and every new Rank Up could
come with a new Job, so it seemed logical that they would have more Job slots available.
But it was highly unlikely such things would be unlimited. Even if Boxxy didn’t presently know its
limit, that still meant the garbage-tier Cat Job was taking up a valuable slot. Both the Attribute bonuses
and effects of this Job and its derived Skill, Feline Agility, were extremely lackluster. It was also
impossible to Rank Up, as Boxxy was not of a feline species. It had therefore decided to avoid using
Cadaver Absorption on small critters, as it might end up doing more harm than good.
It was theoretically possible to get a Scribe to remove it, although such a thing was completely
impossible in practice. Accomplishing it required that Boxxy would need to find someone not only
capable of Appraising the clearly inhuman Cat Job, but also wouldn’t ask questions as to how a person
got an animal’s Job. It was also out of the question to try and learn the Scribe Job for itself, as such
applicants were subjected to an anti-shapeshifter shock test ever since the fall of the Doppelgangers.
Therefore, Boxxy was stuck with it, at least for the time being. It would need to be very careful
regarding Job acquisition in the future, lest it ruin its chances at Ranking Up into an even more powerful
species.
“Keira? You’re spacing out again.”
“Oh, sorry Rowie. I was just thinking about the future,” replied the catgirl. “Our future,” she added in
an attempt to smooth things over.
“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-”
Just then, someone bumped into Rowana with a lot of force, clearly on purpose.
“Waah!” she screamed as she fell over to the side. Keira deftly caught her, keeping her from falling to
the ground.
“Hey, watch it!” she yelled out after the figure, who was already sprinting away at full force. “Huh?
Wait, where’s Minic?!”
“Ah! I must’ve dropped him in the- Oh no! That guy stole him!”
“... Wait here.”
“K-Keira?”
The normally cheerful catgirl’s voice was practically ice cold. Boxxy couldn’t help itself. Someone had
just dared laid a hand on its shiny, so its anger overflowed through its facade. It made Rowana slightly
fearful as a result, which was not really a good thing. Realizing its blunder, the monster tried to cover it
up fast.
“Look, I’m sorry. I have to go get it back! I won’t let anyone take something precious from me ever
again!”
There was more truth in those words than Boxxy had intended, but they had the right effect.
“... I understand. Just be careful!”

“I always am.”
The elf felt a bit relieved when she saw the same reassuring smile Keira always gave her, and watched as
the beastkin took off into the crowd on all fours. Having somehow salvaged the situation, Boxxy turned
its attention towards the cloaked figure that had attempted to rob it. It had already moved beyond its
magical perception range and blended into the crowd, but it wasn’t a problem. The apprentice Ranger
already had the scent of its target, and the Tracking Skill was highlighting the man’s trail. It was as if his
footprints gave off a soft glow that only Boxxy could see.
The beastkin ran through the crowds with reckless abandon as per usual, going in between legs, through
stalls and over carts. Eventually, she turned into a side alley which had some old boxes and jars strewn
about.
“Shit! What the fuck is this?!” came a clearly disgruntled voice.
As expected, the thief had taken what he thought to be an expensive-looking ornate jewelry box, but that
box was now struggling against his grasp.
“Ah, whatever! That jewel should be worth something at least!”
He reached behind his belt and took out a small knife, clearly intending to carve the expensive-looking
thing out of-
“Hands off, dickface!”
The still-in-character catgirl ran up to him while he was distracted and slashed at his forearm with a set
of retractable claws.
“Gah! The fuck?!”
It didn’t do a lot of damage and the cut was rather shallow, but it still caused the hooded elf to stagger
backwards and drop the panicking box. Having obtained its freedom, Minic quickly ran away from the
scary person and hid behind its bigger, incredibly reliable cousin.
“You got some nerve trying to steal other people’s pets!” said Keira accusingly while pointing a bloody
claw at him.
“You’ll regret that you little bitch!”
The man swung at the catgirl with more speed than she was expecting. Judging from his movements, he
must have been at least Level 25, maybe even 30 or 35 if he was a Rogue, which was common among
pickpockets. He was no problem for a monster of Boxxy’s caliber, but the Mimic was currently
undercover. Objectively speaking, there’s no way a Level 14 Ranger should be able to defeat a Level
30-something Rogue, especially not while she was unarmed.
Of course, that only applied if the catgirl in question were the one doing the fighting.
A tall, cloaked figure suddenly dropped down between the two and caught the rogue’s figure with a
metal-clad hand. It appeared to be a man, with naturally wide shoulders and well over 2 meters in
height. A long, black cloak obscured his figure, while a blue face-wrap concealed his face. Only the area
around his eyes was visible, and it revealed sickly, pale skin and a pair of oddly circular yellow eyes.
“Huehaahaaehaeeheaaeheaaa!”
It let out a disjointed, inhuman laugh while it pressed the terrified thief’s own weapon against his throat.
The voice itself sounded strangely tinny, as if it were coming out of a metal pipe.
“What’s going on here?!”
A loud, commanding voice came in from the entrance to the alley. It was a group of 8 people in
matching silver-like plate armor, with an eagle wing motif decorating their shoulderplates and helmets.
This was a guard patrol who had come to investigate the clearly suspicious alley, attracted by the loud
voices within. The cloaked figure threw a glance at them over its shoulder, then clambered up the side of
the building and disappeared over the rooftops. The Rogue was left behind sprawled out on the ground.
Well, most of him was, anyway.
“Aarrgh! My arrrm! Grrraaaar!”
He screamed and roared as blood flowed out of the stump on his right hand. The cloaked figure must
have cleaved it clean off before it retreated.
“Medic, quickly! You - watch the girl! The rest of you - up those rooftops!”
The guard in the fanciest-looking helmet started barking orders and the rest of the 8-man patrol flew into
a frenzy. The leader and the ‘medic’ attended to the wounded thief, while a third one told Keira to sit by
and not make any sudden moves. The other five also deftly clambered up the walls, despite the heavy-
looking armor. They would return a few minutes later, carrying only the stranger’s discarded cloak and
mask, claiming he vanished into thin air when they thought they cornered him.
The would-be-thief, the catgirl and her pet box with teeth were then taken into custody and questioned.
Keira merely told the truth - she was walking home with her ‘friend’ when that guy tried to rob her. She
chased after him using her natural agility and Ranger Skills and confronted him in the alley. She was just
about to get stabbed when that mysterious figure appeared out of nowhere.
“So, you did not know the supposed thief?” asked the guard interrogating her.
“No. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
“Hmm… Alright, what about the man who intervened?”
“Same. He just dropped in out of nowhere and saved me. If it wasn’t for him…”
“Indeed, you’re lucky he showed up, otherwise you would have been seriously hurt.”
“Yeah… who was he, though? I owe him my life, so I would really love to show my gratitude!”
The adorable catgirl’s sincere demeanor made the soldier’s eyes swim for a bit. The effects of Boxxy’s
unseen Charisma (CHR) Attribute coupled with its attractive outward appearance meant that it was easy
to lull people into a false sense of security with the right attitude. This again was something that Snack
had demonstrated many times over the past month or so.
“... Look, officially we’re told not to deny his existence,” said the guard in a hushed tone, “but I think
that was the Sandman from the rumors.”
“Eh?! He’s real?!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down!”
“Ah! Right, of course. Thanks for sharing with me, mister guard!”
The radiant smile that was like a sunflower in full bloom made the middle-aged elf cough lightly in
embarrassment. The catgirl in front of him was so adorable that he found himself wanting to hug her, pat
her head and scratch her fuzzy ears. But he held himself back, for such behavior was unbecoming of a
married man, let alone a peacekeeper.
“W-well, just keep it between us, okay? My boss will yell at me if I he learned I went around saying
stuff like that. It’s just my personal opinion, that’s all!”
“You got it, mister guard! It’ll be our little secret!”
She gave the guard a small wink with a finger against her thin lips, making him almost unable to bear it.
This girl was downright dangerous, almost as if someone had weaponized cuteness itself. Which was,
more or less, the case.
Of course, the guard’s guess was both right and wrong at the same time. The truth was that the Mimic
had spotted the patrol approach from the opposite end of the street it was on. It was hard not to, given
their shiny suits of armor. That’s why it not only remained in character, but made sure to be as loud as
possible to attract their attention.
The mysterious figure that ‘saved’ Keira was simply the Doppelganger’s Mirror Image. It had been
instructed to take on the same disguise the monster used back in Erosa, supplanted with copious
amounts of Metal Mimicry to cover its body in armor-like chitin. It was a way to divert attention from
Keira and pin it onto the vigilante. It was the first time that ‘Mr Sandman’ had left any witnesses, which
meant that rumors about it would steadily grow.
And once those in power were more or less convinced it was a real entity, it would offer them its
services. It didn’t matter what country they were from, all politicians had under-the-table dealings with
unsavory elements. They would definitely need something done on the down low, and Boxxy would
take care of it for them. For a nominal fee, of course. After all, it was far easier to trust someone who
wanted money than someone who claimed to do things out of the goodness of their heart. And Boxxy
was most assuredly the former.
“In any event, we appreciate your assistance with this case, miss Morgana. Thank you for speaking with
us and we apologize you had to see the disgraceful side of Azurvale.”
The way this guard was speaking was as if Keira was a tourist or something. Well, he wasn’t entirely
wrong in that regard either.
“It’s okay, I understand. I’m also sorry I called you guys a bunch of worthless pigs when I got arrested
for defending myself a while back…”
“Haha! Then I guess we’re even now, huh?”
The two shared a short laugh and the guard escorted the ‘victim’ out of the large building that served as
both barracks and dungeon. Rowana was patiently waiting for her in the lobby with Minic, both of
whom were plainly glad she was alright. The elf scolded her a bit for being reckless while the animate
box sort of nuzzled affectionately against her ankles. Although it was far from sentient, Minic still
vaguely understood its life was saved.
Level Up, get!
Boxxy let off a tiny celebration in its mind as the couple and their new pet proceeded happily towards
their love nest. They got home without further incident, had a modest dinner of some type of vegetable
soup and performed their nightly dose of lovemaking and cuddling before Rowana fell asleep in Keira’s
arms. The catgirl waited a bit longer to make sure she was completely out of it, before wriggling out of
her arms and exchanging places with Xera through use of the Transfamiliar Spell. The succubus would
keep an eye on Rowana and make sure she didn’t wake up and notice Keira’s absence. Xera was under
orders to only use the Sleep Spell, and to avoid activating the Dreamweaver Skill unless absolutely
necessary. Repeated use of the Skill made it unreliable, and Boxxy didn’t want another repeat of Fizzy’s
attempted betrayal.
“‘Tis good to see thee again, milord,” said Ambrosia once Boxxy was back in its dungeon. The
overjoyed smile on her face made it seem like those were her honest, albeit twisted, feelings.
“Yeah, it’s good to be back” replied the Mimic as it transformed from its base Doppelganger shape into a
chest with spider legs.
It wasn’t sure why or how, but the Transfamiliar Spell forcefully undid its shapeshifting. If other
teleportation-type Spells had the same effect, then that might prove to be a big problem. After all, Elves
relied on these gigantic circular Forest Gates to transport goods and people across large distances in an
instant. Those could only be activated once every week and only for an hour at a time, and it was highly
likely that Boxxy would need to use them at some point. The fact that the use of those Gates use was
strictly regulated and supervised meant it couldn’t just test it out at its leisure, either. Then again, the
Beyond-derived Transfamiliar Spell supposedly worked on very different principles from regular Spatial
Magic, so it was perhaps a needless worry.
Putting its worries aside for the moment, the box began inspecting the workshop that Fizzy had set up
with the dungeon’s assistance. A large, rectangular room had been carved into the side of the tree
through Terrain Sculpting, and was easily accessible from the platform where the dungeon core resided.
It had only three walls, meaning there was no doorway or anything to separate the workshop from the
rest of the open space.
Inside it were a large stone furnace, three anvils of different make and material, a myriad of tools lined
the walls and a plethora of shelves, toolboxes and display cases stood vacant, ready to be filled with all
kinds of parts and mechanisms. There were also a long wooden table attached to the left wall, opposite
the furnace. This would probably serve as Fizzy’s workstation, and she had already gotten busy on
something, judging from the half-finished assembly that had been left lying around.
“Was all of this made through Item Allocation and Terrain Sculpting?” asked the Mimic.
“‘Tis so, milord. These tools and facilities were created and maintained through the core, although they
require a small amount of upkeep to keep them operational.”
“Hmm, I suppose that much is fine then. What about using dungeon-created materials to Level Up the
Job. Did Fizzy try that?”
“Indeed she did, milord. Unfortunately, it did not seem to be sufficient. ‘Tis the reason she is currently
away procuring materials at this time.
“Well, that was to be expected.”
Temporary things born of pure mana did not provide a permanent boost to one’s Job or Skill Levels. It
was a sort of unwritten rule of this world. Using magically-created tools was probably okay though, just
so long as the original materials used in the manufacturing process came from outside the dungeon.
“Oh! That reminds me, I hath some more good news regarding milady Fizzy’s position, milord,” said
Ambrosia with a bit of enthusiasm. “Thine servant hath discovered the dungeon is capable of creating a
Bracelet of Allegiance, a magical item that identifies anyone who wears it as a friend to the dungeon. I
hath taken the liberty of preparing one for milady Fizzy upon her return.”
The dryad pointed towards a small pedestal that stood just outside the magically-created Artificer
workshop. On it was a thin steel bangle that had a tiny, glowing gem embedded into it. It almost looked
like it was a miniature version of the dungeon core.
“I see! This is very good!”
It would most likely vanish into nothingness if it were taken out of the dungeon’s sphere of influence,
but it meant that it would not regard the golem as a hostile while she wore it.
“Hm? Where’s Arms?”
“Thy many-limbed servant is currently assisting this one. I hath found a small nest of pests that hath
burrowed themselves into mine bark, and she is currently evicting them.”
“... These ‘pests’ are termites and not elves, right?”
“Of course, milord. This one would rather not harm the favored of Nyrie if it could be avoided. They art
responsible for carrying this one’s fruits and seeds throughout the land and raising mine offspring in
safety. In return I provide them with shelter and nourishment. ‘Tis a symbiotic relationship, though I do
wish they would refrain from peeling at mine bark so much.”
“Okay, that’s good.”
The last thing the Mimic wanted was to have authorities start investigating this tree’s interior because
some people went missing.
“What if they came into the dungeon portion of your body?”
“Then this one would ask them to leave. Or force them to if they refused.”
“That’s naive, Ambrosia!”
“It is?”
“Dungeons are known to hold valuables and treasures! If word got out that your body had become one,
it would lead to all sorts of greedy individuals attacking the dungeon in an attempt to plunder its riches!
You wouldn’t want that, right?”
“Heavens no, milord! Just the thought of that happening is… extremely unpleasant. Then, what doth
milord suggest I do with such miscreants?”
“Capture them alive and prevent them from leaving here. You should be able to do that much without
relying on Prison Management, yes?”
“‘Tis so, milord. I can imprison them in cages made of mine roots and branches and sustain them with
mine fruits for as long as need be. But, what would that accomplish? Surely ‘tis better to just kill them
and use them as fertilizer, no?”
“That is also naive! The absence of certain people is sure to be noticed, which would mean those elves
would send even more people to investigate their disappearance. The end result would be no different
than simply letting them go.”
“Ah! ‘Tis verily so!”
“But worry not, for Snack and I are on your side! We’ll be sure to handle those intruders in a way that
will not draw attention to this place! If they’re unimportant and will not be missed, they will be eaten. If
they are regular citizens or people of importance, then we can tamper with their memory or cover up this
place’s existence in some other way.”
“I see! Milord’s wisdom belies thy age! I shalt engrave thy words unto mine heartwood.”
Ambrosia took a deep bow while her emerald-green eyes shone with respect. As expected, she was
completely oblivious to the relationships between dungeons and adventurers, so Boxxy wanted to make
a good impression on her. It was a sort of insurance should the dungeon core’s influence weaken in the
future. Should the dryad reclaim her wits, then she will have memories of being treated as a partner
rather than a slave, which would probably be enough to douse her ire.
Come to think of it, why did dungeons exist in the first place? There were honestly very little benefits to
the owner beyond making it a safe place to live in. So then how come dungeons seem to invite and
tempt others into them? Was it because the vast majority of these places seemed to be controlled by one
God or another?
Thinking back to the Ishigar Dungeon Complex, that place was definitely made for the enjoyment of the
Goddess of Improbabilities. The fact she immediately contacted Boxxy and offered to make it the
dungeon master showed she was actively keeping an eye on things through the Surveillance Net. And
yet the Spire of the Jade King was far less responsive, suggesting the owner in question had a lot less
interest in the place. It was therefore logical that owning a dungeon was not a vital thing for those
deities. Perhaps dungeons were simply a means through which to test the resolve and mettle of mortals?
Something like ‘prove you are worthy and claim the power you deserve’ type of thing?
Well, one thing was for sure - Boxxy would definitely not reward any invaders for breaking into its
house and robbing it blind. In fact, now that Fizzy would be seen as the dungeon’s ally, it could fill the
place with even more traps. It was particularly looking forward to the Exploding Treasure Chest it could
build through Trap Management. Not to mention the anti-air countermeasures it installed all over this
chasm last night.
“Arms, are you still busy cleaning out that termite nest?”
“Hey, Boss! Yeah, I am! It’s taking longer than I thought, but I’m almost done!”
Kora lacked Xera’s wide-area fire magic, so she was probably doing it the old fashioned way. Both her
Berserker and Fiend Jobs made her extremely well suited to crushing many little things in rapid
succession, so she was probably having a blast. Especially since her Violent Meditation Skill allowed
her to recover a tiny bit of MP whenever she hit something, allowing her to use her Skills and Martial
Arts a lot more often.
And while she was scarily effective against many squishy targets like that, she was no less capable of
taking down tough, armored opponents. Well, not since she got her Resonating Blows Skill. Using that,
she could send destructive shockwaves that penetrated an opponent’s defenses and ripped their insides to
shreds. They were strong enough to rattle even Fizzy’s highly durable mithril frame. Well, provided she
actually got a good hit on her. That golem had gotten scarily good at avoiding and deflecting attacks like
that.
Overall, Boxxy was superbly pleased with the progress of all of its minions. Which is why it was really
looking forward to what was about to happen next.
“Meet me at the highest point of dungeon with Nexus Access when you’re done,” it commanded.
“You got it, boss!” replied the fiend with more than a little enthusiasm. “We’re doing the thing, tonight,
right?!”
Tonight was the night of the Lunar Convergence where all three moons would be visible in the sky. It
was time to see whether this Unholy Wealth thing was all that it was cracked up to be, and it was a fairly
reasonable assumption that completing it would earn it that last chunk of Demonology Proficiency it
need to hit Level 8 and obtain its third familiar.
But first, it would have to do something about the hitchhiker that had been affectionately rubbing onto
Keira’s leg while she was busy concentrating on the Transfamiliar Spell-
“Yip yip!”
-and had gotten transported into the dungeon by accident.
Boxxy stared inquisitively at the slightly hyperactive Minic. The little guy had no idea who or what was
going on, and seemed genuinely excited about its new owner’s current chesty disposition. It was frankly
a miracle nothing strange happened to it from the after-effects of the Transfamiliar Spell. Stranger still
was the notion that the Spell in question could be used to transport multiple living things at the same
time. Who knows? It may prove useful in the future, so it was definitely good to know.
There was another worrying aspect, though. Boxxy genuinely failed to realize its presence at first.
Perhaps it was the scenario where people would ignore the ants underfoot? No, come to think of it, the
dryad seemed strangely okay with this intruder, didn’t she?
“Ambrosia,” it called out, “why didn’t you react to this creature?”
“What doth thy mean, milord?” asked the dumbfounded dryad. “‘Tis one of thy servants, is it not?”
“Well, it is, but shouldn’t you be more concerned with a new intruder?”
“... Hmm, thou makes a good point. ‘Tis most bizarre now that I think of it. While this creature is
undoubtedly an invader, I find myself unwilling to harm it. Almost as if- No, I am certain. This creature
was definitely carved from mine timber.”
That would certainly explain things. A dungeon core’s idle compulsion would not be enough to
overwrite the most basic of instincts - that of self-preservation. It may be able to do that on a mindless
creature, but this dryad was anything but. Meaning that if she saw Minic as a part of her body, then she
would avoid harming it unless absolutely necessary. This realization also brought to light the fact that
this thing was made out of actual, living wood rather than malleable shapeshifter flesh. Almost as if it
were a golem or treant. The material was just so natural that Boxxy didn’t even give it a second thought.
Perhaps this mini-mimic had some sort of Skill or ability that let it escape one’s notice? It certainly
seemed easy to ignore.
Actually, this was a good opportunity. The dungeon core’s Surveillance Net could perform an Invader
Analysis - something halfway between a Basic Appraisal and a full one. Though it wouldn’t reveal
Skills or Perks, it was still enough to gauge a living being’s strength. The Mimic hurriedly brought up
the relevant screens and menus, and activated the function in question. Minic seemed to sense something
was going on, as it jumped a bit in surprise with a high-pitched “Yip!” but didn’t do much beyond that.
Mere seconds later, Boxxy was given a bizarre Status screen.
Name Minic Name Value Name Level Progress
Species House Mimic STR 25 Doppelganger 2 MAX
Sex N/A DEX 25 Mimic 2 MAX
Age 462 years AGI 25 Demonspawn 5 MAX
Owner Household of Tol-Saroth END 50
HP 275/275 (+0.5/sec) LCK 2,048
MP N/A
One thing was abundantly clear - this creature was clearly one of the original House Mimics made by
Tol-Saroth. Judging from this Status, it had been created through some sort of fusion between a
Doppelganger and a demon, and was quite a bit tougher than it appeared. However, the lack of INT and
WIS and that truly outrageous LCK Attribute hinted at an untellable tale of hardship. The fact this
creature had survived 4 and a half centuries while working off nothing more than instincts and dumb
luck alone was... incredible, to say the least. It also put into question exactly how much of a lifespan
mimics and doppelgangers actually had, though this creature’s longevity was most likely due to the
demonic influence it carried.
Another thing that was obvious was that Minic truly lacked the capacity of comprehending its
surroundings as anything more complex than ‘tasty things’ and ‘safe things.’ Meaning it was probably
safe to keep looking after it. Even if it somehow understood Keira and Boxxy’s secret, it completely
lacked the ability to actually communicate such a thing. It was quite literally physically incapable of
spilling the beans. Also, it was still quite shiny.
“Ambrosia, can you keep Minic here company for a while?”
“It would be mine pleasure, milord.”
She bent down and picked up the animate jewelry box, which immediately nuzzled itself between her
breasts. Come to think of it, it did that a lot with Rowana and Lia, but not so much with Keira. Well, it
would be hard for Boxxy to fault it for a love of chests, but that was clearly the wrong type of chest it
had in mind. Still, at least it wouldn’t get in the way of what was to come.
Using Nexus Access, Boxxy was instantly transported to the highest point of the dungeon. It was still
within the tree, so it used Terrain Sculpting to make its way out of it, much like before. It broke through
the bark, and found itself standing in the lush canopy of the Hylt tree. The outrageously sized branches
and leaves blocked out the view of the night sky, and an unobstructed line of sight to all three moons
was a necessary component of the ritual. It therefore started climbing upward, until it reached a suitable
place where there were no leaves overhead, and a relatively flat branch was underfoot. The world’s three
moons - Yoitis, Laopra and Tascuna - were all visible in the night sky, making the monster’s
surroundings nearly as bright as daylight.
“Boss, I’m done with the termites,” came Kora’s timely report. “I’m on my way to- Ah, you’re out of
the dungeon! I can’t get to you with Nexus Access!”
“That’s okay, I’ll just re-summon you.”
It didn’t plan on wasting MP for that, but it couldn’t be helped. After dismissing and calling back Kora
to its side, it started preparing for the long-awaited Unholy Wealth ritual, although with a bit of
apprehension. It was still sure to have some catch to it, as most demon-related things did, but the
knowledge from Demonology clearly stated that this particular ceremony would call forth an object
rather than a creature. How bad could a non-sentient item really be, right?
Boxxy had of course tried asking its familiars if they knew anything about it, but they only shook their
heads. Perhaps that Beholder it met weeks ago might know, but it was far too late to go looking for it.
Besides, there’s no way it would just cooperate with a mortal unless ordered to, so it was a pointless
effort from the get-go.
The Mimic reached into its Storage and started pulling out all of the ingredients and tools necessary for
this ceremony. They consisted of a single Elixir of Avarice, an Alchemist's mortar and pestle set that
appeared to be made out of white marble, a single 6-centimeter long mithril nail, a small hammer, 5 gold
coins, a plain wooden goblet carved out of oak, a Pure Pearl that had been tainted by demonic essence
and a Midnight Ruby.
Well, there was one problem, actually. The ‘tainted’ Pure Pearl had returned to its white, clean state over
the long months it had sat idly by inside the monster’s Storage, which was why Boxxy needed Kora’s
assistance. It handed her the gemstone, and told her to infuse it with her essence. The fiend didn’t quite
understand at first, but Boxxy explained she just had to have it in her body and focus her mana on it. The
fiend then popped the thing in her mouth and rolled it around a bit on her tongue while thinking really
hard about it.
Her master, in the meantime, took the Midnight Ruby and started crushing it using the mortar and pestle.
The specially designed tool seemed to have some sort of effect on the gem, seeing as how the monster
could crush the red gemstone without any difficulty. It was almost as if the precious stone crumbled on
its own with even the slightest push of the white pestle. It still took 15 minutes to reduce it into the right
consistency necessary for the ritual. Satisfied with the results, it carefully dumped the sparkling fine
powder into the goblet, making sure the shiny dust didn’t scatter too much in the wind.
“Arms, are you done yet?”
“Dunno, lemme shee!”
Kora spit out the once-white Pure Pearl onto her hand to reveal it had been properly dyed black once
more.
“This is good,” declared Boxxy while taking it from her.

It briefly thought back on when it first obtained this reagent, wondering exactly why Snack had used her
genitals to perform this act. Surely it was unnecessary, right? Well, it was an unimportant distraction, so
the monster merely brushed it off as ‘Snack being Snack.’ Now that it had the re-corrupted pearl in its
tentacles, it set it down on the wooden branch and pressed the tip of the mithril nail over it. It then
gripped the hammer with a third appendage and firmly tapped the nail’s head several times.
The pitch-black pearl was pierced and cracks spread through it. However, rather than fall apart like
glass, it actually held itself together quite well. The insides, as it would appear, were actually filled with
some gooey, viscous substance and the outer shell was surprisingly thin, almost like a sort of egg rather
than a crystal bead. After confirming that everything was going as expected, the Mimic drove the mithril
nail clean through the magical gemstone, puncturing it completely and causing an unidentifiable black
liquid to drip out of it. Boxxy hurriedly put the skewered pearl into the wooden goblet, where its juices
slowly began mixing with the pulverized Midnight Ruby.
The monster then arranged the 5 gold coins into a small pentagram and placed the simple cup right in
the middle of it. Finally, it reached over and grabbed the bottle of Elixir of Avarice it had bought off an
alchemist back in Erosa. This orange-colored magic potion supposedly allowed its user to literally sniff
out any and all gold within 15 meters for a day. Boxxy didn’t need this silly thing for itself since its
magical perception was already more than capable of doing that, so it unhesitantly poured the contents
of the bottle into the wooden goblet.
The orange-tinted liquid was quickly dyed blood-red by the powdered Midnight Ruby and started
hissing ominously. The punctured pearl then floated just beneath the surface of the concoction, despite it
being way too heavy to do so under normal circumstances. Boxxy shifted back into its ‘Chester
Underwood’ persona for a moment, as the ritual required a humanoid appearance to complete
successfully. Well, it could’ve used Keira’s form to do it, but it wanted to avoid tipping someone off on
the off chance it was being monitored somehow.
And now that the ritual site was properly set up, it deftly grabbed the mithril nail that was sticking out of
the floating pearl and began slowly stirring the mixture with it while chanting.
“Suspendisse vitae maximus augue, eget porta ante. Nulla eget justo facilisis, sagittis massa in, euismod
leo.”
The make-believe elf’s voice carried itself clearly through the otherwise quiet night. It was a good thing
there was nobody who lived within almost a kilometer of its current position, otherwise someone would
definitely notice its antics.
“Curabitur hendrerit libero quis mi finibus, a venenatis neque tincidunt. Pellentesque eleifend efficitur
pulvinar.”
The pure-white metal nail and pitch-black pearl both turned a deep crimson as they soaked up part of the
liquid they were floating in.
“Aenean hendrerit dictum maximus.”
Boxxy let go of the skewered jewel, which continued to make circular motions all on its own, and then
stood up from its kneeling position.
“Suspendisse potenti Yoitis! Suspendisse potenti Laopra! Suspendisse potenti Tascuna!”
It lifted its head and arms towards the sky while shouting, as if begging each of the moons for a favor in
turn.
“Cras eget mauris vulputate, bibendum sem sit amet, elementum felis!”
The five gold coins started vibrating and glowing with a bright yellow light while the skewered Pure
Pearl levitated a few centimeters into the air. It had absorbed all of the liquid from the goblet and was
glowing with an intense, bright-red light.
“Unc metus ullamcorper libero! Quis bibendum tortor urna nec orci!”
Boxxy felt the hair on its head stand on end along with an odd sense of dread, but the monster yelled out
the last two words of the chant before it could process the significance of this peculiar sensation.
“Divitias eligo!”
*KRAKAKOOOOOM*
“Herpaglurgen!”
A bolt of lightning struck the wooden goblet out of nowhere, causing Boxxy to leap out of the way with
all its might while letting out a weird noise. It very nearly fell of the branch it was on, and had to shift
back into its spider-legged chesty form in order to cling onto the sides of it.
“Boss, you okay down there?!” shouted Kora from somewhere above.
“Nobody told me there would be lightning involved!” yelled Boxxy. “I’ll die for sure if I get hit by that!
What the fuuuuck?! Why do these retarded rituals always try to kill me?!”
The monster let off a rather uncharacteristic string of complaints as it climbed up the side of the branch
and back to where it was mere moments ago.
“I think that’s sort of the point, boss,” said Kora with a mocking smile on her face.
Her Master graciously ignored her unflattering tone and pointed its attention towards the place that
mystical bolt of lightning had struck. The sturdy Ironbark-covered branch been charred black, a
testament to that thunderbolt’s power. The wooden goblet, gold coins and thoroughly expensive mixture
had apparently fused together into a solid gold cup that looked shiny beyond belief.
A row of glowing red runes had been etched alongside its rim, while the rest of the vessel was covered
in intricate golden carvings. They swirled, swiveled and wrapped around its surface seemingly at
random with no beginning or end. A total of 12 black opal-shaped gems were evenly spaced out around
its shining surface, while the inside of the goblet was coated by an off-white metal with a slight green
hue to it. It held a dark red liquid that was oddly reminiscent of blood in its coloration.
And this item’s name, although unknown to Boxxy at the time, was Profanus Gloria.
“...”
The Mimic stared at it intently, feeling a rather ominous aura coming from the object.
“Arms, does that shiny thing look cursed to you?”
Kora took a few steps forward and crouched down to get a better look. Her face twisted in confusion,
but ultimately she couldn’t tell.
“No idea. Sorry, boss. This is more that cock-gobbler’s thing.”
“I see.”
However, Boxxy was more or less convinced there was a curse, as the magic oozing from it was foul
and thoroughly un-tasty, very similar to how Fizzy’s gauntlet was before she put it on. Although the
curse seems to have mostly dissipated from it since then, the sensation it used to give off was almost
identical to this goblet.
It was the ‘almost’ part that gave Boxxy pause. Looking at it closer, it would appear that the source of
the curse was not the goblet itself, but the strange liquid it held. However, as the Mimic got closer, it
found itself overcome with a very peculiar urge to drink the stuff in one go. That was clearly a bad idea,
and yet its body yearned, craved for it.
“Uhm, boss?” said Kora while swallowing her saliva. “Can I get a sip of that?”
It would appear the fiend was no less influenced by this thing. Well, this was a good opportunity to test
its effects, so the monster would allow her to-
“No! It’s mine!” it shouted suddenly.
The fiend’s face became twisted with rage when she heard them. It’s a good thing the contract was in
place, otherwise Boxxy would definitely have been attacked right now. The worst part of this scenario,
however, was that those words were not its own.
“This delicious thing is all mine I tell you!”
It was extremely strange. No matter how much it tried, the wrong words kept coming out. Almost as if
someone or something else was putting those words into its mouth. It was probably some strange effect
of the curse itself, which demanded it be consumed post-haste. Quite the powerful effect considering
both Boxxy and Kora had quite formidable MNT Attributes.
Of course, this whole thing was obviously a trap of some sort, so Boxxy had no intention of actually
giving into those urges. It wanted Kora to drink up first and serve as a test subject, but it had no idea
how to tell her. Ah, perhaps the telepathic link might work?
“Ignore what I said earlier and drink up.”
Looks like it did.

“Don’t mind if I do!” said Kora with a wide smile while licking her lips.
The fiend eagerly picked up the small gilded cup with both hands. It was quite hot to the touch -
unsurprising considering this object had been created in a flash of lightning less than a minute ago. She
placed the rim of the goblet against her mouth and tilted it so that the blood-like liquid flowed into it.
The strange substance seemingly sprang to life the instant it touched her lips, and every last drop of it
forced itself down her throat in an instant. She coughed violently at the sudden oral invasion and
instinctively grabbed her throat, letting the goblet fall to the ground with a metallic clatter in the process.
Her entire consciousness was suddenly enveloped by a searing pain that flared up across her entire body
all at once. It overtook her in a flash, snuffing her life out before she even got a chance to scream.
Boxxy stared curiously at the body of its familiar that was still standing upright. The fact this cursed
liquid appeared to be poisonous was hardly surprising considering the ‘Unholy’ part of the ritual, but it
wondered how any of this could be considered ‘Wealth.’ That was when the demon’s flesh started
crumbling away, falling off her body in small bits and disappearing into nothingness before it even hit
the ground. Several seconds later, Boxxy was made witness to the true effects of this curse.
For when all of Kora’s skin and flesh had fallen off, all that was left of her place was a glittering, golden
skeleton. The Mimic stared reverently at the macabre sculpture, captivated by its esoteric beauty. But
alas, as something born of mana, the transformed skeleton ended up crumbling into bits and
disappearing, leaving behind little more than a memory.
“FUUUCK!”
The monster cussed in frustration. It was really starting to get sick of all these disappearing shinies. First
there was that wonderful treasure chest and now this strangely alluring golden skeleton. It knew why it
had happened, but that didn’t make the event any less unpleasant. Deciding it wanted a permanent
golden skeleton, the monster turned its attention to the shiny cup Arms had dropped earlier. Not only did
it not roll off the branch, but the cursed object had stood upright all on its own almost immediately after
Kora dropped it. Not only that, but it had already refilled itself with the same cursed liquid that killed
her.
Boxxy went up to the goblet and carefully picked it up. It felt an even stronger urge to chug the clearly
deadly poison substance, but held itself back since it had seen its devastating effects firsthand. This thing
turned bones to gold, and Boxxy, as a Doppelganger, did have a skeletal structure of its own. One that
could be shifted around to a rather extreme degree, but a skeletal structure nonetheless.
Checking on its Demonology Skill, it realized it was currently at 96% of the way to Level 8. So close,
and yet so far. Perhaps, as a product of the Demonology Skill, this cursed cup would provide it with the
final bit of needed proficiency? Deciding it was worth the try, the Mimic leapt resolutely off the branch
it was standing on and fell like a rock. It realized too late that it was holding a vessel with a liquid in it,
but to its surprise the poisonous gunk did not leave the confines of the goblet. It was as if a transparent
film was keeping it inside, no matter how much it sloshed around due to the extreme movements of the
one holding it. In other words, the only way to drain this liquid from its container, was to drink it.
After falling for a while, Boxxy opened up a quartet of bat-like wings and directed its descent to a
specific building on one of the upper branches of the Hylt tree it called home. The structure in question
was an old, dilapidated warehouse the Mimic had scouted out earlier. It was the kind of place homeless
bums might squat in. Even if the Republic was much better at taking care of the poor and downtrodden
than the Empire, some people would eventually fall through the cracks, as it were. And those people
would serve as perfect fodder for a certain murderous box’s magical experiments.
The monster landed quietly on the sloped roof and peeked inside through a hole in it. Sure enough, it
saw a trio of unfortunate elves that were huddled around a small metal bin that was on fire. Boxxy
quickly moved in and relieved two of them of their worthless lives, while holding down the third one
under its many-tentacled mass. The male elf struggled and tried to scream, but his protests were expertly
restrained and muffled by the experienced man-handler.
The Mimic then brought forth the cursed item and the elf instantly stopped his struggling. His eye shone
with a dangerous, almost lustful light as he beheld its glory. As expected, those with a low or non-
existent MNT Attribute were even more susceptible to this thing’s influence than Boxxy or Kora. The
homeless man in question was proof enough of that, as he was obviously more interested in drinking
from the shiny cup rather than preserve his own life. Well, the former was the whole reason Boxxy came
down here, so not only did it let him drink - it practically force-fed him the contents of that gilded
goblet.
The man let out a gurgled scream and clawed at his chest, then stopped moving entirely. The molten
gold tears that poured out of his unmoving eyes and the shining teeth in his mouth revealed that the
Unholy Wealth had taken effect. Looking inside his body, Boxxy was also able to confirm his bones had
turned into the same metal it coveted so.
Finally! Not only did Boxxy obtain a way to get more shiny things, but it had also-
You have violated the taboo of Goroth and incurred the wrath of the gods!
A special action has been performed. FTH -20.
Proficiency level increased. Taboo is now Level 1.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Blasphemous Hero.
-royally screwed itself.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Boxxy let off a non-stop torrent of swearing as it ran around in a circle like a chicken with its head cut
off. After about half a minute of this, it realized this behavior wasn’t particularly constructive and
stopped to assess its situation. If there was ever a time to lose its cool and freak out, it was most
definitely now. However, this was most clearly not the place. It was still inside an abandoned warehouse,
next to three corpses, where a night patrol might come to investigate.
It hurriedly tossed the one with the golden skeleton inside its storage, gobbled up the other two and
thoroughly cleaned the crime scene, then stealthily left the building and crawled along the side of the
branch where very few prying eyes would be able to spot it. It reached the Hylt tree’s trunk and
proceeded to climb up it until it reached a smaller, uninhabited branch.
Okay, this was a good spot to weigh its options.
First of all, it had heard much of the Taboo Skill and its ill effects, so it knew it was going to throw a
major wrench in its plans to blend in with the elven adventuring community. Enlightened beings could
sense anyone with the Taboo Skill, and treated them with a general sense of distrust and disgust. There
were such individuals among the Maleficarum guild, namely Warlocks and Witches who had tapped into
some forbidden power or another. Such people were tolerated at best, but generally shunned and
ostracized by the elven community. It was not a position Boxxy wanted to be in, but reality disagreed
with it on that.
Well, since it had saddled itself with the Taboo Skill, it might as well check out its effects for itself.
Taboo
Description: The mark of those who have committed grave sins or have willingly gone
against the will of the Gods
Requirements: Negative FTH
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: You will be shunned by the pious
Increases the effectiveness of all forbidden practices and Spells by 10% per Level of this
Skill.
Beware the wrath of the gods!
More or less as expected. The fact it seemed to have a ‘benefit’ was a bit surprising, though. It now
made sense why certain individuals would willingly go further into Taboo. The reason Nasty’s undead
creatures and hexes were so potent might have been because she claimed her Taboo was at Level 7. Ah,
on second thought, it was actually a good thing she wasn’t around anymore, as a blasphemous existence
of that magnitude was bound to be a trouble magnet.
The question was how would one get rid of this? It should definitely be possible, and Boxxy
immediately realized a way to do it. Skills may not be used if the owner no longer meets their
Requirements. Therefore, if it no longer had ‘Negative FTH,’ then this Skill should lose its effects.
Come to think of it, the Skill itself did not inflict an Attribute change, but was brought on as a direct
result of one. Indeed, the blasphemous act Boxxy performed, though the perpetrator itself wasn’t quite
sure what it was, brought the monster’s current FTH Attribute from 18 to -2. In other words it only
needed to gain 2, possibly 3 points of FTH in order to rid itself of this stigma.
Boxxy was suddenly immensely thankful it absorbed that Divine Attunement Skill earlier, otherwise this
might have been a much more difficult thing to overcome. Well, Snack could cover for its absence for a
while, but it was still best if it could get this over with before dawn came. It just needed to think of how
it could do that.
Leveling up Doppelganger or any of the related Skills that boosted All Attributes was a painfully
obvious solution, but there was no way it could accomplish that before dawn. Perhaps seeking out a
Priest or Paladin trainer would be good? That Job would definitely provide an increase in FTH and
could easily be removed once the Doppelganger Job gained a few Levels. The Mimic honestly did not
want yet another Job to worry about, as it was already spending every waking moment one aspect of its
Status or another. Therefore, it would maliciously abuse its position as Hero and-
Wait, wasn’t there something else it got alongside Taboo?
Blasphemous Hero
Description: One who has betrayed the expectations of the Gods.
Requirements: Hero, Taboo
Effects: Hero Skills are disabled and cannot be used.
“FUUUUUUCK!”
This was bad. Really, really bad. So bad it almost made the Mimic want to vomit up those homeless
people. The main lynchpin of its infiltration operation, the sole thing that allowed it to integrate so fully
into elven society, was now gone. People trusted Appraisals to an almost outlandish degree. Why
wouldn’t they? It was a reliable magic that revealed one’s true colors, so being able to subvert that was
pretty much a free pass to do whatever the hell it pleased, within reason of course. As expected of a Skill
granted by the Gods, having Essence Concealment truly felt like cheating.
Well, it wasn’t foolproof. That Faehorn fellow seemed to have caught on that Keira was more than she
seemed, seeing as how he pulled that laughable ‘test’ of his. If his mock ambush truly came out of
nowhere, then Boxxy might have reacted as he expected. However, the Mimic’s magical perception
easily spotted the old elf’s odd behavior, so it was ready for it. After all, it wasn’t like it would die even
if Keira’s head was separated from the rest of her.
The Mimic realized it had gone off on a mental tangent, likely a subconscious effort to escape the reality
where it was royally screwed. Without being able to bypass Appraisal, it would be incredibly difficult to
maintain its fake life as an aspiring adventurer. Worst case scenario, it would have to abandon
civilization altogether, which would eliminate its main source of Doppelganger XP.
An intruder has entered your dungeon.
Wait, that was it!
Boxxy: Is the intruder that just entered Fizzy?

Ambrosia: ‘Tis so, milord.
Boxxy: Very good! Show her to the emergency exit I installed yesterday.
Ambrosia: Right away, milord.
Surely the Paladin would have some sort of solution for this. The Taboo Skill would put a momentary
strain on their relationship, but she had already pledged herself to Boxxy’s service so it would probably
be fine.
Hmm?
Come to think of it, wasn’t that dryad practically a divine being? Surely she would be the one most
disgusted with the Taboo Skill, right? Then how come she was acting as if nothing had happened? Was it
the core’s influence at work? Or did she simply not realize because the two hadn’t met box-to-face yet?
Boxxy decided it would be wise to ask her, though in a slightly roundabout way.
Boxxy: Ambrosia, what do you think of me?

Ambrosia: … What hath come over thee, milord?
Boxxy: Huh?
Ambrosia: ‘Tis the first time thou hath enquired after mine opinion.
Boxxy: There’s a first time for everything, right? So please, answer me as truthfully as you
can.
Ambrosia: If milord insists, then I shall oblige.
There was a brief pause, as the dryad was likely gathering her thoughts.
Ambrosia: This one believes milord Morningwood is an outstanding individual with

potential the likes of which I hath never seen.
Ambrosia: Thy insight and adaptability concerning the world at large are truly worthy of
praise.
Ambrosia: Milord also takes great care so as not to disrespect or harm mine body in any
way, for which this one is truly grateful.
Ambrosia: Thy generosity and kindness hath touched this old soul deeply, and I find myself
wishing to spend more time in thy company.
That was… not quite what Boxxy was expecting. Or rather, wasn’t that way too high of an opinion
considering they only met a few days ago? Not to mention that the Mimic was pretty sure it didn’t do
anything nearly as great or benevolent as she was describing. Then again, this attitude was likely due to
the dungeon core’s influence twisting her perception of events. This was still good news, however, as the
dryad seemed oblivious to the Mimic’s Taboo Skill for the moment. The Mimic really didn’t want to test
the limits of the dungeon core’s ability to keep an ancient being like Ambrosia in check, so it wanted to
keep its heretical inclinations a secret from her if at all possible.
The monster climbed up to the hidden entrance to its own dungeon and waited patiently for Fizzy to
arrive. The disguised door swung openly from the inside, and the mithril golem shone brilliantly under
the strands of moonlight poking through the Hylt tree’s canopy.
“Hey Boxxy!” she said in her cheerful tone. “What did- Ugh! Oh my God!”
Well, that didn’t last long. Her face twisted into a scowl as if she was staring at a disgusting cockroach
she wanted to squish at all costs. It was the same look she kept giving Nasty back when the lich was still
around.
“I… accidentally committed a Taboo,” admitted Boxxy.
“Ugh! Yeah I can feel that! Bob-almighty, what in the blazes did you do, Boxxy?!”
The Mimic then explained the events of its evening, starting with the ritual and ending with it obtaining
the Taboo Skill. Fizzy did her best to listen, but it was obvious she was having a hard time even looking
at Boxxy. It really was not a pleasant feeling for the Mimic.
“Yeah, I think I understand what happened,” she said while averting her gaze. “Transmuting something
into a valuable metal like gold or silver goes against the will of Goroth. Being the God of Earth, Artists
and Artisans means he values perseverance and hard work above all else. So something like perverting
minerals for easy gain really grinds his gears.”
She threw Boxxy a brief, disgusted look before turning away again.
“Also, it’s impossible to ‘accidentally’ commit a Taboo. You knew full well that man’s bones would turn
to gold when you did the deed.”
“I didn’t know Goroth would hate it though!”
“Not knowing a law doesn’t mean you’re exempt from it!”
“Well what about Arms? That guy was clearly okay with me shining her up, so what’s up with that?”
“She’s a demon though. I mean, it’s not like her skeleton stuck around after you made her drink, right?”
“... Okay, yeah, I see your point. Look, I need your help getting rid of it this Taboo Skill right away. It
should be possible, right?”
“Depends. How much in the negative are you? Your Faith Attribute, I mean”
“Minus 2.”
“Okay, that’s good. So long as it doesn’t go beyond negative 10 then it’s a relatively easy fix. Just to
make it clear - you do regret doing what you did, right?”
“Kind of. Mostly because of the Taboo Skill though…”
“Well, that should be good enough. So, stand still and let me take care of it, okay?”
“Okay.”
The gnome leaned over and put her hands on Boxxy’s frame, though her twitching fingers said she
would really rather not. She then closed her eyes and started speaking in a soft voice.
“Oh, merciful Gods! Behold this poor child who ignored Your will! It has ventured into sin out of
ignorance and curiosity, and has unwittingly violated Your most sacred decrees. It has expressed the
desire to repent in both mind and body, and solemnly swears to uphold Your values forever more! Your
servant begs you, forgive this lost soul for its heretical actions!”
A soft, white radiance flowed out from the gnome’s body, ran across her arms and flowed into Boxxy’s
faux-wood frame.
“Absolution!”
A pious servant of the Gods has absolved you of your grievous sins.
A special action has been performed. FTH +5.
Proficiency level decreased. Taboo is no longer available.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Seeker of Redemption.
The Blasphemous Hero Perk has been removed since you no longer meet the required
conditions.
The golem let out a small sigh and opened her eyes. Her face instantly slackened to her regular smiling
expression.
“All done,” she declared.
Boxxy quickly checked its Status - just in case - and was relieved to find that all off the offensive entries
were gone, and its FTH Attribute was at a healthy +3.
“Wow, that was easy!” it exclaimed in surprise.
That brief ceremony was much more convenient than temporarily picking up the Paladin Job from Fizzy.
As for Seeker of Redemption, the Perk had absolutely no effects whatsoever, and merely served as a
‘badge of honor’ for those who turned their backs on Taboo. Honestly speaking though, Boxxy preferred
it doing nothing. It was rapidly starting to learn that Perks were sometimes more trouble than they were
worth.
“Thanks, Fizzy!” it said, clearly in a good mood. “I’ll be counting on you the next time, too!”
“Oh no! No no no no no!” shouted Fizzy while waving her hands around. “Don’t even think about using
that Unholy Wealth thing again! Absolution is not a Spell that can be used lightly! It drains away my
own FTH Attribute to cast it, you know! Not to mention it will only work two or three times per
person!”
Forgiveness, it would seem, was a very finite resource.
“I see. I guess it can’t be helped then.”

The monster regretfully put away the cursed goblet it was holding in its Storage and gave up on using it
for the foreseeable future.
“What about the guy I already transmuted?” it asked a moment later.
“... I don’t know to be honest. Trying to profit off his golden bones might trigger another Taboo
violation.”
“I’m not going to sell them though. I just want to add his skeleton to my collection.”
“Right, hmm… I’ll have to ask the guys at the guild later, so don’t do anything rash before that, okay?”
“Alright. Wait, guild? You joined one?”
“Yeah, the Hammers of Horkensaft. Many people in that artisan’s guild worship Goroth so there’s a
chance some of them might know something about it.”
“And you have no problems blending in?”
“None at all! They’ve never seen an Arclight Artificer before, so they’re really interested in my work!
Plus, they’re mostly dwarves or gnomes, so my glorious mithril frame makes me quite popular!”
Boxxy felt like it understood those shorties completely. Fizzy’s shininess was truly breathtaking at times,
so their reaction was understandable. Come to think of it, dwarves seemed to enjoy shiny things almost
as much as Boxxy did. It might be good to get better acquainted with them later, mostly to see if they
had anything shiny worth stealing. Coins and gemstones were well and good, but it really wanted
statuettes or decorative armor, too. Variety was, after all, the spice of life.
With the Taboo crisis swiftly averted, it went back into the dungeon and moved to the dungeon core
platform with Fizzy in tow. Ambrosia had been patiently waiting for Boxxy’s return while still hanging
onto Minic. Now that she had the chance, she presented the gnome the Bracelet of Allegiance she had
prepared in advance, which was graciously accepted. The dryad’s expression became slightly more
relaxed the instant Fizzy put the simple-looking bracelet on her right wrist. As expected, Ambrosia did
feel a bit uneasy around invaders in her dungeon, even if they were ‘milord’s servants.’
And now was the long-awaited moment, the one the Mimic had been looking forward to for almost
literally half its life. It was time to obtain the third familiar.
1-800-7355-9687-7685
*Beep ... Beep*
*Click*
“You have reached Demons ‘R’ Us,” came the textbook greeting, although that smooth, silky, almost
sensual voice was not one Boxxy had ever heard before.
“My name is Janet and I will be your liaison for today.”

Yeah okay, that definitely wasn’t who the Mimic was expecting.
“Hello?” asked Janet, clearly not expecting the sudden silence.
“Where’s Carl?”
“I’m sorry sir, but- Oh. OH!? Oh my god! Is this B-Boxxy?!”
“It is.”
“The Boxxy T. Morningwood?!”
“Yes?”
“Oh wow! This! Is! So! Cool! I am a huge fan of your work!”
“Uh… okay?”
“I mean it! I loved every single thing I’ve seen you do! Though I think my personal favorite was the way
you smashed that Jade King fellow or whatever his face was! Like, he didn’t even get a chance to show
off before you annihilated him! It was amazing! Oh damn, the girls are never going to believe I got to
speak with the Hero of Chaos!”
“.... So where’s Carl?” asked Boxxy, making sure to make the irritation clear in its tone.
“Oh who care about Carl?! Let’s talk about you!”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“No! Mister Morningwood, sir! Please wa-”
*Click*
Okay. That was weird. Today has just been one surprise after the other, hasn’t it? Well, the past week
was pretty dull, so a little excitement every now and then wasn’t a bad thing, but this was too much.
Whoever that woman was, it didn’t seem like-
*Ring-ring*
Demons ‘R’ Us called Boxxy back a few seconds later. Remembering the promise it made with Carl,
Boxxy replied immediately.
*Click*
“Hello?”
“Hey buddy!”
“Carl! Finally! You would not believe how rude that other person was!”
“Yeah, tell me about it! Look, I’m sorry you had to hear that. It’s just that we’ve been a bit swamped
lately so we had to get in some inexperienced demons to help out around the place. Jarogib- I mean,
Janet’s demeanor was completely unprofessional. I give you my personal guarantee you won’t be
connected to anyone other than me ever again.”
“Good enough for me.”
“So, what can I help you with today, Boxxy?”
Well, the original purpose was to obtain its third demonic contract as a result of reaching Level 8 of its
Demonology Skill. However, a more pressing question was on Boxxy’s mind right now.
“Before that I would like to clarify something.”
“I’ll do my best to answer any and all concerns you may have.”
“How come Janet knew everything I was doing?”
It sounded like she’d been made privy to Boxxy’s entire life. It wasn’t just her, either, as Carl seemed to
know more about what was going on with the Mimic than he should. Overlord Liusolra’s note was also
written in a strangely casual and familiar tone.
“That’s probably your familiars’ fault. They brag incessantly you know.”
“Carl. You’re bullshitting me right now.”
“... Yeah okay. You were bound to find out eventually, so I might as well tell you. You know how the
boss is keeping tabs on you, right?”
“You mean the God of Chaos?”
“Yeah, him. He keeps a very close eye on everything you’re doing, purely for entertainment purposes.”
“I’m aware of that. What of it?”
“So… He thought it would be a laugh if he… shared your adventures with the rest of us.”
“... Are those the ‘broadcasts’ you mentioned awhile back?”
“Yes.”
“So he’s been showing what I do to everyone at Demons ‘R’ Us?”
“... That’s one way of putting it.”
“It’s not just those who work at Demons ‘R’ Us, is it?”
“No.”
Boxxy took a deep breath.
“How many?”
“Well, it’s hard to get an accurate number on account of-”
“How many demons, Carl?!”
“... All of them.”
“All of them?! You’re saying every single demon out there knows what I’ve been up to?!”
“Pretty much…”
“Since when?!”
“Ever since you became a Hero. Although, there are reruns while you sleep so… we’ve seen pretty
much everything since the Monotal thing.”
“Well... Do you guys have to watch me?”
“No, not really. We can tune out the Progenitor’s broadcasts of the Boxxy Show if we wish. It’s just that
we have literally nothing better to do over here…”
“... Can they see me right now?”
“Oh yeah. I can actually see you in the corner of my mind as we speak. You’re just sort of sitting there in
the tree, doing nothing in particular.”
“What about this conversation?”
“Demons ‘R’ Us considers contracts a private matter, so you can be assured this call isn’t part of the
broadcast. We can still hear you when you speak aloud though.”
“You could’ve told me about this sooner, you know.“
“What, and ruin the fun?”
Boxxy took a few moments to process the demon’s words. It analyzed their implications and decided on
a course of action.
“Say Carl, am I popular over there?”
“Oh, immensely so!”
“Then… it’s okay if I take a few minutes to address my audience, right?”

“Uhm, I suppose so? You can do whatever you damn well please, you know. That’s what makes this
whole thing so interesting!”
“Good. That’s good.”
The chest-shaped Boxxy told Ambrosia and Fizzy to sit tight for a moment as it used Nexus Access to
return to the highest point in the dungeon. It then climbed back up to the site where the Unholy Wealth
ritual took place and reverted into its base Doppelganger form. It stared intently at a random point in the
horizon for a few seconds, and then its featureless face split open like a fleshy book filled with teeth.
“Hello, demons and demonesses,” it stated in a clear, commanding voice. “In case some of you have not
realized, there is currently an opening for the position of my third contracted familiar. I will be finalizing
said contract in three hours’ time. If any of you think you have what it takes to fulfill that role, then
please contact Carl from Demons ‘R’ Us with your application and demand it be suggested to me.”
It then tilted its head slightly and showed a toothy, sideways smile.
“I trust the best of you will not back down in the face of your clearly inferior competitors.”
Of course, there was nobody around in the dead of night to actually answer Boxxy’s provocative words-
“What the hell, Boxxy?!”
-except for a certain demon who was still on the line.
“Why did you just do that?! You could’ve just done the contract the usual way, right?!”
“Oh I plan to. In three hours, that is.”
“So let the others know immediately and call off this farce! I’ve already got 40 demons trying to reach
me!”
“What?” replied the Mimic in a mocking tone. “And ruin the fun?”
“Gotta admit Boxxy, you got balls,” said Carl over the cross-dimensional telepathic line. “Very few
Warlocks would be willing to try pulling a prank like that.”
It was now the promised three hours after Boxxy’s ‘application declaration.’ And while the Mimic spent
that time by alternating between Artificer practice with Fizzy and having fun with its collection of
shinies, Carl had to deal with hundreds, possibly thousands of calls from selfish demons who probably
did not take no for an answer.
“Just getting a bit of payback for that ‘Boxxy Show’ thing,” replied the Mimic.
“What, on me?”
“Who else?”
The monster really did not take kindly to the thought of having an untold number of demons watchings
its every move. And while the main perpetrator was the God of Impossibilities, the simple creature
lacked a way to get back at him. Therefore, it lashed out at the most convenient target.
Of course, it realized later that its little stunt probably pissed off a bunch of demons that might have
spilled the beans on its secret out of spite, but Kora and Xera assured it that wouldn’t happen.
Apparently the Goddess of Chance had given all familiars a gag order not to disclose the existence or
contents of the ‘Boxxy Show’ to mortals. Which was also why they couldn’t tell their Master, as both of
them liked not being divine retributed upon. Not only that, but Kora said a large portion of the viewers
knew full well that the box was full of shit and just harassed Carl for the fuck of it.
“Well, I may have deserved that a little bit…” consented Carl. Despite everything, he still kind of liked
Boxxy. “Right then, shall we get on with the familiar selection process?”
“You won’t sabotage my contract to get back at me, will you?”
“‘Course not. You do realize I’m a Devil, right?”
Devils were pretty much the only demons that used violence as a last resort. They would much rather
enslave or dominate mortals with soul-binding contracts and feed off their suffering rather than punch
their faces in. They very rarely made an appearance in the physical realm, and instead tempted mortals
with bittersweet promises without even leaving the Beyond. They also vehemently abided by all clauses
of any contracts they made, almost as if their very existence hinged on it. That was probably why their
kind was officially in charge of managing Warlock-familiar relations.
“In other words, you won’t screw me on the contract, but you’ll still get me back somehow,” deduced
Boxxy.
“Better believe it, buster!”
The two shared a small chuckle as Boxxy finished putting together the landmine it was working on,
giving Carl its undivided attention.
“Alright, then. Give me a minute to pull up the relevant forms here. Oh, and do forward me your
Status.”
Boxxy did as instructed and waited while listening to the all-too-familiar clacking noises from across the
line. Come to think of it, what were those about? Well, it would just ask another time. It really didn’t
want to put off this contract any more than it had to, as the sun was about to come up. Not that it was
worried about Rowana waking up, though. Snack had been tasked with keeping her magically sedated
and was currently in standby next to her. It was hardly the first time they had done this, although the
Mimic had to make sure it gave her specific orders not to mess with the elf.
Simply keeping Rowana asleep took very little effort on Xera’s behalf, which left the demoness with
nothing to do and made her terribly bored. This was something her Master failed to take into account the
first time it had to sneak out of that house at night. When it returned a few hours later, it found that the
succubus had been toying with the blissfully unaware elf to keep herself entertained.
Rowana’s face had penises scribbled all over it, her nose and mouth were full of demonic semen and the
succubus was about to shave Rowana’s pubic hair for some unknown reason. Boxxy somehow managed
to clean up any evidence of her antics without the elf realizing, but had to thoroughly punish Xera for
her misbehavior.
Which was exactly what the succubus wanted in the first place.
“Alright,” said Carl after about a minute. “Everything appears to be in order. Well then, what species are
you looking to form a covenant with this time?”
This was actually something Boxxy had been thinking on for a long while. While it was entirely possible
to have another succubus or fiend around, it wouldn’t be very practical. Although flexible to a degree, a
demonic familiar was essentially a tool. There was a right and wrong way to use it, and having more of
the same tool didn’t mean the work would get done any faster or easier. Therefore, of the remaining
three species available, Boxxy chose the one it felt would fit in best with its posse’s composition.
“Stalker.”
The Mimic’s current entourage was sorely lacking when it came to stealth. Boxxy always found itself
having to leave Fizzy, Snack and Arms behind whenever it wanted to sneak around, leaving it without
immediate backup should things go awry. Granted, Snack could sometimes accompany it, but she lacked
the means for a silent takedown. Therefore, a Stalker’s natural aptitude for skulking around made it a
perfect candidate. Not to mention their vaunted anti-magic abilities would surely help negate the
shapeshifting monster’s bane - lightning-based magic.
“... Alright, if you say so,” came Carl’s strangely delayed response. He then continued with the next
question.
“Male or female?”
“Female.”
According to the high-Level Demonology Skill, females Stalkers were generally slimmer and more lithe
than males, making them better at hiding their presence. Having less muscle mass than the males also
meant their melee attacks would struggle to penetrate armor, but that wouldn’t be a problem.
“Height preference?”
“Mid-range.”
Too tall and it would mean the demon would be too big a target. Too small and its attack range would
suffer.
“And I’m assuming one with a large chest, right?”

Boxxy very nearly answered ‘Yes’ on reflex, but stopped itself due to a sudden epiphany. The chest-
shaped monster turned its attention towards Kora, who was nearby and once again stuffing herself down
Ambrosia’s throat. It took note of the pair’s quartet of watermelon-sized breasts and the way they shook
back and forth as the fiend violently face-fucked the dryad.
“Uh, Carl? This question about chest size, does it perhaps refer to breasts?”
“Of course it does! What else would- Oh.”
There was a moment of awkward silence as both parties realized their mutual misunderstanding.
“So then,” said Carl, trying to get the contract process back on track, “do you want a familiar with large
or small tits?”
“You said it doesn’t impact their performance, right?”
“Then it doesn’t matter.”
“Large it is!”
*Takak-taktak tak tak*
“Hey!”
“What? You said it didn’t matter.”
“Well yeah, but-! No, nevermind.”
There were a few more questions and answers before Carl came to the last and perhaps most difficult
question - the one that would determine the familiar’s subspecies.
“Okay, and do you have any additional requests or requirements?”
This was a question that Boxxy was woefully unprepared to answer the first two times. It simply didn’t
know any better, so it had to rely on Carl’s interpretation of its wishes. While things did work out in the
end, the Mimic could have found itself royally screwed over since it didn’t know any better. This time
was different though, as reaching Level 6 in the Demonology Skill allowed it to understand just how
important this question truly was.
Choosing the right variant of demon was almost as important as choosing the right species. For example,
while all succubi were manipulative, devious shapeshifters that relied on magic in combat, only a
Cerulean Succubus such as Xera would be able to manipulate people through dreams. Viridian Succubi,
on the other hand, could secrete certain sedatives and toxins at will, while Crimson Succubi were experts
at creating illusions. If Boxxy had been stuck with one of the latter two, then it was highly doubtful it
would have been able to survive this far.
This time, however, Boxxy knew exactly what it wanted - a specialist.
“I want a Hornet variant, one that has experience using the Rogue Job.”
The Stalkers Boxxy asked for could inject their targets with a weak paralytic venom that would dull their
target’s movements and leave them open to further attacks.
“She also needs to be competent at using the Assassination and Misdirection Skills,” continued Boxxy,
“as well as have knowledge of fighting magic users. Especially Cryomancers, Shamans and Wizards.”
Those three Jobs were the ones Boxxy was most weary of. According to its research, Shamans and
Wizards were the two main sources of lightning-based magic, while a Cryomancer’s ice had the power
to seal movement and prevent shapeshifting almost instantly.
“Well, aren’t you a discerning customer?!” said Carl, the surprise obvious in his voice. “And it feels like
it was only three months ago when you were asking me if the Beyond was tasty!”
*Takak taktak taktak*
“It was three months ago.”
Also, Boxxy never did get an answer to that question.
“Oh, right. Anyway, as per usual you got an instant reply to your request. Your third familiar is all set up
and ready for action.”
Well, that was fast. Boxxy thought this one might take longer since it had some specific demands, but it
would seem that hadn't been a problem after all.
“Will that be all for today?” asked Carl.
“Yes.”
“Would you like to fill out a survey to help improve our customer service?”
“... Okay, sure.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because we don’t have something like that. Thank you for calling Demons ‘R’ Us,
we’ll be in touch!”
*Click*
The Mimic honestly wasn’t quite sure what it was expecting from that ‘survey,’ but that definitely
wasn’t it. The important thing was, it finally had obtained a third demonic servant. Thinking it was
perhaps a noteworthy occasion, it told Fizzy, Kora and Ambrosia to gather around and witness the new
girl’s first summoning. Xera was currently on babysitting duty, so she would have to wait until later.
Boxxy activated its Summon Familiar Skill while focusing on the third being linked to its soul. The
concentric circles of light spun around for 10 seconds, followed by a small flash of light.
“Skreeek!”
There was a shrill screech, and the Mimic saw a glimpse of something yellow and black burst out of the
lingering magical glow and skitter across the ground at breathtaking speed. It was moving away from
the group, clearly intent on leaping off the dungeon core platform and hiding itself away in the darkness.
Not that Boxxy was going to let it do that so easily.
“Stop where you are,” it commanded, and the demon that looked like a weird, person-sized spider froze
in its tracks. “Come to me.”
The creature turned around and, strangely enough, stood up. The 160-centimeter tall spider-woman
walked unsteadily towards the Mimic. Her hesitant behavior was to be expected. Her kind hated being
seen, so being placed in the spotlight like that was probably making her really uncomfortable.
“That’s close enough,” said Boxxy once she was less than a meter from it, and started carefully
appraising her.
Her hair was black, styled in an asymmetric, short ponytail that was tied off with a string of small beads,
and had a pair of hair clips on her left bangs. Her skin was a reddish-purple, and while her head was
fairly human in shape, her face was the most monstrous of Boxxy’s entourage. Although it looked
human at its core, it bore several bug-like features that drew attention away from its natural beauty. For
one thing, she had two compound, bug-like eyes that were solid black and slightly reflective, and she
had a pair of crescent-shaped markings on each cheekbone. Her normal-looking mouth was surrounded
by a set of four, short mandibles that poked out from around the corners of her lips and loosely
resembled tusks. A pair of black, beetle-like mandibles grew out from the sides of her head around
where the ears would normally be and extended all the way down to in front of her chin. They were
curved, serrated, and looked sharp enough to bite someone’s arm clean off. Their pointed tips clacked
together incessantly, giving off a soft, chittering noise.
Surprisingly, her actual body was also mostly humanoid in shape, with two arms and two legs. What
gave off the earlier impression of a spider were the 6 spider-like limbs jutting out from her back. They
were sleek, covered in black chitin and tipped with long, scythe-like blades that were part of the limbs
itself. She must have used these to crawl along the ground earlier, and those shiny blades looked like
they could turn a man into mince meat in seconds. They also looked to be about as long as her primary
pair of legs, although the way she kept them curled up behind her made it hard to judge.
Her breasts were large and perky, although not quite as big as a succubus’s, and her thin waist and wide
hips gave her a fittingly waspish figure. The upper part of her breasts were covered in black-and-yellow-
striped chitin that ran up to her collarbone and extended upward to protect her neck and throat. The
smooth-looking material also formed a pair of light shoulder pads and wrapped around her back and
sides, as well as covering up her nether regions. Her stomach area and the underside of her breasts were
left exposed, prompting Kora to give her a quadruple thumbs up while saying ‘Nice underboob!’
The Stalker’s upper arms and thighs were left similarly unprotected. The black-and-yellow carapace
extended down from her elbows and along the length of her abnormally long forearms, almost like a pair
of gauntlets. Her arms ended in a pair of thick, armored wrists, and each hand had three thick fingers
tipped with a long, sharp claw each. These were clearly not appendages intended for grasping tools, but
weapons designed to rip people apart.
Her legs from the knee down were similarly covered in the same carapace. Two long, dagger-like
growths jutted out from the front of either of her toeless feet, almost like a pair of knives in a V-shaped
pattern. The carapace on the top of her feet was shaped to vaguely resemble elongated skulls, while a
number of sharp spikes jutted upwards from around her ankles.
“Very nice!” commented Boxxy, causing the spider-girl to start fidgeting and turning her face to her left
side, seemingly to avert her master’s gaze. “Every part of you looks like it was designed to maim a
person! Very nice, indeed!”
“She’s really fast, too,” noted Fizzy. “I couldn’t even keep my eyes on her when she made a run for it
earlier! I bet she could outrun my Armored Charge if she really tried!”
“Milord’s newest servant is most impressive!” said Ambrosia with an uncharacteristically bright face.
“Spiders art a natural predator of termites, after all!”
“Ah, crap, she’s a Stalker,” said Kora as she suddenly remembered something.
Fiends and succubi were the only demons whose physical forms had genitalia. The former used them to
force themselves on others and establish dominance, while the latter were used to quite literally wring
the life out of mortal men. Meaning that since this lady was a Stalker, she had nothing between their
legs, much like Ambrosia. Unlike the dryad, however, Kora had absolutely no intention of putting her
prick anywhere near that Stalker’s mouth.
“Uhm…. Uhm!”
The spider-girl suddenly let out a quiet voice, that sounded surprisingly youthful, almost like Keira’s. It
grew steadily louder, as if she was gathering up the nerve to speak up.
“I’m… Uh… My name is… Tktktk… that is…”
Her clicking mandibles started making loud noises in between her fractured words, like some sort of
nervous tick, but that only seemed to make things worse. Realizing she was getting nowhere, she
suddenly closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths and faced her master properly for the first time.
“My name is Dreaheath Uniolphial Maramakartor!” she shouted out. “I look forward to servicing- I
mean, serving under you!”
Just as Boxxy expected, it was another pointlessly long name that was difficult to pronounce.
“You are now Claws,” declared the Mimic.
“Un-understood! I shall work myself to the bone for you, Master Morningwood!”
“Good. I look forward to seeing you in action. First off, let’s set some ground rules!”
It quickly gave the newcomer the same set of standing orders it gave the other familiars. Things such as
making sure she doesn’t compromise Keira’s disguise, making sure not to harm Boxxy’s other minions -
including Fizzy and Ambrosia - and to avoid indiscriminate killing of people without the Mimic’s say-
so. The nervous-looking spider-girl replied with a curt nod after each order.
“Alright, I think that’s everything,” declared Boxxy after a few minutes. “Well then, since it’s almost
dawn, I’ll leave you to get better acquainted with the others. I’ll be giving your abilities a proper test run
tonight, but I trust you will not disappoint me, Claws!”
“O-o-of course notktktktkt”
“Good! Now then-”
Boxxy was about to turn its attention towards casting the Transfamiliar Spell-
“Uhm! Master! I have something else to say!”
-but Drea’s sudden outburst stopped it in its tracks.
“What is it Claws?”
The Mimic still had some time, so it decided it might as well humor her, though it doubted she would
say anything worthwhile.
“W-Well the thing is that, uhm… I uh… Lo-tktktkt... Lo-tktktktk… Fuuu! Fuuu! Fuuu! ... I LOVE
YOU!” she blurted out finally.
“That’s nice,” said Boxxy, clearly not giving a damn. “Well then, I’ll be going.”
Drea stood there with her arms and sickle-legs wrapped around her as if she was hugging herself. Her
mouth opened and closed a few times, yet no sounds came out until the Mimic disappeared in a puff of
smoke, at which point she immediately ran off on all tens to hide in the darkness.
Xera, who had traded places with her Master, caught a glimpse of the retreating Stalker. She then took
note of the widely smiling dryad with cum leaking down her chin, the mithril golem who had her face in
her palms and the fiend with the uncharacteristically worried look on her face.
“Okay… So. What I’d miss?”
ChaosTube didn’t get good reception outside of the Beyond, so she was still a bit out of the loop. She
had been told Boxxy contracted a Stalker, but that was about it.
“This is bad, bubble-butt,” said Kora. “The new girl there said she loves the boss.”
“You’re sure of this?” asked Xera in a stern voice. “She said she loved the Master?”
“Oh yeah. Loud and clear,” confirmed the fiend.

“Ah crap, this might get ugly…”
“What’s the big deal?” questioned Fizzy. “Are you getting jealous or something?”
“No, of course not.”
Xera was quite confident in her position as her Master’s tastiest Snack, and that was as close to a
genuine romantic relationship that thing was ever going to get.
“It’s just that Stalkers have a hard time telling the difference between affection and appetite.”
Dreaheath
Name Uniolphial Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress
Maramakartor
Species Stalker (Hornet) STR 234 MNT 586 Stalker 39 79%
Sex Female DEX 644 Rogue 28 14%
Guild END 410
2284/2284 (+4.0/
HP INT 293
sec)
1465/1565 (+1.7/
MP WIS 175
sec)
Skill List
Stalk 10 MAX Assassination 8 75%
Counterspell 8 10% Misdirection 7 29%
Rending Claws 7 52% Evasion 6 26%
Blood Gorger 5 76% Silent Sprint 4 62%
Detect Magic 4 8% Webspinner 6 77%
Lethal Intuition 2 75% Venomous Sting 6 77%

Keira ‘woke up’ the next day as per usual. She had her morning interactions with Rowana, making sure
the elf felt loved and appreciated as part of her cover. She then played a bit with Minic, who she very
nearly forgot about back in the dungeon, and fed it some dried fruits that the couple had bought the day
before. The catgirl eventually made to leave the building in order to attend Faehorn’s Ranger course, but
Minic seemed hell-bent on following her outside the house. The mini-mimic had apparently grown
overly attached to its bigger cousin, and would not settle down unless Boxxy was nearby.
“Why don’t you just take him along?” asked Rowana.
“... I don’t think mister Faehorn would appreciate me bringing a pet to class. Especially not with our line
of work.”
“Okay, tell you what. Since I have the time, why don’t we both go? If this Faehorn character doesn’t let
you look after it during the day, then I’ll bring it home with me.”
“But, someone might try to steal it again!”
“Yip!”
The catgirl hugged the gilded box closer to her chest, as if to protect it. That was actually genuine
concern on Boxxy’s part since Minic was already part of its collection. The Mimic was sure it could
handle another theft attempt as long as it was around, but if it was just the powerless Rowana then she
wouldn’t be able to do a single thing. Actually, that was also a good point.
“You might even get hurt!”
“... Okay, I’ll make sure it doesn’t leave home. Come here, Minnie!”
The elf took the living jewelry box from Keira and held it tight. It struggled a bit, but settled down when
the moment it felt her chest-pillows press against its underside.
This guy, he definitely likes breasts, noted Boxxy. Well, Minic was technically part demon, so such urges
were perhaps understandable, even if it was genderless. Perhaps it was soft things in general, and not
breasts specifically? Only time would tell.
Having resolved the matter of pet care, Keira left the house and made her way towards the Central
Consortium building. This time she used the regular walkway rather than swinging around on vines, as
she had gotten an earful about it from Rowana. So, having to pretend to care about her opinion, the
wannabe catgirl started going up the large, circular staircase that went all the way around the outside of
the Hylt tree. Once it got up to the upper branch, it would be able to ride an elevator down to the ground
and proceed on foot from there.
Once it got to the class, which was fashionably late as per Keira’s character, it proceeded to make nice
with the elves, all the while paying special attention to the tasty-smelling Lia. The green-haired elf
seemed to open up after yesterday, and confessed she had been bullied and discriminated against in her
childhood due to her quarter-human ancestry. This was apparently also the reason she couldn’t bear to
see selfish old men do the same to lesbian couples like Keira and Rowana.
It was a very touching and slightly emotional conversation, but Boxxy’s head wasn’t in it as it kept
getting troubling reports from Ambrosia and its familiars.
Apparently, Claws was trying to build a nest or lair of some sort, which resulted in her covering a part of
the dungeon’s interior in her webs. Her stalker body allowed her to produce a near-unlimited amount of
sticky spider silk that shot out from her palms or feet in thick, sturdy ropes, and could also be discharged
from the tips of her claws in thin, fine strands. She could also spend MP to alter the strands at will,
making them stronger, thicker or stickier than normal. Of course, it would eventually crumble into
nothing, as was traditional for things born of mana, but spider-silk was a special case. Not only would it
persist after the demon was banished back to the Beyond, but it would last for weeks, possibly months if
left undisturbed.
However, Claws would not get a chance to show off her web-spinning skills, as Snack thought her silk
looked pleasantly flammable. So she flung a Fireball at it to test it out, and as it turned out, she was
right. The barn-sized mass of stalker-silk that Claws had been working on all morning went up in flames
and blazed out of existence in a matter of seconds. This naturally made the spider-girl incredibly pissed
off, as she was planning to laze about in her spider-home-turned-ashes until Boxxy returned.
Normally that would mean she would indiscriminately attack and murder the succubus, but both of them
were forbidden from directly harming one another due to their master’s orders. So what happened was
that Claws jumped on top of Snack, tied her up in webs, drained her of her MP and left her strung up in
mid-air. Well, the pyromaniac eventually recovered enough MP to burn off her bonds, but it was obvious
the two were at each other’s throats.
Arms, on the other hand, seemed to have reached some sort of silent agreement with Claws, and the two
avoided each other completely. A physical confrontation between them was just impossible, as the fiend
was the worst type of combatant a stalker demon could go up against. Headstrong, sturdy, and armored
enough to block her attacks. Even if they were sharp and could slice through meat and bone, a stalker’s
natural weapons were no match for the demonic steel arms and armor that fiends could manifest.
Bottom line was, while Arms and Snack got along, Claws was left as something of an outsider. Boxxy
decided this could not be allowed to continue, as it was steadily learning that interpersonal relationships
could make or break an outstanding adventurer team. Granted, that wasn’t directly applicable to a group
of monsters, but some of it still held true. Even if the 3 demons could be ordered to work together, true
cooperation was not something that could be made possible through contracts alone.
Come to think of it, didn’t something like this happen before? Thinking back on the first few days after
Arms was summoned, Boxxy recalled that she and Snack were also on very hostile terms. Although it
lacked the mental capacity and emotional understanding to notice or care about such things at the time, it
now understood how bad their relationship was. The succubus and fiend did not get along in the
slightest, and were always at each other’s throats, both figuratively and literally. Well, they still bickered
to this day, but it was much less aggressive than it was back then.
And the catalyst that allowed their relationship to improve was to simply let the demons be demons and
let them take their aggressions (and other things) out on each other. Therefore, while Boxxy was busy
chumming it up with the elves, it gave its familiars a simple order.
“Just for today, I’m allowing you to kill, maim and murder your fellow demons all you want!”
It also made sure to turn on the auto-repair function from the dungeon’s Terrain Sculpting module and
instructed Ambrosia to document their confrontations with the Surveillance Net. The dungeon core was
capable of capturing any event within its sphere of influence and record it within itself as a series of
moving images, which could be played back at any time. While doing this for extended periods of time
would put a significant drain on the core’s MP reserves, it would allow Boxxy to review and analyze its
newest minion’s performance without personally being there at the time. It could also do that in real
time, but it had to focus on the tracking and hunting exercises at hand.
The particularly hard part about Faehorn’s classes was when it came to practicing the Marksman Martial
Arts. Activating them was simple enough, almost as if casting a Spell with one’s body, but the problem
was as they could trigger the Chaotic Disposition Skill’s random magical effects. Such as that time the
Skill caused a small, localized earthquake around Keira, or suddenly turned her flesh invisible, but left
her armor and equipment as they were. Boxxy had been able to keep such side-effects hidden for the
moment, but that Skill was an accident waiting to happen. After all, something like a newbie Ranger
suddenly bursting into flames for no discernable reason was bound to raise suspicion. Well, it had a few
contingencies in place should something like that happen, but for the moment it took every plausible
excuse to avoid activating any of those Martial Arts while other people were around.
Since part of the day’s exercise was a light hunt, Boxxy’s Ranger Job finally reached Level 15. It picked
up the Whisper Wind Skill, which could be used to stealthily communicate with others at long distances.
Boxxy was not very enthusiastic about it, as it really didn’t need such a Skill. However, it was necessary
for Keira if she wanted to fit in. Faehorn was training them up to be scouts and spotters, so this Skill was
mandatory in his opinion. If it wasn’t for that guy, Boxxy would definitely go for the Magic Arrows
Skill that would let it conjure ammunition out of thin air. Well, the Ranger Job’s main function was to
serve as Keira’s cover, so it was not that big a deal if she wasted one or two Skill slots. Besides, it was
still usable in tandem with Fizzy or the Mirror Images, so it wasn’t a complete waste.
Once class for the day was done, Keira hit the library, this time to study up on the various Gods and their
respective taboos. The monster’s FTH Attribute would grow steadily over time thanks to the various All
Attribute bonuses, but it had to be careful of accidentally being saddled with that stigma of a Skill again.
And as expected of an adventurer-focused library in the capital a country, it had quite a lot of
information regarding all 9 of this world’s Gods and Goddesses, major and minor alike. Well, except for
Nobunaga, the God of Change. It would seem Boxxy’s patron was considered a minor deity that was
shrouded in mystery, so his motivations, likes and dislikes were completely unknown to the general
public. Well, it could just ask a certain Champion of Chaos regarding such things later, so for now it
focused on the one that gave it so much trouble last night.
Namely the taboo of Goroth, the Earth God and patron of artists, artisans and craftsmen. Much like
Fizzy said, he forbade anyone from permanently transmuting anything into silver, gold, platinum, mithril
or sinium. Boxxy’s thoughts got derailed the instant it read about this ‘sinium’ thing. It had never heard
of it, but it definitely sounded shiny. In fact, the order in which these precious metals were listed made it
sound like it would be shiniest of all!
Brimming with curiosity, Keira immediately visited the Hammers of Horkensaft guild’s forges to ask
around, and found out that sinium, otherwise known as ‘Godsteel,’ was an Artifact-grade material said
to be infused with divine essence. However, nobody could tell it how shiny this thing actually was, as
none of the people there had even seen it, let alone worked with it. The best answer she got was that it
was ‘a pale, sky blue material.’
Disappointed, Keira made to leave their workshop when she saw that Fizzy was currently giving out a
lecture regarding Artificers. The catgirl took this opportunity to publicly befriend the golem as well as
express an obvious interest in becoming an Artificer. That way she established that Keira was fascinated
by the potential of an Artificer’s gadgets. It would just seem more natural when she eventually started
using Artificer-made tools and weapons on the battlefield.
Realizing it had gotten sidetracked, Boxxy discretely asked the Paladin about her God’s taboo. And
while she did indeed know of it, it was something nonsensical, yet logical at the same time. Truly
befitting of the Goddess of Dice Rolls. It wrote it down on the piece of paper it was carrying and
returned to the library to resume studying up on the other deities. It took a few hours, but the Mimic
eventually compiled a comprehensive list of things that would raise the various Gods’ ire.
Willingly and knowingly turning unshiny things into shiny things - Goroth, Earth God
Willingly and knowingly participating in time travel - That Guy
Willingly and knowingly mating with monsters or animals - Nyrie, Fertility Goddess
Willingly and knowingly breaking an oath made in her name - Teresa, Justice Goddess
Willingly and knowingly using Hexcraft or creating cursed items - Lunar, Moon Goddess
Willingly and knowingly participating in the genocide of an enlightened race - Solus, Sun
God
Willingly and knowingly killing prisoners of war without cause or provocation - Axel, War
God
Willingly and knowingly desecrating the dead and/or their graves - Mortimer, Death God
Willingly and knowingly dealing irreparable damage to the environment - Zephyra, Rain
Goddess
Overall, this had been a very productive afternoon, as Boxxy was sure it would have accidentally
violated Axel’s taboo at some point in the future. Nyrie’s was also potentially problematic considering
the sexual relations Keira and Rowana, but that was only at first glance. A deeper study revealed it only
applied to enlightened beings as some monsters, Doppelgangers included, could not procreate without
cross-species copulation. Nyrie could hardly be called a Goddess of Fertility if she got in the way of a
monster’s procreation cycles.
However, while Boxxy seemed to be safe from violating the taboo of the Fertility Goddess, Rowana was
not. Then again, the elf had no idea her partner was a monster. Therefore, while the ‘willingly’ part of
the act was certainly there, the ‘knowingly’ was not. Also, it was highly debatable whether what they did
could be considered ‘mating,’ as no child could ever be born of that union in the first place.
This list also helped Boxxy realize just how close it had been to being branded with major Taboo Levels
as a result of what it did to the city of Monotal, but managed to avoid two counts of that due to
technicalities. First was Solus’s ‘no genocide’ rule. Considering Boxxy murdered a whole lot of humans
that day, it could by all means be called a genocide. Then again, it wasn’t only humans that caught up in
it, and it wasn’t targeting them in particular, so perhaps it didn’t really count as a genocide.
There was also the matter of Zephyra’s taboo. The fact that both the land and air surrounding the former
city of Monotal had been left poisoned and barren was something Boxxy learned about well after the
fact. In other words, it had no idea that the dungeon core meltdown would cause all that, so it didn’t
knowingly trash the environment, but it was unlikely it would be let off if it did that again.
Another possibility was that Jerome was the one who took the blame for it. After all, it was him that
overloaded the core in the first place, so the environment would have been fucked by the following
meltdown with or without the Mimic’s interference. Of course, none of that would have happened in the
first place if the monster had just left the shiny thing behind, but it quickly disregarded such minor,
unimportant details as unrelated to the matter.
It was on the way back from the library that Boxxy realized that, surprisingly, all 3 of its familiars were
currently active. After checking in with Ambrosia, it was told that there was indeed a violent and
physical confrontation between them, but it appeared to have been resolved without any of them actually
killing each other off. Deciding it was a good time to do so, it accessed the recordings the dryad made
through the dungeon’s Surveillance Net, and played them back in the corner of its vision as it walked
idly along the street.
The only recording the dryad took was about 8 minutes long and showed that the succubus and the
stalker engaged in battle the instant Boxxy gave them the go ahead.
To begin with, Claws activated her Stalk Skill - a superior version of Stealth that not only muffled
sounds, but also obscured the user’s body. It was as if her body was draped in a black mist that made it
easier for the spider-woman to hide herself from sight, even with Snack’s darkness-piercing eyesight.
She sometimes spotted her opponent skittering along the walls or ceiling while trying to get a good
angle of attack, but Claws somehow still managed to slip out oif the succubus’s eyesight.
Watching the footage, Boxxy realized that both of the demons performed admirably. Snack did an
amazing job at zoning out her opponent with area effect Spells, even without knowing her exact
position. Her use of the Molten Guardian Skill and her wings made her an incredibly slippery target. Not
to mention that her fire-based magic also had good compatibility against the spider’s webbing, as any
attempts at ensnaring her from a distance were incinerated without difficulty.
The barrage of Fireballs sent at Claws was dealt with in an extraordinary fashion. On one hand, the
spider was able to tell where the succubus was aiming even before she finished chanting the Spell, so
she was able to dodge about half of her attacks without difficulty. And even the ones that were on target
still failed to hit her, as her six, back-mounted scythe-legs quite literally sliced the fiery projectiles apart,
causing them to dissipate instantly. That would be the effect of Claws’ Counterspell Skill, which could
forcefully disrupt an opponent’s magic so long as one had the right timing.
And yet despite that, Snack was still able to land a number of solid hits on her. She messed up her
opponent’s timing and predictions by forcefully delaying her chants, shifting her aim at the last second
or feinting a Spell cast. A total of 8 Spells managed to land on the stalker - 4 Fireballs, 3 Magma
Missiles and a Flamethrower.
However, for those 8 that landed, what felt like hundreds more missed. The succubus did an admirable
job managing her mana and avoiding so much as a scratch, but the equilibrium couldn’t last and she
eventually began to run out of steam, forcing her Spell-slinging to slow down. Noticing the opening,
Claws made a daring move whereby she used her webbing to swing through the air directly at the
succubus. The stalker then changed direction in mid-air for a total of 3 times in rapid succession in order
to dodge the incoming Spells and the Magma Guardian’s attacks, but she finally reached Snack.
Once she was close enough, she webbed up the succubus’s mouth, preventing her from chanting. She
then stabbed the long, dagger-like claws poking out of her right foot right in the succubus’s breasts. The
Molten Guardian immediately chased her away, but the damage was done. The Hornet Stalker’s
signature paralytic venom rapidly took effect, leaving Snack slow and sluggish, forcing the succubus to
use the Purge Spell to forcefully burn away the toxins inside her body.
However, Claws did not give her an opportunity to recover and launched another web-assisted aerial
attack, this time slashing her opponent’s shoulder open with her venom-coated back-sickles and rip off
the succubus’s left wing with her arm claws. It was at this point that the duel was settled, as Snack fell to
the ground and was rapidly wrapped up in webs for the second time today. Claws then stabbed her in the
gut and made excited clicking noises as the succubus’s remaining MP was forcefully drained away while
her body went limp from the poison. The Molten Guardian fizzled out of existence a few seconds later,
leaving Claws as the victor. Rather than cut her down on the spot, the stalker began dragging her off
somewhere, likely to toy with her as revenge for her burned home.
It was at this point that the recording cut off. From the Mimic’s perspective, both of its demons did
everything right, but Claws showed she clearly had more combat experience. She cleverly applied
pressure to her opponent, making her use more MP than necessary to defend herself. The stalker steadily
exhausted and cornered her prey until a decisive blow could be made. She did not rush, nor did she
panic. Even the few hits she took seemed to be planned, as if to make her opponent thing her approach
was working.
In other words, Claws had complete control of the fight the entire time. She completely suppressed the
embarrassed, awkward appearance she showed Boxxy, displaying her cold, calculating and ruthless side.
In fact, she probably wouldn’t have even bothered attacking Snack unless she was absolutely sure of her
victory. She was obviously a Boxxy fan, which meant she definitely knew how its familiars fought in the
field.
Now all that remained was the vital question - did this little bout help alleviate their aggression?
“Claws,” it called out telepathically.
“Heeek! Y-yes, Master?”
“What do you think of Snack after you had a little fun with her?”
“Oh, she’s fantastic!” she said in a strangely chipper tone. “I’m starting to understand why Master favors
her so!”
Boxxy was pretty sure it didn’t really favor Snack one way or another. Even if she was a skilled
infiltrator and tasted great, she still had a number of downsides that made her unreliable at times. In fact,
Arms was far easier to get along with. Boxxy just had to point at a thing and it would get smashed, no
questions asked.
“So you’re getting along?
“We are! In fact, I think I may be falling in love with her as well!”
Well, that was definitely a good thing. What about the other side of the story, though?
“Snack, are you getting along with Claws as well?”
“Indeed I am, Master,” replied Xera in her calm, stately manner. “We’ve had a very interesting
discussion, and I think we’ll be able to work together quite well in the future.”
“Excellent. And where are you now?”
“The two of us are having a bath together in the dungeon. It’s quite enjoyable.”
“Is having a bath really that tasty?”
Keira took baths to clean herself, but it just felt like a chore.
“It’s the dryad’s special Waters of Life that make it tasty for us, Master.”
“How so?”
“Well, apparently it’s potent enough to help regrow lost limbs in an instant.”
“Oh? That is very good to hear!”
As a shapeshifter, Boxxy had very little problems with such things since it could move and mold its
body mass around as needed. Its demons were also not greatly perturbed by the loss of body parts as
they could just be re-summoned. Even Fizzy said she would probably be fine if she lost an arm or
something as she could be repaired with enough spare parts.
However, elves and humans were different, and something like losing a leg or an eye was a permanent
injury in most cases. Healing magic and potions that were potent enough to restore lost body parts did
exist, but were uncommon and rather expensive. For example, a soldier or adventurer that had been
maimed in combat could afford to pay for the treatment and be returned to full strength, but a peasant
that had gotten into an accident was often left to suffer.
But the dryad’s miraculous Waters of Life were different. Ambrosia herself said producing them was not
too difficult for a tree of her age and size, so this opened up a lot of possibilities. Profit could easily be
obtained as long as the Mimic organized some sort of spa or clinic, but such things carried risks of its
own. It had to very carefully evaluate such things in the future. Right now, however, it needed an answer
to a nagging question.
“Snack, how did you find out about that property of the Waters of Life?”
“The dryad let us know herself, Master,” came the immediate response.
“Strange, she didn’t mention it to me.”
“Perhaps Master didn’t ask?”
“That is true.”
Ambrosia had not yet taken up her position as dungeon master when the topic of the Waters of Life were
being discussed, and it simply hadn’t come up since then. So then, the fact that she told Snack
unprovoked, meant that there was a need to. And quickly checking up on the pair of demons using the
Surveillance Net what that reason was.
“Actually Snack, I think I will be joining you for that bath after all.”
“Oh?! Please do, Master! I’m sure both of us would enjoy that greatly!”
The images relayed by the dungeon core showed that Snack was, as expected, submerged in the green-
tinged water of life. And Claws was in there with her, taking huge bites out of the succubus’s delicious
flesh, which healed back within seconds. It was a scene that left Boxxy with a rather un-tasty thought.
How come I didn’t think of that?!
In the depths of the Dryad’s Domain, a certain pair of demons were busy sharing some rather intimate
relations while lazing about in an impromptu hot-tub. Well, it was actually closer to a small pond, as it
had been roughly and hurriedly carved out of the wooden floor with Terrain Sculpting. Ambrosia had
provided the green-tinted Waters of Life and Xera’s magical flames were keeping it pleasantly hot. As
for the ‘intimate relations,’ they were not quite as satisfying as the succubus or Drea, her stalker partner,
were expecting when they started this little experiment.
Xera was disappointed to learn that a stalker devouring her flesh did not bring her the same satisfaction
as having Boxxy do it. The fact her beloved was not the one performing this act was part of the problem,
but it was also because Drea was just too neat of an eater. She would typically slice off a leg or arm and
enjoy munching on it while submerged almost completely underwater. While it was deliciously painful
to have her flesh and bones severed, it sadly didn’t last long as the Waters of Life quickly healed the
otherwise crippling injury in a flash. After all, a cut from a scythe healed much faster than a tear from
two rows of jagged teeth.
Drea on the other hand greatly enjoyed Xera’s flavor. As expected of succubi, their bodies were indeed
made to please people. Unfortunately, as a being born of mana, her flesh would not last long once
separated from the main body. So while it was definitely as tasty as her Master made it seem on the
Boxxy Show, it was dreadfully unfilling. For while the Mimic was content with savoring the taste of its
favorite Snack, stalkers like Drea wanted to fill their bellies with the blood, guts and meat of their
victims first, and the actual flavor was secondary.
Therefore, chewing such great-tasting meat in her mouth yet having it disappear from her stomach
almost immediately was strangely frustrating for the spider-girl. It was like foreplay with no payoff, and
left her with a feeling that could very well be described as ‘being blue-balled.’ Still, it was better than
doing nothing at all, so she kept munching on her succulent flesh all the same.
That went on until the two demons’ Master decided to check up on them remotely. It first spoke to Drea,
and then to Xera, which led to the succubus sharing some rather exciting news.
“The Master said it will be joining us for the bath.”
“W-what?!”
Drea threw her arms up in panic, tossing the half-eaten severed leg aside. She then started spinning and
flailing around in a panic, splashing water everywhere.
“B-b-but why?!” she stammered. “A bath with the Boxxy T. Morningwood?! M-m-my heart’s not ready
for this! Tktktktktk!”
“... We don’t even have those.”
“That’s not the point! I mean, Master will definitely want to s-s-s-sample me, right?!”
“Uh…”
Now that Xera thought about it, it was rather strange that her Master didn’t taste-test its new familiar
right away. Well, the fact it didn’t do so was probably indicative it had no intention of even trying.
“Actually no, I don’t think that’ll happen.”
“But what will I do if he t-t-tries me and finds my flavor displeasing?!”
“That’s what you’re worried about?!” asked Xera with a dumbfounded expression.
“Of course I am! I don’t want to sully his refined taste buds with anything foul! Spiders in general taste
terrible, and I’m probably no different! Gah, if only I knew for sure! Tktktktktktk… Oh wait, I know!”
Drea unhesitantly ripped off her own leg and brought it up to her face while a new limb grew back to
replace it almost immediately. The stalker’s relatively human-looking mouth opened unnaturally wide as
if she had no lower jaw, revealing the many sharp, triangular teeth she normally kept hidden. Her maw
was so wide that it looked big enough to eat a person’s head in two, maybe three bites. She then used
that terrifying abyss to take a sizable bite out of her own thigh.
She then chewed on it.
Once.
“Pthooey!” she spat out, tossing the limb away in the process. “Bleh! I knew it! I’m disgusting! Now the
Master will hate meeee! Uwaaaah!”
The succubus was left completely speechless. Not only did this bug just attempt self-cannibalism, but
she also started wailing in despair over the thought her mortal master might dislike her. Was this really
the behavior of a demon who was senior to her in both age and experience? Then again, it was highly
likely that logic only applied to combat situations rather than interpersonal relations.
After all, stalkers were socially awkward loners that were never seen by mortals under normal
circumstances. That matron of theirs was a prime example, but also an extreme case. While Overlord
Liusolra hated being seen by everyone and everything, the rest of her species didn’t particularly mind
being in the company of other demons. Well, they didn’t exactly like it, but they didn’t outright hate it
either.
“Now there’s no way in the Beyond he will like meee-heee!”
But this was the first time Xera had seen or even heard of one of them outright sob. Something about
this stalker’s odd behavior suddenly clicked inside the succubus’s mind. It would seem Drea’s
declaration of being in love with Boxxy was genuine, and not just her species’ misguided gluttony. The
fact she referred to the obviously genderless creature as ‘he’ and ‘him’ betrayed she completely saw the
Mimic as an actual love interest. Well, perhaps ‘love’ was too strong a word, as she was acting almost
completely like a young maiden who was about to meet a prince she’d only seen from afar. No wonder
she was so stiff and twitchy during their first contact. That outburst of hers was weird, even by stalker
standards.
Bottom line was, what Drea desired was to be accepted by Boxxy. Which was a much better alternative
than her plotting to devour Xera’s Master. Therefore, the succubus thought she might as well try and
nurture that feeling. If this spider-girl could be made into a truly loyal servant, then that would only
increase Boxxy’s chances of survival.
And the reason Xera would go out of her way to do something like that was simple. Even if that monster
was incapable of showing genuine affection towards another living being, that did not necessarily mean
it would always be this way. It was maturing at an incredibly rapid rate, both intellectually and
emotionally. Which meant that there was, as the God of Chaos would put it, a ‘non-zero chance’ of that
monster eventually answering her feelings, provided it lived long enough. Therefore, the best she could
do right now was quietly support her beloved from the shadows. Which included making sure this naive
spider-girl with a screw loose remained just as delusional as she currently was.
“There, there, it’s okay, sweetie,” said Xera with a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Taste isn’t everything
the Master cares about.”
“R-R-Really?” asked Drea in between her half-sobs, half-cries. “Th-then there’s a chance he’ll like me
anyway?!”
“Of course. You just have to make yourself seem ‘shiny’ enough.”
“Oh! Like that tiny Paladin?!”

“No, dearie, not quite as literally as that.”
Her carapace had some potential in that regard, but she had no hope of matching the luster of Fizzy’s
mithril frame. Even Xera had to admit that golem looked absolutely fabulous.
“You just need to make yourself useful and help the Master’s treasure hoard grow,” she clarified. “If you
do that, then it will be sure to think of you as useful rather than a nuisance.”
The stalker’s eyes suddenly went wide as she realized something.
“I see, I see! Of course, there was that method as well! As expected of the Master, he really thought of
everything! Thanks so much for the talk, Snack! You’re the bestktktktktk!”
Drea suddenly lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Xera. She then planted a big, fat kiss on the
startled succubus’s lips. Well, a ‘kiss’ in stalker terms. In reality she bit the lower half of Xera’s face
clean off, but neither of them particularly minded it.
Once the two calmed down a bit, the succubus proceeded to thoroughly instruct the newcomer in how to
best serve Boxxy and anticipate its wishes. Even if it got smarter and better at expressing itself lately, it
incessantly referred to things as either ‘tasty’ or ‘shiny’ whenever it wasn’t in character. Well, Drea
didn’t need much schooling on that as she apparently never missed a single episode of the Boxxy Show,
but she did have some misconceptions.
Apparently most demons, her included, believed the Mimic had a thing for large-breasted females,
although that was hardly surprising considering the company it kept. What was surprising, however, was
the fact that its catgirl act was so good that it completely fooled a significant number of viewers into
thinking its displays of affection towards Rowana were genuine. Being told the truth of things only
made Drea’s opinion of her new Master soar even higher. Not only was it hiding in plain sight, but it was
doing so in a way she had no hope of pulling off. Realizing it was spinning its own web of lies and
deceit all this time made her eyes almost literally sparkle in admiration.
That was hardly the main reason she felt attracted to it, though. The way Boxxy hunted focused on
ambushing, murdering and then eating up its prey without giving it a chance to fight back. And on the
rare occasions that ambushing its target failed, it would wear it down by striking from multiple angles
and using any means available to keep it confused and off-balance the entire time. It behaved so much
like a stalker, that at some point Drea stopped thinking of it as a box with legs and instead completely
saw it as a spider with a chest-shaped thorax. Not to mention that those imitation limbs that served as its
prefered mode of transportation were, in her own words, ‘incredibly handsome.’ The fact that it was also
the Progenitor’s chosen Hero was merely icing on the cake.
The stalker then spent the next few minutes psyching herself up. This time, she would greet it properly.
She would appeal her value and walk by its side with pride.
And yet all that motivation and determination disappeared the instant Boxxy actually arrived, as Drea
bolted up to the nearby cavern wall and skittered away at full speed. In the end, she could not work up
the courage to present herself before her Master unless she was ordered to. Not that the Mimic in
question had any intention of doing that anyway. Much like Xera had deduced, it had already anticipated
she would taste horrible. Not only was she part spider, but also a demon. And every single demon that
Boxxy had taken a bite of had terrible flavor. Well, except for Snack, which was why it was here in the
first place.
Since it had already dined on a small group of homeless elves, it didn’t have any of Drea’s conundrums
regarding the fullness of its stomach and gladly feasted on the ever-regenerating succubus’s body.
Unlike the spider-girl, it did so viciously and violently, tearing off huge parts of her with the jagged,
misaligned teeth of a Mimic. This finally gave Xera the satisfaction she had been craving for, as it had
been far too long since her Master abused her properly. The agony of having her bones violently crushed
and her flesh forcefully ripped apart by Boxxy was what she truly craved, and she was finally getting an
extra-sized helping of it.
The Mimic also found this prolonged ‘snack time’ to be considerably better than usual. The fact it could
keep eating its favorite Snack seemingly without end was greatly enjoyable, not to mention strangely
relaxing. Was that latter part due to the effects of the lukewarm, demon-blood-stained Waters of Life?
Baths being relaxing generally made sense from a human or elven point of view, but Boxxy never saw it
as anything more than a chore. Perhaps this situation merely proved that even tedious things like baths
were enjoyable if one had the right person Snack to share them with. Well, it could do without Claws
staring intently at it from the far end of the chamber. Come to think of it, it was perhaps time to put the
stalker to work.
In the following days, Boxxy ordered Drea to follow it around town during the daytime. She was told to
keep herself out of sight while the Mimic played around with the elves under the guise of Keira. It
served as both a test of just how good her hiding abilities were, and also as insurance. It was good to
have her on hand in case Boxxy wanted something or someone to disappear instantly and without a
trace. Well, such a thing wasn’t likely to happen in these relatively peaceful streets, but the spider-girl
was still more than a little overjoyed at the prospect.
Stalkers gotta stalk, after all. It was something Boxxy completely understood and sympathized with.
And unlike her previous masters, it wholeheartedly encouraged that behavior.
In the past, Drea would usually only be called out to fight monsters or to help cut through some magical
barrier or obstacle. Actual tracking and assassination assignments, which were her favorite, were quite
rare. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have devious, ill-meaning masters in the past that needed people
disappeared, though. In fact, there were quite a few of those, but such shady characters either didn’t live
long or were smart enough not to trust a demon with something as tricky and incriminating as
assassination.
A familiar’s actions were largely recognized as their master’s responsibility, meaning the person who
was contracted to the demon would take the blame for any of their wrongdoings. That was why Drea
had always sought out ways to subvert her master’s will and leave behind evidence that pointed towards
them as the one who ordered the assassination. They would then be captured, tried or outright executed,
depending on which side of the law got to them first. That was the general plan that most stalkers tried
to enact in order to free themselves from their contract and run wild in the mortal realm. Unfortunately
for them, it had a very low success rate, as even someone like Drea had successfully managed to break
away only once, but it did let her roam free for almost 70 years before she got sent back to the Beyond.
This time was different, however. Even if some of her previous masters were complete scumbags that
thought nothing of their fellow men, none of them could hope to match up to the pure brutality,
ruthlessness, appetite and awesomeness of Boxxy T. Morningwood. Watching it completely fool and
bedazzle those people was endlessly enthralling. The way the Mimic freely communicated with those it
saw as nothing more than food was truly awe-inspiring. It honestly made the stalker a little bit envious
of how confidently it spouted an endless stream of lies and bullshit, as she would never be able to do
something like that.
And just when she thought she couldn’t like for her Master even more, Boxxy gave Drea her standing
orders regarding her night duties.
They involved helping Ambrosia out with her endless pest problems. Although those termites were a
Hylt tree’s greatest enemy, they were hardly the only vermin around. The gigantic tree’s canopy was a
place very few elves ever visited due to how impractical and remote it was. That vast sea of leaves and
branches had therefore been allowed to thrive and develop completely undisturbed by civilization, and
had become its own ecosystem. And it quite literally crawled with all manner of annoying vermin that
Ambrosia couldn’t quite get out of her literal and figurative hair.
Her grievanced included Tri-Horned Beetles, Crimson Cicadas, Armored Caterpillars and other over-
sized insectoid monsters that steadily chipped away at her bark, drank up her sap and feasted on her
leaves and fruits. However, such things grew back rapidly due to the Hylt tree’s nearly limitless vitality,
so the amount of damage those bugs did was incomparable to the threat of an out-of-control termite
infestation. Not to mention they had natural predators in the form of the gigantic, eagle-like birds called
Rocs that kept their numbers in check. In reality, their presence was an annoyance at best, so the dryad
mostly ignored them. At least until Boxxy asked whether it was okay to sweep all of them away, to
which she eagerly agreed. In fact, even those birds were not blameless in her eyes, as they often broke
off bits of her branches and foliage in order to make their nests.
It was thus that the gluttonous Drea was unleashed upon this high-altitude biome. She mercilessly
hunted and ate every single insect she came across, devouring them with great gusto. Even the Rocs
easily succumbed to her poison and webs and were turned into her meal. The dryad even offered the
demon to avail herself of the copious amounts of sickeningly-sweet, overripe fruit that hung from her
topmost branches. Stalkers were not what one might call picky eaters, unlike a certain Mimic-turned-
Doppelganger, so the spider-girl eagerly scarfed those down as well.
All things said and done, Drea’s nightly feeding frenzies were the stuff of legends, her appetite easily
surpassing even that of her gluttonous Master. She still took Xera’s advice to heart and set aside much of
the juiciest Roc meat as a present to Boxxy, but even then the amount of food she devoured was many
times her own weight. In fact, it was far too much, even by stalker standards, as it was no longer just a
matter of her own enjoyment. Well, she did find joy in the act of stuffing her face, but the main reason
she did that so vehemently was because it was a necessary step towards fulfilling her Master’s wishes.
A stalker’s seemingly bottomless pit of a stomach did actually digest everything deposited inside it. It
actually did so at a very rapid rate, although it wasn’t because it was necessary to sustain the demon’s
body. The extracted nutrients would instead be stored up and then used to produce a type of enchanted
spider thread that was different from the one Drea used against Xera, and was something Boxxy knew
about well in advance due to the high Level of its Demonology Skill.
This special lavender-colored thread would not fade with the passage of time and was actually a very
valuable material. While incredibly flammable in its raw form, that drawback went away once it was
properly processed and woven into a fabric that was unimaginatively called Demon Silk. It was a sturdy,
stain-resistant cloth that was easily susceptible to enchantments, and was mostly used to make high-
quality adventurer gear such as cloaks, pouches and robes, not to mention extravagant clothes and other
luxury items. Although Drea herself lacked the ability to make anything other than webs, she could still
produce rolls of silken thread that could be sold at a good price.
The reason it was expensive was that, even though all stalkers could make it, they were a relatively
uncommon choice of familiar. Not to mention that it was also normally quite difficult to feed them to the
extent where they could produce it at a constant rate. Even then they would be loathe to do so, as their
pride as demons would not allow them to demean themselves into serving as silk factories. Actually, that
was putting it mildly. In truth, those demons hated it so much that some of them would willingly break
off the contract, despite the penalties that came with performing such an act.
However, Drea’s situation was different. Not only would she willingly make silk for her Master, but the
ample supply of food in Ambrosia’s canopy meant she could make as much of the stuff as Boxxy
wanted. The problem was that the Mimic currently lacked a secure way of selling it off, but it still
wanted to stockpile as much as possible. Which, incidentally, was a lot.
There was also the very real chance of the stalker’s overzealous hunting might drive all those creatures
out of their environment, which would be a huge problem. Not because she’d run out of food, though.
There were 11 more ancient Hylt trees in Azurvale, and each had its own dryad with her own set of pest
problems. It was highly unlikely any of them would refuse Boxxy’s offer of free pest control should it
come to that. However, forcing the miniature ecosystem in their tallest branches to collapse ran the risk
of saddling Boxxy with yet another instance of Taboo courtesy of Zephyra, the Goddess of Rain and
patron of travelers and explorers.
As for the demon doing all the actual work, she almost literally couldn’t be happier, as her new life was
shaping up to be pure bliss. She got to watch her beloved Master spin a web of lies and deceit from afar
during the day, ate outrageous amounts of varied and delicious foods at night, and even had a way to
make herself valuable, or ‘shiny’ to the target of her affections. Her Master even allowed her to use her
regular thread to build a nest for herself within Ambrosia’s canopy.
Her new ‘home’ rapidly grew large enough to be considered a mansion, although she didn’t make it with
practicality in mind. She just wanted to have a place she could call her own, somewhere she could laze
about and peacefully digest her meal while producing her thread. It really was not her intention to
capture and ensnare wandering prey. Granted, that did end up happening anyway, though Drea wasn’t
about to complain about the free food. Ambrosia was perfectly fine with it too, as the stalker’s webs did
not inconvenience her in the slightest. In fact, some small part of her was quite pleased with her new,
oversized ‘hair ornament.’
All things said and done, the newest addition to Boxxy’s little house of monsters fit in surprisingly well.
She diligently performed her duties and seemed to get along with both Snack and Ambrosia. In fact, it
sometimes found the three of them chatting about something or other during idle periods, although the
stalker would immediately vacate the area when she realized Boxxy was nearby.
Even Fizzy had taken an odd liking to the spider girl, despite the two never making eye contact or even
speaking. The exotic silk Drea produced seemed to have ignited the spark of inspiration within the
golem Artificer, and she set out to design and build a machine that could weave it into a fabric all on its
own. This was an idea that Boxxy found very tasty, as selling cloth rather than loose strands was bound
to be much more profitable. It therefore ordered the stalker to assist Fizzy with any and all requests she
might have in that regard.
That particular conversation took place yesterday, and it was now the night of the third day after the
contract with Claws had been made. The Mimic had traded places with Xera, putting her on Rowana-
sitting duty while it filled up on the delicious ‘gifts’ left behind by the stalker. While not quite as tasty as
elves or humans, the huge pile of prime Roc meat dripping with blood made for a very satisfying meal.
If things carried on this way, then it wouldn’t even need to enact that ‘fast food’ plan it came up with. To
say things were working out better than expected would be a huge understatement.
That’s when the Mimic had a sudden, worrying thought.
Actually, haven’t things been going too well lately?
There was that incident with the Taboo Skill, as well as the slight turbulence surrounding Minic’s
sudden appearance, but both of those were resolved quickly and to a highly satisfying degree. And if the
Mimic’s experience told it anything, it was that the proverbial excrement was about to be hit by a
Typhoon Spell.
Fizzy’s voice suddenly rang out from the side, almost as if on cue-
“Gaaah!”
-followed immediately by Kora’s angry shout.
Its dinner thoroughly interrupted, the animate chest stood up from its spot and went over to see what all
the fuss was about, and it saw the gnome standing firmly between Claws and Arms.
Fizzy was in a combat stance, gripping onto her signature wrench with both hands and sporting and
absolutely livid expression on her shiny face. The yellow-green light emanating from her weapon as
well as the similarly glowing halo above her head signified she had activated her Divine Wrath Skill,
which had the formidable effect of making her look even more dazzling than usual. Oh right, it also did
some unimportant things like massively boosting her damage and healing output, but that was besides
the point.
The fiend on the other hand, was curled up on the floor with her face on the wooden ground and her ass
in the air. She seemed to be in a huge deal of pain, judging from her groans and how she was using all
four of her arms to clutch at her lower body. It was quite obvious Fizzy had just hit her with all her
might, and the reason for that seemed to be the third person on the scene.
Claws was currently crouching down on the ground, doing her absolute best to hide behind the much
smaller Paladin. Even the six scythes attaches to her back were wrapped around her front, as if to shield
her from something. She looked like she was in the process of producing her silk when she was rudely
interrupted by a certain someone.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” shouted Fizzy.
“Ghhhrrrrgh! You tiny bitch!” growled the doubled-over fiend. “If it wasn’t for the Boss’s orders I’d turn
you into scrap!”
“Try me, balls-for-brains!” taunted the golem. “I’m different from how I was back in that forest! I’ll
shove this wrench so far up your ass it’ll pop out of your mouth!”
Boxxy decided it was time to intervene, otherwise it wouldn’t be able to enjoy its midnight meal in
peace.
“Okay, what’s going on here?”
All three of its servants turned to stare at the creature that brought them together in the first place.
“Claws, you stay right there,” it ordered, preventing the stalker from running off like she usually did.
“Grr! Ain’t nothing, boss!” insisted Arms. “I was just doing my thing when this psycho-”
“Your thing is the fucking problem here, shitnugget!” shouted Fizzy.
“Be quiet!” commanded Boxxy. “Nobody speak unless spoken to!”
It really didn’t want or need any of this drama. It just wanted to get to the bottom of it, put an end to it
and then get back to its meal. And the most efficient way of handling it was to take it one step at a time.
“Arms, why are you on the ground?”
“That little cunt just hit me in the dick!”
It would seem even Kora, who could handle the pain of losing a limb or having a violent box chew on
her head like it was nothing, was not exempt from attacks to the groin. That was why her member was
normally hidden inside her body in the first place. In other words, she had it out for some reason.
“Fizzy, why did you hit her in the dick?”
“Well, I asked the new girl to show me how she normally handled and produced that silk of hers since I
needed a reference for my machine. And then this moron came striding in and interrupted the
demonstration with her raging boner!”
Boxxy glanced over at Claws who was nodding nervously like her head was about to fall off. The Mimic
was then able to rapidly piece together what had transpired.
Claws could currently produce two types of spider thread. The white, temporary one she used in combat
and the lavender, permanent one necessary to weave Demon Silk. The former shot out of her limbs at
will and was made entirely through magic. The latter, which demanded nutrients and was much closer to
that of an actual spider, was produced by spinnerets inside her body that were vastly different from the
ones in her hands and feet.
Normally those would be located inside a spider’s bulbous abdomen, and the silk itself would come out
of a small opening at the end of it. However, Claws lacked such a body part, mostly due to her
subspecies as Hornet Stalker. Yet she could still produce thread like a regular spider. Which meant that,
much to her embarrassment, the orifice that secreted said thread was placed firmly between her
buttcheeks. So Arms, who randomly saw her ‘demonstration’ of the process, suddenly realized that
Claws did indeed have a hole back there.
And in true fiend fashion, tried to stick her dick in it.
“That’s my silk hole!” shouted the golem in clear disapproval, followed by the stalker’s ceaseless,
embarrassment-fueled chittering.
Arms was instantly banned from, as she put it, ‘sticking it up the spider’s pooper’ since it would
interfere with silk production and was ultimately only for her own amusement. Fizzy questioned why
she even bothered with Claws, considering she had both Ambrosia and Snack on hand to help with her
urges. And the reply she got made the golem feel even more disgusted at the 250-centimeter tall
meatbag.
“It’s not as fun if they don’t fight back!” was what Kora had said.
It would seem Kora wanted to force herself on an unwilling partner. Technically speaking, she hadn’t
really ‘raped’ a single person ever since she was contracted to Boxxy. The aforementioned two didn’t
count since the dryad let the fiend do whatever she wanted with a general air of disinterest, while the
succubus had become an eager slut who loved to be beaten and abused.
“I don’t care, keep it in your pants,” was her Master’s response.
Boxxy had already given her much more freedom than any bound familiar could hope for, so she had no
right to complain.
“C’mon boss! Just this once!”
Not that that stopped her from bitching about it though. Demons were normally fickle, selfish,
ungrateful creatures, so this defiant behavior was to be expected. The Mimic didn’t particularly mind her
attitude though, because that attitude was all she had.
“No,” came the final answer, much to Drea’s relief. She had been made witness to the gut-displacing
size of Kora’s member several times, and was certain her spinneret hole would definitely break. Unlike a
certain succubus, the stalker seriously wanted to avoid that degree of pain.
Still, Boxxy understood that a familiar’s motivation was an important factor towards achieving the best
results, so it decided to throw her a bone. One that would pacify the fiend without impacting its money-
making plans.
“I’ll see about bringing home some leftovers for you to play with instead, okay?”
“... Living ones, right?”
“Yes.”
“Alright!”
Well, that matter seemed to be more or less settled, although Boxxy doubted Fizzy would forgive Arms
so easily. The former gnome may have shifted the blame for her being raped onto the doubly-deceased
Nasty, but the memory of the event would probably never truly fade away. It was, after all, the main
trigger that caused her to make the drastic decision to abandon her flesh and her identity as a gnome.
The Mimic let out a quiet sigh. It honestly disliked dealing with this stuff. Having to put on the facade
called Keira each and every day was already mentally exhausting as it was, and there were only so many
nights it could pretend to sleep next to Rowana while focusing on the Meditation Skill. It was something
anyone could acquire in theory, but took a long time to build proficiency. And the fact it was piling up
stress simply made it harder to focus on actually ‘meditating.’ That was why it spent more and more
time in the dungeon lately, where it could freely indulge in its hobbies.
Speaking of which, that tasty pile of Roc meat was still waiting for it. It immediately put the thoughts of
pointless drama out of its mind and focused entirely on the feast in question. While it still longed for
man-flesh, these birds still made for an excellent substitute. Especially since it realized it should cut
down on its murder of the homeless. While it wasn’t quite sure how close it was to being saddled with
the Slayer of Elvenkind Perk, it wanted to avoid its negative effects if at all possible. Well, they
wouldn’t be nearly as pronounced as the higher-ranked Butcher of Humanity Perk, but it still wanted to
avoid that can of worms for as long as feasibly possible.
In short, the stalker’s gift of fresh monster meat was very much appreciated. Therefore, it sent several
words of telepathic praise such as ‘Thanks for the meal’ and ‘Keep up the good work’ to Claws when it
finished feeding itself, to which she eagerly replied with a ‘It was my pleasure!’ That girl, she seemed to
be fine with communicating over the thought-link, but speaking face-to-face was more or less
impossible for her. Well, that quirk wasn’t much of an issue since her duties involved being neither seen
nor heard anyway.
Claws and Fizzy eventually got back to planning that silk-weaving prototype while Kora went off to find
a certain dryad for obvious purposes. As for Boxxy, it was about to swap places with Snack and resume
its ‘pretending to sleep but not really’ act, when it noticed something strange. It was about the oddly
colored wall at the end of the wooden platform that served as the dungeon’s heart. It was an area of the
cavern that wasn’t covered in bark-like growths, and was something that the Mimic had agreed not to
tamper with on Ambrosia’s behalf. For this bare, beige-colored timber was the central and most vital
part of the Hylt tree - the heartwood.
Boxxy hadn’t really taken a close look at it lately, so it was quite surprised to find that what was a plain,
smooth wall several days ago had been covered in some form of writing. What were undoubtedly letters
had been delicately and expertly carved into the otherwise smooth surface, but the script was not
something Boxxy recognized. It could read and write the international Common language thanks to
Snack’s tutoring, and even looked up old elven texts in the library once or twice out of curiousity, but
this was completely foreign to it. There was quite a lot of it too, as whatever was written here seemed to
extend dozens of meters in every direction.
The strangest thing about this whole situation was that they appeared to be carved by hand. Not only
were such fine details impossible to do with Terrain Sculpting, but there were fresh wood shavings
scattered around the place. It then noticed a thick, tentacle-like vine hanging loosely off to the side. It
was a type of growth the dryad could create and manipulate at will, so the fact that it was gripping onto a
shiny metal knife made it quite clear who was responsible for this literal wall of text. Meaning Boxxy
knew full well who to ask regarding this odd phenomenon.
Boxxy: What are these strange letters near the dungeon core?
Ambrosia: Those art the records of milord’s teachings and instructions.
Come to think of it, she did say something like ‘I shall engrave thy words unto mine heartwood’ at one
point, didn’t she? It would appear she meant that literally, and wasn’t just her fancy way of saying she’ll
keep them in mind. However, the Mimic wasn’t 100% comfortable with leaving records like these
behind, as it was a security risk.
Boxxy: But why write them down? And why here?

Ambrosia: Because this way makes it impossible for me to forget milord’s words.
Boxxy: Is it really that hard for you to remember things?
Ambrosia: ‘Tis shameful to admit, but mine short-term memory has suffered due to mine
age.
Her words made Boxxy thoroughly aware of just how ancient the dryad actually was. Of course it
already knew that, but it was easy to forget her age considering her relatively youthful appearance. The
Mimic couldn’t exactly sympathize with her, but it still more or less understood her problem. Having
accumulated memories for literal millenia would probably make anyone have trouble recollecting
specific things. If this wall of text was necessary for her to carry out her duties, then it would much
rather keep it around.
That did leave one question though. One that Boxxy pondered about for a long time before it finally
asked.
Boxxy: What about the language itself?

Ambrosia: ‘Tis an ancient script, milord.
Boxxy: How ancient, exactly?
Ambrosia: I cannot say for certain, but these letters are likely even older than myself.
Boxxy: That’s an odd way of putting it. Don’t you know when or where they came from?
Ambrosia: No, milord. I know ‘tis strange, but I feel as though I hath always known them,
even before mine birth.
Boxxy: So there’s a good chance nobody else knows about it?
Ambrosia: Indeed. It hath most likely been forgotten by all but me and mine fellow sisters.
Boxxy: I see. Then could you teach me the language later?
Ambrosia: It would be mine pleasure, milord.
Boxxy: Very good. I look forward to it
Of course, this wasn’t a purely academic interest. While Boxxy was, generally speaking, a curious
creature, that did not mean it was particularly fond of studying. Not unless it considered the subject to be
tasty, shiny, or otherwise necessary. And this language had the potential to be very shiny indeed, because
upon closer inspection, the Mimic actually recognized several of the letters.
They were almost identical to the sigils used in demonic rituals. The differences were so minor, that they
could easily be attributed to a difference in handwriting. Combined with the long, incomprehensible
chants, the Demonology Skill made it abundantly clear that demons had their own language. One that
most likely had the power to influence the world around it.
The Summon Familiar Skill was a perfect example of that power in action. While the physical
manifestation of a being from another realm was impressive, the 10-second long and needlessly flashy
activation process that preceded that was even more incredible. The concentric rings of light that
surrounded the Skill’s user while the summoning was in progress were actually made up of countless
tiny symbols. Ones that were in a constant state of flux and rapidly changed shape and size as the Skill
progressed, almost as if they were busy re-writing the fabric of reality itself.
And while Boxxy’s Mana Locator Gland made it possible to perceive such things with relative ease,
most Warlocks and Witches would probably be left blissfully unaware. That didn’t mean that the Mimic
was the first to notice that language’s existence, however. Pretty much every Caster that dabbled in
demonic magic sooner or later realized it. However, no matter how much research was done or years
were wasted, the scholarly community’s attempts at deciphering the language in question proved futile.
This was mostly due to a lack in research material, as the incomplete and superficial knowledge granted
by relevant Skills was the only reliable source of information on the subject. And it was quite
insufficient. Knowing how to write the letters didn’t mean one could read them aloud, and being able to
speak the words and comprehending their significance were very different things. While the meaning of
certain words or phrases could be gleaned from context, the language as a whole remained a mystery.
There was also the fact that all demons capable of speech knew the languages of mortals, and the Skills
in question provided all the necessary information to invoke the related magic. There was therefore no
practical purpose in researching the language. So while there were most certainly a few zealous people
bashing their heads at it, the study of the demonic language had been largely abandoned as a lost cause.
But Boxxy’s situation was different. That enigmatic language shrouded in mystery was currently carved
into the wall of its dungeon, literally in front of its very eyes. It was certain the ‘ancient script’ Ambrosia
spoke of and the language used in demonic rituals were one and the same. As for how the dryad knew of
it, the cause was most likely the common trait she shared with demonkind in general.
Both of them were created by Gods. Granted, they were made by vastly different deities in what were
obviously completely different circumstances, but that link was undeniable. Therefore, it wasn’t a
stretch of the imagination to say that the language in question was not demonic, but divine in origin.
And there was no Taboo in place that forbade a mortal from gaining such exotic, potentially dangerous
knowledge. Which meant that Boxxy would not hesitate to learn the meaning behind those squiggly
letters and weird pronunciations with all its might.
Well, it was highly unlikely it could bend reality just by speaking a few words, as the dryad would have
doubtlessly used that against the termites if it were that easy. However, that possibility was very much
still there. Boxxy had developed a metaphorical nose for shiny things, and this language practically
reeked of it. Even in the event the Mimic’s assumptions were wrong and these letters didn’t have such
power, it would still profit off them by selling the knowledge off. Not only that, but understanding the
contents of Demonology-derived rituals would surely let it prevent any more nasty surprises.
Over the coming days, however, the monster found out that learning a language from scratch was no
easy task. Since it found itself naturally able to speak Common, it was able to learn to read and write it
very rapidly. However, the tentatively named Divine language was an extremely formidable opponent.
To begin with, it apparently had a mind-boggling 255 letters - 10 times more than Common. Many of
them read like short words themselves, such as ‘ubuth,’ ‘ra’ or ‘fus.’ At least it was able to confirm that
Ambrosia’s language and the words it spoke during rituals were indeed one and the same. It also found
out that Snack’s full name, which was translated as ‘Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila’ by the Status screen,
could be spelled out in only 9 Divine letters. It suddenly made sense why demons always seemed to
have such long, nonsensical-sounding names.
However, it would appear the succubus herself had no idea about any of that. While she could speak
several languages thanks to Versatile Tongue, a Skill derived from her Succubus Job, neither Divine nor
Demonic was among them. Well, at least it had the potential to let her use other exotic languages such as
Draconic or Runeword at higher Levels, but that was besides the point. Not only Snack, but all three of
Boxxy’s familiars were completely unaware of the meaning or origin behind their names. Apparently,
such things were assigned at random, so the Divine spelling involved in them was likely Joseph’s doing.
Incidentally, of the other demonic names the Mimic knew about, Arms’ ‘Koralenteprix Khusuuszun
Caonthioxxaa’ was 10 letters long, Claws’ ‘Dreaheath Uniolphial Maramakartor’ was 11, Carl’s
‘Katorolomaongott’ was 6, and Punchy’s ‘Nagnamor’ was only 2. It also seemed impossible to actually
spell Boxxy’s full name in Divine, as the closest Ambrosia could come up with was ‘Bo-kusi Tu-rapp
Mo-rin-ge-wud.’ Three words that, oddly enough, could be literally translated to mean ‘rosebud frozen
peas.’
Such trivialities aside, however, it was obvious that learning this language would take a very, very long
time. It would be a difficult feat, despite Boxxy’s INT and WIS Attributes greatly boosting its natural
mental abilities as a Doppelganger. Still, it found out it was something it could work on while pretending
to sleep at night through the dungeon core-assisted communications with Ambrosia. It was a bit tricky to
do since the core was unable to properly convey the Divine letters themselves, but it was still possible,
and the Mimic made it its priority.
Anything was better than practicing that infuriating Meditation Skill at this point. As expected, trying to
Level a Skill that relied on inner peace and pure thoughts was too high of a hurdle for a murderous,
violent creature brimming with worldly desires. The fact it got it all the way up to Level 4 was
praiseworthy in and of itself, and even that much was mostly due to Boxxy’s patience and stubbornness.
However, that Level was more or less its limit, as it was simply unable to build any additional
proficiency, no matter how much it tried. Much like Shapeshift, it was not a Skill that could be mastered
through simple repetition and hard work, so the Mimic had to be satisfied with an overall 40% boost to
its automatic MP recovery rate. It was not an insignificant result, as the monster’s MP was very much its
lifeline, especially during prolonged battles where Meditation’s effects would surely shine.
Unfortunately, it had to face reality, acknowledge the fact there were some things it could not do, and
focus on the ones it could.
And so, Boxxy slipped back into its new-yet-unchanged routine. It continued acting the part of Keira,
had Ranger training for most of the day, wandered around town looking for information and/or prey
during the afternoon and evenings, and went back to Rowana’s house at night. There, it played a bit with
Minic, spent some ‘quiet, quality time’ with the elf herself and then went to bed. Since it only needed to
sleep once every 3 or 4 days, it spent most nights either studying with Ambrosia or playing around in the
dungeon.
Its minions were also mostly busy throughout this time, although Xera and Kora were left mostly idle.
Since the termites plaguing the dryad had more or less been completely exterminated, they had very
little to do unless their Master called upon them. It went without saying that they spent much of that time
performing all manner of lewd acts, sometimes involving the poor souls Boxxy brought back with it
every now and then.
As for Drea, she kept herself busy by stalking her Master during the day and producing silk during the
night. She had to be extra careful around that Faehorn fellow, though. That elf was really sharp, and
seemed to actually notice her presence at times, despite there being over a hundred meters between
them. A high-Level Ranger’s senses and intuition were not to be trifled with, so the fact the stalker
hadn’t been found out completely actually spoke volumes of her sneaking ability. Still, Boxxy had
eventually warned Claws to give that old guy an even wider berth, as he was bound to grow suspicious if
he kept detecting something at the edge of his perception.
Fizzy mostly divided her time between fighting in the arena for money and working on her Silk Weaver
machine. She had a prototype ready within the week, and although it did produce Demon Silk from the
raw thread, it had a myriad of issues. It worked slow, was too small in scale and the quality of the silk
was quite poor. Not to mention that the stalker demon had some objections regarding the design. Being
forced to squat down and ‘poop out’ silk directly into an opening on the side of the machine was too
high a hurdle for her, especially since Boxxy was there to watch the trial run. Well, the golem obtained a
lot of useful data from that particular experiment, so she was certain she’d make one eventually,
especially with the impossibly dextrous Boxxy around to assist.
That was more or less how the group of monsters spent the two weeks following the ‘Silk Hole Dispute’
incident. During this time, Boxxy was able to steadily increase all of its Job Levels. The Doppelganger
Job got up to Level to 21, allowing it to obtain two new Skills from it. The first was Broken Reflection,
which allowed it to consume a humanoid corpse and become a perfect copy of it, including any clothing
or gear it happened to be wearing at the time. Granted, it could do so by its own power, but the Skill did
all of this in the blink of an eye, and also allowed it to tap into its victim's most recent memories. This
was ultimately a type of illusion born of flesh, so any armor or weapons created through this Skill were
for purely decorative purposes, and its effects would fade after an hour or so.
The second Doppelganger Skill was called Puppet Parasite. Successfully implanting a piece of itself into
the base of a living target’s skull would allow Boxxy to gain full control over the victim’s movements
for a short time. Their minds would be unaffected, however, meaning the subjects would essentially
become prisoners inside their own bodies. And although the Mimic’s insidious mind thought of many
ways it could torture its captives through this method, leaving their minds conscious was ultimately a
drawback. Not only did it leave their memories of the act intact, but it also gave them a chance to fight
back against the Puppet Parasite’s influence. Indeed, someone with a high enough END or MNT
Attribute would be able to completely fight off the Skill’s influence. It was still possible to do it,
although such hard targets would need to be considerably weakened beforehand through the tried-and-
true methods of blood loss and major physical trauma.
The Warlock Job also steadily progressed to Level 40, mostly due to its familiars keeping themselves
busy by squashing small fry. It wasn’t much of a power boost, but it was just enough to allow Boxxy to
learn a Skill called Despair Aura. This was essentially the all-purpose, super-powered version of Butcher
of Humanity, as activating this Skill clad the Warlock in an aura of dread and malice that made everyone
around it want to run away in fear. Unlike the Perk, however, this one could be toggled on and off,
making it an excellent tool for what was to come.
And what that was had steadily become clear over the last 10 days. Faehorn and the other elderly
instructors at the Consortium increased the intensity and nature of their lessons, focusing more on
longer, tougher expeditions with mixed groups of students. It was essentially a form of power leveling,
as everyone, Keira included, was able to reach beyond Level 25 of their respective adventurer Job quite
rapidly. Every student had slowly but steadily come to understand the reason for this sudden spike in
aggressiveness on behalf the teachers, so none of them found themselves unprepared when the dire news
finally arrived.
The Empire had officially declared war on the Republic. Their casus belli was the accusation that the
Republic refused to cooperate with them in tracking down the completely fabricated ‘terrorists’ that
caused the Calamity of Monotal. The elven Exarch - the temporarily elected official that served as the
Republic’s commander-in-chief - had fervently denied such accusations, stating his cabinet had
absolutely nothing to do with that horrific event. Although he wanted to avoid war at all costs, there was
no way he would accept the Empire’s demands of allowing their soldiers to march unhindered through
the Republic’s territories. This was, unsurprisingly, exactly what the warmongering Empire was
counting on, as evidenced at how it had been steadily preparing and escalating its armed forces for the
last few months. And although the Republic’s armed forces did the same, they were vastly inferior in
when it came to the overall quality and quantity of their troops.
Which was where Keira and her fellow students came in. The elven government was forced to conscript
adventurers into its armed forces, something that was only seen as natural since it backed pretty much all
adventurer guilds based in the Republic. And much to Boxxy’s surprise, every single member of the
Consortium, trainee and veteran alike, gladly took up arms to protect their homeland. The Mimic knew
the people of Azurvale deeply cherished their country, but the pragmatic monster had expected at least
some of them to run away from the war. Well, such people did exist of course, but none of them were
among the 8-sided alliance that was the Central Consortium.
Of course, it wasn’t just the elves. Many dwarves, gnomes and even humans all threw their lot in with
the Republic. The Empire’s widespread disdain for elvenkind was no secret, so there was no doubt in
their minds that this would not be a peaceful occupation if they just sat by and let it happen. To them,
this conflict was not about their race. For some, it was about standing up for what they believed in. For
others, it was about fighting to protect their loved ones and the lives they’d built here. Others still were
simply hopeless battle junkies that longed to proved their might on the battlefield.
Each one of Boxxy’s minions was also uniquely motivated in their own way. Whether it was to spread
violence and chaos, satiate their desires or show off in a flashy manner, all of them had one thing in
common. They would make themselves useful to the Mimic that bound them all together. Well, except
for Ambrosia. The dryad was both unable and unwilling to leave her dungeon, so she would be unable to
support Boxxy in any meaningful way. Not that she understood the first thing about warfare or large-
scale conflict anyway.
So while every soldier or conscript had their own motivation, none of them could match the sheer
enthusiasm of one young-looking box-turned-catgirl. Although one couldn’t tell from her face, Keira
was positively giddy at the prospect of all out war with humanity. It would kill them to death and feast
on their bodies, caring little for things such as politics, beliefs, honor or discrimination. What were those
things, anyway? Were they tasty? They didn’t seem tasty. But humans most definitely were, and Boxxy
was practically salivating at the feast that was to come.
It would indiscriminately murder and devour those humans en-masse. It would bite, stab, cut and maul
them to death. It would come at them mercilessly and with no hesitation, striking at them with no
warning and for no real reason other than because it wanted to, just like any real monster would.
Yes… just like the good old days.
(104) Interlude Stalking Does Not Count As A L
Rowana and Keira were having dinner together as per usual. However, the normally noisy table was
gripped by a heavy silence. Only the clatter of silverware and the odd chewing and gulping noises could
be heard throughout the house. It was hardly unexpected, given the circumstances, but the elf could not
bear it any longer.
“So… tomorrow’s the big day, isn’t it?” she said, not even trying to hide the worry in her voice.
“Yeah, it is,” replied Keira with a flat voice.
The elf couldn’t bear to see her normally energetic girlfriend look so lifeless and subdued. Even if the
catgirl’s lips were curled in a faint smile, the distant look in her eyes proved it wasn’t genuine. It was
plainly obvious the beastkin was trying to keep her feelings in check, and was failing miserably. She was
typically the kind of person whose thoughts floated onto her face without her noticing, so her attempts at
putting up a front fell flat, to say the least. And yet Rowana was hesitant to call her out on it, because
she wasn’t sure which one of the two Keira was trying to reassure with that flimsy facade.
“You don’t…. You don’t have to go, you know,” said the elf after a few minutes. “I know that
conscription is mandatory, but there are exceptions…”
Keira stopped raising the spoonful of stew towards her mouth, and slowly lowered it back into her bowl.
She moved her gaze away from her meal, looked directly into the elf’s eyes and spoke with a level
voice.
“You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m sure of it! I’m certain there was a clause in it about immigrants and-”
“Rowie,” she interrupted, “not that. I know I can get out of it somehow, maybe make a run for it. But I
won’t. I have to be there.”
“But why?! Why do you have to go off and join a war so suddenly!”
“Because I already-! … I don’t want anyone else to suffer at the hands of those who think might makes
right.”
The elf fell silent as the catgirl averted her gaze and stared off into distance, beyond the walls of the
cozy little house.
“My parents… They were hunters. Good ones, you know. They often brought back so much meat and
fur that they didn’t know what to do with it. They’d usually trade it for other goods at the village market,
but they always made sure to get some fresh salmon whenever possible.”
Keira’s face softened into a nostalgic smile, the first genuine one she had shown all evening.
“My mom, she’d steam it especially for me since I didn’t like it grilled or in a stew like she and dad did.
We didn’t have much, but they spoiled me at every chance they got.”
The catgirl turned to face Rowana, who was listening intently.
“They hunted a lot at night, you know. Said the best game came out after the sun set. They weren’t
adventurers or anything like that, but they still handled themselves okay. Those two would be fine even
in that pitch blackness… It’s something I believed in with all my might...”
The catgirl’s face turned scornful in the next instant.
“What… what happened?” asked Rowana with a shaky voice.
“Imperial patrol killed my parents, that’s what happened!”
Keira suddenly started yelling in a rage.
“Said they mistook them for bandits out in the woods! Claimed the two of them came at them in the
middle of the night and tried to ambush them, so they fought back! Fucking lying bastards! My parents
would never do something like that!”
She was practically shaking at this point. However, Rowana did not believe it was due to something
simple like anger.
“I’m certain those monsters attacked them on purpose! They knew full well what they had done and
didn’t show even the tiniest bit of remorse! I saw- I saw what they’d done to my mom! They- they- they-
they-”
Rowana instantly left her seat and went to hug the hyperventilating Keira. She held her tight against her
chest, stroked her hair and tried to soothe her as much as she could. The beastkin broke out into full-
blown sobbing shortly after as her bottled up sorrows overflowed like a dam that had burst. And the elf
accepted it all, waiting patiently for the troubled girl to let it all flow out. She didn’t know what to think,
other than she had to be here for her.
It took several minutes for Keira to calm down before she resumed her tale.
“I couldn’t- *Sniffle* I couldn’t do anything about it. None of the other villagers cared and those soldiers
denied everything. They just did whatever they pleased simply because they had the uniform and their
victim wasn’t ‘their kind!’ They’re the absolute fucking worst kind of scum!”
She rubbed the tears from her face.
“I’ve… Those people, they’ll do unspeakable things if we let them, Rowie. I know I haven’t been here
long, but this country is my home. Our home. I can’t let anyone else suffer like I have- like my family
has. I have the power to protect people now, Rowie! I don’t want- I don’t want to run anymore!”
The elf realized how selfish she had been as she gently rubbed the upset Keira’s back. The upset
beastkin was right. This unjust war was something bigger than either of them, yet all Rowana could
think about was how she didn’t want to lose her girlfriend.
“You’ll… have to kill people, Keira.”
“I know.”
“You could get hurt, or killed…”
“... I know.”
A few more minutes passed as Rowana steeled herself. Her sweetheart was determined to do what was
necessary for what she believed in, so there’s no way she could send her off with anything but a smile.
“I won’t stop you, but… You have to promise me something. You come back to me, you hear?! I don’t
care if we win or lose this, but you come back to me safe and sound?!”
“That- That’s obviously a given!”
“Fufufu, my shy little kitty has become quite reliable lately, hasn’t she?”
“Hey! I’m always reliable! I’m a full-fledged Ranger, you know!”

“Then care to explain why I got a bill from a certain innkeeper for roof repairs a few days ago?”
“... This and that are unrelated.”
The two shared a light chuckle, as the heavy atmosphere from awhile ago steadily dispersed.
“You know, sweetie… I have a bit of a selfish request.”
Rowana was well aware this might be the last night she and Keira might spend together. The ‘full-
fledged Ranger’ group was being sent out to the border tomorrow morning, so the elf wanted to make it
truly special.
“Would you go on a little midnight stroll with me?”
“Of course, Rowie! Anything for you!”
The two of them got dressed and exited the small house. The elf led the catgirl up the walkway to the
overhead street-sized branch, which was more or less deserted at this time of night. However, rather than
stop there, she kept walking upwards, much to Keira’s surprise. There were a few sparse, cheap houses
like Rowana’s further up, but that branch was pretty much the highest inhabited area of this particular
Hylt tree. And yet the pair kept steadily climbing until they reached the absolute highest point they could
on foot.
The place they arrived at was an old, wooden platform. It was likely intended to hold a large treehouse,
but had been abandoned for one reason or another. Rowana reached into the large bag she was carrying
and brought out a few blankets. She draped them onto the wooden planks and lied down on her back,
motioning for Keira to do the same.
“I used to come up here whenever I was feeling down,” said the elf as she gazed skyward. “This view
was one of the few things that could really soothe my soul. Fufufu, I haven’t really needed to visit here
ever since I met you though ~?!”
Above them, was a peculiar gap in the Hylt tree’s canopy, that allowed a clear, unobstructed view of the
heavens amidst the countless branches and leaves that normally got in the way of it. It was as if someone
had opened a small window into the cosmos. The distant stars twinkled with all their might, their light
only amplified by the surrounding wall of blackness. Almost as if they were jewels in a small bag.
“So shiny…” muttered Keira.
“Yes… it is…”
However, Rowana wasn’t looking at the sky, but at the sparkly-eyed Keira. The elf was enraptured at the
sight of the faint moonlight that illuminated the catgirl’s face. Her yellow eyes shone like jewels, her
crimson hair glistened like a deep flame and the smooth, tanned skin glistened like porcelain. She gently
caressed Keira’s cheek with the back of her hand, causing the two to lock eyes. Their faces naturally
drew closer to each other, as Rowana’s entire attention was focused on Keira’s thin, moist lips. A soft,
quick kiss rapidly developed into a passionate one. They embraced, feeling each other’s body warmth
and quickly, almost unthinkingly disposed of their bothersome clothes. They brazenly and unabashedly
began making love in the open, lonely space where anyone could see them.
And someone was indeed watching.
Drea, who was climbing down from the canopy after a successful hunt, had happened upon the two
lovebirds. Well, in truth she had merely come to investigate the moans of pleasure they were raising in
the dead of night, but she still found them nonetheless. The thought of ‘desert’ passed through her mind
before she recognized one of them as her Master, and the other as its cover. And since her standing
orders for the night were pretty lax, she allowed herself to watch them go at it. She had, of course, seen
them in the act before, but witnessing it in person was something else entirely. The intensity was on a
completely different level. In fact, she even picked up on the lust-inducing pheromones that Boxxy was
releasing as they were thrown about by the breeze.
It was then that Drea truly, for the first time in her long life, felt her body flush with arousal. She didn’t
know why or how, but her breathing had become ragged, her eyes glossy and her skin flushed. Having
never felt this way before, she had no idea what to do with herself, but she felt she had to do something.
Looking on from a distance and attached to the side of the tree with her back towards it, the stalker did
something she hadn’t even considered before that point - she decided she would try and pleasure herself.
Unfortunately, her body was ill-equipped to handle such things. She had none of the sexual organs that
mortals did, so her attempts at caressing the area between her legs were futile. She briefly thought about
playing with the spinneret hole between her butt cheeks, but she knew that would only bring her pain.
And she most definitely didn’t have Snack’s infamous fetish, so that was completely out of the question.
However, watching Keira and Rowana caress and suckle on each other gave her an idea, and Drea’s
clawed hands moved to her ample breasts. She gently groped and stroked them as best she could, but the
carapace that covered most of them was in the way. So she decided to get rid of it. Her clawed finger
poked at the space where the hard surface gave way to the pliant boob flesh, and slowly but surely
peeled off the black-and-yellow breastplate that kept her cleavage in place. Well, it would grow back in
a few hours, so she didn’t think removing it was a big deal, but she was unprepared of just how profound
of an effect her actions would have.
“Haah, haah, haah.”
The heightened sensitivity of the now-exposed purplish skin of her mammaries caused her to pant
quietly. Just having those globes of fat sway freely back and forth in the breeze fed her sensations she
never even knew her body was capable of. Using the enraptured couple’s carnal acts as a guide, she then
proceeded to grope and massage her own tits, being extremely careful not to harm them with her clawed
hands. She squeezed and played with them, rubbed them against each other and even craned her neck to
lick at the area where her nipples would be if she had those.
She had no idea what she was doing anymore, other than it felt good. And although some part of her was
worried about what would happen to her body, she most definitely didn’t want to stop. She kept going
for a good three or four minutes, her newfound lust gradually rising until it reached the single, inevitable
conclusion.
“Hraaaaktktktktkt!”
She let out a harsh whisper that was halfway between a screech and a growl as her mandibles clacked
together incessantly. Her body shook in the throes of her first orgasm. Her generous chest heaved up and
down as hitherto unknown waves of pleasure washed over her. Her mind barely even processed the fact
that her precious webbing discharged itself from her backside, splattering all over the tree behind her in
a sticky lump.
Drea came down from her orgasmic high a few moments later, feeling strangely refreshed and light-
headed. She then realized both the mess and noises she’d made just now were more than a little
conspicuous, and hurriedly looked downwards in a panic. Much to her relief, however, those two kept
going at each other and didn’t even seem to register her presence.
Feeling a pang of relief wash over her, the stalker let out a quiet sigh while unthinkingly putting a hand
on her still-sensitive breasts. It sent another, unexpected bolt of those newfound sensations through her,
causing her to almost yelp in surprise. Well… she did it once already so… a second time wouldn’t
hurt… right?
And after the second time, she came a third. Then a fourth, and so on.
Before she realized it, the voyeuristic stalker-turned-stalker had ended up using nothing but her breasts
to pleasure herself for the better part of an hour. She ended up finishing for the 9th time just as Keira and
Rowana gave a unanimous, unrestrained cry of joy as they scissored each other to a simultaneous
orgasm. Well, one of those wasn’t exactly real, but that still marked the end of their session.
And while the two lovebirds wrapped themselves in the soaked blankets and proceeded to cuddle
without caring about their surroundings, Drea was made thoroughly aware of the extent of her own
mess. Her entire backside, including much of the tree she was attached to, was now coated in lavender-
colored splotches of webbing. She’d have definitely fallen off the sheer, vertical surface if it wasn’t for
that sticky stuff keeping her in place. And now that she finally calmed down enough to think clearly, she
broke out in a cold sweat. Even if her standing orders gave her a lot of leeway, this was clearly not the
way she was supposed to be ‘producing Demon Silk’ that Boxxy intended. Not to mention she was
completely exposed, and in more than one way.
The stalker started cleaning up the mess she’d made in a panic. The 6 scythes attached to her moved like
a blur as they collected all her webbing into a neat little ball, determined not to leave behind even a
single trace of her shameful display. And as she worked, she became even more frantic and worried
about what’s she’d just done.
Just why did she have to go and do that in such an exposed place? So many times, too! What the heck
was she thinking?! What if the Boxxy Show picked it up and it was broadcast across the entire Beyond?!
A stalker! Masturbating in public?! It was outrageous! Scandalous even! She’d never hear the end of it if
word got out!
No, no, it’s fine! she reassured herself. The view was focused on Master, so I’m sure I was out of range of
the shot! Haha, yes, yes, that was probably it! Yes, nothing to worry about at all! Hahahaha! Haha… I
should probably check… Just in case...
The demoness hid herself completely out of sight on top of a particularly wide branch, and reached out
into the Beyond as she mind-dialed the soul number of one of her younger sisters.
774337-4475-2378-4475
*Ring ring*
*Click*
“H-Hello?” came a shaky, childish-sounding voice.
“Hey Zolmegnara! It’s Dreaheath!”
Zolmengara Uniolphial Maramakartor was almost as big a fan of the Boxxy Show as Drea was, not to
mention she was currently uncontracted. In other words, there was no way she wouldn’t be watching it
right now.
“Oh! My! God! Sis?! It’s you! It’s Claaaaaws! Claws just called meeeee!”
And it sounded like she was way too excitable whenever the topic came up, as per usual.
“Calm down, Zolmegnara! Look, this is urgent so hear me out!”
“Ah! Right, yes, of course! What is it?!”
“You’re watching the Boxxy Show right now, yes?”
“I am, yeah! I’m so jealous of you right now! I mean, even more than usual!”
“Y-you are?”
“Yeah! You looked like you were having so much fun!”
Dread washed over Drea’s entire being.
“... I did?”
“Oh yeah! The Progenitor shifted the view to you halfway through the action, so I got a real good look
at you! I didn’t even know us Stalkers could do that stuff! You’re so lucky you were born as a Hornet
with big boobies! Us Longlegs don’t even have those, you know! Ah, do you think maybe something
would happen if I tried rubbing that spot anyway?! Argh! I need a physical body right now! Contract,
gotta go find a contract!”
The excited demon on the other side of the line kept prattling on excitedly, while Drea was practically in
tears. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die. No, wait, that was a terrible idea! If she did that, then she’d
have to face all her fellow demons in the Beyond! It was honestly a good thing that only Demons ‘R’ Us
were authorized to soul-dial familiars in the physical realm, otherwise she was sure she’d be getting all
kinds of horrible calls right now!
Hanging up on the still-squealing Zolmegnara, Drea made a silent resolution. She would do absolutely
everything in her power to make sure she was never sent back to the Beyond ever again! Haha! Yes, that
was it! A brilliant plan that had no way of failure!
“Haaaaaah.”
She let out a long sigh while drooping her shoulders.
This could not possibly get any worse.
“Claws,” came in Boxxy’s telepathic communication.
Oh no.
“I don’t care what you do during downtime-”
Please, no!
“-and I know stockpiling that webbing isn’t much of a priority right now-”
Anything but that!
“-but make sure you hide yourself better next time.”
NOOOOO!
It was at that moment that the stalker simultaneously disemboweled and beheaded herself in shame.
(105) Veni Vidi Edi 1
A small party of 4 were making their way through the wilderness. The area around them was a small
valley, surrounded on all sides by tall hills that needed just a little more height to graduate to being small
mountains. There were numerous thickets of pine-like trees strewn about, although they were far too
disconnected to be called an actual forest. Green grass wet with dew covered the entire region as far as
the eye could see, and the morning pre-dawn sun was just beginning to light up the sky. Overall, the
terrain had barely enough cover to allow the small team of 4 people to move without being noticed from
afar. Well, strictly speaking 2 of them weren’t really ‘people,’ even though they looked the part.
Far ahead of the group was Keira, wearing her standard-issue chainmail-and-leather armor, along with
the dark green tunic that marked her as a member of the Hidden Arrow guild. She was the group’s
designated spotter and scout, so she walked about 60 to 70 meters ahead of them. Far enough to warn
the others of danger using Whisper Wind, but close enough to fall back to them should the need arise.
The other three moved in a tight formation, almost literally shoulder to shoulder. At the head stood the
2-meter tall, woman-shaped battering ram known as Lola. She wore a splendid set of dwarven-forged,
half-plate armor that was of Superior quality - a ‘loan’ from her doting Warrior instructor. Blue-tinted
metal plates protected her torso, shoulders, forearms and the front of her legs and thighs, while a light
metal helmet perfectly concealed her short, black hair, but left her face wide open. Although lacking the
protection of full plate, this armor allowed the wearer a lot more freedom of movement. Not to mention
it would reduce the effects of any hostile magic aimed at its wearer purely due to being forged out of
Azurite. Each piece of it was also enchanted to make it both lighter and tougher, making it the sort of
equipment any first-rate adventurer would be proud to have.
Behind Lola was a male elf called Jules. Although of average height for his people at about 175
centimeters tall, he still looked particularly short next to the towering Lola. His short, scruffy beard and
messy, unkempt hair made him look much older than he really was at a glance, mostly due to their dull
gray color. This was merely his natural hair color, and the man himself was still in his early 30s. His lean
body was mostly concealed by a dark brown traveling cloak. It swished around him as he moved,
revealing the light, gray leather armor he wore underneath, as well as the small, shoulder-slung bag that
rattled quietly with each step. Although not visible under the soft gloves he was wearing, he was also
equipped with 4 magic rings that provided various minor effects. He walked along while carrying an
ash-colored wooden staff with an engraved mithril sphere as its head. His choice of weapon made it
clear he was a type of magic user, although his actual Job was made obvious by the 4th member of the
group.
Floating idly behind him, with a thoroughly bored look on her gorgeous face was a succubus. She had
white skin like alabaster and glowing yellow eyes. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was parted by a pair
of pitch-black, ram-like horns. As for her body, it was as outrageously proportioned and scandalously
clothed as one might expect of her kind, but the wings on her back marked her as rather unique. For they
were not leathery or bat-like in appearance, but were covered in bright yellow feathers, much closer to
those of a hawk.
Her name was Purupururin, and she was an Ivory Succubus, one of the few subspecies of demons that
could use Holy magic. Her secondary Job was that of a Priest, and she wielded healing and defensive
magic with great ease. The Ivory variant of succubi also had access to a special Skill called Demonic
Invigoration, which allowed their healing Spells to restore a small amount of MP in addition to their
regular effects. Well, they also ‘invigorated’ a very specific part of the male anatomy, but that was
besides the point.
As for why a Warrior, a Warlock, his pet succubus and a Ranger were out here on the fringe between the
Lodrak Empire and the Ishigar Republic, it was because the war was about to go into full swing. Keira,
Lola and Jules were one of many recon teams dispatched to scout out enemy positions and numbers.
Although a Ranger would undoubtedly cover more ground by themselves, that would only prove to be
true if said ground was uninhabited.
“Enemy contact, standby!”
Lola motioned the other two to stop when she heard Keira’s quiet yet clear voice. The catgirl was using
her Whisper Wind Skill to report her findings to her from a safe distance, although it was strictly a one-
way communication channel.
“A group of 5 gnolls, 130 meters ahead of my position. They haven’t spotted me.”
That right there was the reason traversing this region alone was typically a bad idea. Gnolls were canine
monsters that had the appearance of hyenas that walked on two feet. Although not particularly strong on
their own, they were intelligent enough to wield weapons, wear armor and cooperate amongst
themselves to secure prey. They were also known for building crude villages and even showed an
interest in agriculture. Overall, they were surprisingly docile as far as monsters went. Unless, of course,
one happened to intrude upon their clan’s territory. Which was precisely what Keira and company were
currently doing.
“We can take them easy, so move up to my position.”
“Keira found some more gnolls,” repeated Lola for Jules’ benefit. “She says they’re easy pickings, so
we’re going to take them out.”
“She says that about everything though,” said Jules with a sigh.
Threat assessment was also one of the duties of a scout, and a vital one at that. A party could easily be
wiped out if the one in charge of reconnaissance underestimated the enemy or overestimated their own
ability.
“She hasn’t been wrong so far,” noted Lola.
“No, I guess not,” consented the Warlock. “I just get the feeling she’s getting overconfident. Those
gnolls would rip her to shreds if they caught her scent, you know.”
The white-skinned succubus gave off a snort at the thought of a few bipedal puppies being able to defeat
that.
“... Something you wanna say, Purupururin?” asked Jules when he noticed her attitude.
“Yeah. You guys are fucking idiots.”
“Charming as usual, aren’t you?”
Of course, even if she was aware of Boxxy’s secret, she wouldn’t dare reveal it for 3 very good reasons.
First of all, it would ruin the fun. Second of all, the Big Guy would probably have her sorry ass on a
platter if she dared to do that. Last, but certainly not least, that thing was her ticket to freedom. She was
hoping she’d be able to work out some deal with ‘Keira’ that would make her master disappear and
allow her to run free, but didn’t have the chance to even speak with it yet.
“Right, go back to keeping your cockhole shut and stay quiet.”
Unfortunately for her, said master knew how to handle a succubus. Jules had kept a near-permanent gag
order on her ever since they were contracted years ago. Words were one of a succubus’s main weapons,
after all, and the scenario she was planning was just the type of thing he wanted to prevent.
The trio climbed up the hillside, following Keira’s footsteps until they met up with their scout. The
catgirl pointed in the distance, indicating a group of shadows moving between the trees. Lola nodded in
understanding and unsheathed the longsword from her hip while reaffirming her left hand’s grip on her
Azurite kite shield. She then took point as the group crept closer. Once they were about 50 meters from
the gnolls, she looked over her shoulder to confirm the others were ready, then nodded at Keira. The
beastkin nocked an arrow on her iron-reinforced hunting bow and took aim. She picked out the juiciest-
looking target and let loose while activating a Martial Art with a murmur.
“Power Shot.”
The arrow flew forward while leaving a trail of red light, nailing the tallest gnoll right between the eyes
and killing it instantly. The other 4 immediately turned towards where the attack had come from and let
out growls and howls as they ran for cover. Even if it had strong penetrative force, the trajectory of a
Power Shot was far too easy to track, so that was likely going to be the only clean shot the Ranger would
get.
Lola sprang forward from the undergrowth she was hiding in and dashed to intercept the rest of the
gnolls. By the time she caught up to them, Keira had nailed another while Jules’ Shadowbolt and
Ebonfire combo had finished off a third. The female elf slammed into the fourth gnoll with her shield,
knocking it over in the process, and swung her blade at the last.
Overall, it took less than 30 seconds to wipe the gnolls out. An easy win, just like Keira said. They
would have gotten by without a scratch, but the gnoll Lola knocked over with her shield had recovered
much quicker than she was expecting. The Warrior finished it off, but not before the creature stabbed her
in the waist with the crude knife it was holding. It wasn’t a serious injury as her armor covered her vitals
and the wound was immediately treated by Purupururin, but it still stung like a bitch.
The group rebuilt their earlier formation and kept climbing the hill they were on. They ran into another,
smaller group of gnolls that were also easily dispatched before they reached the top, at which point all of
them could clearly see their objective.
A large force of Imperial soldiers had made camp along the road in the distance, over a kilometer away
from their current position. The smoke trails rising from the sea of white tents signified some of them
were already up and about, likely preparing breakfast for the others. A large number of blue flags and
banners were strung up, signifying the force’s allegiance. Although they were not on Republic territory
quite yet, they were close enough to cross the border after about half a day’s worth of marching.
Lola, Keira and Jules shared a few meaningful glances, after which the Ranger reached into her
backpack. She pulled out a crystal cube that was about 8 centimeters on each side, as well as an
Artificer-made spyglass. She tapped three times on the Comm-crystal and whispered the password into
it.
“Folly. Ulgred. Berry. Ankrow. Rillis. Gorgon. Geomer.”
The cube sprang to life and projected the blue-colored transparent image of a male elf with short hair
and a stern expression into the air.
“This is Keira Morgana, recon team 31,” she reported.
“This is Forward Command, reading you loud and clear, 31,” came the business-like response from the
other end. “What’s your situation?”
“We have reached our destination and have eyes on the enemy force.”
“Can you verify their numbers?”
The catgirl laid down on the ground, set the cube down next to her and looked over the large camp with
her spyglass. She took an approximation of the number of tents, and took into account the average
number of soldiers that would fit in a single one before she gave her estimate.
“Seems to be 2 regiments’ worth, at least 4,000 people. Maybe 5,000.”
A shadow passed over Jules and Lola’s faces when they heard that. This was twice the number of
soldiers they were told to expect during their briefing.
“Understood, 31. Can you make out any heraldries?”
Each noble house of the Empire had a small, standing army of their own. And while the Emperor had
ultimate authority over them, each house was directly responsible for its own soldiers. As such, they
made a point of displaying their respective colors alongside the Empire’s blue, griffin-adorned flag
whenever possible.
“Yes, sir - two of them,” reported Keira. “One’s a set of three white horses on a green background while
the other is a crossed hammer and sword. Seems only about a quarter of the soldiers belong to the
former.”
“Anything regarding their composition?”
“I see a lot of horses. Can’t get an accurate count, but there’s far too many for just the supply carts, so I
expect a cavalry detachment. I don’t see anything that looks like siege weapons.”
“How can she tell so much from such a distance?” whispered Jules while Keira kept going on with her
report.
“Because that’s her job, Jules,” answered Lola in a similarly low voice.
“Well yeah, but it’s so dark I can barely even make out the tents!”
“Her eyes are much sharper than an elf’s you know. Besides, she got that spyglass thing from the muffin
lady especially for this mission, so you really shouldn’t be so surprised.”
“Muffin lady? You mean that holy golem I keep hearing about?”
“Yeah, her. Apparently the two of them became friends at some point.”
“Huh… Come to think of it, is she participating in the war, too?”
“Probably. She’s part of the Consortium like us, you know. Besides, there’s no way that psychotic battle
junkie would pass on a fight like this.”
“Acknowledged, 31,” came the voice from the Comm-crystal once Keira was done with her report.
“Your orders are to monitor the situation and send word the instant they start marching, at which point
you are to track and report on their progress. This is your main objective.”
“What about enemy contact, sir?”
“Avoid conflict at all costs. Retreated and fall back to base immediately if the enemy commander learns
of your presence. Understood?”
This order was intended to prevent them from being captured and leaking information to the enemy
rather than out of concern for their well being.
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Forward Command, out.”
The image of the stern-looking elf disappeared, and Keira swiftly put away the cube and the spyglass
back inside her pack. The team then made a basic camp while they waited for the army to start
marching, and ate their field rations cold since building a campfire was out of the question. They had to
stay on alert the entire time, as it was unclear whether enemy scouts would show up. Realistically
speaking though, that was more a matter of ‘when’ rather than ‘if.’ A thought that seemed to disturb
Jules. The Warlock alternated his gaze between the serious-faced Lola and the strangely smiling Keira
before he spoke what was on his mind.
“Have you two… killed before? People, I mean.”
All of them had fought plenty of monsters by now, but the question of murdering one’s fellow man was
a touchy one.
“We have, yeah,” admitted Lola. “Our teachers had us fight brigands and bandits to… prepare us for the
war.”
“Ah, I see… I’ve never actually hurt a person though.”
“Well, you better not hesitate,” cautioned the Warrior. “It could cost us all our lives if you choke when
the time comes.”
“I know, I just- I’m not sure if I’ll forgive myself if I have to murder someone. I can’t justify that with
the war as an excuse, even to myself.”
Oh my fucking God! yelled Purupururin inside her mind. You’re a fucking Warlock, damnit! A wielder of
ruinous powers that could melt a man’s face clean off! Start acting like it, already!
She absolutely despised her master’s noble spirit. Being forced to heal the poor and the needy free of
charge felt like a huge waste of her potential. In her completely unbiased opinion, it was far better to
mount a man or two and keep wringing them dry of their cum while simultaneously using her magic to
keep them alive and ‘energetic.’ Her personal record was a session that lasted a whole 4 hours and 20
minutes before her partner was finally allowed to die, and was forced to ejaculate inside her pretty much
the entire time.
“Just think of them as bugs,” said Keira suddenly.
“... Bugs?”
“Yeah. They’re nothing but a bunch of big, four legged roaches that should be crushed on sight, lest they
eat all your food and lay their eggs everywhere.”
“Heh.”
Lara gave a short, dry laugh. That description was entirely way too fitting of the Imperial army’s
reputation.
“...”
Jules, on the other hand, was struck speechless. Hearing that a sweet-looking child say such things with
a calm voice was more than a little jarring, but this was the reality of their situation. The Warlock was
one of the few elves that was truly hesitant to be fighting in this war. Even if he realized the reasons and
circumstances, none of those would help ease his guilt if he were forced to attack and kill another
person. That was why he signed up for recon duty. Scouting teams typically saw little-to-no-combat if
all went well, though he realized that surviving this conflict without shedding blood was nothing but a
fantasy.
The 5,000 strong force Keira and her group were monitoring started moving an hour after sunrise and
recon team 31 sprang into action. They kept several kilometers ahead and kept relaying information
towards Forward Command, who were currently in the process of assessing just how bad it would get.
According to the intel they had managed to gather, the Imperial army had fielded an estimated 120,000
troops for this invasion. In terms of fighting strength, the average Imperial foot soldier was estimated to
be anywhere between Level 20 and 40. Veterans went above Level 50, while certain elite groups were
assumed to be around Level 70. There were also about 60 or so powerhouses that had gone beyond
Level 100 of their main Job, and had to be treated with special attention.
The elves on the other hand barely had 90,000 men and women at their disposal. About half of them
were conscripted adventurers like Keira. Although that meant that, on average, their Level was higher
than that of the Imperial soldiers, those people were completely unlike the Empire’s army that consisted
entirely of professionally trained soldiers. There was a difference in training, equipment and experience
that could not be overcome with just Levels and Attributes alone. Objectively looking at it, the Empire
had the definite advantage when it came to both the quantity and quality of soldiers at their disposal.
Not only that, but they had very formidable commanders that had seen actual war with other countries.
However, that only applied to open warfare. Republic High Command wanted to avoid any large-scale
conflicts, and would instead employ hit-and-run tactics to disrupt and slow down the Empire’s invasion.
Republic lands were lush with young and old Hylt tree forests that could be used as ambush spots, a sort
of natural fortification. The Imperial army would either have to suffer heavy losses clearing their way
through them, or they would need to go around those forests entirely. Either way, the Republic’s goal of
stalling them would be fulfilled. They were going to buy time until the harsh, northern winter set in and
put a stop to their advance until spring. However, the elves seemed to lack an answer as to what they
would do once spring came and the snow and ice melted.
The humans on the other hand were looking to occupy as much territory as possible before the snowfall
started. They would use the following months to fortify their position, such that it would be nigh-
impossible for the weaker Republic to retake those lands. Whether they would renew their assault
afterwards was not set in stone, but seemed highly likely. Morale among the troops was high, as many of
them were looking to get payback for the Calamity of Monotal. Not only that, but they were also led to
believe the elves could unleash another devastating attack like that in the future.
Boxxy, much like every other Republic soldier, was aware of their motivations, which it found to be
rather strange considering their religion. Humans, for the most part, worshipped Teresa, and while not
quite at the level of a theocracy, her Church of the Hammer still had a lot of political power at their
disposal. It was probably entirely within their power to put a stop to this war, and yet they didn’t.
Teresa should be well aware of the truth behind the Monotal incident, courtesy of a certain loudmouthed
God of Probability. Yet she and her clergy allowed a war perpetuated on a lie to move forward
unhindered. Not only that, but they actually seemed to be supporting it. Surely the supposed goddess of
truth and justice should be stopping this, right? No, come to think of it, Charlie did say the other deities
appeared to be tied up in some sort of political struggle among themselves, so maybe this was part of it?
After all, elves worshipped Nyrie, so perhaps Teresa saw them as competition?
Ultimately, the Mimic didn’t know nearly enough about the struggles of the Gods to come to discern her
motives, nor did it have the power to do anything about them, anyway. Therefore, it put that particular
quandary into a corner of its mind and focused on the task at hand.
Keira’s recon team shadowed the Empire’s detachment for 3 more days and kept feeding information
regarding their progress to their higher ups. Jules was quite relieved, but also distinctly nervous that they
had not come into contact with enemy scouts by now. Keira did report she found tracks of humans
moving ahead of the main force, but the group hadn’t run into any of them directly.
Well, that was mostly because Boxxy and Drea were discretely hunting and devouring such scouts
without letting Lola nor Jules realize what was going on. Keira had to show good results and earn
considerable achievements if the Mimic was to be trusted with acting alone, which meant the catgirl’s
missions had to be completed flawlessly and to the letter. In other words, as long as she officially
avoided all contact with the enemy, then her ability would undoubtedly be recognized. Of course, killing
off the Empire’s troops wasn’t the ideal solution, as the humans would definitely notice their absence.
However, it was still better than the alternative in which Keira’s team went into open conflict with them.
So while the human commanders did indeed realize something was going on by the 4th day they were
being tracked, they were too little too late, as they marched right into the Republic’s ambush.
It was subtle, at first. The people responsible for Lord Hayhurst’s cavalry detachment noticed that the
horses seemed to be uncharacteristically slow and lethargic. It had only been a few days since they
crossed the Republic’s border and although the hilly terrain was rough, their overall speed was slow
enough to not cause this perplexing fatigue. Of course, one could always attribute the animals’ lack of
energy to the long trip they had to take in order to arrive at their staging area in the first place, but their
handlers doubted it was something that simple. After all, it wasn’t just the common-bred beasts of
burden used to pull the supply wagons, but the trained warhorses also behaved oddly. Still, it was very
subtle, and not problematic enough to halt or even slow down their progress.
And then, as the 5,000 strong army detachment was making its way along a dirt road that snaked its way
up the side of a steep hill, the horses keeled over. All 900 of the beasts fell down while foaming at the
mouth, almost in unison. A few of them went over the side of the road and tumbled down the hill with
their riders still attached, while others crushed the infantry under their massive weight. The march
immediately ground to a halt, and the humans braced themselves for ambush. However, the sheer
absurdity of what had just happened was enough to rattle the courage of these men and women, even if
their training forbade them from acting on it.
Thanks to Keira’s timely reports, the Republic was accurately able to track their movements and
determine their destination. There were a number of high-value targets in the area, such as Fort Yimin or
the city of Kulgara, but this particular group was ill-equipped to lay siege to either of those heavily
fortified settlements. It was soon made clear their goal was to suppress and seize control of the
surrounding area, known simply as the Clattering Plains. Doing so would cut off said fort and city from
the rest of the Republic, and would secure a route through which the Empire could move in with a
bigger invasion force.
Having determined their target and their route, the Republic’s Alchemists and scouts laid a trap by
spreading a slow-acting poison into the soil along the way. It rapidly seeped into the surrounding
vegetation, and was transmitted to the horses that grazed on the now poisonous grass and shrubs. Once
the toxin had thoroughly infected their bodies, the Republic aggravated it at a specific point in time by
using wind magic to send an invisible, nearly odorless gas washing over the human force. Although it
didn’t do anything to the soldiers, other than letting them detect a faint scent of raspberries, it reacted
with the poison within the horses’ bodies and rapidly sped up its effects.
It was a roundabout way of doing things, but it did its job of limiting the army’s mobility without
shedding a single drop of blood. And while said horses could undoubtedly saved if the Imperial medics
treated them immediately, the Republic’s guerillas would not give them the chance to do so. They reason
the elves made the Imperial army’s march stop at this spot specifically, was because this was the ideal
spot to unleash the second phase of their plan. One they had vigorously prepared for over the last 2 days.
The earth shook and groaned as the elves triggered a massive landslide. Trees, mud and rocks came
tumbling down the side of the steep hill, threatening to crush the large army underneath. The Empire’s
own magic users immediately flew into action, erecting numerous shields of light and barriers of stone
to protect their comrades. However, their rushed defenses proved to be inadequate in the face of mother
nature’s unleashed fury, and roughly a quarter of their forces found themselves buried under the dirt or
swept down the side of the hill.
What followed was a barrage of arrows and magic from above, let loose by the elven forces that set that
disaster into motion. Hundreds of humans died in those first few seconds, but the damage could have
been much, much worse, as the Republic had assigned only 700 or so of their drafted adventurers to this
plan. While one explanation for this relatively small number was that a larger force would attract
attention, the main reason behind it was that they simply could not spare any more troops for this risky
endeavor.
And, as expected, an Imperial regiment was not so easily disrupted. While they did suffer some damage
from the landslide and subsequent ambush, their soldiers were far too numerous and powerful to be done
in by this much. Warriors and Paladins raised their shields to block the incoming ranged attacks, while
Priests chanted large-scale healing magic. Their own Casters and bow users returned fire as numerous
men and women slowly but surely dug their way out of the landslide’s aftermath.
*DO-DO-DO-DOOON*
All of a sudden, there were a series of explosions among the Empire’s back lines that disrupted the
magic of their healers. Although the damage from the metal shrapnel was not enough to outright kill
them, it proved enough to break their concentration and disrupt their magic. The powerful, entirely non-
magical shockwave also rattled both their bones and their resolve, as they did not see it coming in the
slightest.
“Huhuhu, how’s that!?” proudly declared Keira, the main culprit behind that disturbance.
“Wow…” let out Lola. “That almost feels like cheating.”
“Such a thing…” lamented Jules under his breath.
Yeah! Show those bitches who’s boss! silently cheered Purupururin.
Of course those 4 were there. The Republic had to maximise its resources, so it ordered the vast majority
of scouting units, including Keira’s recon team 31, to join up with the ambush force and provide fire
support. Even a close-ranged Warrior like Lola was able to contribute thanks to a heavy repeating
crossbow of dwarven make. It was a bulky weapon that required a lot of strength to operate, making it
impossible for the average noodle-armed Rangers to use efficiently. And while it lacked the accuracy,
range and damage of a good bow, its dizzying rate of fire more than made up for it.
However, even that dangerous thing seemed like a toy compared to Keira’s newest acquisition.
The beastkin reached back over her shoulder and drew another of her special arrows. Although the shaft
was nothing out of the ordinary, the arrowhead was a long metal cylinder with a long string sticking out
of the underside. Keira put the string in her teeth, nocked the arrow on her bow and took a firing stance.
She then pulled her head back just enough to make the string attaching her teeth to her arrow taut as she
took aim. When she was ready, she pulled her head back sharply, yanking the string and the pin that was
attached to it out of the arrowhead with a small clicking sound.
“Multishot!”
The single arrow split into 4 as it left her bow. The glinting cylinders flew through the air, just another
few drops in a sea of projectiles that were headed in either direction.
*DO-DO-DO-DOOON*
Boxxy’s specially designed arrows let out another multi-pronged roar as they exploded on impact with
the ground, seemingly at random. One of them managed to connect to an unfortunate Wizard’s face,
ripping it to shreds. It caught the humans completely off guard, as those slim projectiles were almost
completely invisible and had far greater range than any magic they had seen.
*DO-DO-DO-DOOON*
The next set of explosions wonderfully set fire to the line of stalled supply carts at the back. That one
was completely on purpose, as eliminating the enemy’s stockpile of food, water and potions was an
important sub-objective of this mission. After all, an army marched on its stomach, so taking those out
was a good way of slowing these guys down.
*DO-DO-DO-DOOON*
Her next target were a 30-man group of soldiers towards the front that had formed a shield wall and
were steadily climbing up the steep hill towards the elves. The violent explosions set off another small
landslide, and they found themselves being pushed back. Losing their balance and their stances, the
shield wall crumbled and the Republic’s other forces took that opportunity to rip them to shreds.
Looking over the battlefield with a keen eye from further behind and above Keira was Faehorn. He was
the highest-ranking officer and also the one in command of this operation. Of course, that didn’t mean
he just sat and watched. His superior Level and Attributes allowed him to attack from a far greater range
than the others, so his hands never stopped firing arrows the entire time as he judged the developing
situation had gone on long enough.
With the element of surprise well and truly gone, the Imperial army regiments were starting to fight back
in earnest. The elves would suffer heavy casualties if he let this drag on any longer. Besides, his main
objective was more or less complete, so his higher ups wouldn’t nag at him for pulling his former
students out too early. He therefore reached for his belt pouch and took out a small wooden tube. He
pointed it towards the sky and pulled on the string coming out of its end, letting loose a red signal flare
to signal the retreat. Seeing that bright light, the various adventurers immediately broke off their assault,
split up into numerous teams of 3 to 6 people and scrambled up the side of the hill, over the top, and
down the opposite slope.
Faehorn coldly assessed the results of the attack while he watched over the disorderly retreat. They had
managed to take out somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500 of the humans within the span of those hectic
few minutes. Their cavalry was crippled and their supplies were torched. In return, his side suffered
relatively minor casualties. He would get an accurate headcount back at base, but for the moment he
estimated they hadn’t lost more than 50 people.
Well, there would probably be more if the army seriously gave chase, but that was unlikely. Not unless
the humans’ command was an absolute idiot. The Imperial soldiers would still go after the retreating
elves and attempted to pick off or catch any stragglers, but they wouldn’t stray too far from their group.
Traversing this monster-infested wilderness was something adventurers did far better than rank-and-file
soldiers, so they were bound to have casualties even without facing any enemy combatants.
That’s when the Comm-crystal in his pocket started vibrating. He held it with one hand and answered it
as he made his way down the slope, and the image of a strict-looking information officer appeared out of
thin air.
“Faehorn, this is Forward Command!” he said urgently, not waiting for the elf to confirm his identity.
“Be advised, recon team 16 has spotted a group of 5 griffins headed towards you from east-by-
southeast!”
Faehorn turned his gaze towards the specified direction and saw a number of tiny specks in the distance.
Activating his Farsight Skill allowed his vision to zoom in and confirm the presence of 5 winged
creatures, each carrying either a metal container or wooden carriage on its back.
“I see them,” said the old Ranger with a calm voice. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Understood! Forward Command, out.”
Faehorn put away the Comm-crystal and dashed off to intercept the gryphon. His subordinates already
knew what to do and where to go, so his presence there wasn’t necessary. Instead, he decided he’d cut
down a number of the Empire’s prized griffins. The air superiority they provided was something the
elves could not match. While the Republic did have several battalions of Wyvern riders, they were no
match for the much larger and more powerful griffins. The humans used them as flying fortresses that
could ferry troop and supplies with ease, in addition to allowing them to scout out enemy positions.
Indeed, griffins assisted the Empire with all aspects of warfare. As expected of a creature literally bred
for war.
However, their opponent this time was bad. After getting close enough, Faehorn readied the weapon in
his hands. It was a remarkably plain-looking thing, no fancier than any run-of-the-mill longbow. Its true
ability was displayed when its wielder pulled on the bowstring, and a spectral arrow materialized out of
thin air as if it had always been there. This Artifact-grade item’s name was Enduring Gale. Not only did
it never run out of ammo, but the special arrows it fired flew remarkably straight since they ignored silly
things like wind and gravity until they hit their target.
Taking a deep breath, Faehorn activated his Rapid Fire and Deadeye Skills, then took aim.
“Snipe!”
The magic arrow flew out of his bow at a speed too fast for the untrained eye to catch, all while leaving
a faint blue trail in its wake. The projectile flew over a kilometer through the air and struck the lead
griffin in its eye. The beast howled in pain and wavered left and right, but did not fall. At least, not quite
yet.
“Snipe! Snipe! Snipe! Snipe! Snipe! Snipe!”
The lead beast’s head became riddled with arrows and it started falling to the ground before the other
four realized they were under fire. They must have realized the ridiculous range they were being
engaged at, and turned around in a hasty retreat of their own. Faehorn managed to down a second and
severely injure a third before the overgrown chickens left his range. Most worryingly of all, the last two
were left completely unharmed. Not because Faehorn didn’t aim at them, but because someone managed
to physically deflect each and every shot the elf fired at those two.
“Heh, looks like I missed out on meeting a big shot,” mused the old elf.
Whoever that someone was, they were definitely one of the Empire’s powerhouses of over Level 100.
They were likely a Monk or Paladin, as evidenced by how they flew about on wings of their own, just
like his good friend Lichter. It was a bit irksome that he didn’t get all of them, but Faehorn decided that
simply scaring them off at this stage was good enough. Besides, there was nothing he could do about it
now. It wasn’t like the Ranger was going to try and chase those flying creatures on foot. He therefore
had to be satisfied with 2 confirmed gryphon kills and making sure those beasts didn’t interfere with his
subordinates’ escape. This was as much as he was going to be able to do for today, so he made his way
back to the rendezvous point at Fort Yimin.
Faehorn arrived at the fort in question the following morning. Much like other elven fortifications, it was
built inside a grove of Hylt trees. Unlike the positively ancient ones at the capital, these ones were only
about 450 to 500 years old and reached up to a height of about 250 to 300 meters. The gaps between
them were fortified with stone walls that were additionally reinforced with processed Ironbark from the
surrounding trees. The local garrison could hold an army of nearly 15,000 soldiers, but was currently
only home to about 10,000 troops, although more reinforcements streamed in each day. This was, after
all, the region’s first real line of defense as well as a staging area for the Republic’s adventurer-led hit-
and-run tactics, so they expected to be hit by a large-scale assault sooner or later.
The old Ranger marched up to the front gates, where a line of returning combatants was waiting to be
processed. He recognized many of the faces he passed by as he walked up the line, and they all gave him
a respectful salute or nod. He would’ve liked to stand in line with the rest of them, but he had to
consider his position as an officer. He therefore, as politely as possible, cut in front of the line, submitted
to a cursory Basic Appraisal to verify his identity and made his way towards the keep.
Once inside the large building, he made his way up to the third floor and entered the room labeled
‘Forward Command.’ It was a large space that housed many desks buried by reports, multiple shelves
filled with various supplies and tools, and numerous maps that covered the walls and most tables. These
were all manned by dozens of people who milled about, doing something or other as they worked to
organize and coordinate the war effort in this part of the country. They all stopped what they were doing
and gave the returning Faehorn a short round of applause and cheers, but returned to their duties almost
immediately after.
The Ranger walked up to a stern-faced, middle-aged elf with ginger hair. He wore a stuffy-looking
uniform that consisted of a long-sleeved coat, pressed trousers and black knee-high boots. It was mostly
brown in color, except for the sleeves that were black from the elbows down. Noticing Faehorn’s
approach, the intelligence officer stood up from his station and greeted him with a salute.
“Good to have you back, sir.”
“Don’t be like that, Silus. You’re technically above me, you know.”
“Perhaps in military rank, but definitely not in ability,” said the officer as if it were the most obvious
thing in the world. “Sir,” he added with a wry grin.
Faehorn let out a small chuckle as he shook his head. These Underwood characters were always sly like
that. As if just anyone could manage and collect intelligence reports coming in from over 30 sources all
at once the way he could. The older elf quickly chased away such idle thoughts and focused on the task
at hand. He ushered the other man into an available meeting room and began the preliminary debriefing.
There would be a proper one later on, but he wanted to check on the details right away.
“So, how did we do on our mission?”
“I believe the words ‘resounding success’ were thrown about here and there, sir. We expect that Imperial
detachment to be delayed by at least 3 weeks before they can replenish their supplies and their numbers.
Especially since Sir soundly chased away their gryphons.”
“That’s good I suppose. Do we know how many casualties we inflicted?”
“According to preliminary reports, our ambush eliminated about 1,600 enemies, sir.”
“What of our losses?”
“Not all of our combatants have returned to base, but we have a total of 45 either KIA or MIA, sir.”
“I see. That’s… better than I expected.”
Even if from a military standpoint it was an almost insignificant loss, Faehorn took every death of those
under his charge as a personal failure. It was a bad habit of his time serving as an instructor, but he
couldn’t help it. He was an adventurer, not a soldier. Even if the notion that the people he laughed and
ate with yesterday might be dead the next day was not foreign, it was still something he couldn’t get
used to. Still, he dealt with it, in his own way.
“Also,” spoke up Underwood, “there’s the matter of the recon team 31.”
“Err…”
“The team consisting of Lola Yeres, Jules Morel and Keira Morgana, sir. I believe the last one is one of
yours, yes?”
“Ah, yes, that’s right. She performed quite well, didn’t she?”
“Indeed, sir. It is my personal opinion your ambush would not have worked as well as it did if not for
her managing to keep eyes on the enemy for so long.”
It wasn’t like Keira’s team was the only one keeping tabs on that force, but the fact she remained
completely undetected was worthy of praise.
“Hmm, as expected,” mused her teacher with a hint of pride in his voice. “That girl’s judgement is top-
notch, despite her young age.”
Of course, Faehorn could have just have easily done the same, but he was unfortunately needed
elsewhere. That ambush was just a small part of a much larger conflict, after all. She also used some
weird arrows in the battle itself, likely yet another gizmo from that golem she befriended recently. Their
effects were very similar to the Burst Shot Martial Art that any Ranger could learn to use, but being able
to combine that with effect with Multishot was truly inspired. It allowed her to sow chaos and panic
among the enemy ranks, despite her much lower Level.
Faehorn hadn’t really considered that option, as an Artificer’s place in open warfare was something that
had yet to be fully evaluated. After all, it was one of the relatively younger Jobs, having been discovered
as little as 120 years ago, and was taking a while before the gnomes that founded it managed to spread it
throughout the world. Finding an Artificer outside the Horkensaft Kingdom was still quite rare, after all.
“So what’s this about young miss Morgana?” asked Faehorn after deciding to have a chat with her later.
“Well, sir…”
Officer Underwood reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crystal cube that was about 8
centimeters on each side, that had a label with ‘31’ written on it stuck to the side.
That was a Comm-crystal, a magic item that allowed for instantaneous long-distance communication
between two people. As vital as it was to this mission, it still had a number of flaws. For one thing, the
range was impressive, but not unlimited. It also demanded some of the user’s MP in order to activate it
and was rather expensive to make. However, perhaps the most glaring flaw with this magic item was
that Comm-crystals were created in pairs, and could only connect to one another. Meaning that if
Underwood were to tap on the cube in his hand and activated it by speaking the password, then the only
people he can get in touch with would be the adventurers assigned to recon team 31.
However, doing that right now would be pointless. For the normally blue-tinged cube had turned a
lifeless gray. A clear sign that its paired Comm-crystal had been destroyed.
It was something all recon teams were told to do in the event that they were captured.
The group of 6 men responsible for leading the 8th Imperial Expeditionary Force were convened in a
large white tent stained red by the setting sun. They were seated around the 3-meter wide stump of a
chopped down Hylt tree as if it were a table. In fact, this flat surface was the main reason they pitched
the commander’s tent over this particular spot. Humans liked their large tables, after all. However, the
looks on their faces was anything but jovial, and for good reason.
“So. What’s the final verdict?”
The man that spoke up first was Lord Hayhurst, who was the highest-ranking commanding officer in
charge. He was a heavy-set man with a short-yet-thick black beard and hair, and spoke with a
commanding tone fitting of his station.
“Permission to speak freely, your lordship?”

The one that answered him was a brown-haired, clean-shaven youth that served as quartermaster.
“Denied. Just give me the facts, Simmons.”
“Yes, your lordship. We lost all the horses, almost all our supplies, and 1,346 of our men are dead or
unaccounted for.”
“Disgraceful,” said a middle-aged bald man with an eyepatch.
“You’re out of line, Hale,” replied the lord with a stern voice.
“Am I? How many times did I tell you not to underestimate those fucking twigs?! I kept telling you my
scouts noted suspicious movements, but you didn’t listen!”
“With all due respect, sir,” spoke up a lanky, blonde-haired man, “we seemed to have been within their
grasp even before we crossed the border.”
“Huh?”
“The horses… the poison in their bodies was something they’d been carrying for the last several days.
It’s highly likely we would have lost them even without this morning’s ambush.”
“...”
The intense-looking Hale quieted down at the chief apothecary’s words. As the one in charge of scouting
and gathering information, he understood that the failure of preventing such sabotage fell squarely on his
shoulders.
“How did they manage to poison them so thoroughly?” asked Hayhurst. “And why only the horses?”
“I’m unable to confirm it at this time, but they likely contaminated the grass and shrubs along our path.”
“I see. If they applied wide-range poison attacks outright then our healers should’ve been able to deal
with them with their magic. We’ll need to notify the other regiments to be more careful of what their
animals graze on.”
“I’ve already sent word via Comm-crystal, your lordship.”
“Very good. What of the camp’s state?”
“We’ve mostly managed to secure our position and establish a perimeter,” said Simmons the
quartermaster. “However, we’re having trouble procuring lumber to establish proper fortifications, and
what little remained of the supplies will not last us long.”
“What about the supply drops from the griffins?”
“They reportedly met with heavy anti-air fire and were forced to withdraw.”
“Local procurement efforts, then?”
“... We’re still looking into it, your lordship.”
As expected, feeding a force this big without the pre-prepared rations was no easy task. It was made
even harder considering their location on the edge of the Clattering Plains. The seemingly endless field
of green grass and shrubs had very little to offer in the way of trees or wild game.
“I guess we’re going to be stuck here, then,” lamented Hayhurst.
“Probably just what those twigs wanted,” noted the one-eyed Hale.
“... That reminds me, I heard your men captured some prisoners?”
Hale’s scouts that had spread ahead of the main force had turned around when they heard the thunderous
roar of that landslide. Although not many, they did manage to intercept and delay a number of enemy
combatants until their allies caught up with them. While some tried to fight back and were killed in
action, others immediately threw down their weapons and surrendered.
“Yeah, we got 3 groups of them, 11 in total,” confirmed the one-eyed man, “although my men were not
too happy about it.”
Those foot soldiers wanted nothing more than to get revenge for their comrades, but it couldn’t be
helped. Attacking the elves once they had shown clear signs of surrender would have incurred the wrath
of Axel, the God of War. That deity abhorred the idea of slaughtering those that had lost the will to fight
and admitted defeat. It was something that extended towards the cold-blooded murder of civilians and
other noncombatants by an invading force.
“Did you manage to get anything useful out of them?” asked the Lord in charge.
“No. They didn’t have any documents or anything like that, and they broke all their Comm-crystals the
instant before or after surrendering.”
“Hm, as expected.”
It was possible to peer into how a Comm-crystal was used by reading residual magic imprinted within
the crystal, due to a common flaw within their design. A skilled Enchanter would be able to use those
remnants to replay any and all communications used within the last 30 hours or so. It was possible to
eliminate this flaw in theory, but doing that would reduce the Comm-crystal’s range from a few dozen
kilometers to about 20 meters, which would render it effectively useless.
“What about interrogations?”
“Pointless. There’s no way those twigs would tell those grunts more than they need to know. If any of
‘em knew something of value then they wouldn’t let themselves be captured in the first place.”
“Excuse me, your lordship.”

The quartermaster suddenly raised a hand.
“What is it, Simmons?”
“I’ve heard talk among some of the men about… ‘using’ the female elves we captured.”
“Tell them to keep it in their pants. We’re not savages.”
“Savages that would resort to ambushes and poison, then run away from a fair fight?”
“Pretty much anything goes in war, Simmons. The fact we got done in so easily merely proves our own
failure as soldiers. Hmm, no, that’s not quite right. We got outplayed by adventurers, didn’t we?”
Although similar on the surface, there was a huge difference in mindset between those two occupations.
While trained military personnel were generally speaking stronger in a straight up confrontation, they
were not nearly as flexible or adaptable as a skilled adventuring party. The main problem with including
both types of people into an army was that of authority, as adventurers generally had trouble following
orders. Not to mention they lacked crucial knowledge and discipline required when pulling off large
scale tactics and formations. Even if that ambush earlier was effective, that disorderly retreat proved just
how hard it was to coordinate between so many small groups of people.
Still, the Empire’s opponent this time was the Republic, who freely used those imaginative and free-
spirited individuals. What they had accomplished today was a one-sided victory, even if it was a
relatively small one.
“Shall I send word to hire some consultants, your lordship?” offered Simmons.
“Indeed. Just make sure we triple-check their backgrounds. Next, I want to discuss our steps for the
future.”
The setting sun slowly but surely descended beyond the horizon as the post-ambush meeting carried on.
By the time it was disbanded, it was already pitch black out, aside from the well-lit and hastily
constructed guard posts. The fact the humans had managed to erect guard towers and fences to protect
themselves in the span of half a day was already a testament to their tenacity.
Quartermaster Simmons walked out of the command tent, parted ways with the other officers and made
his way over to where the prisoners were being kept. There were a total of 5 steel cages lined up in the
open, and were also surrounded by a several guards. Two of the men stationed there greeted the officer
with salutes. However, the quartermaster was not there for idle chit chat and merely informed the
soldiers of Lord Hayhurst’s decree - the elven prisoners were not to be touched.
“... That’s a shame,” said one of the guards after his superior had gone back to his tent. “They really are
quite the beauties, aren’t they?”
He turned around and looked them over. Of the 11 prisoners captured, 6 were female, and all of them
were quite attractive. Although this ratio was pretty common among adventurers in the Republic, the
Imperial army was overwhelmingly male.
“I’ll say,” murmured his colleague. “The tall blonde one is especially my type, you know.”
“The abs are a turnoff for me. Much prefer the soft-looking green-haired one on the right.”
Of course, being made prisoner meant the vast majority of their possessions were stripped from them,
leaving them in just their undergarments. Not only that, but the fact they had MP-draining collars around
their necks and iron bindings around their wrists and ankles only seemed to fuel certain fantasies. In
short, the sight of those women was like spotting an oasis in the middle of a desert.
“Still, that Simmons sure is something to take our joke to the Lord himself.”
“I’ll say. Gotta be careful what we say around that guy.”
Naturally they wouldn’t just rape these women just because they felt bitter or pent-up. They still had
their pride as soldiers. In fact, the widespread rumor that Imperial soldiers raped those they conquered
was really just that - a rumor. Just something that the Republic government quietly spread among their
populace in order to make their adversaries seem more evil than they were. Well, such incidents did
happen when discipline was allowed to slacken. Even if they were rare and the responsible parties were
thoroughly punished, it meant that, unfortunately for the Empire, it wasn’t a completely unfounded
rumor.
“It really is a huge shame though,” repeated the first guard.
“Hey, come on, you’re better than that.”
“Easy for you to say. I haven’t had a chance to do it in months.”
“Well, you heard Simmons. The elves are not to be touched.”
“... So it’s okay as long as it’s not the elves, right?”
“... What?”
The guard nodded his head towards the cage at the far end - the one that had only a single occupant in it.
It was a beastkin girl with cat ears and a tail. She had been given her own cage since she had made quite
the unfavorable impression during the battle and the guards were wary of her. More than a few people
were able to identify her as the main culprit behind torching the vast majority of their supplies. The eye-
catching crimson hair, the bright yellow eyes and the healthy-looking tanned skin just stood out way too
much, even in the heat of battle.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a prisoner. Also she’s basically still a kid. Not to mention she’s a freaking cat!”
“A cat is fine too.”

“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation!”
“Have you actually taken a good look at her?”
The sensible one rolled his eyes, but had to admit he hadn’t really done so. He ended up almost
unthinkingly staring at her exposed body. Of course, the person in question could hear them perfectly,
and she glared daggers at them while curling up to cover up her features with her hands and knees. That
did little to conceal her unearthly charm, however. The guard found himself momentarily captivated by
the sight of her slim-yet-feminine body as the light of the surrounding torches danced around her. Even
that thoroughly disgusted face she was showing was somehow enticing.
“... Okay, you might have a point there,” he consented after a while.
“Look,” whispered the other guard. “We can just take her in for ‘interrogation.’ Nobody has to know,
right? The other lads can all have a turn. It’s the least we can do to pay her back for all she’d done
earlier.”
The sensible one found his resolve wavering. After that grueling day, he was one of the unlucky ones
assigned to stand out here for most of the night. To say he was feeling stressed out would be an
understatement. Not to mention he couldn’t get the image of that near-naked catgirl out of his head, no
matter how much he tried.
“... It’s not technically violating orders…”
Despite his better judgement, he ended up going along with this clearly immoral plan. The other guards
stationed there were also quietly let in on the scheme. There’d be repercussions if they were found out,
and it was a clearly stupid idea, yet they all eventually fell in. Thus, in the middle of the night, while
they were sure everyone but the perimeter guards were asleep, a pair of guards quietly carried off the
heavy cage with the catgirl in it.
Of course, she woke up almost immediately and rattled her chains around in a panic. She opened her
mouth to scream, but the magic collar on her neck prevented her voice from leaking out. Her resistance
was cut short when one of the guards pointed a blade at her, sending a very clear message. Even if they
were unwilling to outright kill her, that didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt or mutilate her.
She was silently brought inside a small tent in the darker section of the large camp. One of the guards
unlocked her cage and started taking off the lower portion of his armor. The other one remained inside
the tent and kept a close eye on her, presumably to make sure she didn’t try anything funny.
It was thus that the beastkin girl’s lower garment was thoughtlessly ripped off as the man forced himself
on her without holding back in the slightest. Her mouth opened wide as she failed to scream, while tears
streaked down her eyes. The man grunted with a primal edge as he eagerly thrust himself in and out of
her deliciously tight passage. He found the world around him become fuzzy and unimportant, all that
mattered to him was the warm, undulating hole wrapped securely around his member. His orgasm came
almost all-too-quickly as he pumped his seed into his seemingly unwitting receptacle. His seed just kept
flowing out of him as his climax rolled on. And on. And on. And on.
10 minutes later, all that was left of him was a shriveled-up corpse. The catgirl silently licked her lips in
delight. Her wrists and ankles deformed as if they were made of clay, allowing her to easily slip out of
her shackles. She then walked out of the cage and reached down to pick up the keys that had been
simply left there. She unlocked her collar with a small click and let out a satisfied sigh. It really had been
far too long since this succubus called Snack had a real snack of her own, and the fact she was bound
and gagged only stimulated the masochist inside her.
Her performance was all part of the plan that the real Keira - or at least, as real as a persona made up by
a murderous box could be - had put into action earlier in the day.
Boxxy and Xera had traded places during the chaos following the ambush with relative ease. The Mimic
then silently guided its ‘comrades’ so they would be captured and forced to surrender. Purupururin was
killed on the spot, as expected, while the others were taken into custody. It then stealthily took over the
guise of one of the guards using the Broken Reflection Skill and had enticed the others into falling for
the succubus’ wiles. It would have done so itself, but severely doubted the effects of its Butcher of
Humanity Perk would let it do that. After all, the Pheromone Control Skill was already working
overtime just to counterbalance it. And then, once it and the lust-addled guard got to the tent, it allowed
the succubus to ‘occupy’ the man while the Mimic went off to make itself useful.
And the reason it went through all this was quite simple - it was to let ‘Keira’ have a plausible means by
which she could escape. Not only that, but Boxxy had silently been able to procure some important-
looking documents while Xera was having her fun. That way, it would surely be lauded as war hero by
the time it came back to the elves. Receiving more recognition and more trust would only allow its
Doppelganger Job to soar to new heights, not to mention some other tasty advantages.
But what about the other prisoners? The kind-hearted Keira would probably not selfishly escape by
herself, right? Even if it was objectively speaking the right course of action, she was hot-blooded and
rash, and would not just abandon her comrades like that. Besides, it clearly saw some of the other
prisoners stir, and they most definitely noticed that the succubus-turned-catgirl was being carried off
somewhere. They were important witnesses that could testify as to her awesomeness, after all.
Returning with those guys in tow was therefore bound to be even more impressive, but doing it without
revealing its nature was immensely difficult, especially with those guards around. A Level 29 Ranger
being able to take down 5 of those soldiers in close quarter combat was impossible no matter how one
looked at it. It was plausible she could somehow deal with 2 guards while unarmed due to the catgirl’s
sharp claws, but this and that were different stories.
Still, there was a way around it.
Back at the other 4 cages, the stationed guards as well as the now-awake prisoners were both getting
restless, albeit for entirely different reasons. It was not a secret to any of them as to why Keira was
carried off somewhere, but more than 40 minutes had passed since then. Just as the guards were thinking
of doing something about it, however, they spotted something in the air. Something so surreal, it took
them a few moments to process it.
Blazing through the night sky was a Meteor, a destructive siege-type Spell available to mid-Level
Pyromancers. And judging from the size of it, this one held quite a bit of power. The guards and the
prisoners all stared in silent shock as the inexplicable thing crashed somewhere into the opposite end of
the camp.
“Enemy attack!”
The thunderous roar and gigantic fireball it raised instantly kicked the soldiers’ trained bodies into gear.
The sounds of battle could be heard in the distance within the next few seconds as the Imperial army
engaged whoever or whatever was attacking them. There was shouting, and metal clashing against
metal. The lights of multiple Spells lit up the night sky as more and more soldiers scrambled to their
feet, geared up as best they could and went out of their tents and rushed towards the site of the
disturbance.
The quintet guarding the prisoners felt like joining in as well, but they couldn’t just abandon their posts.
The possibility of this being a distraction to free the prisoners were high - the timing was too good, and
the absence of their 2 colleagues confirmed that. They resolved themselves to stay firmly in place unless
ordered to otherwise. However, much to their surprise, they learned that they didn’t need to go to the
battle.
Because the battle came to them.
Two towering figures, each of them well over 2 meters in height, made their way through the sea of
Imperial soldiers in front of them. One was a four-armed, red skinned woman that sent grown men
literally flying with each swing of her armored fists. The two massive horns on either side of her wild
green hair made it perfectly clear she was a demon. Her well-muscled body was covered in wounds that
oozed with black blood, yet they didn’t seem to slow her down in the slightest. In fact, judging from the
ecstatic look on her face, she was having the time of her life.
The other figure was that of a heavy-set man wrapped in a plain, brown cloak that had been thoroughly
soaked in wet, sticky blood. His face and hair were wrapped in a blue cloth, showing only a pair of
circular yellow eyes that glinted from within. He held a sword in each hand, and wielded the twin blades
with deadly efficiency. Soldiers lost their lives every time he moved, finishing them off with high-speed
consecutive slashes that turned their bodies into minced meat. It wielded them with deadly efficiency,
and Imperial troops lost their heads every time those arms moved. Although the demon was quite
formidable, she couldn’t even match up to the sheer horror the humans felt towards that thing.
Combining the effects of Butcher of Humanity and the newly-acquired Despair Aura had produced a
terrifying result, in every sense of the word.
Of course, it wasn’t just Boxxy and Kora running wild. A black, vaguely spider-shaped shadow moved
across the chaotic battlefield, reaping the lives of humans with silent glee. Drea happily impaled,
stabbed, dismembered and took bites out of any soldiers she came across within her Master’s vicinity.
She had no idea a noisy place like this could be to her liking, but the way her Master’s terror-inspiring
presence demanded everyone’s attention meant she was free to move as she pleased. Some of those men
didn’t even realize that those standing right next to them had been beheaded in an instant. The ones that
did, well, they just succumbed to their panic and only added to the confusion.
And as if to punctuate all this, another Meteor - the third one of the night - came crashing down on top
of them. The resulting shockwave and flames quickly scattered the surrounding army, creating a lull in
the battle. The elven prisoners were awestruck, so much so that they hadn’t even realized when the 5
guards around them had been beheaded. The cloaked man that was undoubtedly the perpetrator glanced
over in their direction, sending shivers down their spine.
However, much to their surprise, he didn’t attack them. Nor did it free them. It simply took a breather,
re-summoned its fiendish familiar to replenish her strength, and moved on with its rampage.
“Guys! I’m here!”
Just as the sounds of battle started picking up once more somewhere out of sight, a scantily-clad Keira
appeared from the shadows. She hurriedly unlocked their cages and bindings with a set of keys she must
have lifted off her captors, and swiftly directed the 10 ex-prisoners to follow her. They managed to take
advantage of the chaos spreading throughout the camp and made their escape while relying on Keira’s
excellent eyes to guide them through the darkness.
An hour later, they found themselves, naked, cold and hungry while standing in a wide-open plain with
absolutely no cover, but they had managed to put several kilometers between themselves and that
hellscape. Most of them were still reeling from the harrowing experience of being imprisoned, not to
mention the truly terrifying creature they briefly locked eyes with. The mad dash they had underwent
immediately after was only the icing on the cake, pushing them to the brink of mental and physical
exhaustion. Even the stoic and abnormally athletic Lola found herself gasping for air under the faint
light of the night sky.
She had been so focused on running with all her might, that she completely forgot to ask any questions.
And now that she finally had a chance to catch her breath, questions were all she had. About what
happened to Keira. About how she managed to escape from her captors. About what was in that bag she
was carrying. About how they were supposed to make their way back to base without any gear or
weapons.
However, looking into the still-blazing camp in the distance, there was only one her troubled mind truly
wished to know.
“Who… What was that?”
“I believe, that,” said Keira with an exhausted smile, “was the Sandman.”
“That’s the Sandman?!” shouted one of the male elves.
“Well yeah… Maybe… Possibly…”
Keira’s wavering response did not exactly inspire confidence.
“Look, I’m not sure if that’s really the Sandman from the rumors,” said Lola, “but I’ve seen that guy
before. We caught a glimpse of him a week ago when we were sent to clear out a group of bandits.”
“Wh-what happened to those bandits.”

Lola gave the male elf a sharp glare.
“Gone without a trace. Not even blood was left behind.”
“And you’re sure it’s the same one?”
“Trust me, there’s not a lot of guys taller than me.”
There was a bright flash of light off to the side that caught everyone’s attention.
“Relax,” said Jules. “Just summoning my familiar.”
Purupururin had re-appeared out of thin air. Her pale countenance reminded everyone gathered there of a
rather shameful fact - that they were all very much naked. It was a strange scene where the succubus
wearing nothing but high-heeled thigh-highs, a skimpy bikini bottom and a fetishistic corset was
somehow the most modestly clothed one around.
“Oh, right!” exclaimed Keira. “I managed to find everyone’s gear!”
She took the large leather bag strapped around her shoulder and set it down on the ground. She then
started taking out various pieces of equipment out of it. Apparently it was a high-class Bag of Holding,
and the humans had put all the confiscated goods inside.
“... You seriously went around looking for those?” questioned the man from before.
“... I know it was a stupid thing to do but… I couldn’t leave these behind…”
She affectionately rubbed the three iron rings on her right hand.
“Besides,” she added, “I don’t think we would’ve gone far just in our underwear.”
“I suppose it was the right call,” said Lola. “But how did you break out, exactly?”
“Hmm? What are you saying, Lola?” replied Keira with an aloof smile. “We were together the entire
time, weren’t we? That mysterious stranger freed us, didn’t he?”
“Huh? But you got carried off by-”
“We. Got. Freed. Together. Right?!”
“... Right.”
It was painfully obvious she didn’t want to talk about what transpired after she had been separated from
the group. The others made grim expressions as they put on their gear, and shared a few silent looks with
each other as if to confirm that touching on that particular topic was a bad idea.
“Say, that’s weird,” said Jules. “I don’t see my staff. Or my rings.”

His armor, cloak and bag of alchemical field kit were there, but the mithril-tipped staff and enchanted
jewelry was gone. Others also found various valuable magic items they had were gone.
“I dunno. Maybe they put them in a different bag or something?” offered Keira.
It wasn’t like a certain monster obsessed with shinies had already pocketed them for itself or anything.
“I see… They pocketed the expensive things for themselves, huh?”
Unlike soldiers, adventurers had to procure and provide for their own equipment, so having their prized
possessions wind up missing was a bitter pill to swallow. A few of them even wanted to question how
come only the catgirl’s rings were left behind, but bit back those words. Even if they were obviously
priceless mementos to her, their monetary value was barely in the double digits. Therefore, the group
collectively gave up on their valuables, and instead were grateful they at least got the ever-important
weapons and armor back.
Once everyone was geared up, they renewed their trek back to base. Fortunately one of the adventurers
was a Shaman, a Job that had a wide range of body enhancement Spells. He put a combination of the
Breath of the Wild and Windswept Walk Spells on the entire group, which raised their movement speed
and stamina. He had been doing that the entire time they were on the run, of course, which was why
even the weak-bodied magic users could keep running for a full hour. Which included the succubus
currently masquerading as Keira.
Of course, having watched the Boxxy show with great interest while she was ‘away,’ Purupururin knew
full well the catgirl wasn’t who she claimed to be. She was quite impressed her fellow demon could pull
the act off that well, but it was hardly surprising considering she had a big hand in developing that
particular persona in the first place. It was also fortunate succubi had night vision, otherwise she
wouldn’t have been able to guide the group as well as an actual Ranger could.
Back on Boxxy’s side, it had continued its indiscriminate rampage, and had managed to slaughter
around 700 of the Empire’s soldiers before being forced to pull back. It would have gladly kept going,
but it was running out of steam. Even if Butcher of Humanity constantly replenished bits of its HP and
MP, it didn’t mean it could keep fighting indefinitely. Still, it lasted much longer than it would have
otherwise, and was genuinely thankful for having this Perk for the first time in its life.
As expected, however, the Doppelganger Job barely went up to Level 22 despite having murdered a
large number of people during the first phase of the attack. It was a bit late, but it realized that,
technically speaking, that Job wasn’t really a combat-oriented one. It really should have looked into
obtaining a melee-focused Job on the side, hopefully one that could make use of as many of its varied
Attributes as possible.
It wasn’t like it didn’t profit immensely though. Once the witnesses were safely away, it switched to
using Spells and fought entirely in its capacity as a Warlock. That, combined with the assistance of Arms
and Claws, made its Warlock Job increase all the way up to Level 47, allowing it to pick up a tasty new
Skill.
Soul Link
Description: The Warlock’s servants share in the burden of life.
Requirements: Level 45 Warlock, Demonology
Type: Toggled (OFF)
Cost: N/A
Range: 100 Meters
Effects: 30% of the damage taken by a summoned familiar will be split evenly between all
other active familiars.
Beneficial magical effects will be shared between all summoned familiars.
Passively increases the HP of all summoned familiars by 3% per Level of this Skill.
This Skill had several potential applications, but they all equated to the same result - its minions would
be much harder to kill. It also allowed the Mimic to use the relatively short-ranged Dark Infusion Spell
to power up all 3 of its familiars at once as long as they were within the very generous 100 meter range
of Soul Link. This would, in theory, also work with other strengthening effects, such as Fizzy’s Blessing
of Protection or one of the Elixirs of Electricity Absorption the Mimic carried around. It was highly
possible it would have some interaction with healing magic as well. Boxxy would need to experiment
with the Skill to determine its limits, but it didn’t have the chance to do so right now.
It also learned 2 new Spells through the virtue of Leveling Up. One was a Ruin Spell called Reality
Slash, which allowed it to launch an invisible blade that dealt physical damage instead of magical. It was
a very useful tool since it would allow it to bypass anti-magic defenses and effects with ease. The other
one was Mind Control, which did exactly what it said on the tin. However, Boxxy already possessed the
far superior Puppet Parasite Skill, so that particular Spell would probably never see much use. It
honestly found most of the Domination Spells it knew about to be rather lacking and unreliable. Even
Mass Panic Spell Crystals were made obsolete considering the combination of Butcher of Humanity and
Despair Aura had pretty much the same effect. Well, it wasn’t like it put in any extra effort into
acquiring those Spells, so it wasn’t like it was at a loss or anything like that.
Which was unlike that Fleet Footed Ranger Skill it was forced to pick up. The slight bonuses that
Ranger Skill provided to its Agility (AGI) Attribute were really all it was good for. The monster really
didn’t feel like picking it up, but it had little choice in the matter. Adventurer guilds had mandatory Full
Appraisals every now and then, and Essence Concealment could only hide parts of its actual Status.
Therefore, Faehorn would eventually find out if Boxxy only pretended to pick Fleet Footed. Ignoring the
old elf’s sage advice was a very un-Keira-like thing to do, so it already gave up on the Skill as a
necessary sacrifice.
Speaking of ‘Keira,’ the group of 11 Republic escapees steadily made their way towards Fort Yimin
while the Mimic was enjoying the Imperial harvest. It would appear Snack had skillfully established
herself as the de-facto leader of the group and had volunteered to watch their backs while another
Ranger took the lead. Well, it was unlikely any of the 8th Imperial Expeditionary Force would dare
chase after them considering the living hell Boxxy was putting them through, but keeping up
appearances was important. It was also the perfect excuse to allow the succubus and her Master to
stealthily swap places (and clothes) while the others were taking a brief rest in the shade of one of the
few Hylt trees in the Clattering Plains.
They reached Fort Yimin shortly before sundown - almost a full day after they were captured.
Unsurprisingly, their sudden and unexpected appearance caused an uproar. The higher-ups had more or
less written them off as dead, and yet here they were - exhausted, starving and thirsty, but most
definitely alive. Their identities were confirmed through Appraisal, after which they were taken in to be
asked a bunch of questions.
That was how Keira found herself in a tiny room with bare stone walls and a wooden floor and ceiling.
It was completely empty, save for the presence of a small square table in the middle. The catgirl was
seated at the table in one of the plain chairs and was happily devouring the pile of grilled meat in front
of her. She wasn’t quite sure what animal it came from, nor did she care. The superb taste of human
flesh was still fresh in the back of her throat, so she just focused on that vividly delicious memory as she
thoughtlessly scarfed down steak after steak.
It was at that point Boxxy realized it should really learn how to properly preserve meat. Thoughts of
human jerky, smoked liver, pickled hearts and dried fingers passed through its head, causing its appetite
to flare up even more. Eating those things bloody raw was perfectly fine, of course, but there were
simply way too many bodies for it to devour back in that fight. It had to regretfully leave most of them
behind, and the 6 corpses it put inside its Storage were going to start rotting pretty soon. Besides,
cooking those tasty things with other moderately tasty things was bound to let them reach new pinnacles
of tastiness, right? Therefore, it resolved itself to take a class and properly learn to cook.
Wait, come to think of it, it didn’t really need to do that personally, right? Surely Snack would be able to
handle that. Or perhaps Claws could spy on the lessons? Ah, but then again, those two would be unable
to learn the Cooking Skill. It was a General Skill that anyone could acquire, but one that took a lot of
effort and hard work beyond simple repetition in order to truly master, much like Meditation. While
things could be tasty even without it, a high Level of Cooking would definitely be able to make them
even better. Thankfully, it knew just the right plant for the job.
Boxxy: Ambrosia, are you there?

Ambrosia: Greetings, milord! ‘Tis good to hear thou art in good health!
Boxxy: Ah yes, hello. Anyway, you can’t cook, right?
Ambrosia: ‘Tis so, milord. I get mine sustenance from the ground beneath mine roots and
the sun above mine leaves, after all.
Boxxy: Can you learn to cook, then? For my sake?
Ambrosia: It would be mine honor- nay, mine pleasure to master the culinary arts in thy
name, milord!
Boxxy: Very good. Just make sure you focus on meat-based recipes. Use the prisoners for
ingredients.
Ambrosia: Understood!
Boxxy was quite looking forward to seeing the very capable dryad’s results. Well, it had some doubts
whether their tastes would align, or whether a plant could actually taste things in the first place, but it
was worth a shot. However, that would have to wait for later. For now it reigned in its enthusiasm since
its MLG detected the presence of people gathering outside the room it was in.
The door opened to reveal the grizzled face of Faehorn, as well as the stern-looking communications
officer Keira had been in touch with until recently. The older gentleman sat down opposite the catgirl
while the other stood at attention behind him.
“Keira Morgana,” he said with a dry voice.
It made Keira swallow her mouthful of meat audibly while breaking out into a cold sweat. It was the
same atmosphere the two had back during her training. A few tense moments passed before a relieved
smile floated onto her teacher’s face.
“It is good to see you’re alive, kid.”
“... Ah! Th-thank you, sir!”
“And I believe you already know intelligence officer Underwood from the FIB.”
He gestured at the man behind him, and he and Keira nodded to each other in greeting. Of course,
Boxxy was more than a little surprised when it heard the name ‘Underwood’ during its briefing more
than a week ago. In the end, it appeared to be little more than a coincidence. After all, the reason it had
chosen the name ‘Chester Underwood’ back in Bootlick was because it thought of itself as a wooden
chest that had gone undercover. It thought it was being clever at the time, but Snack had kindly pointed
out this was actually an idiotic name, so it picked something far less obvious the second time around.
Faehorn then began interviewing Keira regarding the events that had taken place since they last saw
each other while Silus mostly stood and listened. The catgirl relayed a similar story as the others. Their
team had found themselves surrounded and surrendered as prisoners of war under Axel’s protection, but
not before shattering the Comm-crystal as instructed. They were then stripped of their belongings,
locked up, and took the opportunity to escape when a mysterious figure raided the Imperial army’s
camp.
There was just one discrepancy that Faehorn wanted to address.
“So you say you were freed by this Sandman character?”
“Y-yes?”
“... I already know that’s not what happened, Keira.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Some of the others said you were taken away in the middle of the night by some men and came back
looking… different.”
“...”
The beastkin fell silent and looked down at her hands.
“Did they do anything to you while you were separated?”
“N-no…”
“You’re absolutely sure? Nothing happened to you?”

“...”
“Keira. Don’t make me fetch an interrogator.”
“...”
“Ah… damn, I’m no good at this…”
“Allow me, sir.”
Silus spoke up for the first time since he had come into the room. He and Faehorn traded places.
“First of all, I apologize for Faehorn’s stern words. I want you to understand, you are here among
friends, and you are not under any suspicion or in any sort of trouble.”
The catgirl gave a small nod, showing she understood.
“Now, as good as it is to see you’ve made it back, we need to know where and how you obtained the
documents you brought us.”
He was referring to the ‘present’ that Keira brought back - a bunch of maps and letters that she really
couldn’t understand.
“Is it okay if I ask you a few simple questions?”
“... Yes.”
“Very good. Now then, according to your dossier, you have low-Leveled Lockpick and Stealth Skills, is
this correct.”
“Yes.”
“And I am also led to believe that your claws can be quite dangerous when used properly.”
“Meaning you used your natural born gifts and basic Skills to break free of your bindings while your
captors were otherwise distracted.”
“... Yes.”
Faehorn raised an eyebrow in admiration. He was honestly quite impressed at how tactfully Silus
avoided the heavy topic of rape. It was quite clear that, judging from what he had heard, the catgirl had
been sexually assaulted. While that both was and wasn’t the case in reality, it was still the only
conclusion he could reach. And it was one that he had no idea how to approach.
“Why did you not escape immediately by yourself?” asked Underwood.

“I wouldn’t get far. Even if I slipped away, I’d be killed by the first monster I ran across.”
“So you took the extra risk to go find your gear?”
“Yeah. Facing the wilderness without the right tools is tantamount to suicide, after all.”
She seemed to visibly cheer up at those words, and Faehorn felt even more relieved, not to mention
proud. It felt good to see that at least someone had properly listened to his ramblings.
“Did you run across these papers while you were searching for your gear?”
“No. The Sandman started making noise and the way back was filled with soldiers running all over a
place. I ended up skulking around at random, trying to hide myself from sight. I ended up in this big tent
that had all those important looking charts and stuff, so I swiped them and stuffed them in the bag.”
“I see, so that’s how it was. Tell me, this ‘Sandman’ character - do you know him?”
“No… we did meet though, back in Azurvale. Well, not ‘meet’ meet but-”
“You had an encounter.”
“Yeah, that.”
“What happened then?”
“Well, I was taken in by the guards and we had a long talk.”
“Really now? What then?” asked Silus with a serious face.
“Then I went home to my girl- roommate along with Minic. I got scolded for being careless… then we
had dinner and went to bed.”
Faehorn failed to stifle a chuckle, while Silus let out a relieved sigh.
“I mean what happened after you got those papers,” he clarified.
“Oh! Right! Sorry!” apologized Keira with a slightly red face. “I, uhm, I followed after the path that guy
opened up. He was just cutting his way through their camp, you know! He was super strong and really
amazing! And he had all these demons and these flashy lights and-”
Underwood raised a hand to simultaneously interrupt and calm down the overly-enthusiastic catgirl.
“And that’s how you re-joined the others, did you?”
“Ah, yeah. That’s right.”
“Very good, miss Morgana. That’s all I needed to hear from you.”
The stern-looking elf stood up from his seat, leaned over the table and whispered gently.
“I know some excellent people that can help you deal with any and all emotional troubles you might
have. I can point you to them if you ever feel the need to let something heavy off your chest.”
“I… I don’t-”
“Remember, the wounds we can’t see are often the deadliest. Best to get them treated immediately.”
“... I see… Just a wound, is it? I think I’ll do that, then. Thanks, mister Underwood,” she said with a
weak smile.
“Think nothing of it, my dear,” he answered with a faint smile of his own. “Now then, it’s a bit sudden
and informal, but we’re in a bit of a rush, so please bear with me and step outside.”
“Eh? Ah, yes sir!”
Underwood’s face became serious once more as he stood upright with his hands behind his back. Keira
and Faehorn followed him out of the room and into the hallway, only to be met with over 30 people that
seemed to be waiting for them. Most of them were adventurers, and they were lined up on either side of
the hallway while wearing their respective guild uniforms. Among the familiar faces were Keira’s team
members - Lola and Jules - as well as many classmates and fellow adventurers she hadn’t seen in awhile,
such as the tasty-smelling Lia. The other former prisoners were naturally present, and even Fizzy was
there for some reason.
“Legionnaire Keira Morgana of the 3rd Republic Legion’s 1st Scouting Battalion!”
Silus suddenly called out the catgirl’s full rank and name, causing her and the others to stiffen up and
stand at attention. She tracked Underwood with her eyes as he walked up to her and stared at her
intently, but she didn’t move a single muscle.
“For your exemplary service to the Republic,” he said in a clear, commanding tone, “for showing
outstanding bravery and ability in the face of adversity, for going above and beyond the call of duty, for
risking life and limb to safeguard the lives of your fellow countrymen, you are hereby awarded with the
Golden Crescent.”
The elf reached into his coat’s inner pocket and took out a tiny black box. He opened it to reveal the
medal in question - an 8 centimeter-wide literal golden crescent that looked like an exaggerated half-
moon. It was delicately engraved with various vine-like patterns, and the initials ‘K. M.’ were clearly
stamped in the middle of it. Silus deftly pinned it to the right breast of Keira’s green tunic with the edges
pointed upward, almost as if it were a smile. Once he was done, he stood aside and the others applauded
and cheered in a rather disorderly manner.
“For your meritorious deeds,” continued Underwood, “you are also hereby promoted to the rank of
Decanus. We expect great things from you! Take a good rest and report to my office first thing in the
morning the day after tomorrow for your next assignment!”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” came the genuinely enthusiastic reply from Keira as applause and
congratulations kept pouring down on her.
Of course Boxxy was happy. Well, it wasn’t quite sure exactly what this award signified as it had never
even heard of it until just now, but the acquisition of a uniquely shiny things such as this was already
well worth all that effort. As for the Decanus thing, it simply meant Keira would have ten or so people
under her command. She was basically an officer now, even if a low-ranking one.
“People!” shouted Faehorn, causing the noisy atmosphere to grind to a complete halt. “There’s a time
and place for celebration you know!”
The others looked at each other with difficult expressions, as if someone had just farted in their salad.
“Which, by the way, are 30 minutes from now, and in the mess hall! Drinks are on me!”
The cheers resumed once more as the gathered rabble dragged the hero of the day off to celebrate.
Faehorn watched them go with a smile, while Silus maintained his serious expression. Once the rabble
had cleared off, the two veterans stepped back into the tiny, soundproof interrogation room.
“She’s clean,” said the intelligence officer almost immediately. “Well, she probably feels sullied after
what happened, but she seemed genuine enough.”
He was lying through his teeth when he said Keira wasn’t under suspicion earlier, although the brief chat
seemed to blow most of his worries away.
“That’s good,” sighed Faehorn. “I’d hate to have to put her through any of the more… rigorous
interrogation. Especially considering what she brought us.”
The plans Keira had brought back were still undergoing analysis, but they clearly showed the humans
were aiming to siege Fort Yimin within the week. This was much earlier than anticipated, and the forces
they were sending were overwhelming.
“I just hope the poor kid isn’t traumatized by the end of all this,” said the worrywart of a Ranger.
“Indeed. Well, that’s why it’s important to let her and the others make happy memories while they can.”
Objectively speaking, their chances of holding the fort were next to nothing. An ambush in the
wilderness was one thing, but a siege was a place where soldiers had the definite edge over adventurers.
Well, it wasn’t like the Republic didn’t have any trained military personnel, but it was sorely lacking
when compared to the Empire. They would be able to delay them considerably with the forces they had
on hand, but they would undoubtedly fall within 10 days.
“This Sandman character, though,” said Faehorn with a frown, “Just how is he related to all this?”
“I can’t say. His motives, methods and movements are all unclear at this point. However, like it or not,
we do owe him.”
Silus reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a torn, wrinkled and slightly stained piece of paper.
“Literally,” he stressed while passing it to Faehorn.
“What’s this?”
“Something that was dropped off in front of the gates earlier today. It was nailed to the dismembered
head of one Lord Hayhurst, former commander of the 8th Imperial Expeditionary Force.”
Faehorn took the piece of paper and looked at it with ever-widening eyes.
“Is this a joke?”
“Do I look like I’m laughing?”
INVOICE
Sandman Assassinations Inc.

Nowhere yet everywhere within the vicinity of Fort Yimin
Att: To whom it may concern, 3rd Republic Legion
Invoice #000001
For services rendered:
• Imperial soldiers (700) - 10 GP

• Commanding officer (1) - 1,000 GP
• Next-day delivery (1) - 300 GP
• Subtotal: 8,300 GP
• Boxing tax: 5%
• Total: 8,715 GP
Payment terms: to be received within 5 days. Tell the cat-eared beastkin to drop it off at the
600 year-old Hylt tree south of the fort. Or else.
We appreciate your patronage and look forward to doing business with you again in due
course.
There was a sharp knock on the door to Silus Underwood’s office. The man himself had already been
hard at work going through and organizing the information from the stack of reports on his desk, despite
it barely even being dawn.
“Enter,” he called out while scribbling on the document in front of him.

The door swung open and the newly-appointed junior officer walked in while announcing her presence
with a salute.
“Decanus Keira Morgana, reporting as instructed, sir!”
It was an all too-chipper voice that seemed to sweep away the stale atmosphere of the messy office and
make it the slightest bit more jovial. Her upturned eyes, smiling lips and gently swaying tail gave off the
impression of one that had obtained true happiness in the world. It was as if the sight of that frightened
girl who didn’t want to admit to being sexually assaulted a few days ago was all but a lie.
“Ah yes, please have a seat, Decanus. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The beastkin did as instructed and seated herself in the chair on the opposite end of the desk. Silus
continued writing on the document - an estimate of the casualties should the Empire’s plans to siege Fort
Yimin come to fruition - but his mind was elsewhere. He was stealthily appraising and observing the
catgirl out of the corner of his eye.
Even though her behavior seemed odd and out of place at first glance, prior conversations with those
close to her revealed it was actually the norm for her. Her mood supposedly swayed back and forth like a
pendulum, to the point where one could call her volatile or unstable. Yet out in the field she displayed a
surprisingly serious and reliable demeanor, as if she were a completely different person. Well, many
adventurers were like that, but near-total lack of animosity in her was noteworthy.
In fact, the only time she showed any genuine hostility was whenever the topic of the Empire’s military
came up. She seemed to hold some sort of grudge towards them, but it was important to note this was
limited only to the soldiers themselves. She had no issue communicating or working with any of the
human adventurers that sided with the Republic, which spoke favorably of her character in Underwood’s
personal opinion. Indiscriminately hating the many because of the actions of the few was the sort of
thing that fanned the flames of this damned war to begin with.
As for the girl’s character, Silus was able to reach the painfully obvious conclusion that she was too easy
to read. She didn’t even try to hide her feelings and let her thoughts float onto her face without any
hesitation. There was already somewhat of a rumor within the barracks how bad of a gambler she was
because of that. Her bluffing skills were so bad that the other soldiers genuinely felt bad for
indiscriminately winning her wages off her. It was at the point where it could easily be called bullying.
Long story short, her currently fluffy state of mind was most likely due to a very specific reason.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” said Silus after putting away the report he was working on.
“Hm? Ah! Yes, uhm, that is- I just got a letter from home, you see.”
“Good news, I trust?”
“Hehehe, that’s one way to put it!” she declared with a goofy grin.
The letter in question was from an individual called Rowana Slyth. It had actually arrived yesterday, but
circumstances being what they were, Underwood used his authority to delay its delivery in order to read
it for himself. The colorful language made it clear that she and Keira were more than just ‘roommates,’
and honestly made the elf more than a little uncomfortable. Digging into another’s personal life like that
was a necessary evil in his line of work.
Still, the fact she was in a romantic relationship made it quite clear why she was so hesitant to speak of
what transpired two nights ago. She was probably trying her best to purge the unpleasant memories from
her mind. Well, that was possible in the literal sense with the help of a Psionic, but that was a rather
extreme measure. Whether or not she actually visited those mental specialists Underwood mentioned
during her debriefing was up to her. Even if he sympathized with her, however, he had more important
things to worry about than her mental well-being.
“Now then, I must discuss a very sensitive matter with you. What I’m about to tell you is strictly on a
need-to-know basis and is to remain a secret, understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
Keira’s giddy atmosphere was replaced with a more serious one as she saluted while puffing out her
chest. The eye-catching Golden Crescent pinned to her uniform glinted in response to the slight
movement. It was a relatively common award given out to distinguished individuals and was ultimately
nothing more than a fancy trinket, but the fact she wore it with pride proved it was not a meaningless
gesture.
“What do you make of this, Decanus?”
Silus reached into a desk drawer and took out the invoice that had been delivered to him several hours
before the catgirl’s triumphant return. He passed it onto her, and she began reading it immediately. Her
expression went from surprised, to curious, to grim, then downright shocked as she scanned it top-to-
bottom.
“This… Uhm… Is this a prank?” she asked with an incredulous voice.
“I said this was a serious matter, did I not?”
“Ah, yes sir! Sorry, sir!”
Well, her first reaction was more or less the same as everyone else who saw that ridiculous scrap of
paper, so Silus couldn’t really fault her for those words.
“But still, a prank? What makes you say that?”
“Well, even if you ask me that… I don’t even know where to start!”
“Then start at the first thing that caught your attention.”
“Yes, sir. Uhm, it feels weird for the Sandman to ask for money. Isn’t he an ally of justice?”
“You know that would technically make him our enemy, right?”
“Eh?”
“The Empire claims Teresa herself is on their side, you know.”
“Oh, right.”
Even if Teresa’s devoted most certainly took part in the war, whether the Goddess of truth, justice and
retribution personally supported it was another question entirely. Mere mortals could not hope to
comprehend the wills of the Gods. Besides, the concept of ‘justice’ was entirely reliant on one’s
perceptions and preconceptions. Silus was not a man who could trust in something vague and fallible
like that.
“To be frank, I’d be far more relaxed if this invoice was the real deal,” he admitted. “A motivation of
wanting to make money is something I find easier to believe in than altruism.”
Of course one needed to be wary of loyalty that had been bought with coin. That wasn’t to say
mercenaries and sellswords were untrustworthy, though. It all depended on how professional they were,
and whether or not they abandoned their contracts whenever it suited them. This was also the kind of
logic that the pragmatic Boxxy was expecting the elves’ higher-ups to display. However, Keira was
supposed to be a young, idealistic girl. Therefore, it made sure to show a troubled and uncomfortable
expression at the elf’s words.
“So then… this is the assignment you mentioned, sir?”
“That’s right. Although I do wonder why he singled you out.”
The reason the Mimic named itself as the courier was so that it would know in advance what sort of
funny business the elves would try to pull during the hand-off. It was also a question of whether they
would pay up willingly, but then it would just take what it was ‘owed’ through brute force, and the
stingy elves would only have themselves to blame. Besides, even if they were short on military
personnel, it wasn’t like the Republic’s coffers were light. It was quite sure they’d be able to dredge up
the funds even with the short notice. As for the officer’s question-
“Maybe he feels I won’t betray him?” offered Keira.
“And what makes you say that?”
“I do owe him my life, sir. Twice, actually.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
It was also not really a question as to how or why she caught the Sandman’s eye. Not only did the two
meet practically face-to-face, but it also went without saying that she stood out entirely too much. She
was the only beastkin in the 3rd Legion, and her fiery-red hair, ears and tail practically demanded one’s
attention. Even the opposing force had no trouble singling her out after her capture. Her ability and
potential were also outstanding, as evidenced not only by her results, but by how Faehorn himself gave
her special, almost preferential treatment. And the last few days had more or less convinced Underwood
her motivations to fend off the Empire’s invasion was no less genuine than his own.
It was her loyalty to the Republic itself that was still in question.
“What if I were to order you to betray him, though?”
“...”
Her face once again became deeply troubled, showing she was unsure as to what to answer. As expected,
she was conflicted. Although Silus was curious whether her gratitude towards her savior or her duty
towards her country was stronger, this was not the time for such pointless tests.
“Well, in the end I won’t be doing that. No offense, but it’s not like I expect an adventurer like you to
follow a troublesome order like that so easily.”
“Err, thank you?”
“In any event, get your gear and get ready to depart within the hour.”
“So we’re actually going to hand over this much money? Just like that?!”
8,715 GP was quite literally a fortune. It was the sort of lump sum that could potentially set one up for
life, or at the very least allow them to retire.
“Believe it or not, his rates are actually very generous. Waging war is rather expensive, you know,” said
Silus with a dry chuckle. “Besides, it is my personal and official opinion we want to establish good
relations with this entity, which is why we’ll even be giving him a little gift.”
“Understood, sir. Still, I feel uneasy carrying that much money by myself…”
“Who said you’re going by yourself?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing in the invoice said you had to go out there alone, right? That’s why I’m sending you along
with an armed escort, as well as one of the High Elves as insurance. Just in case this is some scam or
trap.”
Boxxy mentally cursed its lack of foresight. This would complicate things, but it wasn’t like it would be
impossible to deceive them.
“Understood, sir.”
“Very good. Now, do you have any questions?”
“Just one. What is this boxing tax supposed to be? Is this a thing that exists?”
Of course the Mimic knew the answer. While the ‘reasonable rates’ were something it discussed with
Snack, the ‘boxing tax’ was something Kora suggested. Although she probably meant it as a bad joke,
Boxxy liked the sound of it and added it anyway. However, it would be un-Keira-like if it didn’t ask
about things like this. Besides, it was genuinely curious as to how the elves would interpret it.
“I suppose that’s the shipping and handling charge,” said Underwood with a humorless smile.
“Shipping and handling, sir?”
“The invoice was delivered in a wooden box, you know. Along with the enemy commander’s head.”
“I see…”
It would seem Claws did something unnecessary when she was dropping it off. Where and how did she
even find a box in the first place?
“Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Then you have your orders. Dismissed, Decanus.”
“Yes, sir!”
Keira stood up with a salute and exited the office while Underwood went back to his duties. Half an
hour later she was fully geared up and went to meet up with her armed escort - a platoon made up of 50
of the garrison’s professional soldiers. One could easily tell them apart from the conscripted adventurers
due to their gear. Although each individual wore something befitting their Job - light chainmail and
padded armor for the scouts, thick cloaks and robes for the magic users and metal-plated armor for the
vanguards - they all had a uniform feel to it. Mostly due to the predominantly silver-like color of their
equipment and the eagle-wing-themed decorations and engravings along their shoulders and headgear.
And among them was the High Elf that Underwood mentioned - someone that had reached Level 100 of
her Job and Ranked Up from a regular elf into a higher variant. She was an old elf, much like the various
guild instructors, except that her face was still beautiful, elegant and smooth with very few wrinkles. She
had pure white skin that contrasted with her long, raven-black hair and eyes, as well as her luxurious
black robe. Strictly speaking, her garment seemed more like an evening gown than an adventurer’s
attire. It looked as if someone had cut out diamond-shaped holes out of the fabric, exposing her navel,
collarbone, shoulders, the sides of her thighs and her upper back to the world. Well, it was a high-class
magic item without a doubt, but it was obvious this woman put too much stock into appearances.
“Greetings, child,” she said with a flourish of her arms. “Know that you are in the presence of Imiryl of
the Maleficium! Fret not, for I shall guard your fragile existence without fail! All who seek to stand in
my way shall be trampled under my heel!”
Her tone and attitude were condescending, to say the least. It was obvious she was looking down on the
beastkin as a lesser creature - a burden she was forced to carry around. The soldiers around her rolled
her eyes, suggesting they were already familiar with her prideful behavior.
“Hi! I’m Keira! I’ll be in your care!”

“...”
The woman called Imiryl was stunned silent by the catgirl’s excited-yet-casual tone.
“Wow, so you’re a High Elf like mister Faehorn, huh? I had no idea you’d be this pretty!”
“...”
The elf just stared unblinkingly at Keira, almost as if she was doubting whether she was seeing an
illusion or not. What sort of behavior was this? Was this whelp before her unable to grasp greatness
when she saw it?
“I mean, between you and me, he’s getting on in years a little, you know? I think his friend Lichter looks
much better. Not that he’s my type or anything, but he’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”
“...”
“So I heard you were like, a super famous Wizard, right? Say, can you shoot lightning? I always wanted
to see someone shoot lightning!”
“...”
The catgirl was basically bouncing in place in anticipation by this point, although this was mostly a ruse.
Truthfully speaking, Imiryl was a dangerous person. Wizards were one of the few Jobs capable of using
lightning Spells, which made them a natural enemy to shapeshifters like a certain Mimic-turned-
Doppelganger. It also didn’t help that Imiryl’s personality was exactly as the rumors said - snobbish,
prideful and overconfident. There’s no way she’d get along with the happy-go-lucky and bubbly Keira.
However, staying in-character at this point was more important than being liked, especially since that
Underwood fellow had his eye on her.
“Ahem!”
One of the soldiers audibly cleared his throat.
“Decanus Morgana, ma’am. I think it’s about time we set off.”
The beastkin was, technically speaking, the one in command of this little operation. The Sandman had
named her personally, and she was one of the very few people to have met him, so she was the closest
thing they had to an expert on the masked figure. Well, she also technically outranked the Legionnaire
who spoke to her, even if slightly, so it was no surprise the man was trying his best to be as respectful to
his superior officer as possible. Even if that superior officer was someone as childish and bizarre as
Keira.
“Hm? Oh! Right! Sorry! I got a little over-excited meeting miss Imiryl in person. I heard so much about
her at the guild, you know!”
“It’s understandable, ma’am, but we really should be on our way.”

“Yes, of course!”
The catgirl coughed once or twice to reign in her mock enthusiasm, then asked the soldier who
addressed her earlier.
“Then, you have the package?”
“Right here, ma’am.”
The soldier gestured towards the man immediately behind him, who was carrying sturdy-looking metal
chest that was locked up with a heavy padlock.
“Very good,” she said. “What of the ‘present’ I heard about.”
“I believe that is in Lady Imiryl’s possession, ma’am.”
Those words seemed to snap the needlessly haughty High Elf out of her stupor.
“Indeed it is,” she declared in a grandiose fashion. “However, its identity is not for one of your stature to
know!”
“Okay! Then let’s move out, everybody!”
Relieved to have actually gotten some coherent orders, the soldiers assumed a loose, square-like
formation with Keira, Imiryl and the gold at the center, and moved out through the front gates. The Hylt
tree mentioned in the invoice was the oldest tree in the region, so it was a well-known landmark. It was
also a good 20 or so kilometers south of the fort, so the group would normally have a long march ahead
of them if Imiryl wasn’t there.
Once the patrol was out of the front gates and a good 300 or so meters away from the fort, the high-
Level Wizard started casting a grand Spell.
“Transfer Gate!”
A massive magical doorway sprang out of thin-air, one that was easily as big as the fort’s own gates. The
scenery beyond the portal was that of a grassy plain, with an impossibly tall tree visible in the distance.
One by one, the soldiers strode through the Transfer Gate as if it were an everyday occurrence. There
was hardly any resistance, not even a peculiar sensation as Keira passed through it. It was as natural a
sensation as going from one room to the other. Imiryl, who was busy maintaining the portal, was the last
one to go through it, after which it collapsed in on itself.
All things said and done, they appeared a distance that was less than a 10 minute walk away from the
tree in question. It was possible to transfer everyone directly under the tree’s canopy, but that might have
been considered a hostile action by other party. As for why they had to step away from the fort, it was
because there was a powerful ward around the place that prevented Spatial Magic from being activated.
It was something of a standard procedure to fortify a stronghold against teleportation, otherwise they ran
the risk of the enemy transporting their forces directly inside the fort and bypassing the walls entirely.
This bit of trivia came as a surprise to Boxxy since Transfamiliar worked just fine within the fort’s
confines. Then again, the magical theory behind that particular Spell was very different from traditional
Spatial Magic, so it made sense in its own way. It was a very welcome discovery, because it meant that it
held an edge in mobility its enemies might not anticipate.
The armed escort resumed their formation and approached the 450-meter-tall tree warily. The Wizard
had deployed a transparent bubble around them, a Mana Shield that should protect them from any
incoming magical attacks. They raised their guard even further as they entered the shadow of the tree’s
vast canopy, but there was still no sign of life. At least, not until they got within a dozen or so meters
from the tree’s massive trunk.
“Who goes there?”
A woman’s voice rolled in from above, causing the soldiers as well as Imiryl to brace themselves.
However, nothing at all happened for the next 30 or so seconds. Not until a certain catgirl decided to
shout at her surroundings.
“Uhm! Hello there! I’m Keira! I’m here to see mister Sandman!”
“Do you have an appointment or something?”
“Yes! We’re here to deliver payment for, uh, services rendered!”
“Ah, you must be the kitty I was told about. What of those angry looking men and that old hag? They
your mates?”
“Old hag… ?” muttered Imiryl under her breath.
“Yeah! They’re my escort! They won’t attack so, can I please speak to mister Sandman?”
“The Master will speak with you, and you alone! The others must leave my shadow if you wish for an
audience!”
“Then, it’s okay if the others step back a bit, right? Okay, everyone, let’s-”
“Nonsense!” butted in Imiryl. “I shall not let this poor child be taken in by the likes of you! Show
yourself!”
“I’m already in front of you, you old bat. Are your eyes just for decoration? Or do you perhaps need
glasses in your old age?”
“... De-spell!”
“No, wait!”
Keira tried to stop the enraged elf, but it was too late. And invisible wave of magic exploded out of the
Wizard’s outstretched hand and washed over her surroundings. It was a Spell meant to negate ongoing
magical effects by forcibly dispersing the mana that held them together. She was expecting to hit
someone that was cloaked in Invisibility or was otherwise using an illusion of some sort, but ended up
with a completely different response.
“Oi! That hurt, you uppity cunt!”
A living root sprouted out from the ground beneath her feet and delivered a splendid uppercut to the
High Elf, knocking her into the air. A countless number of other, smaller roots sprouted out from the
grassy soil, firmly entangling the entire platoon and forcing them to the ground before they could do
anything. Only Imiryl managed to escape by flying up into the air with magic.
However, a number of green vines shot out horizontally from the tree’s thick trunk, firmly wrapping
themselves around her hands, feet, mouth and throat. Not only was she unable to chant, but she
immediately felt her MP drain away at a rapid pace. Those parasitic plants sucked her completely dry
within seconds and fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, leaving her in the same helpless
predicament as the others.
Having been singled out, the High Elf was dragged across the dirt until she was at the very foot of the
Hylt tree. It was then that the dryad residing within the venerable plant finally showed herself. The
green-skinned woman walked out of the bark as if it were thin air, causing everyone present to stare at
her with wide open eyes. She was much younger than Ambrosia, so her proportions were not quite as
generous. In fact, her body was more like that of a young teenager, closer to Keira’s than Xera’s. She
had the same hair-like vines growing out of her scalp, although her lack of antlers was, according to
Ambrosia, a clear sign she had yet to mature into an adult.
The tree spirit silently looked over everyone present before turning her attention to the ‘uppity cunt’ at
her feet. She squatted down and glared at her with a look that could kill.
“Why the fuck did you just disperse the mana inside my trunk, you twat?!” she said in a clearly pissed-
off tone. “I need that shit to live, you know! Do you even have any idea how painful that was?! No, of
course, you don’t! You hoighty-toighty High Elves are all the same! You think you know what’s what
just because you’ve been around for a while! Well guess what?! You’re not the top bitch ‘round here - I
am!”
The furious dryad took a few deep breaths as she calmed herself down a bit.
“It’s okay though. I won’t kill you. I’ll just have to teach you a lesson!”
A thick root jutted out from the soil behind her, and the dryad seated herself on top of it. She then
gestured at the vines binding Imiryl, which dragged the powerless Wizard closer to her and forcibly bent
her over the dryad’s knee. A few extra vines rolled up the hem of her dress-looking-robe until her tight
white ass and lacy black underwear were visible to all to see.
“I shall now begin instructing you on the 999 reasons why you should respect your elders.”
The dryad then raised her hand and spread her palm wide.
“Number one.”
*SLAP*
“UMPF!”
She spanked Imiryl with all her might. The elf’s rump jiggled furiously in response while its owner let
out a muffled yell of pain.
“Two.”
*SLAP*
“GNNNN!”
One could see the shockwave of each hit travel down her thighs, almost as if someone had thrown a
stone in the still waters of a pond.
“Three.”
*SLAP*
“UNGH!”
She had slapped her so hard that she left a bright red handprint on the nearly snow-white skin of her
buttocks.
“Four.”
*SLAP*
“GRMPH!”
To say it looked painful was an understatement, especially considering how tears were already freely
flowing from the High Elf’s eyes.
“Five.”
*SLAP*
“RRRGH!”
And of course, watching this all unfold, were the 50-odd members of Keira’s armed escort.
“Six.”
*SLAP*
“GRRRHR!”
The vast majority of them thought the arrogant bitch deserved it, as it wasn’t the first time they were
forced to work alongside her.
“Seven.”
*SLAP*
“HRRRHG!”
Still, there were some that felt bad for her, and even a few that envied her.
“Eight.”
*SLAP*
“KHGR!”
As for Boxxy, who was currently masquerading as Keira, it could only let out a metaphorical sigh.
“Nine.”
*SLAP*
“HNNNG!”
‘The 999 reasons why you should respect your elders’ was definitely not what it had in mind when it
told Snack to teach that impressionable dryad how to use non-lethal force.
It was now nearly 40 minutes since the dryad started ‘educating’ Imiryl, and she was just about done by
the sound of things.
“Nine hundred and ninety seven.”
*SLAP*
“HMMMMN!”
The Wizard’s face had long ago become a sopping mess, and her audience doubted whether that red
palm-print would ever truly fade from her backside.
“Nine hundred and ninety eight.”
*SLAP*
“MMMMNN!”
As for Boxxy, it briefly wondered if Xera had inadvertently created a new ‘ally,’ as the High Elf’s cries
seemed to have turned to stifled moans rather than muffled screams somewhere along the way.
“Nine hundred and ninety nine.”
*SLAP*
“HNNNNNG!”
That should have been the dryad’s final lesson in ‘respecting the elderly,’ yet she seemed hesitant in
letting her victim go.
“... Ah, sod it! Might as well go for the big 1,000!”
*SLAP*
“GRNNN!”
With a final parting slap, she finally released the sobbing High Elf and the rest of the platoon from their
bindings. She tossed the sobbing Imiryl aside like a discarded rag and calmly walked back inside her
tree.
“Now then, all of you except the cat - get the fuck outta my sight!”
“Y-you heard the lady!” stammered the released Keira. “Everyone else - fall back!”
The elves gladly did as ordered and moved away from the tree in an orderly fashion. A couple of them
picked up the thoroughly humiliated High Elf and carried her off. They would try and apply healing
magic directly to her bruised bum, but many of them doubted whether she would be able to sit down
anytime soon. It was almost a shame this mission was supposed to be a secret - they’d have a heck of a
story to tell back at the barracks otherwise.
Once everyone except Keira was a good 150 meters from the tree, they finally caught a glimpse of the
supposed Sandman. A tall figure with a cloak wrapped around it had dropped down from the tree and
landed with a dull thud on the ground that kicked up a good amount of dust. It walked up to the clearly
startled Keira, and the beastkin began by profusely bowing several times, presumably in apology. The
Sandman just sort of stood there and nodded a few times, after which they apparently began a proper
dialogue.
The Rangers in the group were using their keen vision to track the exchange, but were unable to tell
what was being discussed from sight alone. Even reading lips was impossible as one of them was
masked while the other was facing the wrong way. Well, not like there was any actual talking going on.
To begin with, the tall figure in the heavy cloak and the towel wrapped around her head was none other
than Kora, and she and Boxxy were simply pantomiming a conversation for the benefit of their
audience.
A few minutes later, the catgirl turned to face the platoon in the distance and sent them some orders
through Whisper Wind.
“One of you bring over the payment - mister Sandman wants to see it. Oh, and don’t forget miss Imiryl’s
present, too.”
The Wizard in question was curled up on the ground, hugging her knees in a fetal position. Even if her
physical wounds had long been treated, it would take a while for the emotional ones to heal. Still, she at
least understood the whole thing was her own fault, so she didn’t let out a peep and complied with the
orders immediately. She opened her Item Box - a lesser version of Boxxy’s Storage Skill - and pulled
out a Masterwork mithril rapier. It was a magic item she had personally enchanted, and something she
was supposed to present to the Sandman as a gesture of goodwill. The Legionnaire that was in charge of
the money took it from her and brought it over to the duo under the tree along with the all-important
metal chest full of gold.
Keira met him partway, some 30 or so meters from the Hylt tree. Her eyes went so wide at the sight of
the fancy weapon that they looked like they’d fall out of their sockets. That was an understandable
reaction, though. Even the soldier that temporarily carried the weapon on his belt was more than a little
impressed. It was a light, graceful weapon that could be used for both thrusting and slashing attacks. The
narrow, pure white blade, intricately detailed spiral-shaped guard and jewel-encrusted handle made it an
immensely beautiful weapon as well. As for the enchantments Imiryl put on it, they were the standard
combination of self-repair, increased durability and added sharpness.
The beastkin took the valuables off his hands with a nervous ‘thanks’ and made her way back to the
Sandman while the elven soldier returned to his colleagues with a bitter smile. That sword by itself was
probably worth at least 1,500 GP, meaning he just finished handing over a total of over 10,000 GP to a
complete stranger. It was a regretful sensation, but orders were orders. Besides, it wasn’t his money he
was handing off, so it wasn’t like he took it personally. If anything, he was actually thankful to have had
the chance to hold that beauty of a weapon, even if briefly.
The elven Rangers kept watching from a distance as their temporary commander unsteadily carried the
heavy valuables over to where the Sandman was waiting. She set the chest down in front of him,
unlocked it with the key she was given and opened it. The Sandman, seemingly satisfied with the
amount, gave a grand nod.
However, when presented with the rapier, he clearly didn’t want to accept it for some reason. Keira
fidgeted around a bit and flailed her arms around in a panic, seemingly trying to convince him to take it.
She seemed to succeed at first as the cloaked figure’s massive hand reached out and picked up the
comparatively tiny sword, but he then immediately handed it back to her. There was some more arm
flailing and head shaking on the beastkin’s part that did very little to help the situation. Eventually she
was forced to take it back with her to the others while the Sandman picked up the chest. Some vines
descended from the top of the tree and carried the tall figure off into the canopy, hiding his form from
sight. Again, that was mostly for show, as the gold in the chest had already been discreetly stashed away
inside Boxxy’s Storage.
Keira silently re-joined the platoon with a deeply troubled look on her face. The soldiers had been
mostly quiet as well, as they didn’t know what to make of the situation, nor did they particularly want to
know. They weren’t paid to do troublesome things like asking questions. If anything, since their current
assignment was supposed to be kept under wraps, keeping their mouths shut actually meant they were
pretty much following orders. The only reason the Rangers were keeping an eye on things in the first
place wasn’t out of curiousity, but so that they could react in case things turned violent again. It was a
good thing it didn’t come to that, though. The distance between them and their target meant that the
things they could have done to protect their young commander in that situation could be accurately
described with the technical term ‘jack shit.’
So, with their duty fulfilled, they propped up the still upset High Elf so that she could open a Transfer
Gate back to Fort Yimin. Or as close to the place as the anti-teleportation wards would allow. Once they
were back at base, Keira marched herself back into Underwood’s office. The elf was more than a little
surprised to see her return with the mithril rapier on her belt, and asked for her report.
Keira began explaining everything since meeting up with her escort, up to the point where they were
addressed by the mysterious voice and asked to leave. Underwood let out an exasperated sigh when he
heard Imiryl lost her cool and unleashed a wide-range De-spell.
“I knew I should’ve waited for Faehorn to return from his mission,” he muttered with his face in his
palms.
Not only did she jeopardize the mission, but she also ruined one of his plans. The intelligence officer
had secretly ordered his people to put a tracking Spell on a bunch of those coins, but a temporary
enchantment like that was definitely dispelled by her rash actions. Well, not like Boxxy was going to fall
for that anyway. Its magical perception had picked up on the oddity in the gold even before they left, and
Claws was more than capable of ‘eating’ the residual magic, so Underwood’s efforts would have been in
vain regardless of what that Wizard did.
“What happened next?”
“Well… the disembodied voice we heard said something along the likes of ‘That hurt!’ and then… we
were caught.”
“Caught, you say?”
“Yes, sir. Roots came out of the ground, bound us and sucked up our MP. ”
“All of you? Including Imiryl?”
“Yes, sir. It all happened so fast that none of us could offer any real resistance.”
“Was this the Sandman’s doing?”
“No, sir. It was that green woman that showed up.”
“... Green woman?”
“Yeah, she walked out of the tree like it was nothing. She looked to be around my age, and had leaves
covering her naughty bits. Oh, and her hair looked like a bush.”
“Strange. I’m sure there were no reports of such a person in the vicinity. Anything else you can tell me
about her?”
“Uhm, mister Sandman knew her. Seemed to be her boss, actually. Oh, he also said her name was
Cyrilla, and that she was a dryad.”
“A dryad? Like the legends?”
“Legends, sir?”
The most Underwood, or anyone else for that matter, knew about dryads was that they were divine
spirits that dwelled within Hylt trees. There would sometimes be reported sightings of them here and
there, but they were so extremely reclusive that very few people believed they were real.
“Look them up for yourself later, Decanus.”
However, Silus didn’t particularly feel like explaining all that to the catgirl.
“Yes, sir.”
“So then, what did this dryad do?”
“She, uh, spanked miss Imiryl.”
“... Spanked?”
“Yes, sir. Pulled up her robe, bent her over her knee and everything. She wasn’t holding back, either. Her
butt shook with each hit, you know.”
“And the others can confirm this?”
“Yes, sir. We were pretty much forced to watch the whole thing.”
“I see... But why spanking, of all things?”
“I don’t know, sir. She called it something like ‘the 999 reasons why you should respect your elders.’”
Silus took a deep breath.
“She didn’t… really hit her that many times, right?”
“She actually went for 1,000. Sir.”
“Sweet Nyrie…”
He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Humiliation like that would have turned that prideful
woman into either a sobbing mess or a furious typhoon of destruction. And it was obviously the former,
judging from how Keira was still around to tell the tale. Well, a strong-willed woman like that would
bounce back in no time, but this was bound to come back and bite him in the ass eventually. Sure, he
was the one that asked for her assistance, but how was he supposed to know she’d end up pissing off a
freaking dryad of all things?!
“Alright, moving on. What happened afterwards? You said you spoke with the Sandman?”
“Yes, sir. The dryad released us from the roots and told everyone but me to leave. Mister Sandman
showed up once the others pulled back. I apologized on miss Imiryl’s behalf and thanked him for saving
me.”
“What was he like? His voice, mannerisms - anything you can tell me?”
The catgirl then repeated the same description she had on record - a tall man, about 250 centimeters in
height. His form obscured completely, save for the two round yellow eyes glinting inside his mask. He
had a voice that was strangely tinny, metallic even. As if it was coming out of a pipe. She compared it to
that of the peculiar golem Paladin and Artificer that was currently helping shore up Fort Yimin’s
defenses, only distinctly more masculine.
That comparison was a bit odd, but hardly surprising considering that the former gnome was Keira’s
friend and Artificer mentor. In fact, he had heard tale that the explosive arrows she used in that ambush
were something they worked on together. Whatever the case, Underwood made a mental dig into that
golem’s activities further.
“I see. And what of the payment?”
“Well, sir, he took the gold, but didn’t want your gift.”
The catgirl apologetically took the Masterwork rapier off her belt and set it down on the table.
“Did he say why he rejected it?”
“He said it was ill-suited to him. And I think I agree. His hand was way too big to grip it. The guard was
in the way and everything.”
“Hmm, so a practical man, huh? I expected him to accept it purely for its monetary value, but it seems
he’s not just some greedy fool.”
“Er… you were testing him, sir?”
“Indeed I was. Actions speak louder than words, Decanus, and the fact he didn’t blindly pocket it is very
promising indeed.”
“O-oh…”
This was something Boxxy had no idea about. In fact, it had very different reasons for ‘rejecting’ the
weapon.
“... Decanus Morgana. What did you do?”

The way the catgirl was shifting uncomfortably in her seat while her eyes desperately avoided
Underwood’s gaze was more or less the same as holding up a giant, flashing ‘GUILTY’ sign above her
head.
“I, uhm, I tried… I insisted that he take it. I thought sir would be mad if didn’t properly give it to him.
And, well, he did accept it for my sake…”
The beastkin’s voice trailed off, becoming increasingly quieter with every word while shrinking down in
her seat.
“And then he… immediately… gifted it… back… to… me…”
She practically whispered that last part.
This was Boxxy’s true intention. It wanted Keira to use this wonderful weapon. It was so incredibly
shiny that it wanted to have it near itself at all times. That, and having the beastkin ‘learn swordplay’
was a perfect excuse for her to seek out a melee-oriented Job. There was a high probability the elves
would just take the weapon back and lock it up somewhere, but it had some very sound arguments
prepared should that happen. After all, mister Sandman and Keira would meet again in the future, and
the former would be very upset if he found out his gift was forcibly taken from its rightful owner, thus
putting a damper on the ‘good relations’ it was meant to solidify.
However, Silus’s reaction was outside the scope of Boxxy’s expectations. He didn’t scowl, sigh or get
angry. Quite the opposite in fact.
“Hah.”
He laughed.
“Hahahahahahaha! Ahahahahahahaha!”
It was a full-blown, hearty laugh, probably the first one he’d had in a long time. It was at the stage where
tears of joy welled up in the corner of his eyes as he pounded on his desk with his fist. The truly troubled
Keira had no idea how to react to this, so she just stood there with an uneasy look on her face.
“Hahaha! Haha… Haaaaaaah.”
The intelligence officer calmed down a short while later with a long exhalation.
“He read me,” he said with a hint of admiration in his voice while staring off beyond the horizon.
No, you’re definitely misunderstanding something, retorted Boxxy inside its head.
“He totally saw through me, didn’t he?”
Definitely had no idea what you were up to.
“This is like he accepted our gratitude without taking our money!”

No no no, I actually really wanted the shiny things. I can’t eat gratitude, you know!
“I bet he even told you something like ‘You need this more than I do’ or ‘Use this to better protect
yourself and those you love,’ didn’t he?”
Nope, it was just an excuse to let Keira keep the shiny thing.
“He’s testing me in return, I know it!”
The only thing I want to test about you is your flavor.
“Something like ‘Let’s see if you value your people or your things!’”
Things are more valuable than people though. Unless they’re shiny like Fizzy. Or tasty like Snack. Ah,
but those aren’t really people, huh?
“Not to mention he has a dryad bound to his service!”
That’s mostly because she’s an idiot like her mother.
“What a formidable opponent you are, mister Sandman!”
No, see, the whole reason I’m doing this is to get you to pay me for eating tasty things.
“Have it your way then! Decanus Morgana, you will be allowed to keep that blade as a token of your
benefactor!”
Okay, I like him. I’ll eat him first when the time comes…
“Use it with pride!”
Oh, right, time to get back into character!
“B-but sir! I don’t even know how to use a sword!”
“Then you will learn!”
“B-b-b-but this is too much! I can’t possibly accept-”
“You will wield that blade and you will like it! This is an order, not a request, Decanus!”
“... Yes, sir.”
Now that that particular matter was settled, Boxxy decided it was time to put some distance between
Keira and Sandman.
“Ah! Sir! I almost forgot! He said to give you this!”

The catgirl dug around her pockets for a bit before bringing out a blue, cubic Comm-crystal. It was a
rather expensive magic item, but still one that was commercially available.
“Oh, he left us with a way to contact him, huh? How very generous. Except...”
However, Silus noticed there was a slight problem. Not the fact that the crystal’s inherent blue light was
barely even there - that was just a sign that the other end was out of range. Even if the military-grade
items he and the 3rd Legion’s 1st Scouting Battalion could cover a distance of over 70 kilometers, the
ones that were publicly available were usually much less powerful. It wasn’t a surprise that a cheap one
wouldn’t even reach the Hylt tree that was a mere 20 kilometers away. Well, technically speaking, the
other end of that Comm-crystal was inside Boxxy’s pocket dimension, but that was besides the point.
“Decanus, did he give you a password?”
This was the issue. It was impossible to activate the item on their side without speaking the necessary
keywords. They could respond to any communication attempts, but not initiate them.
“Er, no, he didn’t. Sir.”
“So that’s how it is, huh? ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you.’ As expected, a careful individual!”
The man once again stared off into the distance as if he just saw a mountain he has to climb, causing
Boxxy to silently label him as a moron who gets needlessly motivated over unimportant things. A few
moments later, Underwood turned his attention back to Keira.
“That will be all. Good work today, Decanus.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Also, I suggest you actually learn how to use this,” he said while gesturing to the rapier that was still on
his desk. “Having it just be a decoration for your waist would be a crying shame.”
The news that the Empire was poised to siege the fort within the week had more or less been circulated
among the troops. Thankfully, the Sandman’s actions seemed to have set them back for several days,
giving them some much needed time to prepare. Even that much should be more than enough for Keira
to grasp the basics of swordplay to the point where she could at least defend herself.
“Yes, sir! Ah, then do you happen to know if miss Hilda is around?”
“... I believe she’s out on patrol. She should be back within the hour.”
“Thank you, sir!”
She excitedly saluted once more, picked up the weapon after a moment of hesitation and then left his
office. Silus in the meanwhile silently slumped back into his chair with a vague smile on his face.
“The dwarven instructor from the Knights of Elena, huh?” he muttered to himself.
He was about to point Keira to one of his subordinates for training, but realized that would have been a
bad idea. The man he had in mind was a soldier first and a teacher second, which made him rather
unsuited to be the beastkin’s instructor. An adventurer’s tutor had to be an adventurer, after all. Even if
their Jobs were the same, their perspectives and frame of mind were completely different.
After all, one was a disciplined, seasoned veteran who had more or less mastered the fine art of combat,
while the other was a violent, swearing drunk of a woman with a penchant for needlessly breaking
things.
“...”
And he just sent her an impressionable young girl who was already known for her affinity for using
explosives.
“The fort will survive until the Empire gets here… right?”
“Nope, not happenin’!” declared Hilda the instant Keira made her request.
“... Eh?”
The catgirl in question could only let off a stupid noise in surprise.
“Ya can’t go demandin’ a new Job like that willy-nilly, ya know!” said the elderly dwarf while crossing
her arms.
Okay, perhaps, ‘Hi, miss Hilda! Please teach me how to Warrior!’ was not the best way to frame her
request. Especially not when she made it the instant she saw Hilda enter through the fort’s gates with her
patrol.
“Er, that is, the training fee-”
“It ain’t about the gold, ya bloody fool!”
The two’s high-volume conversation was attracting the bemused glares of many soldiers and adventurers
alike. Something neither the dwarf nor her would-be disciple seemed to be conscious of.
“Yo, Boss Lady!” called out one of the people watching. His blue tunic marked him as a member of the
Knights of Elena, which made him Hilda’s colleague. “You’re doing the thing again!”
“Huh?! Oh, right. Oi! One of you lot go grab Jessie and tell ‘er to come at the usual spot!” she shouted
and someone ran off somewhere. “You there, kittyface - come with me!”
The fully-armored Hilda motioned for the catgirl to follow her to a slightly more private space than the
middle of a courtyard. The two of them made their way through the space between the fort’s inner and
outer walls and onto the large, flat training field next to one of the soldier’s barracks buildings. They
went over to a corner between the building and the fort’s wall, where Hilda finally took off her helmet.
Her face was wrinkled, her hair was gray and her skin was rough and craggy, but her piercing green eyes
held enough vitality to make the undead lose motivation and willingly return back to their graves.
“Alright, lassie, first of all, who are ya?”
“Ah, uhm! Decanus Keira Morgana of the 1st Scouting Battalion!” she answered with a salute.
“You been playing soldier a bit too much, methinks.”
“... I’m Keira, an adventurer from the Hidden Arrow guild.”
“And don’t ye forget it! Ye need to have some self-respect for yer roots if ye don’t wanna lose yerself
out there! Now then, ye’re one of Faehorn’s lot, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then ye should know full well Ranger and Warrior Jobs have the worst compatibility with each other.”
Hilda was talking about how it was practically impossible to act in both capacities in the same battle.
Attributes, Skills, Martial Arts, weapons, armor - everything one Job demanded was useless for the
other, and vice-versa. The roles they played both in and out of combat were also completely disparate.
“I do but- Okay, I think I misspoke. The thing is I’m actually looking to learn how to use this.”
She unsheathed the beautiful mithril rapier from her belt. Hilda wasn’t surprised in the slightest as she’d
pretty much guessed that was the cause of that ridiculous line she was greeted with upon the return. It
wasn’t like the catgirl was trying to hide it, and the dwarf already had a habit of picking out every
sword, axe, dagger, spear and mace in her vicinity. Sort of an occupational hazard.
“Yer conviction is lackin’, lass,” she said in a damning tone. “Ye don’t go around gettin’ a new Job just
‘cus you got yerself a new toy to play with.”
“No, but see- I’m no good when something gets up close to me. I mean I got claws and stuff, but that
won’t work on trained soldiers… What I’m saying is, the sword is secondary. Defending myself is the
primary.”
“... Okay, that’s better. Yer still not cut out fer a Warrior, though. Yer better off learnin’ a Rogue’s trade.”
“That won’t help me take down opponents that come at me head on, though. I want to be an all-rounder,
not a specialist.”
Besides, Rogue Skills had too much overlap with what the Mimic was already capable of.
“Aight, fair ‘nuff. Still, ya don’t really need a Job if it’s just swordplay.”
It was an undeniable fact that the Sword Mastery Skill could be learned by anyone, even monsters.
“Miss Hilda, please stop testing me!” said Keira indignantly. “We both know a Mastery Skill by itself is
rather meaningless!”
Even if one knew how to swing a sword around, it was hardly enough to qualify them as a swordsman.
They’d get demolished instantly by someone who had the right Attributes and Skills to support their
fighting style.
“Fine, fine!” said the dwarf while throwing her hands up in the air. “Leave it to that old shoestrap to get
all the sharp ones,” she mumbled.
“Shoestrap?”
“Nevermind that. Listen ‘ere, kitty-”
“Keira.”
“Keira, right. I appreciate yer enthusiasm and all that, but yer just not cut out fer it. Ye don’t have the
right build- the right foundation to be a Warrior. Yer arms are too noodly and yer body’s too light.”
While Attributes could help close the gap, it was impossible to overcome what one was born with that
easily. Even in a world where theoretically anyone could become strong, it was all relative to where they
started with. An ant would never be able defeat an elephant, no matter how high its Status went up. Well,
not unless it Ranked Up into some fire-spitting super-ant, but that was besides the point.
“Then what about being a Berserker?”
“Same thing. Actually, that one’s an even worse match for ye. Yer way too happy-go-lucky to work up
the right sort of temperament one needs to really master the Job.”
“I can get angry when I need to!”
“Do not lump a Berserker’s unyielding rage with your petty tantrums, child!”
The dwarf shouted with a voice dripping with bloodlust. It carried this supernatural weight around it that
would made one’s blood freeze over. Although Hilda was a Warrior instructor, that didn’t necessarily
mean she was one herself. She knew pretty much everything there was to know about the Job, but she
didn’t actually have it. Her actual occupation was that of a Level 100 Berserker. Something that, as she
was currently demonstrating, was not just for show.
“It is fury that burns as brightly as the sun, yet is also as black as the darkest abyss! It rises up from the
depths of our souls, tryin’ to consume us, beggin’ to bathe in the blood of those around us - friend and
foe alike! In some ways, our worst enemy is ourselves!”
Boxxy legitimately felt a degree of fear and pressure it hadn’t experienced in a long time. Needless to
say, Keira’s form amplified this feeling tenfold, and the catgirl was shivering and sweating profusely
while shrinking away from the scary old lady.
“But we don’t just let that side of us run wild! We cannot let it. So we harness it, control it, nurture it
and direct it! It’s a grim and violent path that muddles the line between man… and monster!”
The oppressive atmosphere slowly waned away as Hilda reigned in her boiling rage.
“Think ye can manage that, girlie.”
“N-n-n-n-no… ma’am…”
That was the truth from the bottom of its heart. Even if Boxxy knew anger, the sheer pit of malice it just
saw allowed it to gain new insights into Kora’s perpetually violent nature. It would seem being a
Berserker was something that ran far deeper than it thought. Well, at least as far as people are concerned.
“Aye, didn’t think so. Anyway, on the opposite end of the spectrum are Monks. But ye lack the sort of
discipline and peace of mind to make good use of that, either. Being a Paladin is right out.”
“I- I see… So I guess I’ll have to seek out a Rogue trainer after all…”
Well, not really. The Mimic would just need to adopt a disguise for just long enough to obtain the
Warrior Job, at which point it would-
“That won’t be necessary lassie.”
Hilda’s words threw its scheming mind completely off-track.
“Ye see, I had a feelin’ this is where we’d end up. Fortunately fer you, I know a Job that’ll suit ye just
fine!”
The dwarf turned her head to the side and beckoned over the woman who had been standing nearby like
a sore thumb for the last minute or so. She had auburn hair, brown eyes, a very slim and downright flat
figure, and was clad in extremely light armor that bordered on plain clothes. She bore a large scar on her
right cheek, and her otherwise plain face placed her somewhere in her late 30s. She was also human,
which immediately prompted Boxxy to start releasing calming pheromones to counteract its Butcher of
Humanity Perk. It didn’t seem to work on her too well though, as she still eyed the catgirl with a sharp
glare. The Mimic once again silently wished for a way to turn that blasted effect off, but as expected, it
didn’t work out too well.
“This here’s Jessie. Ah, don’t mind that mean look of hers,” said Hilda. “She can’t help it.”
“Oh, so she’s actually nice once you get past it?” asked Keira hopefully.
“Nah. She’s still a giant bitch, but it’s best if you try and ignore it.”
“Watch your mouth, you old bat!” growled the woman in question. “I’ll rip your damned tongue out if
you don’t!”
The dwarf rolled her eyes at the befuddled catgirl as if to say ‘case in point’ before turning her attention
back to the human. Well, at the very least her demeanor didn’t seem to be because Boxxy’s Skill was
failing.
“Anyway, she’s like that, but this one here can teach ye just the Job yer lookin’ fer.”
“Oh, what’s this?” asked Jessie after turning her attention to the catgirl. “You want training, you gotta
pay up.”
“Ah! If it’s money, then-”
Keira reached for the coin pouch she had prepared in advance, but the woman snatched it out of her
hands in the next instant. She dumped the numerous coins inside onto her palm, picked out a total of 200
GP and then haphazardly tossed the noticeably lighter pouch at the catgirl’s feet.
“I appreciate your patronage!” she said with an obliviously rotten smile.
She had no idea just how close she had gotten to getting herself killed. It had taken every last drop of
Boxxy’s self control to keep it from lashing out, ripping her arm off, beating her half to death with it and
then eating her still-twitching corpse whole. While it was congratulating itself on such matters though,
the dwarf had moved in and punched her colleague in the gut, forcing her to keel over and drop the gold
in the process. As expected, being struck by that heavy-looking metal glove was no different that being
hit by a hammer, and had very nearly knocked the woman unconscious.
“Oi!” shouted Hilda. “None of that! Shame on you!”
She then bent over, picked up the scattered gold and returned it all to Keira with an apologetic tone.
“Sorry ‘bout that. She’s a bit of a twat, but she’s still the only Blade Dancer trainer we have on hand at
the moment.”
“Ah… thanks…. What’s a Blade Dancer, though?”
This was not a Job Keira had heard of before.
“Well, it’s probably best if I show ye. C’mon Jess, let’s have a little spar fer yer new disciple’s benefit!”
“Koff, koff! I’ll get you this time, ya old bat!”
The woman called Jessie scrambled to her feet while coughing profusely. She stabilized her breathing
and pulled out one of the two swords on her left hip. It was a sabre - a type of one-handed sword with a
long, thin, and slightly curved one-sided blade. It was quite similar to the rapier that started this whole
thing, except that particular treasure of a weapon was straight, and more needle-like. Jessie assumed a
one-handed stance with her right shoulder pointed forward and her left arm behind her hand. It almost
looked classy, if not for the sour look on her face.
“Adagio Variation,” she chanted, and her body glowed with a soft, blue light, which gradually faded
away for a few seconds.
“Right then, come at me,” beckoned Hilda who had taken one of the dull training swords from a nearby
rack.
Jessie answered those words by lunging forward with a vicious stab aimed directly at the dwarf’s
unarmored eyes, but was avoided with a tilt of her head. The human clicked her tongue and stepped
abruptly to the right while swinging her sword diagonally, but her blow was effortlessly deflected by the
dwarf’s sword. She kept making sudden, deliberate and calculated movements as she tried to poke holes
in Hilda’s guard, but all of her attacks were effortlessly dodged or parried. The dwarf didn’t just stand
idle, and struck back with speed that matched Jessie’s, which was surprising given her stature. Then
again, Boxxy was sure the ‘old bat’ was holding back immensely, probably for Keira’s benefit.
However, those attacks were still as sharp and deadly as Jessie’s own. The Blade Dancer avoided them
with minimal movements, either by stepping back or to the side. It seems she didn’t want to even try
parrying or deflecting them with her weapon, which was probably a good idea since she’d likely be
overpowered by brute strength. She also tried to use the gap between her opponent’s strikes to counter
with a stab or slash of her own, but those mostly just bounced harmlessly off of Hilda’s thick armor.
“C’mon Jess, this can hardly be called a demonstration,” said the dwarf in a bored tone. “Get a bit
serious, will ye?”
No, she’s already serious. Seriously trying to kill you, that is, noted Keira inside her head.
Each and every one of the Blade Dancer’s attacks were aimed at vital areas such as the eyes, throat or
the tiny gaps between Hilda’s armor plates. And unlike her opponent, she was giving it her all and not
holding back in the slightest. Or at least, that’s how it would appear at first, but the Blade Dancer
stopped her feet abruptly at those provocative words.
“Alright, you asked for it!”
It seems she was indeed holding herself back somewhat. Jessie lowered her stance into a far more
relaxed one while drawing the second sword on her hip. It was a sabre, just like the first one, only it
seemed to be slightly shorter. She twisted her body around, positioning her left blade over her head and
the right one parallel to her hip. If one didn’t know any better, they’d say they were metal ribbons rather
than weapons.
“Presto Variation!”
Much like before, her body briefly glowed with a soft light, only this time it was a green one. The exact
effects of those Skills were unclear due to the weird words mixed in, but they were definitely a type of
body strengthening technique.
“Dancing Swords!”
The next Skill she used caused transparent copies of her weapons to appear out of thin air. They floated
around her unnaturally, as if manipulated by invisible strings, but were definitely guided by her will.
“Winterlich Waltz!”
At those two words, Jessie renewed her assault, but her movements were far too different from before.
Rather than thrusts or short slashing motions, she made wide, grand swings as she twirled in and out of
Hilda’s range. Her weapons left behind faint blue trails as they swung through the air, and left a thin
layer of frost whenever the collided with Hilda’s armor or her sword.
Her speed was also noticeably higher, almost incomparable to what it was before. It was at the level
where Keira would normally see her as a blur that quite literally danced circles around her stationary
opponent. Of course, the catgirl was anything but ‘normal’ and was able to easily track her movements,
though she doubted whether she could move at those speeds. Even Hilda seemed to have trouble
keeping up with them completely.
The Dancing Blades performed similar movements to their owner, forcing the dwarf to bring her large
shield to bear in order to properly defend from the countless strikes coming at her from various angles.
However, neither the floating blades nor the physical ones could get a clean hit on the veteran
combatant. A few accurate swings of Hilda’s weapon quickly destroyed those flying annoyances, but it
created a tiny opening for the Blade Dancer to launch her next attack.
“Fouette en Tournant!” shouted Jessie as she decided to change her approach. Both her blades
abandoned their blue glow, and instead shone with a brilliant red light typical of most Martial Arts. As
for the woman herself, she spun around like a top on one leg, becoming a quite literal whirlwind of steel.
Her attack let off a barrage of sparks and a chorus of screeches as her swords and Hilda’s shield collided,
but the latter didn’t budge in the slightest.
In fact, she found a gap and swung her sword down onto the spinning Jessie, who had to abandon her
twirling in order to dodge it by a hair’s breadth. The dwarf took a few more swings with her blade, but
her opponent kept avoiding them by swaying gently like a leaf of grass swaying against the wind.
During one particularly wide vertical swing, she arched her upper body backwards and used that
momentum to spin herself around while bending her knees.
The clearly unnatural movement that seemed to ignore the way joints worked flowed wonderfully into a
sweeping strike at the sides of the dwarf’s knees. There was a clanging noise as her right blade finally
drew blood by aiming at the gap in Hilda’s armor. Jessie then brought her body upwards while swinging
diagonally with her other sword, but that blow was deflected without much issue.
“Flamenco de Fuego!”
Jessie suddenly switched strategy once again. Her movements became completely different yet again.
This time she moved with rapid side-steps and made short, fast jabs and slashes at her opponent’s face
and joints while her blades were coated with a thin layer of fire. She came at the dwarf from various
angles while constantly shifting her position, and actually seemed to finally put a strain on the veteran’s
iron-tight defenses.
“Rose Thorns!”
She overlapped whatever she was doing with another Martial Art. This one caused her right hand to
launch a barrage of stabs that made it look like her blades had multiplied. A few of the thrusts
successfully penetrated Hilda’s guard, putting a scratch on her cheek and singing her hair slightly.
“Shield Bash!”
The dwarf then suddenly charged forward while swinging her shield arm. The mass of metal slammed
into the Blade Dancer, interrupting her performance by sending her flying several meters through the air.
She landed on the hard-packed ground, rolled over twice and ceased movement altogether. Well, she was
probably alive since her chest was moving up and down, but she wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon
by the look of things.
“Fuuu,” exhaled Hilda as she turned to the blankly staring beastkin. “Well, there ye have it, kit- I mean,
Keira. As ye can see, Blade Dancers are a melee-oriented Job that relies on swift movement and
pinpoint strikes rather than brute force.”
The dwarf put away her training sword and patted down the singed and frosted parts of her gear before
continuing.
“They also get some basic body reinforcement magic that they can use on themselves or others, and a
number of other tricks to confuse and befuddle opponents. Them dances ye saw let them imbue their
attack with various elemental effects. Well, they’re kinda weak since a Dancer’s INT is pretty low, but
ye can still nail a monster’s Bane with ‘em so they’re far from useless.”
The dwarf glanced over to the still unmoving Jessie and turned her attention back to Keira.
“Well, we got a bit of time before her Royal Twattiness wakes up, so I can answer any questions ye got
fer me.”
“Is… is that okay?”
“Aye! I may not look it, but I know quite a bit about that prancing prat’s Job. I was actually plannin’ to
have her give you the Job itself, but I’d be the one overseein’ yer actual training.”
“Oh! Then, uhm, do Blade Dancers have any specialties?”
Besides being grossly out-Leveled, of course.
“‘Course they do. I mean, it depends on the individual, but generally speakin’ they’re at their strongest
in one-on-one combat. They can deal with lots of small fries fairly easily, too. They can also use those
stances - or ‘Variations’ as they call em - to raise their speed even further, but their stamina and MP will
disappear in a flash if they overdo it.”
“What about weaknesses?”
“Being outnumbered by opponents of equal strength is bad. I mean, that’s normally the case for
everyone, but Blade Dancers have it extra-rough, and something they wanna avoid at all costs. Fightin’
stuff with long-range attacks or heavy armor also puts ‘em at a significant disadvantage, but ye can
probably deal with those by using yer Ranger tricks.”
“So one Job covers the other’s weak points! I see, I see!”
Mobility and precision were a Ranger’s strong points, but it was a Job that was entirely focused on
projectile-based weaponry. Bows, crossbows, slingshots, throwing knives - that sort of thing. By
themselves, they were completely defenseless in close quarters combat, so it went without saying they’d
lose if caught by a Warrior, Rogue or the like at close range. Avoiding them was easier said than done,
because they all had ways of closing the gap between them and their target. Lola, for example, could use
a Skill that launched a harpoon-like projectile made with magic, which could be used to pull people and
monsters towards her.
In other words, ‘I will be fine if I don’t get hit’ was a foolish sentiment among adventurers and monsters
alike. Therefore, having a melee-oriented Job that was highly compatible with a Ranger’s natural
strengths made for a very attractive proposition. Blade Dancer was more or less perfect for Keira. In
fact, it was actually better suited to her than Ranger given the Mimic’s natural affinity for close-quarters
combat. It might have even picked this Job for its alter ego in the first place if it knew about it at the
time. Unfortunately, even Boxxy recognized the catgirl’s apparent build was ill-suited to being a
Warrior, so it didn’t even try bothering the Knights of Elena. It might have kept being ignorant about this
tasty Job if it didn’t decide to ask Hilda for advice. As expected, the insight and knowledge of one who
has lived a long time was scarily impressive.
There were still a few nagging thoughts regarding that Job, though.
“How I’ve never seen a Blade Dancer around before?”
The monster was quite sure it would remember them if it came across them. Of course, trying to
remember each and every person it has killed was like counting the number of breaths it had taken, but it
was sure a fighting style like Jessie’s would stand out.
“Dunno,” said Hilda with a shrug. “It’s not like it’s a weak Job or anythin’ like that, but it never really
caught on ‘round these parts. Maybe it’s a culture thing or a race thing, but I just think that very few
elves or humans have the natural aptitude fer it. Dwarves like me are right out. It’s pretty popular among
yer kind to the far east, though, so it’s likely yer compatibility with it is good.”
“Ah, so that’s how it was…”
“Anything else on yer mind?”
“Well… was this spar really necessary?”
The dwarf was obviously knowledgeable about the Job, and her words explained it much better than her
actions, so this entire demonstration was rather pointless. It just seemed like harassment or bullying, to
be honest.
“Nah, not really,” admitted the dwarf. “It was mostly an excuse to smack that twat about a bit.”
“I… see…”
So it was bullying after all. Boxxy quickly filed Hilda under its ‘Impressively Violent’ mental category
and proceeded with its final decision.
“Then, I want to try being a Blade Dancer!”
“Good choice. Well, I think it’s a bit early fer yer 2nd Job, but time isn’t a luxury we have right now,
aye?”
“Well, technically… it’s my 3rd Job…”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I got the Artificer Job like 2 weeks ago from a friend.”
“Ohhhh! So ye’re the Merry Popper I’ve be hearin’ about!”
“Merry Popper?”
“Aye! The wee lass that blows shit up with a smile on her face! That’s you, ain’t it?!”
“...”
It would seem Keira had already gotten somewhat of a questionable reputation around the fort. Well, it
was an undeniable truth she spent a lot of her spare time making and testing various explosives with
Fizzy’s help, but it was hardly worthy of such a nickname, was it?
“Say,” said Hilda in a low, almost conspiratorial voice. “Ye think ye and yer mate could hook me up
with an exploding mace?”
“I, err, what?”
“Ye know, just something that goes ‘boom’ when ye swing it just right, yeh?”
“Well, uh, that- I mean, it’s definitely possible, but you’d get caught up in it too, you know?”
Even Boxxy was wary when using bombs and grenades. Metal shrapnel had a habit of flying
unpredictably far, not to mention bouncing off hard surfaces such as rocks or shields. It didn’t matter
how high her Level was, there’s no way Hilda would get away unscatched from an explosion like that.
“I know! That’s what makes it fun!”
For the briefest moment, Boxxy felt something that might be called a genuine pang of sympathy for
Faehorn. Regardless of their species or motives, that elf still said some good things that Boxxy could
genuinely learn from. It suddenly made sense why he never got along fully with this woman, despite
spending untold decades as adventuring companions.
Well, none of that was really a reason to deny her, though. In fact, Keira had nothing to lose from getting
on her good side.
“T-then, uhm, as long as you provide the materials-”
“Nice one, lass!” cheered the dwarf with a heavy slap on the catgirl’s back.
You have suffered minor blunt force trauma. HP -29.
“Geh!”
“Oops, sorry ‘bout that! Got a bit too excited!”
‘A bit too excited’ she says. That strike was strong enough to turn most house pets and even some
bottom-tier monsters into paste!
“Anyway, just send the list of stuff over to me later and I’ll take care of it!”
“S-sure thing, miss Hilda.”
“While we’re at it, think you can make me a matching exploding helmet? You know, to give some real
‘Oomph!’ to my headbutts!?”
It was at that moment that Boxxy’s classification of Hilda instantly rose from ‘Impressively Violent’ to
‘Batshit Crazy.’
A pack of gnolls were busy digging into a trio of deer carcases, the result of a particularly successful
hunt. The camp they were having their lunch in was shoddy at best, as they had only cleared up enough
space to lay their heads and make a firepit. They hadn’t put up any huts or tents, so the only thing that
would separate their sleeping space from the rest of the forest was the trampled down grass and the faint
scent of urine they had used to mark their territory.
However, it wasn’t like their lack of shelter was due to their relatively low intelligence. Although not
quite on the level of humans or other enlightened races, gnolls were at the very least still smarter than
goblins. Of course they knew full well how to protect themselves from the elements. Otherwise their
species would have long ago been wiped out by the harsh winters that plagued the lands of the elven-
dominated Ishigar Republic. Although many monsters and animals hibernated during the frigid winter,
gnolls were different. They survived the numerous snowstorms and freezing temperatures by huddling
up in small villages that consisted of burrows and wooden huts while surviving on smoked meat and
dried fruit.
Which was why anyone that knew enough about the beasts would be wondering as to this particular
pack’s actions. Gnolls were not particularly big eaters, so the game they had caught was more than
enough to sate the hunger of these 23 monsters. Normally they would eat only as much as necessary and
then preserve the leftovers.
Yet these near-two-dozen ate frantically, showing no signs of stopping as meat, guts and bones were
crunched and swallowed without any hesitation or thoughts as to their long-term survival. Although
reading their snouted, hyena-like faces was impossible for a person, one would still get the distinct
impression that these things were eating like there was no tomorrow. And this hypothetical observer
would be right, because in all likelihood these individuals would not see another dawn.
An arrow flew silently out of the treeline, boring straight through one of the creatures’ skulls and
pinning his corpse to his comrade’s shoulder. The injured gnoll let out a yelp in pain and shock as three
more projectiles flew in after the first, reducing the total number of gnolls from 23 to 19 in an instant.
The biggest and burliest of them, who also had the best gear of the lot, let out a howl and rallied the
others. They all reached for their rusty spears, dulled swords and crude clubs and huddled together in a
tight circle while facing outward. They took long, deep breaths as they patiently waited for Death to
come and claim them, much like it did the rest of their tribe.
Originally, these gnolls were part of a village. Theirs was one of the bigger settlements in vicinity of
Fort Yimin, although that was mostly because it was a long distance from it. The gnolls had long ago
learned not to tread near it, and had instead expanded their territory in the opposite direction. As a result
of their chief’s unnaturally wise decision, the tribe flourished, and their numbers swelled to about 200
adults and 30 pups.
That was 2 days ago. Before she came. A sole female adventurer had attacked their village head-on for
seemingly no reason. Of course, they didn’t fault her for that, as gnolls would often attack everything
outside their own tribe on sight. They had thought they would just crush the solitary intruder and turn
her into jerky, but they had no idea as to the sheer terror that lie dormant in that small frame.
She had killed over half of them within the first 30 minutes or so. Fighters, farmers, children - it didn’t
matter who or what, all were sliced up and devoured on the spot. Then, for one reason or another, she
disappeared into thin air as if she were a bad dream, right as she was skewering one of them on her
sword. The surviving gnolls all gathered up and made a decision - they would abandon the town and
move further north. That creature would definitely return. Not one of them believed otherwise. They
took what food and weapons they could carry and ran off into the wilderness without a second thought.
It was the right decision, but their effort was lacking. No less than 6 hours later she was already hot on
their trail. The remaining 90 or so gnolls desperately fought back as they ran for their lives. They split
up, set crude traps, even resorted to poisoning their young and feeding them to her, but none of it slowed
her down in the slightest. Little by little, bit by bit, they were all hunted down and slain. These 19 were
likely the last survivors, and that would not last long. None of them doubted the identity of their
attacker. After all, the 4 that died were their only remaining Druids and Shamans, and that thing that
looked like a girl always made a point of taking out the rare magic users first.
And just as expected, she strode confidently out of the woods, and all the gnolls silently stared at the
approaching horror.
Crimson hair like the fires of hell. Piercing yellow eyes that were barely registering them as living
things. A pearly-white, crescent-like grin plastered on her face. A naked, slender body unburdened by
foolish things like clothes or armor. A furry red tail that swished playfully behind her.
She was a young, human-like girl however one looked at her, but the horrific gap between her
appearance and her strength only made her that more terrifying. Those tiny arms that literally punched
down the walls of their village. Those small teeth that crunched up their comrades’ skulls and bones
without any resistance. Those frail-looking legs that carried her with a speed too fast for any of them to
follow. That soft skin that no blade, arrow or Spell could leave a lasting injury on.
It was an opponent all of them had seen just enough of to know they were no match. They knew she’d
be coming, that their comrades’ diversions were pointless and merely delayed the inevitable. Their fight-
or-flight instincts had long ago given up, as neither option would save them. That’s why they put all
their strength into enjoying what was undoubtedly their last meal.
The girl drew a long, white blade seemingly out of thin air. She gripped it in her right hand and assumed
a sideways stance with her left hand behind her back and her right shoulder forward.
“Adagio Variation,” she mumbled, and her muscles tensed up. She then kicked the ground, crossing the
distance between her and her prey in an instant. Her rapier pierced clean through the skull of the biggest
one, who seemed to be in charge. The others swung their weapons at her in desperation, but she avoided
every single one of them as if they were standing still. Well, it would have been pointless even if they
lopped her head off, but there did not exist a single monster on this world that would go down without
putting up a fight when cornered.
The girl struck out with her left hand, her clawed fingers digging into the nape of a gnoll’s neck as if
they were pins inserted into a cushion. She withdrew them a moment later, and did the same to two
more. The three gnolls howled in rage, and then swung out at their own comrades, cutting them down in
cold blood as the catgirl’s mithril rapier pierced skull after skull.
“Winterlich Waltz.”
At her second utterance, that shining blade stained with blood gave off an eerie blue light, and the
surrounding temperature started dropping in the next instant. She swung it about in grand, slashing arcs,
encasing everything she hit in a thick layer of ice and turning her prey into gnollcicles, one after the
other. Even the ones that had turned on their own kin were slaughtered indiscriminately. All said and
done, it took but a minute to turn all the remaining gnolls into naught but shards of ice.
Well, except for the first one that Boxxy hit with its newly-acquired Blade Dancer Skill. That one had
quite literally exploded into gold coins. And the reason for that was clearly visible in the string of
lingering messages inside the Mimic’s mind.
Proficiency level increased. Hornet Style is now Level 4. STR +2. AGI +2.
Proficiency level increased. Puppet Parasite is now Level 4. INT+2. CHR +2.
Proficiency level increased. Adagio Variation is now Level 3. DEX +2. AGI+2.
Chaotic energies swirl around you. The next thing you kill will explode into a shower of
gold.
Proficiency level increased. Winterlich Waltz is now Level 2. AGI +2. INT +2.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 16 Blade Dancer! DEX +2. END +2. STR +1. AGI
+1.
Proficiency level increased. Winterlich Waltz is now Level 3. AGI +2. INT +2.
“Fuhuhuhu! Hahahahahaha!”
The catgirl let out a laugh of one drunk on power. Its newly-acquired Job and related Skills were
growing at a pace that boggled the mind. How long had it been since Boxxy had experienced rapid
growth like this?! It was so delicious that it almost forgot itself.
“Ahahah! Ahah…. Ahem.”
The shapeshifting monster reigned in its enthusiasm. It had to be careful not to be found out, even if
there was a million-to-one chance someone in the fort might see it like this. Well, getting 16 Levels of a
new Job within 4 days would probably turn quite a few heads, but it’s next routine Full Appraisal wasn’t
for another 2 months so it would be a long time before it was at any real danger of being found out.
Even if Essence Concealment had a way of toning down the apparent Level of General Skills, Jobs were
far more binary. They and their related Skills could be either shown or hidden, and that was that. It was
an odd distinction, but it was enough. At the very least it wouldn’t have to explain how it obtained such
a high Level of Sword Mastery in so little time. Honestly speaking though, being able to completely
hide the fact it was a Doppelganger was more than enough in and of itself.
But as expected, having a proper Job to support its swordplay really did make a huge amount of
difference. The Hornet Style Skill it learned as a Level 5 Blade Dancer gave it the ability to use the same
bizarre-yet-effective one-handed fighting style it saw Jessie use in her spar. Adagio Variation, on the
other hand, was less like a stance as Hilda had described it, and more of a physical boost that assisted
Keira’s movements. And last but not least, the Winterlich Waltz. It was an odd Skill that was halfway
between a Spell and a Martial Art, as it evoked magic through motion rather than chanting. Unlike
Jessie, however, Keira had enough INT to make even a Level 80 magic user jealous, which resulted in a
truly devastating attack.
Of course, it didn’t neglect its Doppelganger Skills, either, although using Puppet Parasite in humanoid
form was a bit tricky. Still, it was something the monster forced itself to do, since it had to get used to
fighting as a Blade Dancer in Keira’s body. The Job actually seemed highly incompatible with Boxxy’s
favorite spider-legged, chesty form, as Winterlich Waltz was impossible to use unless one had exactly
two feet and two arms. Even Hornet Style was tricky to use properly with tentacles, but the passive
boost it gave to sword damage was quite tasty all the same.
Almost as tasty as having its Chaotic Disposition actually produce a favorable result for once. Well, it
half-expected the gold coins scattered around to fade away with time. It wasn’t like the gnoll turned into
gold, but more like the coins burst out of its skull as if they had always been there. Meaning they were
likely conjured out of thin air and would disappear into nothingness with time. It still collected them, of
course, merely because there was perhaps a chance this money would stick around.
On second thought, classifying them as money would be difficult. They were different from any other
coins the creature had seen, mostly because both sides of them were completely blank. There were no
crests or old, dead guys carved onto them, making them closer to tiny discs than actual coins. Their
weight was was also something out of the norm, as it would put them somewhere in the 17 or 18 GP
range. It was a denomination that did not exist in either the Empire or the Republic. Even if the looks
were different, a 50 GP pieced still weighed the same, regardless of where it was minted. In some ways,
however, having them being unsuitable as money was a good thing, as their smooth sides only seemed to
make them that much shinier.
Well, even if they weren’t permanent, this would still be a much tastier Chaotic Disposition than the one
that triggered during its first assault on the gnolls. Being transported 20 meters in a random direction
was something it experienced a few times before, but being teleported 20 kilometers in a random
direction caught it completely off-guard. It almost cursed out at Jebadiah, the Goddess of Chaos, but the
quite literal jackpot it hit just now was shiny enough to ease its frustrations with the Skill. Even if it was
fleeting, it was still a very pleasant feeling.
Having finished collecting the temporary boon to its ever-growing hoard, Boxxy then reverted to its
favorite chest-bound shape, and proceeded to eat up the gnoll’s remnants. Unlike before, it could
leisurely savor their taste, so it was in no rush to scarf them down. Their flesh was a bit stringy, but
definitely on the tasty side. The frozen ones were even better than normal, as their iced-over flesh and
bone was really crunchy and fun to chew on.
Stuffing so many icy bits into its maw so quickly proved to be a bad decision, however, as it suddenly
felt a shooting pain run up the back of its throat and spread across the top of its lid. It was immediately
worried whether it ate a poisoned gnoll again, but a quick consultation with Snack revealed the thing it
just experienced was not due to poison, but something called a ‘brain freeze.’ The Mimic very nearly
lost its shit in a panic, but its familiar was quick to assure her Master that the term was very much
metaphorical.
Having calmed down, Boxxy thought on its next course of action.
Now then, I should probably head back.
This was pretty much the last pack of gnolls in the area, and Keira’s solo hunting trips were starting to
push the boundaries of what was acceptable within the Republic’s armed forces. Pretty soon she would
get almost no free time, which was partly why Boxxy was so adamant about getting as many Levels as it
could as rapidly as it could. At the very least its educated guess was spot on, and the vast majority of the
XP it got from killing things with swords went towards its Blade Dancer Job.
However, this would definitely need to be the very last one it picked up in the foreseeable future. A man
who had 1 Job at Level 100 was infinitely more terrifying than someone who had 10 at Level 10, and
Boxxy was already worrying whether it was splitting its focus up too much. It was already a Warlock
while Spell-slinging, an Artificer while tinkering, a Blade Dancer while swinging a sword around, a
Ranger while shooting at things with a bow or tracking prey, and a Doppelganger in all the moments in
between.
Oh right, its Ranger Job had hit Level 30 along the way, didn’t it? Boxxy was so enthralled with killing
things it almost forgot about it. And now that it was free from Faehorn’s nagging, it could freely pick the
Skills that it wanted, and it almost immediately chose one it had heard much about.
Proficiency level increased. Hunter’s Mark is now Level 1. INT +2. WIS +2. PER +2.
Hunter’s Mark
Description: A good hunter never loses sight of their quarry.
Requirements: Level 30 Ranger, 200 PER
Type: Active
Cost: 130 MP
Range: 200 Meters
Effects: Tracks the target’s location for the next 30 minutes.
Targets afflicted with Hunter’s Mark take additional damage from projectile-based
weaponry equal to 2% per Level of this Skill.
Increases the range and duration of this Skill by 20% per Level of this Skill.
It was a Skill that could be called the natural enemy of Rogues, Spies and any other Job that might rely
on Stealth or use Invisibility. They could get ‘tagged’ at a distance without even realizing it, at which
point the Ranger would be able to tell their exact location regardless of how sneaky they were. Even if
they realized they’d been afflicted by the tracking magic’s subtle effects, they’d need a Wizard’s De-
spell or a Paladin or Priest to Cleanse them of the harmful effects. Boxxy in particular was planning to
use this to keep tabs on high-value individuals in the upcoming siege. It was expected that at least 6
humans over Level 100 would be present, and it wanted to avoid as many of them as possible.
It wasn’t just because Keira would never stand a chance, but because Boxxy itself doubted it would be
able to defeat them even if it went all out. Each person that achieved Level 100 had a unique and
extremely powerful Ultimate Skill. Faehorn’s was something called Turret Stance that allowed him to
fire arrows with a truly unbelievable rate of fire so long as he stood still. Hilda’s was Tempest of Wrath,
one that allowed her seemingly endless rage to increase the damage output of those around her. It didn’t
know the exact effects and conditions of either Skill, but that was more or less the natural order of
things.
Adventurers normally kept the details about their trump cards a secret. The only reason the Mimic knew
about Faehorn’s was because it had personally witnessed them in action, and Hilda’s was something she
herself told Keira about after the catgirl presented her with a bottle of high-quality elven wine as a thank
you gift (bribe). It wasn’t far-fetched to say that the tide of a battle between two armies could be easily
swayed depending on how Ultimate Skills were used and how they clashed with one another. So in a
situation where the Empire was fielding 6 such people while the Republic only had 3, the latter would
almost always lose, even if they had large advantage in troop strength. Which they didn’t.
In short, the Republic’s defeat was more or less a certainty. Even knowing that, simply giving up Fort
Yimin and the surrounding region without a fight was even worse, so they would have to make a stand
regardless. Well, the plan ‘Mister Sandman’ had presented the elven leaders with over the last few days
would hopefully be enough to sway the tide in their favor, and Boxxy would reap a tremendous profit
from it. In fact, it was just about time to collect its down payment, so it decided it was time to return to
base.
The Mimic used Transfamiliar to swap places with Claws, transporting it a good 90 kilometers away
from its old position. This distance was more or less the limit of Boxxy’s MP, as Transfamiliar was a
Spell that rose in cost directly proportional to the distance traveled. This again was different from
standard Spatial magic which had a fixed cost, but also a fixed range. In other words, as long as Boxxy’s
MP grew, so would the distance it could cover in a single cast.
Right now, however, it was still several kilometers away from Fort Yimin, inside a secluded cave that
was covered in Claws’ webs. It quickly assumed Keira’s form once again, and took her gear out of
Storage. It could have worn it during the gnoll hunt, but doing so would have left some very
conspicuous stains and holes in her outfit. Coming back in that state after ‘a light hunt’ was sure to raise
quite a few eyebrows.
Once Keira was properly dressed, she strode out of the cave and ran on all fours back to the fort. She
arrived back at base in the early afternoon, and was almost immediately sent out once again with the
same escort of 50 or so soldiers, one of whom was carrying a heavy chest. A gnomish Wizard - one of
Imiryl’s disciples - handled the Transfer Gate that transported group from the outskirts of the fort and
into the vicinity of the tree that was home to Cyrilla.
This time, however, the armed soldiers let Keira carry the heavy chest to the dryad’s resting spot all by
herself. Although the embarrassment this particular platoon suffered at her hands was not made public,
none of them were keen to repeat it. Of course, Imiryl’s treatment was far worse, and nobody present
was surprised to hear she refused to even get near that tree again. There was also the matter that news of
her spanking had somehow spread throughout the fort, and many had come to believe the outlandish tale
as fact. The infamously haughty High Elf had been showing far too much modesty and reservation ever
since that day for that scandalous rumor to not be true.
As for the beastkin’s escort, they were more or less reduced to decoration at this point. Since the
Sandman had proven trustworthy, their mission was to mostly make sure a 3rd party doesn’t show up
and ruin the transaction. Which was why the Rangers in the platoon kept a close eye on the catgirl as she
carried the 5,000 GP payment off to the tree. She wobbled unsteadily for the latter half of the short walk
due to the sheer weight of the gold in that chest, but she made it to the base of the ancient tree without
incident.
Just like before, a cloaked figure they could only assume was the Sandman dropped down from above.
He checked on the contents of the chest, and then handed something small to Keira, which she
immediately stowed in a pouch on her belt. She then took out the beautiful mithril rapier on her waist,
gave it a few demonstrative swishes and bowed to the Sandman, presumably in thanks. Leaving the
chest behind, she walked back to the rest of the platoon, at which point the Wizard took them all back to
base. All things said and done, the whole transaction had taken 10, maybe 15 minutes at most.
Once they were back at the fort, Keira immediately reported to Underwood’s stuffy office, as the man
had more or less become her direct superior as of late. Technically he was her boss’s boss, but Faehorn
was still away on some assignment or another, which meant he was the one in charge.
“Ah, Decanus,” he said when she entered his office. “You’re back early. I trust things went smoothly?”
“Yes, sir! No incidents whatsoever!”
“That’s good. So, do you have the item.”
“Yeah! Er, should I take it out here?”

“Indeed! Let’s see it!”
The beastkin reached into the pouch on her belt and brought out a small orb that was 7, maybe 8
centimeters in diameter. It was made of deep, orange amber with a high degree of transparency and a
flawlessly smooth surface. A single flower with 7 large petals was trapped inside the resin as if it were
suspended in time, and one could barely tell its color was originally a bright pink.
“Oh my…. It’s… quite something, isn’t it?” stated the elf in admiration.
If this was truly what the Sandman had promised during their earlier communications, then the
Republic’s victory in the upcoming siege would be pretty much assured. If not, then they got duped out
of 5,000 GP. Something he and his superiors judged was a worthwhile risk, despite the fact that the idea
the masked man presented them with sounded outlandish and ludicrous at best. It made the intelligence
officer feel like they were grasping at straws. No, that was pretty much the case, wasn’t it? Still, if this
was indeed the ancient treasure it was supposed to be, then it was reassuring to know it at least looked
the part.
“Yes, sir! It’s really pretty!” said Keira with a blooming smile that seemed determined to outshine the
item in her hands. And if Underwood was a betting man, he’d put his money on the catgirl’s beautiful
face.
Why the hell am I comparing the two?!
The elf let a small frown float onto his lips as he silently chastised himself. This was no time to be
admiring his subordinate’s natural charm. Besides, it was a pointless action. Pursuing a relationship with
her was a bad idea for so many reasons that he’d probably need a 3rd hand to count them all.
“And how exactly do we use it?” he asked after that brief moment of self-reflection.
“Ah! That’s easy! Mister Sandman told me you just need hold onto it and say ‘Mater est opus vobis’ in a
clear and commanding-”
“Wait, didn’t you just-”
*FWOOOOM*
The orb in the catgirl’s hands flashed with an intense yellow light before Underwood could stop her.
“Guh!”
“AAAAAARGH!”
It shone so bright, that it temporarily blinded the elf and caused the catgirl to scream in a high-pitched
wail. It took about 20 seconds before Underwood began to regain the use of his eyes. His vision was still
blurry and full of spots, but he could still clearly hear Keira’s screams. It sounded like the girl had fallen
out of her seat and was rolling around on the floor in agony. As expected, a flash that bright was extra
hard on someone like her that had excellent eyesight.
*SLAM*
“Sir, are you alright?!”
A couple of soldiers barged into the room after seeing and hearing the commotion.
“I’ll be fine!” blurted out Underwood while rubbing his eyes. “Quickly take the girl to the infirmary!”
“... Sir, I believe that would be a very bad idea.”
“What are you talking about?! Quickly now, before- Before… Oh…”
As his eyes slowly readjusted themselves, he was able to make out Keira’s figure. As expected, she was
curled up on the floor and holding onto her face with both hands. However, his previously impaired
vision prevented him from noticing when, where or how, but it would appear the two of them had gotten
some unexpected company.
Underwood beheld the form of a small girl. She had green skin, grass-like hair, and was completely
nude if not for the leaves covering her groin and barely bulging chest. She seemed to be about 10 or 11
years old, but his reason told him she must have been far older than himself, for this was unquestionably
a dryad. The guards in question were part of the platoon that had been sent out to accompany her twice
before, so they knew full well not to even think about even getting close to one of those.
And right now, in this office, there were 5 of them - one for each of the Hylt trees that were a part of
Fort Yimin’s defenses. They were huddled around the writhing catgirl, crouching down next to her while
staring at her suffering in silence. Their faces were completely identical, and they all sported the same
curious expression. When the catgirl finally opened her eyes and beheld what was basically a group of
quintuplets staring down at her, she was understandably more than a little puzzled. Seemingly not know
what to do, she forced a weak smile and spoke in a quiet, quivering voice.
“Uhm… H-Hello?”
The quintet of juvenile dryads smiled in response, and spoke up in a single, unified voice.
“Mommy!”
Keira found herself in a particularly strange situation. She was sitting in a large conference room she
hadn’t been in before. There were 5 people seated around the opposite end of an oval table in front of
her and 5 others standing around her, and all of them had their eyes on her.
She officially knew only two of the ones in front and to the left of her, as they were her direct superiors -
Silas Underwood and Milo Faehorn, the latter of which had returned from his assignment barely half an
hour ago. The one seated in the middle was an older elf that had slicked back black hair and the fanciest
uniform of the bunch. He was Legate Aidun, the general that stood at the head of the Republic’s 3rd
Legion. Immediately to his right was a green-haired male who looked extremely lanky and thin, even by
elf standards, whose name was Drannor. He served as the Legate’s right-hand man as an advisor and
strategist. On the far right was a middle-aged elven woman, who looked like a younger version the
Wizard Imiryl, except that she had light, ginger hair that had been put up in a tidy ponytail. Her identity
was that of Prefect Vera, the High Elf’s daughter and the officer in charge of Fort Yimin during
peacetime.
Even if Kiera hadn’t been formally introduced to the latter three, Boxxy still knew about them since it
had talked to all of them remotely as the Sandman. The Comm-crystal it gave Underwood was actually
laid out in the middle of the table should the reclusive vigilante contact them again, but that was
extremely unlikely to happen at that time. Which was dire news, because the elves gathered there
urgently needed to speak with him regarding the item they had purchased from him earlier that day.
And of the 5 juvenile dryads that surrounded the young Decanus Morgana at the other end of the table.
“Mommy, mommy! How come you have those funny-looking leaves?” asked one of them while playing
with the beastkin’s cat-like ears from behind her chair.
“Mommy, how do you make babies if you don’t have flowers?” inquired another who seated in her lap.
“Muuuum! Sis keeps hogging all the morning sunlight to herself!” complained a third that was tugging
on her right arm.
“I can’t help it if I just grew on that side of you!” said the culprit, who was stomping her feet with an
indignant look next to her.
“Uuuuu…. Mommy… it itches…” whined the last one while pulling on Keira’s other arm with a
pleading face.
The elven leaders shared some difficult looks as the noisy disturbance in front of them didn’t seem like
it would end anytime soon.
“Well, at least we know the item worked as promised!” said Drannor the strategist without even trying to
hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“This is a dream, right? Haha, yes, a dream, that’s what this is!” lamented Vera to herself.
“Calm yourself, Prefect,” said Underwood. “You’re being unsightly in front of our… guests.”
“What guests?!” snapped the woman back. “They’ve been here far before any of us have, right?! If
anyone here is a guest, it’s us!”
“Well… You’re not wrong…” answered Silus with a sigh.
“Primus Underwood is correct,” butted in the Legate. “This is no time to panic. We have to assess and
adapt to the situation.”
Vera seemed to calm down a bit at those words, though the Legate’s slightly quivering voice showed he
wasn’t completely undisturbed by this turn of events either.
“Continue your report, Primus.”
“Yes, sir,” responded Underwood with a respectful bow of his head. “So after Decanus Morgana
accidentally triggered the Authority, the dryads had stuck to her incessantly.”
“This seems a bit wrong, though,” noted Faehorn.
He had been made aware of the situation through Comm-crystals while he was out on his mission, so he
more or less knew what had been going on in his absence. He fully understood the circumstances after
Underwood finished bringing everyone up to speed just now, not to mention seeing the dryads with his
very eyes.
“What do you mean ‘wrong?’” asked Drannor. “The Authority called out the dryads and made them
respect the user, just like the Sandman said it would.”
The Elder Dryad’s Authority was the name of the amber orb the elves had received from the masked
vigilante. It was something that Ambrosia had personally prepared for Boxxy when she found out her
liege would be headed further south and might come in contact with her daughters. Well, it was highly
unlikely they would be her direct offspring, as the seeds that spawned them could have come from any
Hylt tree, but that seemed to matter little to her kind. All of them could trace their lineage back to
Azurvale’s original 12, so every dryad in existence would instantly recognize Ambrosia or one of her
sisters as their ‘mother’ without a second thought.
Of course, that didn’t mean they would actually meet in person. A dryad’s way of life meant it was
likely impossible for them to meet others of their kind unless they happened to grow in the same forest.
However, that parental recognition was exactly why the Authority was so valuable. Simply put, it was a
vessel that contained Ambrosia’s highly condensed mana - her essence, or ‘scent.’ Holding onto the
amber and speaking the words ‘Mater est opus vobis,’ which loosely translated from the Divine tongue
as ‘Mother has need of you,’ would release the stored energy into the surroundings. This would, in turn,
summon all the dryads in the area to the orb, and they would instinctively regard the orb’s bearer as a
messenger from their mother and treat them favorably. Indeed, that was how the Sandman and Cyrilla
first met, and the situation in that meeting room proved the masked stranger was not talking out of his
ass when he explained the item’s function. While omitting certain details, of course.
“Well,” said Faehorn while cupping his chin, “accidental activation aside, their behavior is a lot more
extreme than ‘favorable treatment.’ They completely think of the girl as their mom, don’t they?”
“He has a point,” agreed the still distraught Vera. “And how come they’re all little kids?”
“Good question,” nodded Legate Aidun. “Well, Decanus? Anything you can tell us about all this?”
“M-m-m-me?! Why are you asking me?! I mean, sir!” responded a shrill-voiced Keira.
“If not you then, who?”

“W-well, I don’t- I mean uh…”
The 5 dryads had repeatedly ignored everyone who tried to address them. It was as if the beastkin was
the only person in the world.
“Try asking them for yourself, miss Morgana,” offered Faehorn.
“Ah, right! Err, how should I even call them?” she mumbled quietly while the five green children kept
pestering her. “Ahem! Kids?”
“Yes, mommy?”
All of them stopped what they were doing and responded in total unison with the exact same innocent
smile on their faces.
“W-why do you think I’m your mommy?”
“You smell like our mommy. Therefore, you are mommy.”
Again their voices rang out as one as they gave that nonsensical answer. They were so completely in
sync they even nodded their heads at the same time.
“S-smell?”
“Yep! It’s the same smell as that fancy light that woke us up!”
The truth of the matter had to do with their species’ millennia-long lifecycle, which meant their kind
matured incredibly slowly when compared to other living creatures. They also spent the vast majority of
their ‘childhood’ mostly sleeping, blissfully unaware of the world around them. Many of them never
even bothered to wake up, not unless some grave threat to their trees or some other disturbance.
If one considered this fact, they would accurately deduce that these 5 had been woken up for the first
time in their lives. And, not knowing any better, assumed that the being bathed in that motherly essence
was a mother-like existence to them. Unfortunately, Boxxy knew nothing about any of this. It would
need to have a long chat with Ambrosia on the subject later, but for now it was truly befuddled, just like
the rest of the room.
“Good enough, I suppose,” said Aidun. “Decanus, leave the room and wait outside until further notice.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
The catgirl stood up with a salute and left the room with her chattering entourage in tow. Their high-
pitched voices could still be heard faintly through the thick door, but the room was infinitely quieter than
it was before. The Legate was the first one to break the newly descended almost-silence.
“So, Faehorn, in your opinion, do you think she can control those dryads?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir,” answered the Ranger. “You really should ask Imiryl to give her opinion on that
bunch. This sort of stuff is more her speciality than mine.”
“Ah, that’s going to be difficult, sir,” said Underwood. “She had an… unfortunate altercation with the
dryad that shelters the Sandman, so she adamantly refuses to be anywhere near one of their kind.”
“An altercation you say? I didn’t hear anything about that.”
Silus briefly explained the details surrounding that event, including the humiliating spanking she
received in front of her troops, much to Vera’s delight. It would seem mother and daughter had a falling
out at some point in the past, so the Prefect found the rumor of the ‘Butthurt Bitch’ to be quite
humorous.
Still, what he said seemed to catch the Ranger by surprise. Taking down a high Elf and an armed and
alert platoon of soldiers in a matter of seconds was quite the feat to say the least. And according to the
Sandman, she wasn’t even trying at the time. Which was why he suggested that the elves might want to
mobilized the tree spirits living inside their precious fort to aid in their defense. This was also the reason
why it let them borrow the Elder Dryad’s Authority in the first place. For a nominal fee, of course.
“I see… So that’s what this meeting is all about,” said the Ranger while nodding approvingly.
“As expected, you catch on quick, sir,” said Underwood with a wry smile.
The plan was rather simple - lure the enemy force inside the fort and use the dryads’ power to tie them
down. Once immobilized, and secured, the elves could do whatever they wanted with them. Still, even if
they pulled it off, there were bound to be those that escaped the trap. Faehorn’s experience told him
those restraints were not as all-powerful as they would appear to be at first glance.
While it was true that Imiryl got taken down without being able to put up a fight, that was mostly
because her affinity with the situation was bad. A Wizard, however mighty, was no different from a
civilian once their MP had been stolen away. An absurdly muscle-headed existence like Hilda, on the
other hand, would probably tear right through those roots and vines with brute strength. The Ranger
himself was certain he would be able to avoid being caught with his superior speed, even if she took him
by surprise. Those termites that incessantly plagued the Hylt trees were also not to be ignored. Their
mandibles were strong enough to puncture steel, so it wasn’t hard to imagine them eating their way
through those plant-like restraints.
In short, they had to remain vigilant even in the event that this plan worked, but it was still one that had
the potential for a definite victory.
“I guess I can’t fault you people for taking that chance,” commented Faehorn.
“Well, it’s not like it was an easy decision to make, you know,” said the strategist while shaking his
head. “Honestly, I don’t like it one bit. There are far too many unknowns regarding Primus Underwood’s
contact. And I don’t like ‘unknowns.’”
“We’ve already discussed this at length, Drannor,” said the Legate. “Like it or not, we decided that the
potential benefits were well worth the risk, did we not?”
“The potential benefits being the ongoing existence of this fort, sir?” offered Vera.
“Your sarcasm is noted, Prefect. Well, the item did indeed call forth the dryads, and they are treating the
bearer of the Authority… ‘favorably,’ but what became of it?”
“Well, the answer is right in front of you, sir,” reported Underwood while gesturing at the brown,
muddled orb on the table. “What you see there is the item in question, but it no longer holds any of the
radiant luster it had when I first saw it. We’ll confirm it later, but even I can tell it’s more or less lost its
power.”
That wouldn’t be permanent, though. In truth it just needed a week to recharge itself, but that wasn’t
something the elves needed to know. Nor would they have the time to wait that long, as the enemy’s
invasion was expected to arrive within the next 3 or 4 days. Faehorn and his team had spent most of the
last week trying to slow them down, but they were unable to do much damage to the 30,000-strong
invasion force. The 1st Scouting Battalion had already effectively blown their load with that landslide
ambush on the first expeditionary force. While it was a huge success, it meant the Republic had shown
the Empire their hand. As a direct result, the main force was much more thorough and careful in their
approach, leaving little room for the elves to pull any tricks. In fact, harassing the Empire’s scouts was
pretty much all they could manage.
“I see,” said the Legate. “Well, regardless of the… details,” he took a brief moment to glare at Keira’s
empty seat, “we still have a hard battle ahead of us. Is there any chance of Operation Honeytrap
succeeding at this point?”
He looked around the table, silently asking for the others’ input.
“I’m of the opinion I’d much rather rely on our soldiers than these dryads,” noted the strategist. “While
our defeat is almost certain, it is our duty to inflict as much damage to these invaders as we can.
Otherwise they’ll be able to regroup and move onto our next stronghold further north. We cannot allow
those things to run wild and jeopardize our own troops.”
It was a cold, calculated argument meant to minimize the overall damage to the Republic. Losing Fort
Yimin would be painful in and of itself, but it was better than giving up the rich mithril mines that lay
deeper in Republic territory.
“I disagree, sir,” noted Underwood. “I think we should give Decanus Morgana a chance make up for
her… blunder.”
“Was it actually an honest mistake?”
“I am sure of it, sir. In the first place, she would have had no idea what the item actually did, nor do I
feel like my ‘contact’ would need to tell her of its function.”
“And you’re certain she can be trusted?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve thoroughly investigated her past deeds, her relationships with those around her, as well as
her behavior. While she may not hold true loyalty to the Republic itself, her motivation to protect those
closest to her is very much real. Not to mention she has reason enough to bear a heavy grudge towards
the Empire, and would not let them do as they please.”
“The enemy of my enemy, huh?” mused Aidun.
“Indeed, sir.”
“Will she be able to instruct those dryads properly, though?” asked Faehorn. Just because someone had
‘a favorable impression’ of another, didn’t mean they would blindly follow their orders.
“I wouldn’t suggest we involve them if I thought she was incapable of doing so, sir.”
“Hmm…”
The thing Silus Underwood was best at was dealing with people and sniffing out spies. That was why he
was appointed as the one responsible for the highly individualistic adventurers in the first place. If he
was willing to stand up for her to this extent, then the Legate found no reason to doubt his words.
“How do we know they’re capable of doing the same as this other one down south?” asked Vera. “Looks
aside, they themselves said they just ‘woke up,’ right? Would they even know how to use their gifts?”
“Oh, we can easily ascertain their ability,” said the Ranger while crossing his arms. “The real problem is
making them understand friend from foe, and motivating them to act on our behalf.”
“That’s exactly why I said we should give up on them,” chimed in the strategist. “They don’t just look
like children, they completely behave like them. They’re far too innocent.”
“I see, there is that as well,” nodded Faehorn.
“What do you mean? Was this not what you were talking about.”
“There is no such thing as an ‘innocent’ monster, Drannor. And make no mistake - that is exactly what
those creatures are. Unless we properly motivate them, they will not lift a single finger for our sake,
even if their ‘mother’ told them to do it.”
“...”
The room fell silent as everyone present mulled over the Ranger’s words. They carried with them the
weight of over 50 years of adventuring experience, and the authority of a High Elf who truly loved his
country and its people.
“I think,” said Legate Aidun after a brief pause, “that there is merit to using those chil- those dryads.
However, I would like to speak to the one most concerned before making a decision.”
“Should I fetch the Decanus, sir?”
“Please do, Primus.”
Underwood stood up with a salute and went out of the room for a moment. It wasn’t until he opened the
door that the elven leaders realized the chattering of the quintuplets had died down at some point. The
cause of that became apparent as the beastkin returned while carrying a sleeping dryad on either arm,
while the other 3 were trailing behind her with drowsy steps. When she sat back in her seat, they all laid
down at her feet and fell asleep.
“...”
Nobody could say a thing. Regardless of the circumstances, she completely looked like a mother.
“Uhm… Sir?”
It wasn’t until she spoke up that the Legate came to his senses.
“Ah, yes. It seems you have reached some sort of understanding with these… children.”
“Uhm, I- I suppose you could say that, sir.”
“I see.”
Judging from how they slumbered undisturbed despite the conversation, it was probably safe to keep
talking. Still, the elves subconsciously lowered their voices. All of them looked perfectly serene and at
peace, and having the slightly smiling beastkin look over them painted a rather uniquely precious scene.
I didn’t ask for thiiiiiis!
Inside her head, however, Keira was fuming.
These damned plants! Why do they have to make so many demands at me!? Always with the ‘mommy
this’ and ‘mommy that!’ Argh! Why the hell did I activate the shiny ball like that?! Stupid! Stupid,
stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!
This time, Boxxy truly had nobody to blame but itself. It had gotten a bunch of Levels during its recent
gnoll hunt and even found a new, surprisingly tasty way of enjoying its food. When it came back, it
immediately got paid and would likely receive even more money in the future if things went well. With
its head so full of shiny, it completely zoned out and triggered the Elder Dryad’s Authority without
meaning to. It was planning on letting someone else handle it, as not only would it attract the wrong
kind of attention, but the Mimic really did not want to deal with any more dryads.
At least Cyrilla was smart enough to recognize it wasn’t her real mother. Their arrangement was a
temporary thing, an understanding of sorts. She would help the Sandman, and in return the Sandman’s
minions would help her with any miscellaneous requests she had. It was simple, straightforward and
non-intrusive, but it really did not want to worry about making deals with 5 more of them.
And yet here it was. Saddled with 5 damnable, selfish brats that would. Not. Shut. Up!
Ah, this isn’t like me. I need to calm down.
Boxxy realized its temper had been flaring up a bit too much as of late. Mimics were creatures of near-
infinite patience, but progressing along its life as a Doppelganger seemed to slowly be eroding that.
Perhaps forcing itself to be so expressive all the time had some sort of feedback effect that affected its
normally cool and collected state of mind? Whatever the cause, it was definitely a problem. If it hadn’t
gotten so excited during the hand-off earlier, then it wouldn’t even be in this mess to begin with.
Hypothetical situations aside, the reality of the matter was that it was far too deep in this to just back out
now, and it needed to deal with it. At the very least, the dryads would be physically unable to follow it
once it left this place behind. Even if they tried, they would have no choice but to return to their trees
afterwards unless they wanted to die, so it just had to put up with them until that moment came. Having
finally decided on a course of action really helped settle the monster’s troubled mind.
“So, do you think you can do it, Decanus?”
Oh right, this guy wants me to play dryad tamer for a few days.
The Legate had personally spent the last few minutes laying out their plans for the siege. Boxxy only
half-listened to them since it was the one that gave them the idea in the first place. It just really, really
didn’t want to be the one doing it. Things being what they were, however, it had to play the hand it had
been dealt by its own mistakes.
“I believe so, sir.”
“Hoh? Really now?”
“Yeah. It shouldn’t be too hard to tell the troops apart since the army colors are different.”
“Yes, that much is a given. But how do you plan to… motivate them?”
“Well, listening to these darlings go on and on made it sound like they think of themselves and their
trees as a single thing. So then, we just have to offer them things that trees would like, right?”
“Hmm, very observant, Decanus. And a very sound judgement,” noted the Legate with a grand nod.
The old Ranger to his left seemed to be particularly proud that his former student was praised by a high-
ranking officer like that.
“So then, what would we offer to their trees? Maybe some pest control or medical aid is in order?”
Aidun cupped his chin as he thought back on their words earlier. He remembered one of the juvenile
plant-girls had mentioned something about itching. Perhaps she was dealing with some sort of
infestation or infection they could assist with?
“Ah, sir, if I may?” spoke up the beastkin. “I think I have something far more suitable in mind!”
“What’s that, Decanus?”
“Fertilizer, sir. Enough to satisfy all five of these kids.”

“I see, that does make sense. Although, where do you propose we find that much manure on such short
notice, Decanus?”
“Oh, I’m not talking about manure, sir.”
The catgirl’s beautiful face shifted ever so slightly. Her mouth was still curled up in an innocent smile,
but her eyes practically oozed with hatred as she gave voice to her darker thoughts. It was the kind of
monstrous logic only someone who had truly suffered could think up.
“We have 30,000 bags of first-grade fertilizer walking towards us at this very moment, do we not?”
A heavy silence hung over the meeting room. Faehorn, Underwood, Aidun, Drannor and Vera simply
looked at their hands, unable or unwilling to say anything with bitter expressions on their faces. And yet,
the person that caused this heavy mood had left the room well over 10 minutes ago with a smile on her
face and a spring in her step.
“30,000 bags of fertilizer…”
As per usual, the first one to break the silence was Aidun, Legate of the 3rd Legion. He spoke in a quiet
tone that was unbefitting of him as he slumped back in his chair. Having heard those chilling words once
again seemed to inject some life back into his colleagues.
“Heh. Well, she’s not wrong,” muttered Drannor with a dry chuckle.
“Those eyes, though,” lamented Vera. “She totally doesn’t see the Empire’s troops as people anymore. It
may be a good attitude for a soldier to have, but as a person…”
“I fucking hate this war,” growled Faehorn.
“You’ll have plenty of chances to hate it later, old friend,” said Underwood while slapping the Ranger on
the back. “It hasn’t even started for real yet.”
“When did she become like this, Silus? She used to be this bright-eyed girl filled with hope and
ambition. Now she’s… like that.”
“It’s just the shock of recent events. I bet this all just feels surreal to her right now, which is why she’s
acting out like this.”
“You said she had ample reason to hate the Empire,” spoke the Legate, “but even I find that much
animosity to be disturbing. What exactly did she go through, Primus?”
“... As far as I understand, she told a few of her close confidants about her life in the Empire, and how
an Imperial patrol killed her parents. They had told her it was an accident, but she believes otherwise.
And then there’s the matter of her recent assault, sir.”
“Assault? Elaborate.”
Aidun recalled reading something like that in a report, but the details escaped him.
“Yes, sir. When she was taken prisoner following the ambush. The other prisoners said she was taken
away in the middle of the night, but she had apparently returned… *Cough* without her lower
underwear.”
Vera gasped with a hand over her mouth, Drannor just shook his head as usual, and Aidun pinched the
bridge of his nose. As for Faehorn-
“Did I mention I fucking hate this gods-damned war?”
“Your displeasure at our foreign political situation is noted, Faehorn,” said the Legate dryly. “Still, I’m
not going to pretend I understand her feelings, but I can’t fault her for her resentment.”
“I’m more worried about those dryads, myself,” said the strategists, trying desperately to change the
topic. “Even if the ‘demonstration’ tomorrow proves they can be used, the effects an actual war will
have on them… If they develop a taste for blood, we may have to abandon the fort for good.”
“Well, I doubt they’ll actually do it for the ‘fertilizer,’” noted the Ranger as he brought himself out of his
stupor. “If dryads were really after stuff like that, the capital would be a graveyard by now.”
“You said it yourself though, they’re technically monsters, even if they’re supposedly blessed by Nyrie.
Doesn’t that mean they may see us as the enemy eventually?” asked Vera.
“I think it will be fine so long as we don’t agitate or harm them or their trees in any way. They clearly
don’t bear us any ill will, otherwise Imiryl’s prideful gaffe would have cost her far more dearly than a
spanking.”
“I see, that’s fair, I suppose. But what about-”
The discussion regarding the long-term ramifications of Operation Honeytrap lasted for another half
hour. They hadn’t even given the final say-so on whether they would risk it, but they were already
considering the possible outcomes. Old battlefields near ancient Hylt trees were brought up, religion and
the Goddess’s will were touched upon and various contingencies were roughly outlined.
*Dororororo*
This came to an abrupt end when the sole Comm-crystal in the room flashed and vibrated against the
wooden table. The five elves shared a few knowing looks, and Underwood reached over, picked it up
with his right hand and answered it. The transparent, blue-colored image of a man with a cloth wrapped
around his head and a heavy cloak on his broad shoulders appeared out of thin air.
“Lord Underwood,” he spoke with an odd voice that sounded as if he were talking through a pipe.
“Hear me, my good fellows, lend me thy ears-”
“-for I have left mine in my other trousers.”
“It is good to hear from you, mister Sandman.”
The elf greeted the other party only after exchanging one of several ludicrous pass phrases they had set
up. Of course, the one on the other end of the line wasn’t actually Boxxy, but Xera, who was filling in.
Since the Comm-crystal showed only the bust of the other party holding it, it was painfully easy to
obscure things like height or build.
“Likewise. I trust your compatriots and leaders are with you as per usual?”
“Indeed they are.”
The Comm-crystals also only projected the voice and visage of the one holding them. While the others
had formally introduced themselves beforehand by passing the cube from one person to the next, they
mostly let Underwood handle the actual communications. Well, except for Faehorn, but the Sandman
didn’t necessarily need to know that one of the High Elves was in attendance.
“I trust you have already tried out my little bauble and confirmed its ability?”
Silus looked towards the Legate as if asking what to say.
“Do not tell him about the Decanus. Just say we have confirmed its effects.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the Sandman.
“... In a manner of speaking. There were some complications, but we’re dealing with them.”
“Very good. I trust you will not misuse Nyrie’s children for your own ends.”
“Should we ask him whether letting the youngling dryads fight our war for us is a good idea?” offered
Vera from the side.
“Do as she says, Primus,” ordered Aidun.
“Yes, about that… We are having a quandary whether that would be best for us in the long run.”
“... How come?”
“We have serious concerns that forcing so much death upon those dryad children will turn them into
bloodthirsty killers.”
“Huuu, huuu, huuu, huuu.”
The cloaked figure let out a low, dry laugh.

“You should not apply your way of thinking onto others so easily, mister Underwood.”
“Pardon?”
“Tell me, do you give any mind to the grass and weeds you trample underfoot each day?”
“... No. I suppose I do not.”
“It is the same thing for the dryads. As living creatures, it is their duty to defend themselves, but they are
ultimately apathetic to the struggles of us lesser beings. Before them, we are all but specs of dust,
fleeting existences that will be forgotten all too soon.”
“Ah, as per usual, he says some rather depressing things,” mused Drannor.
“Still, children, you say?” asked the cloaked figure.
“Indeed. They all looked like they were 10, maybe 11 years old by elven standards.”
“Ah, that is unfortunate. I had hoped they would be more mature, but I suppose it couldn’t be helped.”
“Is this going to be a problem, after all?”
“Depends on your point of view. Once the Authority wears off in a week, they will all return to their
slumber, and will likely not even remember the event when they next awake. Whether that’s good or bad
is something you need to decide for yourself.”
This was information obtained directly from Ambrosia and passed along to Xera, who now relayed it to
the elves. What they did with that knowledge was now up to them.
“We appreciate the input. Speaking of the Authority-”
“-I will want it back, of course. Though I suppose if you wanted to keep it for yourself, then I wouldn’t
be able to stop you.”
“There will be no need for that. Please be assured that I- we plan to uphold our end of the bargain. Once
we have confirmed the dryad’s effectiveness, we will be sending you the rest of the payment and the
spent item through your chosen courier.”
“Very good, Lord Underwood.”
“Are we sure we want to do that?” asked Vera. “If that thing can let one control dryads, then the capital-
”
“It doesn’t though,” interrupted veteran adventurer in the room. “Best as I can tell, it merely opens the
way for a dialogue. There’s no compulsion involved other than the instinctual drive to ‘show up,’ as it
were. Granted, those five seemed to revere miss Morgana, but they’re naive youngsters. I seriously
doubt any one man can persuade the ancient ones in Azurvale to turn on us so easily, Authority or not.
They’ve been there since the dawn of our civilization you know.”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“Ah, just so we’re clear on this, do expect to see me at the siege.”
Underwood turned his attention back to the cube at the Sandman’s words.
“Will we be getting another bill for your services, then?” he replied with a wry smile.
“No. This one’s on the house.”
“Is it now? How come?”
“... Call it protecting my investment.”
“I see. Whatever your reasons, do make sure you wear our army’s colors when the time comes. Would
hate for our men to mistake you for an enemy combatant.”
“Who says I’m not?”
“...”
The elf made a bitter face as he was harshly reminded the being on the other end of the line was not
always going to remain an ally.
“Huuu, huuu, huuu, huuu. Very well, mister Underwood. If you so wish it, then I and my minions shall
fly your army’s silver flag on the field. Expect to hear from me again, same time tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
The communication was cut off abruptly, and Silus let out a sigh.
“I always feel tense when talking to that guy.”
“Shouldn’t you have tried to track the communication’s origin?” asked Faehorn.
“We did, thrice. All three times pointed the other end as being at a certain Hylt tree south of the fort.
Trying to track it even more at this point would only serve to antagonize him if he should find out.”
“I guess it can’t be helped, then. What of these minions he spoke of?”
“Demons, most likely. We’ve already determined his identity as a Warlock, and that he has at least two
of them in his service. Possibly three.”
The bright blue light of the cube grew dimmer in the next instant, signifying that the other end had gone
out of range. The cause for that could have been any number of things, such as teleportation, magical
interference, being stored in a space similar to Item Box or intentional jamming. Given the Sandman’s
Warlock Job, the first and last of those options seemed the most likely.
“Still, protecting his investment?” chimed in Drannor. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
It meant that Boxxy wanted its share of human flesh.
“He’s probably hoping we’ll keep him around as an assassin or mercenary,” offered Underwood.
“Whether or not we take him up on that ‘offer’ is up to the Legate.”
“We’ll see how the winter season finds us,” replied the officer in question. “As for the matter of the
dryads, I will withhold my final decision until I see what our Decanus has for us tomorrow.”
The meeting was adjourned, and Underwood, Vera and Faehorn left the room in an orderly and quiet
fashion. The Legate and his strategist seemed to want to discuss things in private, so they stayed behind.
It was still light out, so the Ranger went out to the courtyard to mull things over while the other two
returned to their duties.
And there he saw a bizarre scene. Keira was giving one of the juvenile dryads a ride on her shoulders
while the rest of them crowded around her. Seeing the adorable scene of them arguing who was next on
‘Mommy’s shoulders’ did wonders to heal his troubled heart. Unlike before, however, the beastkin
didn’t seem troubled or anxious, but was genuinely laughing and having fun with them as they walked in
full view of the entire fort.
Keeping those kids’ existence a secret at this point was both impossible and unwise, so Underwood and
Aidun had both given Keira permission to show them around the fort and introduce them to the troops.
And as expected, they drew a myriad of reactions from adventurers and soldiers alike. A few of the
hard-liners scoffed at the ‘undisciplined display’ while others stared in blank amazement at the
appearance of the legendary Hylt tree guardians, but most of them were like Faehorn and simply
enjoyed watching the uplifting sight. Even if they were technically monsters, the appearance of happy,
giggling children had the terrifying power to melt even the most jaded of hearts.
“Even if they’re monsters, huh?”
Come to think of it, was that Sandman fellow a person? No, it was highly likely he was a monster of
some kind, which was why he went to such great lengths to keep his distance. His behavior was odd
though, even by those creatures’ standards. Typically speaking, a monster had no use for talking and
would just take what they wanted by force. The intelligent ones, on the other hand, steered clear of
civilization since they would likely be hunted down lest they pose a threat later on. Even if the brutish
ones caused casualties and were an all-around pestilence, it was those truly cunning and clever creatures
that could cause the most damage in the long run.
Still, making deals with the elves was extremely atypical for a monster. Especially considering his
objective was gold. He even asked for the amounts to be delivered in small change, such as 10 GP or 25
GP pieces whenever possible, so he was definitely aiming to spend it without drawing attention. That or
he was making his own treasure hoard, but the only creatures that did such things were dragons.
Maybe he was some type of dragonoid, then? No, that was unlikely. Every monster that carried the
blood of those mighty beasts was far too prideful to hide itself like that. Those things didn’t make deals -
they demanded tribute. They were the strongest, the pinnacle of monsters, after all. They were so
powerful that an adventurer would need a Level that was at least 10 times higher than the dragon’s
before he could even hope to challenge it. Elder Dragons that went up to Level 75 were considered
peerless existences that could quite literally topple nations by themselves if their ire was raised.
Thankfully, there existed only 4 of those beasts in the known world. One of them lorded over a stretch of
land that once belonged to the dwarven kingdom of Horkensaft to the east, while the other ruled over the
vast desert far to the southeast. The other two weren’t even on this continent. The fact the Republic was
spared from dealing with those living disasters had always been something Faehorn was quietly thankful
for.
“Mister Faehorn! Sir!”
The old Ranger was torn away from his thoughts when he heard Keira call his name while running over
to where he was leaning up against a wall. Just as before, one of the dryads was riding on her shoulders
while the other four followed behind while bickering noisily. Apparently this time they were arguing
over which one of them was taller.
“Yes, miss Morgana?”
“I have some good news! Lilly here told me something very reassuring!”
Her eyes pointed upwards at the dryad who was happily playing with her cat-like ears while letting out
adorable words like ‘So fuzzy!’
“Did sh,e now?”
“Hey, Lilly! Remember what you said earlier?”
“Hmm? About what, mommy?”
“You know, about elves like mister Faehorn here?”
The dryad’s emerald eyes met with the Ranger’s, seeming peering into his very soul. This was the first
time he had seen any of them acknowledge anyone’s existence besides Keira’s and their own, so he was
slightly taken aback. It lasted only for a moment, though, as she immediately turned her attention back
towards the catgirl’s ears.
“What about them?”
“You don’t want to hurt them, right?”
“Of course I don’t! If I’m mean towards them, then grandma Nyrie would be sad!”
“Making grandma sad would be bad!” echoed the other four in a single voice.
“There you have it, mister Faehorn! That’s good news, isn’t it?!”
“Ah, yes, it is. ‘Good news’ might actually be an understatement.”

It would seem even these kids felt the influence of the Goddess of Fertility, and were forbidden from
harming her followers. Well, the legends more or less stated something like that, but hearing it from the
girl herself was immensely reassuring.
“Hey, Torenia!”
Keira raised a scolding voice towards one of them.
“Enough arguing about the evening sunlight, okay?”
“But she gets almost all of it!” said one of them while pointing at the other.
“You get most of the morning sunlight in return though, don’t you?”
“... Yes…”
“Then you should be more tolerant of your sister!”
“Yes, mommy…”
“And Castelia! Don’t let this go to your head!”
“Eh?!”
The dryad that Torenia was bickering with suddenly put on a shocked expression.
“Mister Sun shines down on all of us, you know! His light and warmth is something you should share
and not selfishly hog to yourselves!”
“Yes, mommy…” answered the two in unison with sullen faces. Keira’s ‘serious business’ face softened
into the usual smile and she patted their heads lightly, which they seemed to enjoy quite a bit.
“Ah, mister Faehorn, will his excellency the Legate be needing me again today?”
“I don’t believe so. Why?”
The catgirl gently stroked the heads of one of the dryads to her left, the one that had been scratching her
shoulder the entire time.
“Birchis here seems to have a termite nest in her upper branches, and I want to take my men to clear it
out.”
She was officially a Decanus, which meant she had her own 10-man squad assigned to her.
“Ah, then that should be alright. Though I gotta say, I’m surprised you can tell them apart.”
Personalities aside, the quintuplets looked completely identical. Only their short grass-like hair showed
any deviation as it swayed gently in the wind, but that was not nearly enough to differentiate between
them.
“It’s because they always stand on the same side, you know!”
The catgirl pointed in the distance, towards one of the massive trees on her right, one of the cornerstones
of Fort Yimin’s fortifications.
“See, that’s Torenia-”
She then pointed to the tree that was immediately to the west of it.
“-and that’s Castelia. The one directly behind me is Lilly, that one over there is Birchis, and that last one
over there is Pinea!”
“Oh, I see!” replied Faehorn as realization struck him.
The way the Hylt trees were positioned around the fort and the formation the children seemed to make
around their ‘mother’ lined up perfectly. Indeed, looking at their relative positions drew the same
irregular pentagon as the fort’s walls if one were to look at them from above. They probably did that
without thinking, like a natural compass or homing instinct.
“To think it was something like that… And here I thought your maternal instincts were kicking in.”
“... Huh?”
“I mean, you hit it off so well with these kids. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll make a great mother
someday.”
“Ah… yeah…”
The catgirl’s dispirited response and diminishing smile seemed to raise the ire of the dryads, who looked
at Faehorn with angry, pouting faces. For the briefest moment, the Ranger felt like the titanic trees in the
distance shifted slightly towards his position. Nothing of note actually happened though, and the catgirl
merely trotted off towards her quarters. Except that the usual spring in her step was gone.
“Hey, Keira! Heading back to the barracks?”
“Hey. Yeah.”
She passed by Lia on the way, but only gave a dull wave of her hand at the green-haired girl’s greeting.
Noticing her friend’s sour mood, Lia’s eyes immediately looked towards where she had come from, and
met Faehorn’s. She approached the old elf with a rather displeased look on her face.
“Mister Faehorn!” she said when she walked up to her still dumbfounded teacher. “Were you bullying
Keira again?!”
“I did no such thing, miss Torlee. I just had a brief chat with her regarding those dryads, and then she
started sulking when I complimented her on being a good mother.”
Lia closed her eyes, drooped her shoulders and sighed heavily.
Of course Keira would be upset if you told her that, she thought to herself. Her romance with Rowana
would never bear that sort of fruit, you know! They can’t even adopt unless they’re married, and that
sort of thing will never fly in this day and age! And you just reminded her of all of that!
Ranting inside her head was all she did, though. She couldn’t just spill the beans on their relationship,
especially since she had promised to keep it a secret. It was unlikely, but there was also the possibility
that Faehorn might have been one of those people. The kind that were not exactly accepting of same-sex
relationships.
“Honestly, this is why men are…”
In the end she left in somewhat of a huff while muttering those words, leaving the old elf in an even
more confused state of mind.
“... Was it something I said?”
(115) Those Who Are Right 1
The lone Fort Yimin was built around the only Hylt tree grove in the Clattering Plains, which consisted
of exactly 5 of the ancient trees. Frankly speaking, it stood out like a sore thumb, as its surroundings
were nothing but wide-open, grassy plains. It had existed on that spot since before the dissolution of the
once-great Elven Dominion roughly 300 years ago, brought on by the still-fledgling Lodrak Empire that
had united around their first Emperor. Although the Dominion lost the war when their royal family was
assassinated, this particular fort never saw any real combat. The unsteady peace that had reigned
between the two nations since then meant that its residents continued to live in relative peace.
However, on this morning, that centuries-old eyesore would finally get its first real trial. The Empire had
fielded a massive force of 30,000 soldiers that had managed to arrive at their destination without
suffering any significant losses, and were currently forming ranks on the surrounding plains. Fort
Yimin’s defenders were also lining up atop and behind the walls. For many of them, this would be their
first real taste of war, even if they were no strangers to combat. One would not fault them for being
nervous or scared.
But such individuals were far and few between these 13,000 people. 7,000 of them were professional
soldiers belonging to the 3rd Imperial Legion. Another 2,000 were the troops normally stationed at the
fort, and had been temporarily assimilated into the Legion. The remaining 4,000 were adventurers
drafted into service by the government. Compared to the opposing force that was over twice the size and
comprised entirely of military personnel, they were both outclassed and outnumbered. And yet most of
them were calm and resolute.
A single glance at one of the titanic Hylt trees was enough to fill them with the courage to push down
their fear. The dryads, those legendary existences, were on their side. That fact alone was enough to help
steel their hearts and minds for what was to come. And it was atop a relatively low but practically high
branch that Faehorn had made his roost. He was using his Skills to carefully observe the enemy, and
report what he saw through the Comm-crystal in his hand. The fact he was simply looking and not trying
to aim meant he could focus his eyesight to a much finer degree, and easily see the faces of people that
were over a kilometer away.
“I’ve confirmed the presence of 3 VIPs,” he said matter-of-factly. “One of them’s that Holy
Necromancer, and he’s got his own division of roughly 300 Death Knights.”
The man in question was draped head-to-toe in a long, pale robe. A hood covered his ashen hair, while a
cloth mask concealed all but his eyes. His arms held onto a bone staff that was modeled to look like a
scythe. As for how he got an absurd moniker like ‘Holy Necromancer,’ that was because he had applied
his Necromancy the ‘correct’ way. He performed rituals to sanctify any remains he used, and also called
forth the spirits of the departed to obtain their permission and consent to use their bodies as he saw fit.
It was a long-winded ceremony that was a pain in the ass to do and required several expensive
consumables, but the result was the creation of Hallowed Dead. One could easily tell these apart from
regular undead because their forms and armor were bleached pure white rather than black. Not only that,
but the living didn’t feel any of the revulsion one would expect. They weren’t particularly stronger than
regular undead, but the nature of their summoning meant their master would not suffer the wrath of
Mortimer, God of Death and Commerce. As such, not only did their master avoid being branded by the
stigma of Taboo, but his minions were also no longer deathly vulnerable to Holy Magic. It still hurt
them, of course, but it was no longer a critical weakness.
“The second is the ‘Loose Cannon,’ Lerion.”
A dangerous Wizard that specialized in long range, wide area magical attacks. He was essentially a piece
of artillery that walked on two legs. He was one of the few VIPs whose Ultimate Skill was known - a
nasty piece of magic called Particle Cannon. It was an energy beam powerful enough to punch a hole
clean through Fort Yimin’s walls, and perhaps the keep itself.
“The last confirmed sighting is that ‘Black Tower’ fellow, Ruk’lunda.”
A Shaman, whose nickname came from his towering build, dark skin and tendency to fight topless. His
upper body was covered in various ritualistic tattoos and markings. His weapon of choice was a massive
wooden pillar, almost as tall as he was, that had various animal shapes carved into it like a totem pole.
What truly set him apart from the others was that he wasn’t technically part of the Imperial army, but a
well-known adventurer. It was unclear how the Empire persuaded him to show up, as he wasn’t a man
that could be easily motivated by gold or glory. In fact, the FIB had suspected him of being the Sandman
due to his abnormally large build and altruistic nature. Well, that theory had went out the window the
instant the vigilante in question had sent the elves his invoice, but that was besides the point.
“I see a possible 4th one,” continued Faehorn as he peered at the enemy formations. “A woman in dark
leather armor and a blue tabard. She’s holding a plain metal staff, black with gold-colored tips at both
ends. Her features are obscured by a hood, so I cannot see her face or hair.”
“Understood, sir,” came Underwood’s answer from the cube in his hand. “Continue to keep an eye out
for the remaining two.”
The 5th one they were expecting was a nobleman with a questionable reputation, a Warlock that went by
the curious name of Shinji. He was supposed to be an old man in a dark robe accompanied by a demonic
entourage, but the elf saw no one that fit the description. Well, there were quite a few Warlocks with
familiars among their ranks, but none of them really stood out. Typically the VIPs were given
preferential treatment and basically put up on a pedestal so as to inspire the troops around them. If Shinji
chose to hide away among his lower-Leveled colleagues, then confirming his presence was impossible
by sight alone.
The 6th VIP the elves were expecting was almost a complete unknown. They knew he was an
adventurer and that he was a dwarf, but not his name or appearance. Faehorn’s attempts to get eyes on
someone like that were bound to be fruitless, so he didn’t even try. Instead he refocused his efforts into
trying to spot any deception or ruse within the Empire’s movements. It would seem, however, that they
were not planning anything clever, as they finalized their formations and began a steady march towards
the fort.
Their blue-colored tabards, cloaks, robes and flags with griffin imprints on them clearly demonstrated
their allegiance. Even the demons, undead and war beasts were given some blue-colored trappings or
war paint. Which was good, because those dryads really struggled to tell people apart based on facial
features. A fact which Faehorn found slightly ironic since only Keira seemed to be able to tell which one
of them was which. The Ranger himself found it difficult, even after she explained that weird homing
instinct of theirs. Then again, that girl had spent nearly every waking moment of the last few days with
those walking plants, so perhaps that was to be expected.
As for the beastkin herself, she was currently nestled somewhere in the trees, along with the girls in
question. She had pretty much demanded she be allowed to be up there and act as a coordinator,
someone to make sure they stuck to the plan at hand. Their trees were bound to suffer some damage, so
they might take action on their own if she wasn’t around to hold them back. Faehorn suspected the
catgirl was just worried about them and wanted to be there to guide them through this turbulent time.
His lips curled into a smile as he once again thought she’d make a truly great wife and mother some day,
though he kept his opinion on the matter to himself this time around.
Such idle thoughts swam around the back of his mind as he watched the steadily approaching enemy
force. As expected the vast majority - about half of them - were close-combat units. The rest were split
between magical support, healers, and what was left of their Rogues and Rangers. Faehorn may not have
been able to do much to stall them, but he and his teams at the very least had taken down 400 people,
300 of which belonged to the Empire’s scouting corps.
Once the Imperial army passed the 300 meter mark, both they and the Republic’s defenders triggered a
number of large-scale transparent bubbles - magical shields to protect both sides from long distance
attacks. In the Empire’s case, they were relying on their personnel, while the Republic used large barrier-
generating magic items that were part of the fortifications. The latter were stronger and had more MP
stored up than the former, but were too large and heavy to be moved around freely.
“Archers! At the ready!”

A dozen loud voices rang out among the silence that gripped Fort Yimin, followed by a momentary
avalanche of clattering as 7,000 arrows were nocked. Even though it may not have been their main
weapon of choice, the vast majority of elven soldiers had received training in using a longbow and had
at least 10 Levels in their secondary or tertiary Ranger Jobs.
“Take aim!”
The ones atop the walls lined up their shots, while the ones on the ground behind them aimed at the sky.
Even if their Attributes sucked, even if the power behind their shots was weak, even if their aim was
lacking, even if they weren’t as mobile as they could be - none of that mattered in a siege. They just had
to let loose and they were bound to hit something.
And then, when the forefront of the enemy vanguard crossed the 150 meter mark, it began.
“Loose!”
A sea of arrows rose up into the air, glimmering with various colors as numerous enhancements, Martial
Arts and other effects were used to imbue the power of each projectile. They passed effortlessly through
the massive one-way barriers around the fort and drew grand arcs through the air before raining down on
the approaching Imperial forces. The human Wizards, Priests and Shamans gritted their teeth as the
onslaught of projectiles clashed against their defensive Spells, but the first volley had been succesfully
neutralized at the cost of their MP.
“Loose!”
A mere 10 seconds after came the second volley. Sparks and crackling noises dominated the skies above
the Imperial army as arrows clashed against numerous barely-visible walls.
“Loose!”
A third volley followed afterwards. And then a fourth and a fifth. The repeated strain on the Empire’s
magic users became apparent as their defenses started waning. Of course, their own Rangers and Rogues
fired back, but they lacked the firepower to punch through the fort’s barriers. And then, on the sixth
volley, the protective Spells above the center of the Imperial army finally caved in. There were
numerous sounds like glass shattering as one after the other the Spells were broken through, and the
arrows finally reached the soldiers underneath. They raised their shields, and braced themselves, but still
suffered injuries.
Your arrow has pierced your target. Target HP -552.
Your arrow has pierced your target in a vital area. Target HP -361.

Your attack has been deflected.
Various hit confirmation messages were seen, signifying the Spells were finally broken through. Up in
the lower branches of the Hylt tree, a certain Comm-crystal relayed the orders that its owner was waiting
for.
“Faehorn, you’re up!”
“Snipe!”
Immediately after, his spectral arrow flew out like a beam, piercing one of the Empire’s Priests, ending
his life in an instant. Hundreds of similarly blue-colored streaks of light flew out of the surrounding
canopy. Their targets were the physically weak magic users. The soldiers in front of them attempted to
cover for their comrades using their shields and various Skills, but the angle that the attacks came from
made it impossible to defend unless the Spell-slingers literally ducked behind them.
“Snipe! Snipe! Snipe! Snipe! Snipe!”
Even that seemingly cowardly act wouldn’t save them from the stream of lights that came out of
Faehorn’s ‘nest.’ Snipe was a Martial Art that imbued a Ranger’s shots with immense penetrative power
and speed. And as expected of a Level 100 wielding an Artifact-grade bow, his attacks punched clean
through shields, armor and people as if they were paper. He also aimed at the VIPs, but as expected they
were different, and successfully defended against his long-range barrage.
The Imperial army suffered casualties, but they endured as the distance between them and the walls had
shortened to about 60 meters. The hundreds of carts being pulled along were unloaded, and dozens of
towering trebuchets were hastily assembled. Meteorites of fire, comets of ice and masses of darkness
rained down from the heavens on both sides as their Pyromancers, Cryomancers, Wizards and Warlocks
traded long-range Spells. The fort’s barriers deflected all of the incoming Spells, while the attacking
force’s uneven magical defences only blocked about half of them, causing heavy damage to the humans’
infantry. As expected, the Republic had the superior position, but neither side expected them to last.
The trebuchets were completed with dizzying speed, and unleashed a barrage of stones that slammed
heavily against the fort’s magical defenses. The repeated onslaught caused large cracks to spread
through the bubble-like shields, a sign they were about to break. The rain of arrows never stopped, of
course, but the Empire’s foot soldiers reached the base of the walls all the same.
And while this was going on, a cat-eared beastkin was crouched down while surrounded by bark and
leaves. The five child-like dryads were huddled around her. The three of them that were closest to the
invading force gritted their teeth, as their exposed trunks received damage from a myriad of sources. Of
course they would be hit. They were the quite literal cornerstones of the base’s fortifications, so it was
only natural the Empire’s attacks would affect them.
“Mommy… It’s itchy…”

Although they may have appeared as ‘just trees’ they were actually far, far sturdier than the stone walls
and magical barriers combined. They still the felt arrows, Spells and stones that crashed against their
Ironbark, but it was only at the stage of irritation and itchiness. They probably didn’t even take any
actual damage. It was highly unlikely they would have woken up under normal circumstances if it was
only this much.
“I know, sweetie,” said Keira while comforting them. “Please bear with it a while longer.”
The blue crystal cube in her hands lit up, and she immediately answered it. The image of Vera, the
Prefect in charge of Fort Yimin, was projected before her.
“Decanus! Begin phase one!”
“Yes, ma’am! Alright, girls! It’s time to play ‘Catch’ with the blue people!”
“Yaaay!” responded the dryads in unison.
Far below them, on the ground within the Fort’s walls, in a freshly planted grove of young Hylt trees,
were a myriad of large stones and rocks strewn about. The 5-meter tall seedlings began moving and
bending like clay as their trunks and branches creaked. The elves immediately cleared the area so as to
not get in their way. The trees bent over and grasped at the rocks as if they were gigantic hands. The
stones and boulders were then flung into the air with enough force to very nearly uproot the trees
themselves. Their haphazard trajectories easily cleared the walls and rained down on the Empire’s
unsuspecting troops, crushing hundreds of them in an instant.
A squad of Druids within the ‘Catapult Garden’ quickly used their magic to heal the disturbed soil and
revitalize the young trees, which bent over and repeated the process. This phenomenon was Control
Vegetation, a Skill exclusive to dryads that served as their main form of offense. It wasn’t just their own
bodies, but pretty much any non-sentient plant within their domain that could be made to bend to their
will. And considering an ancient Hylt tree’s root system could span kilometers in every direction, it went
without saying that the entirety of Fort Yimin fell within their range.
Back outside the walls, however, the Empire was steadily gaining ground. A large number of the barriers
that protected the defenders had shattered, and the Republic soldiers had to deploy their own magical
defenses. The invading army had pretty much crashed against the thick, 10-meter tall stone walls like
battering ram. Those at the front were already busy attacking the enchanted fortification using various
maces and warhammers, while powerful Spells crashed against its surface overhead. Even if it was little
by little, they were steadily chipping away at it.
Of course, the Republic would not let them have their way so easily.
“Alright, boys!” rang out Fizzy’s metallic voice. “I think those meatbags outside need a bath!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
A dedicated squad of 90 or so siege engineers replied in unison, and they began ferrying pots of boiling
oil up the stairs and onto the walls. The elves already up on the ramparts made way for them, and the
scalding mixture was dumped onto the soldiers below. The cries of pain that rose up proved they had
been successful, but that was only the first step. With practiced ease, the siege engineers took a number
of stick-like bombs out of their pockets and pouches, pulled the pins on them and threw them over the
edge. The metal tubes burst open not with explosive force, but bright yellow flames. The oil that covered
or had splashed onto the humans below and that had formed small puddles in the hard-packed soil
caught fire, enveloping the base of the walls in a raging, persistent inferno. The heavy brown smoke that
rose from the flames lingered around the area like a thick smog, choking the life out of anything that still
drew breath.
The combination of an Artificer’s craftiness and an Alchemist’s knowledge led to some truly nasty
creations.
Just then, there was a gathering of bright, blue light among the Empire’s forces. The man known as the
‘Loose Cannon’ was charging his signature move. The Republic forces immediately launched attacks at
him to interrupt it, but the Empire’s magic users had converged around him to provide cover. It was a
tense few moments, but their efforts proved to be enough.
“Particle Cannon!”
A conical beam of pure energy shot out from the man and approached the walls of Fort Yimin with near-
light speed.
“Mirror of Kalandra!”
Just before it hit, a gigantic, oval-shaped ornamental mirror sprang up in front of the walls. The beam
bounced off it, and washed over that section of the Empire’s force. It scorched the ground, and turned
nearly 600 of them into ash, all in the blink of an eye.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Slayer of Humanity.
A message popped up in Imiryl’s consciousness as the flat surface before her floating body crumbled
away. The power of the human Wizard’s Particle Cannon had been reflected by that of the High Elf’s
own Ultimate Skill, although the ‘Loose Cannon’ himself seemed to have survived, even if barely. The
two high-Level Wizards glared at each other across the momentarily silenced battlefield.
“Tch, I wasn’t told that bitch would be there,” muttered Lerion with a click of his tongue. If things were
like this, then he wouldn’t be able to use his Ultimate Skill until she was dealt with.
Since his MP had been almost completely depleted and his HP suffered from his own magic, he turned
to retreat. No matter who it was or how powerful they were, any combatant in this world. would be able
to heal from their non-crippling injuries and return to the battle after 10 to 15 minutes of rest. They still
wouldn’t be able to use any powerful Skills that had cooldown periods or afflicted their user with heavy
penalties as compensation, but for the most part they could return to the fight in the blink of an eye.
None of that was relevant to the Ascendant human Wizard, however, as a spectral arrow bore a hole
clean through his skull. A second one pierced his heart before his body could even hit the ground.
“Confirmed kill on VIP Lerion,” reported Faehorn from his perch.

“Good work, sir,” replied Underwood.
“Thank Imiryl if you have time to blab, Silus.”
If it wasn’t for the High Elf’s perfectly executed counter, bringing that man down would have been a
much more difficult task. Breaching his defenses and those of his colleagues was something a lone
Ranger was incapable of accomplishing by himself.
“Heads up! The Hallowed Dead are encroaching on the walls!” shouted the High Elf.
“Can you take that Necromancer out?”
“No dice. He’s been using his minions as shields, and they’re too hard for me to- Wait, he’s personally
going to the base of the wall!”
A magic user who goes to the very front lines willingly could only mean one thing - he was about to
unleash an Ultimate Skill. And since this man’s ability was unknown, it immediately sent the elven
officers into high alert. However, they were unable to pass orders down the chain of command fast
enough to react, and the white-robed man reached the foot of the stone wall unharmed.
The alchemical fires that had been started by the fort’s defenders had already subsided or been cleared
away, but the Empire’s soldiers had not approached this section of the wall again, so he had no cover
from the army. He didn’t need it though. The man’s towering Hallowed Death Knights were currently
using their huge shields to shelter him from the rain of attacks that came from above. Although he had
lost about a quarter of his minions getting this far, he had reached his goal without much difficulty.
He raised his right arm and placed a pale hand on the chipped, battered and scorched surface of the
walls. He then let out a low voice, almost like a whisper.
“The Goal Of All Life Is Death.”
In the next instant, everything within 15 meters of him died. The elves within range of his Ultimate Skill
immediately lost their lives. It wasn’t just them, but even things that were not technically alive were
granted ‘death.’ Their armor and weapons rusted over and crumbled to nothing, the ground and stone
around him turned to sand, even a part of his own undead platoon succumbed to the effects of the
Ultimate Skill and collapsed. The very air itself became stagnant with anti-life, and even the person that
brought about this world of death nearly choked on it.
The Necromancer who was not completely exempt from the effects of his own magic collapsed to one
knee. The Death Knights that were outside the range of his ability ran to his side to provide cover. He
heard thumping and clanging noises overhead, as numerous attacks bounced off their thick, heavy
shields.
“Owww! That! Hurt!”
In the next instant, he heard a high-pitched, childish voice that sent him on high alert. It had come
clearly to him over the chaotic noise of the battle around him, but he neither saw nor felt any living
presence around him other than his own. He quickly dismissed those words as the enemy using Whisper
Wind to unsettle him. It was a strategy many Rangers employed, but not one he would fall for so easily.
He stood unsteadily, using his staff to support his weakened body. Looking up from the sandy ground
and peering through the gaps between his minions, he confirmed that the walls before him had collapsed
to leave a gigantic, gaping hole in the fort’s defenses. He smiled under his mask, as his mission had been
completed and he would be allowed to fall back from the front lines.
Assuming he survived the trip back, of course.
“GRAH!”
The necromancers let out a shrill yell in response to the shooting pain in both his feet. Looking down in
a panic, he saw that something had pierced clean through them, effectively nailing him to this spot.
How was such a thing possible? Everything underneath his position should have been turned to ash and
sand. Whatever traps the elves might have laid should have ceased to function, regardless of the magic
they might have held. Even high-Leveled opponents would have had the life drained away from them
unless they were practically overflowing with vitality.
“Hack! Koff!”
The man’s high-speed thought processes were cut off as he coughed, gasping for air. He felt weak and
dizzy, far worse than the side-effects of Final Goal, his Ultimate Skill, should have been. His limbs felt
cold and his body grew heavy as he realized both his HP and MP were rapidly dropping. It was as if
whatever had pierced his feet was sucking the very blood from his flesh, but he possessed not the
strength with which to tear himself away.
In a fit of calculated panic, he ordered his Death Knights to cut off his own legs, which they did without
hesitation. The man stifled the screams of pain as their ivory blades dug into his lower body, just above
the knees. Separated from his limbs, he fell over backwards into the waiting hands of his Hallowed
Dead, who began carrying him away with all due haste. He reached for the Regenerating Potion on his
belt - a high class mixture that was capable of instantly regrowing lost limbs while simultaneously
restoring all HP - and moved the bottle up to his face.
Moments later, the ivory-colored troop of Death Knights crumbled into piles of dust and bones, which
blended into the yellow sand underneath. However, their master was nowhere to be found. All that was
left of him were a pair of bloodied shoes, a white robe stained red, and a trail of moist sand connecting
the two points. An uncorked crystal vial lay on the ground, its pink colored contents draining away into
the sand. It was as if the man’s body had disappeared into thin air.
It was the price he paid for daring to harm a dryad’s roots.
“Morgana! Did those dryads make a move just now?!”

The angry visage of Prefect Vera stared accusingly at the image of the beastkin who was supposed to
hold the reins of those dryads. She saw her turn her head around and heard her repeating her question.
Seemingly getting her answer she turned her attention back to the elf.
“Uhm… Castelia says she got upset and drank the man that hurt her roots.”
Vera let out a deep sigh. As expected, that Necromancer’s flashy performance spurred the dryads into
action. However, something about that report just wasn’t right.
“... Drank?”
“Yes, ma’am. Something about nutrients?”
“So she… absorbed his body while leaving nothing behind?”
“I think so? She’s not very good at explaining things…”
“I see… Well, uh, we likely haven’t been found out, but make sure you keep them in line, okay?”
Even Faehorn who reported the Necromancer’s disappearance failed to see what went on with all the
undead covering that VIP’s retreat, so it was safe to assume the Empire were just as dumbfounded.
“Yes, ma’am!”
She cut the connection and returned to dealing with the problem at hand. While losing 2 of their trump
cards this early was definitely a heavy blow for the Empire, they still managed to penetrate the fortress’s
defenses much sooner than anticipated. The Republic were planning to wear them down a lot more
before that happened, but as expected, an Ultimate Skill could bring drastic changes to a battlefield.
Well, their plan did involve letting them swarm the fort, but that didn’t mean the Republic wasn’t going
to make the Empire pay dearly for every step they took. Not to mention that, as Faehorn pointed out
time and again, the dryads would only be effective as long as they were an unknown. The elves had only
one shot at this, so they had to make it count, even if it meant sacrificing their people.
Back at the breached wall-turned-desert, the Imperial officers were considering whether it was safe to
rush in. The life-sapping air had cleared, and the Necromancer that had caused it was nowhere to be
seen. Although they found the latter to be more than a little unsettling, the lack of knowledge wasn’t
going to net them any war contributions. Having two of their trump cards eliminated so soon was
unfortunate, but they were definitely ahead. VIPs aside, casualties on both sides seemed to actually be
equal, which was good news for the numerically superior Empire. Even if they took a pounding at the
start and the elves had a superior position, the invaders could bring a lot more firepower to bear.
Therefore, seeing no reason to hesitate, the order was given and the Imperial troops rushed over the
dried up sands and through the crumbled section of the wall. As they poured in, however, they were met
with resistance.
“Grrrrr!”
Heavy, angry, drunken, dwarf-shaped resistance.
“RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
Hilda gave off a war cry that carried clearly across the noisy battlefield, and everyone that heard it felt
its effects.
Your body trembles before the Tempest of Rage.

The effectiveness of the STR, DEX and AGI Attributes will be reduced by 20% for the next
15 minutes.
The invading infantry felt rattled down to their very cores. Their movements grew noticeably more
sluggish, as each individual felt their armor and weapons suddenly grow heavier.
The Tempest of Rage has swallowed you up.

Melee damage will be increased by 20% for the next 15 minutes.
The Republic’s adventurers and soldiers, on the other hand, let off a unified war cry as they felt their
bodies well up with power. Elves, humans and dwarves clad in shining silver-like armor rushed out to
meet the Empire’s charge, their eyes visibly shining with an unearthly red light. And right at their head
was Hilda, whose blue tabard had been dyed white just for the occasion. She leapt 10 meters through the
air and swung down a massive greataxe that was easily larger than she was tall.
“Cleave!”
The blade collided with the ground, sending out a shockwave of red light that dug a 5-meter-long trench
through it. Needless to say, any humans who stood in its path found themselves slain without being able
to do anything about it. Hilda didn’t even bat an eye under her helmet. She merely lifted the weapon up
onto her shoulder with one hand, and dashed forward while swinging it in a wide arc. Multiple men fell
by the wayside every time her weapon flashed around, the honed blade cutting through them like a hot
knife through butter. She kept forcing her way deeper into the Empire’s ranks like a blender as she let
the red haze overtake her. No steel weapon could reach her, but Spells and various projectiles flew at her
and started chipping away at her massive vitality.
However, inflicting damage on a Berserker simply makes them more dangerous. This sort of
environment was where her Job truly shone. To make matters worse for her enemy, the vampiric weapon
she bore replenished her lost vitality by sucking in her victim’s blood, turning her into a perpetual
carousel of death. The sheer terror her blood-soaked form inspired in one’s heart could not be
understated. Even her allies that followed in her wake trembled at the thought of even getting near her.
Well, all except one of them.
“Heaaaaahahahaaa!”
An odd, gleeful cry came out from a small, mithril frame. Fizzy had taken this chance to further her own
Metal Golem Job, and the effects of the Tempest of Rage made sure she would not fail to fulfill her true
purpose.
“Get out there and build some achievements, but retreat the instant your survival is at stake!”
Those were the orders given to her by her Hero, and she would follow them to the letter. The humans,
being brought face to face with a Metal Golem that was faster, stronger and tougher than them, stood
little chance in close combat. Her small size made it incredibly difficult to target her, as she smashed,
bashed and crashed the people around her into a bloody pulp. Knees were smashed, spines were crushed,
heads were squished and groins were mercilessly targeted.
Boxxy was right. There was just something… special about murdering humans. Killing elven prisoners
or monsters for money in the arena just couldn’t compare to this thrill.
Of course, she didn’t go as deep into enemy lines as Hilda. Even if her shiny frame attracted attention,
she was still just one among thousands of Republic troops doing their part to defend their land. Leave it
to a Champion of Chaos to find a path through the sea of violence and slaughter around her.
And slaughter was the only word that could accurately describe the situation. Soldiers fell on both sides,
as Spells clashed all around them. The counterattack the Republic had launched would only last for as
long as Hilda’s Ultimate Skill persisted, and was ultimately nothing more than a smoke screen. That way
they could inflict the most damage while suffering the least amount of casualties before pulling back.
The question was whether that dwarf actually planned to pull back. The way she was pushing forward
would make one think she had no intention doing so. No, looking at how she had been cleaving her way
into the Empire’s ranks, that may have been her intention from the start. The words ‘one-dwarf-army’
popped up into people’s heads, as the absurd existence that was Hilda showed no signs of ever stopping
her carnage.
At least not until someone of comparable strength stood in her way.
*CLANGGG*
A clear gong-like sound rang out, and the dwarf found herself being blown back. She landed on her feet
and skidded across the blood-soaked ground as she came to a stop several steps from her previous
position. Her dented helmet landed somewhere behind her with a dull sound as she shook her now
exposed head to recover from the unexpected blow.
“Gah! Ah, got blood-drunk again, didn’t I?” she grumbled as she took in her surroundings.
All around her were Imperial soldiers baring their weapons at her, but none of them dared approach or
attack her. Far behind her were the breached walls of Fort Yimin and the sounds of combat. Immediately
in front was a sight she was surprised, delighted, and enraged to see.
The one who had struck her was a woman in light leather armor that was dark gray in color. Her torso
was covered by a blue tabard that had a bunch of medals pinned to its left side. In her hands was a black,
plain metal staff with golden-colored lumps on either end. Attached to her back were a pair of angelic
wings - similar yet different from Lichter’s - which beat slowly as she hovered just slightly above the
ground. The mysterious 4th VIP Faehorn had tagged earler had her hood down, revealing a beautiful yet
cold expression befitting of an ice queen and shoulder-length, raven-black hair that fluttered slightly in
the breeze kicked up by her wings.
It was a person the dwarf was very familiar with.
“Howdy, Jen!” she greeted a fierce smile while rebuilding her stance.
“Hilda,” replied the woman as she planted her feet on the ground and willed her wings to disappear.
“Fancy seein’ you here! Had a feelin’ ye didn’t bite the big one like Brightey said, but didn’t think ye’d
turn military!”
The angelic woman didn’t reply, but merely assumed her own stance. She stood on one leg, with her
knee bent, her staff held behind her in her left hand and her right palm held out in front.
“Cold as usual, aye? Still, cannae wait to see shoestrap’s face when he finds out ye’re still kickin’!”
In the next instant, the woman called Jen shifted a few centimeters to her left, and a phantasmal arrow
passed through the space that occupied her forehead mere moments ago.
“Ah… Too late for that, eh?”
Several more arrows flew at her, but she idly caught them all between her fingers. As expected of a
Monk, projectile attacks were practically useless against her. Still, the elf Ranger wouldn’t be himself if
he at least didn’t test his old comrade.
Both he and Hilda recognized this woman as Jennifer Jackson, the fourth member of their team that also
included Lichter the Paladin. She had left them of her own accord after a particularly bad falling out.
They had heard she had been executed by the Empire’s authorities for some crime or another, but that
was obviously not true.
“What’s with them medals on yer chest? Ye a big shot or somethin’ over there? Knew ye had it in ye, ye
fucken’ psycho!”
The woman blushed slightly in response to that sarcastic praise. Seemed like she was still both dense
and weak to compliments.
“C’mon, Jen! Ye must be at least a lil’ happy to see me, right?”
“Jennifer is dead,” spoke the woman in a deadpan voice. “I am Zone. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Ah, they even gave ye a fancy codename, eh? Well, then ‘Zone,’ let’s see if ye can still swing that stick
around as well as ye used to!”
She leapt forward, swinging her axe in a wide diagonal swing. Her opponent didn’t even flinch as she
swung her staff downwards, knocking the heavy lump of metal off-course and causing it to dig into the
ground. She swung her fist around, aiming at Hilda’s head. The dwarf raised her shoulder, deflecting the
blow with her armor while she pulled back her weapon. She swung it once more, but the Monk leapt
over it and swung her staff down on her head, which was barely deflected by the haft of Hilda’s axe. The
dwarf pushed against that staff with all her might, intending to drive her axe’s blade into Zone’s neck at
near-point-blank range, but her target unfurled her wings and retreated into the sky before that happened.
She flapped her feathers a few times to gain some altitude before swooping in with a sweeping strike of
her staff. It was the same attack that took Hilda’s helmet off, except the now-in-control Berserker was
able to sidestep it with minimal movements. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zone deflect another
barrage from Faehorn with little difficulty.
“Damn,” cursed the Ranger under his breath. “It really is her, isn’t it?”
Back on his perch, he was doing his best to support Hilda’s reckless charge as he picked off the enemy’s
magic users that targeted her. And then that problem child showed up. The woman he knew as Jennifer
had grown immensely in the 12 years since they last saw her, but that troublesome personality of hers
seemed to still be intact. The fact she had managed to Rank Up in that time frame was nothing short of
impressive, which made him strangely glad for his old friend.
No, make that former friend. She was the enemy now. She was also probably same person who saved
those griffins from his barrage about a week ago. Only a Monk could be that adept at nullifying a
Ranger’s attacks. Still, that didn’t mean she had the luxury to defend against his arrows and go toe-to-
toe with Hilda at the same time. She wouldn’t stand a chance so long as he provided covering fire while
his partner on the ground did her thing.
That’s when the Comm-crystal at his feet activated, meaning Underwood was trying to contact him. The
Ranger hesitated for a moment, but he still answered it with one hand while keeping a trained eye on
Hilda and Jennifer’s battle.
“What is it, Silus?”
“Faehorn! We have trouble! Air units coming in from the south!”
It was a direction he had no line of sight on. The enemy had come at them from the west, and he himself
was on a north-facing branch.
“... Can it wait?”
“No. It really can’t.”
Of course it couldn’t. The fact that Underwood was contacting him meant it must have been a threat
others couldn’t handle. Faehorn sighed and decided to trust that wrecking ball of a dwarf to handle
things on her own.
“Alright, I’m on it.”
The Ranger put the blue cube away in his pocket and ran along the sheer side of the Hylt tree. He kicked
off its surface and grabbed onto a vine dangling from above. He used his momentum to swing over to
the next vine, and then the next after that as he made his way around the side of the massive tree. He
relocated to another branch that was a bit lower in altitude, but gave him a good view of both the battle
and the approaching threat.
“... You gotta be shitting me.”

‘Aerial units’ was putting it lightly. The six griffins he saw were more or less as expected, but the one
leading them was not. It was a gigantic creature that was one size bigger than the others. It had a long
neck and tail, a massive torso with four legs ending in claws, and a pair of massive, bat-like wings
attached to its back. Its entire body was covered in shining green scales and it had large, black spikes
running down the length of its spine.
“What’s a freakin’ dragon doing here?!’” he screamed at nobody in particular.
No, his eyes already knew the answer. There was someone riding atop the mighty beast. A stocky figure
wrapped in brown furs and a pair of goggles to shield him from the wind. The massive black beard that
flowed out from his chin and fluttered around either side of his neck made it quite obvious as to who he
was. Well, it was the thing that he was riding that really gave it away, but that was besides the point.
“Uh, Silus,” he reported into the Comm-crystal. “That’s Thorgren the ‘Dragon Tamer,’ isn’t it?”
One of the few Monster Tamers to reach Level 100, and the only person in recent history who was able
to fully control the prideful creatures that stood at the pinnacle of the monster world. Having to face a
dragon was bad enough in and of itself, but a creature under a Monster Tamer’s control was always
stronger than a wild one. Not to mention that the added direction and cunning of an experienced
adventurer made them tricky to bring down. The only consolation was that the dragon’s lack of horns
showed it was still a young one.
“That’s right. Can you take him?”
“What, alone?! Where’s Imiryl?”
“She’s currently engaging the Black Tower on the field. She’s trying to keep him from activating his
Ultimate Skill.”
Faehorn glanced over and was immediately able to locate the site of their battle. They were just under
the walls, immediately south of where the sandy hole was. The two of them were exchanging lightning
Spells with great intensity, and seemed to be rather evenly matched. That man, even though he had a
physique and weapon like those, he was still quite adept at magic, huh?
“So can you do it or not?” urged Underwood.
“No chance. I don’t have nearly enough MP to kill a dragon, let alone one controlled by a Monster
Tamer!”
“So if you had the MP, you could do it?”
“Maybe, but I’ll get struck with potion sickness before that happens.”
The Ranger always had bad affinity with Alchemy. He could only drink three potions a day without the
debilitating condition started setting in, and he had already used two of them so far.
“Good enough. Standby.”

Underwood’s image disappeared from sight, even though the Comm-crystal was still active. He must
have let go of the item on his end.
“What do you mean ‘good enough?’ Silus?!”
“Hey, mister.”
“Ack!”
A green girl’s head with hair like grass poked out of the branch he was standing on, almost literally
between his legs. It caused him to let out an uncharacteristic scream of surprise as he instinctively leapt
back a ways.
“Ah, uhm… C-Castelia, right?”
“Yep! Mommy says you need some food, so here you go!”
A number of leafy, blue colored vines sprouted from around the elf and grew straight upwards, then
began wrapping themselves around his waist. The Ranger had no idea what was going on, but this was
clearly part of the plan so he let the plant lady do what she willed. He then felt something flowing into
him. Looking at his Status, he saw his nearly-depleted MP was recovering at a mind-boggling rate.
“Oh, I see! Clever, very clever!”
If dryads could suck the mana out of living things, then it was only natural they could return it as well.
However, the influx of energy didn’t stop when it hit maximum, and his current MP went over it. The
over-abundance of magical energy in his body was causing his joints to ache and his temple to throb.
“Uh, could you tone it down a bi- Gah, she’s gone!”
The dryad, it would seem, had already departed. Like it or not, he had the MP he wanted. Now he just
had to make sure he spent it all before it made his head explode. Well, worst case scenario, he just had to
cut off the vines with the dagger on his belt. Doing so would probably piss the dryad off a little, but he
had a feeling she wouldn’t exactly stop ‘feeding’ him on her own. Restraint was one of the things those
little ladies most definitely did not have.
Not waiting for his symptoms to get any worse, the High Elf went down on one knee and leveled his
bow against the targets in the distance. Unlike usual, he was holding it horizontally, with the bowstring
above his right arm.
“Hunter’s Mark. Strafe. Wind-imbued Arrows. Deadshot. Adrenaline Rush.”
He activated numerous Skills in rapid succession from both his Ranger and Rogue Jobs, and then took a
deep breath.
“Turret Stance: Snipe!”
The pain in his limbs and head gradually went away as he started spending his overabundant MP. His
hands moved at a speed that would be difficult for anyone to follow, leaving behind mere afterimages of
him pulling the bowstring. The weapon, his body, and even the branch under his feet shook violently
from the excessively rapid fire that clocked in at about 200 shots per minute.
He first targeted the dragon, hitting it in the snout with a dozen arrows before it could react and begin
weaving and dodging. Once the enemy knew they were under fire, he changed targets to the six griffins.
Those were shot down in as little as 15 seconds, as they fell to the ground while resembling gigantic
pincoushins. He turned his aim back to the approaching dragon and kept the constant stream of blue
lights trained on it.
As expected, however, he wasn’t doing much. The dragon bobbed and weaved at a speed that belied his
large body, making it excessively difficult to land clean hits on him. At least half the shots missed
completely, while those that hit mostly bounced harmlessly off its tough scales. Trying to target the
dwarf strapped to his back proved to be pretty much impossible, as the spines along the beast’s back
served to give him a surprisingly good amount of cover. The dragon’s movements were also highly
unpredictable, meaning it was impossible to nail the owner at this distance. Besides, the dwarf had
probably linked his vitality with the monster under his command, meaning either both died, or neither of
them did.
Still, damage steadily accumulated on the great beast. Its scales were steadily being chipped away, and
the membranes on those huge wings had numerous tiny holes being punched into them. If things kept
going on like this, Faehorn might have actually stood a chance. Unfortunately, the temporary effects of
his various Skills started wearing off, and both his rate of fire and accuracy suffered as a result. The
burden he put on his body wasn’t helping things either. His bones creaked, his hands bled and his
muscles screamed. But he didn’t stop - he couldn’t stop.
By this time, a full minute of his barrage had passed, and the dragon had gotten within 300 meters of his
position. Smoke rose from its nostrils as it let out a gigantic ball of green flames, aimed directly at the
Ranger. But he didn’t panic, and just kept shooting at the incoming projectile while aiming at its dead
center. The spectral arrows from his bow ploughed through the flames, dissipating them in a matter of
seconds - but these were precious seconds he didn’t have to waste, and he immediately turned his
attention back to the incoming flying lizard.
Except that his hands had stopped. He let out a few ragged breaths and rebuilt his stance. He waited until
the dragon’s nostrils flared up again before he re-started his Ultimate Skill.
“Turret Stance: Burst Shot!”
Streaks of red flew out this time. Although it lacked penetrative power, Burst Shot was still the
Marksman Martial Art that boasted the greatest destructive power, although also the highest MP
consumption and a relatively short range. Neither of those drawbacks were of much concern right now,
though. As for why the sudden change of strategy, it was to exploit one of the dragon’s two known
weaknesses.
The first was that their bodies were actually surprisingly weak. Their strength was still formidable from
a person’s perspective due to the sheer size difference. However, if a dragon and a human were in the
same weight category, then the human would be able to overpower it in a contest of raw physical
strength. Of course, even if a human that massive actually existed, the dragon would just back off and
burn them to a crisp using their Dragon Breath - their deadliest weapon.
However, it was also the main way to exploit their other key weakness.
A dragon’s scales made up one of the toughest natural armors in the world. They deflected both physical
and magical attacks with ease, and merely damaging them was a problem in and of itself. The only thing
in Faehorn’s repertoire that could even scratch them was Snipe, and a Blast Shot had no hope of getting
through them. Their insides, however, were frightfully vulnerable. Obviously, landing an attack from
inside the beast was pretty much impossible, aside from the times when they opened their massive jaws.
And the only reason they would do such a thing was to either unleash their breath or bite something in
half.
And it was that moment that Faehorn was waiting for. The green fireball left the dragon’s maw just as
dozens of red-tinted arrows ploughed into it and lodged themselves into the back of its throat. The
sudden jolt of massive pain caused the beast to stop its advance and recoil while grabbing onto its snout
with the clawed, webbed fingers of its forelegs. A heartbeat later, the arrows inside its mouth exploded
violently, ripping its throat to shreds. The beast let out a pathetic cry as it plummeted towards the ground
with black smoke coming out of its jaws.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Dragonslayer.

All Attributes +20.
“Heh… Hehehehe! HAHAHAHA! Hack! Koff! Koff! Koff!”
Faehorn’s victorious celebration was cut short by him coughing up blood. He hadn’t realized it, but the
MP influx had overpowered his expenditure ever since his rate of fire dropped, and his body was
breaking apart. He quickly took his knife out and cut away the mana-imbuing vines. The excess MP in
his body then began slowly draining away, allowing him to finally catch his breath.
“Huff, huff, huff!”
Just then, he realized the Comm-cube at his feet was ringing again. How long had it been doing that? He
grasped it with his bloody hand and answered it immediately.
“Silus! I got the-”
“You have incoming!”
No sooner did Underwood utter those words when the exhausted Ranger felt a presence rapidly
approaching him. He looked to his right just in time to see something long, thin and black hurtling
towards his face. There was a dull sound as the object made contact with his head and sent him flying
off the branch. His skull had most definitely cracked, and he lost vision in one of his eyes, but as he fell,
he was still able to make two things out.
One was the winged figure of Jennifer, the one responsible for knocking him off his perch. Her eyes held
the same cold glare he remembered, and the utter lack of emotion on her face was the same as it had
always been. The other was the dragon’s last fireball, which he failed to diffuse. His final assault had
thrown off the creature’s aim, and its attack crashed into the Hylt tree’s upper canopy, enveloping it in
fire. He was sure the dryad was in pain right now, as a dragon’s flames burned with an intensity that was
in a class of their own, capable of melting through literally anything.
Ah… that poor kid…
His thoughts drifted off to the catgirl who would have to deal with that distraught child and keep her in
line. The catgirl that showed more promise than any other student he had ever seen. The catgirl that had
suffered far worse than any person should have had to endure. The catgirl who had the strength of will to
smile and seek happiness despite all that. The catgirl that was sure to carry on his legacy. The catgirl he
never found out was a monster that wholeheartedly wanted to kill him and absorb his body, but never
got the chance. He had his suspicions, but ultimately it was a good thing he never learned of the truth.
I pray she becomes a fine mother...
It meant that his final thoughts before he hit the ground and lost his life were thoroughly happy ones.
A blood-stained axe was swung downward, and a black staff shot out to intercept it. It hit the high-speed
attack from the side, causing it to change course and miss its target entirely. Just like before, Zone used
that gap to close in and thrust a palm out at Hilda, but the dwarf countered it with a punch of her own.
Gauntlet clashed against bare skin, yet the noise produced was a metallic clang. Still, Zone lost in the
contest of strength and was pushed back, which gave the dwarf enough of a gap to reposition her axe
and take a wide vertical swing at her. The Monk’s eyes widened for the first time in surprise, as the
speed of the blow surpassed anything else her opponent had shown. She lept backwards to dodge, but
the axe still managed to cut a shallow wound across her abdomen.
Zone took a brief moment to reevaluate her opponent as her feet skidded slightly across the ground. The
dwarf in front of her was much more dangerous than she initially thought. No, it was her own fault for
underestimating the woman from her memories. She knew that even if Hilda was a blockhead, the old
bat was the type of idiot savant whose mind was a steel trap when it came to combat. The type that
relished the thought of fighting a strong opponent - a total battle maniac. Although she had let her anger
run wild at first, she had now full control over it. She had honed her Berserker’s rage into a weapon and
was pointing it directly at Zone’s neck like an invisible guillotine. That, combined with the Berserker’s
oxymoronic characteristic of getting stronger as they took damage, only meant the dwarf would become
even more troublesome as the battle went on.
In direct contrast to her was the Monk. A Job that required stillness of heart and calmness of mind. It
read the opponent’s flow and became one with it, as if a blade of grass swaying in the wind. However,
the one in front of her was no wind, but a raging tornado that threatened to rip out the very soil itself.
Her attacks were completely nonsensical, yet each was a deadly strike that would most likely be fatal if
taken head on. The fact she managed to rend through both the human’s dragonhide armor and Ki Infused
Skin with so little resistance just now was proof enough of that.
In short, Zone had almost instantaneously come to the decision that she could not take Hilda unless she
showed off her trump card.
The human in front of Hilda chanted something under her breath. Her yellow eyes glowed with a serene,
cyan light and a swirl of similarly-colored energy enveloped her. It draped around her like a transparent
film, a second skin that perfectly matched the contours of her body and her armor. The dwarf’s fierce
toothy grin - a clear sign that she had been enjoying the fight - only grew wider in response. Her
opponent had activated some weird Skill, perhaps her Ultimate. Of course she was going to get even
more fired up.
Hilda prepared her axe for another attack, but it was Zone who moved first this time. The Monk dashed
forward, spun around and swung her staff downward with all her might. The sharp-eyed Berserker
sidestepped the wide swing, which crashed into the hard-packed dirt with enough force to kick up a
small explosion of dust.
Hilda immediately recognized it as Zone having put all of her power into a single blow. She could
already tell from their exchanges that their physical strength was comparable, but that move was
completely unlike her. It was an attack that put her all into offense and left nothing for defence. If she
was in the dwarf’s class in the Consortium, a performance like that would earn her a harsh reprimand.
But this was a battlefield, and the punishment for mistakes like those were one’s life. A verdict Hilda
was executing unhesitantly as she sent her axe flying at the Monk’s wide-open neck.
However, her blow never reached. A spectral, cyan-colored form bearing Zone’s shape leapt out of the
Monk’s body and swung her version of the black staff upward, perfectly intercepting the horizontal blow
and redirecting its path so that it barely grazed the top of the crouching Monk’s hair. The dwarf didn’t
even miss a beat and used her sideways momentum to swing her weapon around with a spin and deliver
another blow, even faster than the last one.
When she laid eyes on Zone once more, she saw the Monk was swinging her own staff at the dwarf’s
head. Her spectral self once again leapt out and brilliantly parried the axe while her physical one
smashed into the dwarf’s left arm, which she had raised in defense. The armor absorbed much of that
impact, but the weapon infused with her Ki still sent shockwaves of pain through the Berserker’s body.
Hilda recoiled slightly, giving time for her opponent to take another swing, which was blocked by the
haft of her axe. The dwarf shifted her body forward and kicked out with her stubby leg, only to see a
ghostly foot shoot out of the human and intercept her own with a metal clang. Although their power was
similar, the dwarf’s much heavier body was still able to win out and push Zone away from her, creating
some space between them.
With just that much she was able to grasp the nature of her former comrade’s Ultimate, a Skill that went
by the name of Spirit Guardian. Well, she didn’t know its name, but her veteran mind quickly deduced
its effects. That ghostly presence would automatically deflect incoming attacks, allowing the person
herself to put all her energy into crushing her opponent. It was like fighting two people at the same time,
a simultaneous application of one’s offense and defense.
Well, two could play it that game.
“Rearm!” chanted the dwarf.

Her massive axe disappeared in a flash of white light, followed by a few other flashes around her body.
When the impromptu lightshow ended a few moments later, Hilda was already holding a completely
different set of armaments. Her right hand clutched a bearded mithril war axe with a long handle while
her left one grasped at a bizarrely thick mace that was closer in appearance to a club. It wasn’t just her
weapons, either. A black metal buckler had been securely strapped to her left forearm and her previously
exposed head was now covered by a bulky helmet that appeared to be made out of steel clearly wasn’t
part of the same set as her bloodied and battered full plate armor.
Zone’s cold glare became razor sharp in the next instant as she finally realized how that reckless nutjob
from her past became such a refined combatant.
Although an untrained eye might not be able to spot the subtle differences between them, each melee-
focused Job had their way of fighting. A lot of it overlapped, but each of them had their own focus, their
own area of expertise. Warriors trained their bodies, Berserkers channeled their fighting spirit, Monks
mastered their state of mind, Paladins strengthened their faith, Rogues sharpened their cunning and
Blade Dancers perfected their motion and rhythm. But the Job that truly honed one’s blade, the one that
was focused on fighting in its purest form, was the Armsmaster.
An experienced Armsmaster could use every weapon conceivable with practiced ease and finesse, no
matter how bizarre or complex it may seem and regardless of whether it was the first time they had seen
it. It was a prestigious, versatile Job that complemented any and all forms of martial combat. The fact
Hilda had access to it was surprising, as this Job was a closely guarded weapon of the dwarven nation of
Hokensaft. Much like the Spies of the Empire, it was something taught only to select, elite individuals
who had earned the trust and respect of the country’s leaders. These individuals would in turn swear a
soul-binding oath, preventing them from spreading the Job without the express consent of their teacher.
That’s why it was extremely difficult to find an Armsmaster outside of Horkensaft’s elite military forces.
And yet the person in front of Zone was undoubtedly one of those. The Rearm Skill that she showed off
just now was one of their signature abilities, so there was no doubt about it. It allowed her to store a
private arsenal inside an Item Box-like pocket dimension. And while it was smaller in capacity and only
limited to arms and armor, it allowed the Armsmaster to instantly change their loadout as the situation
demanded.
“Now then,” said Hilda while assuming a lower, wider stance. “Shall we give this a try?”
She dashed forward just like before and swung her newly-equipped axe at Zone. The Spirit Guardian
deflected it with ease while the Monk’s physical staff bounced off the dwarf’s buckler. The mace in that
shielded hand hurtled towards the Monk’s head, and while the Spirit Guardian successfully parried, the
near simultaneous follow up from the axe on the other side forced Zone herself to block it with her staff.
The bearded axe, however, moved forward at the last second, causing the shafts of the two weapons to
collide. Hilda pulled on her axe with all her might, and the weapon’s long, curved blade hooked around
the Monk’s staff, pulling it and its wielder closer to the Berserker-cum-Armsmaster. The human expertly
twisted her staff around and pulled on it to unlatch it from her opponent’s weapon. She managed to
release it almost immediately, but she still found herself literally face-to-face with Hilda. And while the
Spirit Guardian kept that heavy mace at bay, the dwarf’s armored forehead collided with Zone’s.
An action which caused Fizzy’s special helmet to explode.

Zone’s light body was thrown off in the blast, causing her to fly several meters through the air. Her
armor absorbed a good portion of that blast, but her face was covered in various cuts and gashes from
the shrapnel. Hilda on the other hand, barely moved from her spot. The remnants of her helmet-shaped
bomb fell off her smoldering head, while a few trickles of blood ran down her face. Even if it was a
shaped charge that directed most of the explosive force forward, it was understandable that Hilda
wouldn’t escape from it unharmed. Her head might have gone missing altogether if it wasn’t for her
absurd vitality, coupled with the Craggy Skin Skill she got after Ranking Up into a Stonekin dwarf.
However, her opponent clearly got the worst of that blast, as Zone’s breathing had gotten ragged for the
first time in the fight. Her normally still mind and emotions were disturbed by the absurdity that was
Hilda. It was undoubtedly the same reckless dwarf, but this new fighting style was the polar opposite of
her turbulent nature. Her swings were fast, compact and aimed only at vital areas, and that was a huge
problem for the angelic Monk.
As expected of that muscle-head, she immediately grasped the weakness of Zone’s Ultimate Skill.
Although it could block incoming strikes with all of Zone’s strength, it always used its full power to do
so. The dwarf’s approach was the right one, as it was possible to overwhelm the Spirit Guardian’s
defenses with a series of rapid, precise strikes. Zone herself could probably handle them, but her ethereal
self stood no chance. It was a good thing Faehorn had stopped taking potshots at her, otherwise-
“... !”
The Monk’s eyes widened as she recalled that long-ranged threat’s existence, and was made
immediately aware of the Comm-crystal that was vibrating slightly against the back of her waist. This
was bad. Really, really bad. Looking up at the tree Faehorn was likely using as his perch, she saw he
was already engaging the incoming aerial reinforcements. She was supposed to block that Ranger’s anti-
air capabilities and keep him busy while that mercenary made his approach, but the woman had lost
sight of her surroundings. That battle maniac she was fighting had completely drawn her into her own
world, where the only thing that mattered was the opponent in front of her eyes. As expected of the
Tempest of Rage, her lust for battle was so infectious it might as well be called a plague.
But now that she had regained her right state of mind, Zone took advantage of the distance between her
and the dwarf and unfurled her angelic wings. Her body soared into the air with a single mighty beat,
and she rapidly gained altitude.
“Oi! Where’d ye think yer goin’?!” yelled Hilda from the ground.
She tossed several throwing axes after the ascending Monk, but failed to so much as graze her. In the
next instant, the dwarf realized where that woman was headed. She fumbled around the pouch on her
belt, but found that her own Comm-crystal had broken in the scuffle. Must have been that one good kick
that Jen- that Zone had gotten on her earlier. Well, someone was bound to see and report that eyesore of
an angel’s movements, so Faehorn would just have to deal with her in his own way.
Besides, Hilda didn’t exactly have the luxury to worry about other people, as Imperial soldiers still
surrounded her on all sides, and her HP was actually looking quite bad. At the very least those humans
were seemed hesitant to get near her. The duel that unfolded before their eyes was too absurd for any of
them to follow it with their eyes, and a few of them had gotten needlessly caught up in it and lost their
lives. The dwarf hurriedly Rearmed herself with her Masterwork greataxe and glared viciously at those
around her, which caused them to recoil and take several steps back out of fear.
This was the natural response to seeing her bring out that monstrous weapon once again, but there was
more to it than that. Somewhere along the way the dwarf’s Slayer of Humanity Perk had upgraded itself
to Hunter of Humanity, meaning she had killed more than 2,000 of them in her lifetime. Its effects on
those around her were rather subtle compared to the Butcher tier, but it still amplified her natural
‘charm.’ The result was that she was given a bit of extra room to catch her breath, but the injuries she
sustained in that fight as well as the after-effects of using her Berserker Skills meant she might actually
have a hard time getting back to her allies.
Of course she was planning to fall back. Even if she was a natural born muscle-head, she was not as big
an idiot as others might think. One couldn’t make it to Level 100 if they only used their head as an
explosive delivery device. Well, they wouldn’t even make it past Level 10 if they did such a thing, but
that was besides the point. And the point was Hilda had recognized the need to retreat and recuperate
before someone troublesome showed up.
“ORRRRAAAA!”
Just then a loud yell rang out behind her, in the direction of her allied camp. She looked around to see a
towering, four-armed, red-skinned demon almost literally ploughing her way through the Empire’s
ranks. The fiend’s iron-clad fists sent Imperial troops flying with every punch, while her armored kicks
made them bend over in weird, unnatural shapes. Her bright green eyes scanned over the heads of her
opponents as she rampaged, and her stare was naturally directed towards the odd gap surrounding Hilda.
The two Berserkers momentarily locked eyes, each of them instantly confirming the burning fury within
the other’s glare.
Seemingly locating her target, the 250 centimeter tall demon leapt an astounding 20 meters through the
air, landing right on the edge of the Empire’s encirclement of the dwarf. Her massive weight crushed
some poor, unsuspecting soul’s skull underfoot, and the surrounding humans immediately made space
around her in shock and awe. The blood-splattered silver-colored cloth tied diagonally across her chest
signified her allegiance to the Republic, but the veteran dwarf did not relax in the slightest. This was
only a natural reaction, as one never knew if a demon on a battlefield was still chained to their master or
not.
The two muscle-heads glared at each other with vicious grins as they confirmed the other’s unique brand
of wrath. While Hilda’s was a fine-tuned, constant burn that could melt through anything, the other party
was a wild, raging inferno that no mortal could hope to contain. It was sometimes said that the Berserker
Job originated from the demon world known as the Beyond, and the being before the dwarf’s eyes
seemed to be the living testament to that.
“Hah! Hahahaha!” laughed the demon. “That’s a good glare you got there, lady! Practically sets my soul
ablaze! I love it!”
“Right back at ye, spiky!” replied the dwarf in good humor. “So why are ye lookin’ around fer lil’ ol’
me?”
“I’m here to send you flying, of course!” answered the demon through her sharp-toothed grin.
“I see. Well, then should we get started?”
“Yes, let’s!”
Hilda positioned her axe behind her and charged forward with a guttural roar. The fiend in her sights
turned her left shoulders and hip forward as she got ready to accept it. Their audience tensed up
instinctively as the monstrous dwarf jumped at a high speed and thrust her weapon forward. The demon
deftly grabbed the upper part of its haft, just under the massive blade, and began spinning her body
around like a top. After picking up speed for several revolutions, she let go of the weapon, sending it and
its owner soaring through the air.
“Thanks fer the liiiiiiiift-”
The not-so-right-in-the-head dwarf’s cheery voice trailed off as she flew into the distance, towards the
Republic’s forces. Kora watched with a bemused smile as Hilda was caught in the air by a certain blue-
skinned succubus that had draped herself in a silver robe just for the occasion. Well, ‘caught’ was not
perhaps the right word, as the dwarf was far too heavy for Xera to do anything of the sort. In the end, all
she really did was cushion Hilda’s fall with those massive breasts of hers.
“Angry lady retrieval complete, boss!”
Kora reported telepathically back to her Master while giving four thumbs up to nobody in particular.
“Good, very good.”
“You sure you wanna let her get away so easy? We could’ve finished her off, you know.”
“It’s regrettable, but going after her life was too risky.”
Boxxy was able to steal and preserve that Holy Necromancer’s body unnoticed by using the dryad’s root
system, but Hilda was too far out, too exposed for that to happen. VIPs on both sides had eyes on them
at all times, so it was doubtful it could get away with something like betraying and murdering Hilda in
full view of everyone. Besides, it seriously doubted that monstrous dwarf would fall that easily just
because she was ‘weak.’ A Berserker was someone who was at their strongest when they stood right
before death’s door, and that woman was a more terrifying existence than Edward to be sure.
Confronting her in open combat was foolhardy to say the least.
Even in the off chance it won, it would have had to rely on its familiars to do it, which meant that its
cover would be blown wide open. It had already introduced Snack and Arms to Republic forces as ‘the
Sandman’s minions,’ after all. Therefore, it was far better to assist in her retreat and let its alter ego
build some credibility among their top brass by proxy, rather than needlessly risk death. Frankly
speaking, it didn’t think the Berserker Job or any of its related Skills were a good fit for it to begin with.
“Anyway, just keep doing like you always do. And keep an eye out for tasty targets - I’ll be coming out
in a little while.”
“You got it boss!”

Kora then turned her attention to the still dumbfounded mob around her and cracked all four sets of her
knuckles.
“Alright boys! Who wants to show me a good time?!”
“But- But- But- It huuuuuurts!”
Castelia was desperately clutching the right side of her face and head while she was curled up on the
ground with her head in Keira’s lap. The young dryad’s features were charred black and gave off a faint
stream of smoke. One could easily see the dull red embers on her cheeks, which ran all the way down to
her shoulder.
“Shhhh. I know, sweetie,” whispered the catgirl while stroking her as grass-like hair as gently as
possible, “but you have to try and bear it.”
“*Sniff sniff* But it huuurts! Moooommyyyyy!”
What a pain, thought Boxxy. Still, I’m glad we’re not in her tree.
The place Keira and the other dryads had occupied was nestled within the crown of Lilly’s tree, who was
on the northwestern end of the front. While it was also on the side facing the enemy, Castelia was the
one who ended up shouldering the biggest burden.
“Torenia, be a dear and help Castelia out. Lilly too.”
“Do we have to?” replied the two in unison.
“Your sister is in pain. You would want help if you were in pain, right?”
“Yes… Okay! We’ll help right away, mommy!”
The two of them got closer to their scorched sister and put their hands on her back. Although a
seemingly plain action, the fact they could do that so casually was quite extraordinary in and of itself.
It wasn’t just Castelia and Torenia, but all 5 of these Hylt trees were unnaturally close to each other
considering their age. Ambrosia had said her kind’s near-infinite vitality was quite demanding when it
came to their food, and those needs only grew as the tree aged. As a direct result, they would naturally
choke the life out of other trees - including their own kind - in an increasingly larger area around them.
That was why typically only simpler and more resilient plants such as weeds, grasses and shrubs could
manage to thrive anywhere near a Hylt tree, such as Cyrilla to the south. Even Azurvale’s original 12
were packed relatively densely, despite there being literal kilometers between them. They were an
exception, though, as the soil underneath the elven capital was extremely abundant in both nutrients and
natural mana, so their roots didn’t need to spread too far to obtain the sustenance they needed.
Of course, none of the dryads’ lording over natural resources was done maliciously or even consciously.
Survival of the strongest was just the way nature worked. Plants were not exempt from this rule, and if
any plant deserved to be called ‘king,’ it would undoubtedly be the Hylt. Which was why Fort Yimin
was so peculiar. Ambrosia had said it wouldn’t be weird if only two, maybe three of them survived
under those conditions, yet there were five of them. Not only that, but they were rather underdeveloped
for their age.. In the first place, the idea they looked completely identical and were so completely in sync
with each other was downright bizarre.
As it turned out, the root cause for all of these oddities was just that - their roots. This grove’s roots had
apparently mingled and melded together to the point that they had unified into one gigantic system.
Even if they were doing it subconsciously, these dryads had been sharing their food for centuries. This
link between them was how they could so casually enter each other’s trunks in the first place. It was
more accurate to think of them as a single, five-headed organism rather than completely separate beings.
This was also why Castelia’s ‘wounds’ were healing at an incredibly rapid pace. The young dryad’s
charred skin had stopped smoldering, and was gradually being replaced by her natural, healthy green.
On the outside, it would probably look like the burning Hylt tree had gone out on its own, and was
rapidly regrowing its lost limbs and leaves.
“Not too much now,” cautioned Keira. “Wouldn’t want you girls getting too tired before the big
surprise.”
Torenia and Lilly took their hands off their kin at those words. The right half of the burn victim’s face
and hair were still somewhat blackened, but at the very least she had stopped whining, so she probably
wasn't in pain any longer.
“But-”
“No buts, Castelia. Your sisters were kind enough to share their food with you, so you be sure to pay
them back later.”
“... Okay, mommy.”
“... And?”
“... And uh- Thanks Torenia. Thanks Lilly.”
“You’re welcome, sis!”
Truthfully speaking, Castelia would have probably been fine on her own. However, Boxxy needed these
excitable ladies as calm and collected as possible before the time came. Speaking of which, there should
still be 6 or 7 more minutes before the effects of that Berserker’s Tempest of Rage would dissipate. The
Republic forces were currently causing terrible casualties to the Empire’s troops, but that would only last
as long as that dwarf’s Ultimate was giving them an edge and would pull back as soon as it ended. As
such, the Mimic very much wanted to get in on that harvest.
“Now then, mommy needs to step out for a while,” said Keira. “I promise I’ll be back in time for the big
surprise or if someone hurts you again, so stay put and be good until then, okay?”
The dryads seemed horribly disappointed, but still nodded their heads in affirmation. Keira gave them all
a peck on their foreheads to cheer them up a bit, and then set out to get her fair share of human flesh.
Down on the ground, Kora was still fighting the human troops that rushed her after she gave Hilda a lift.
However, even if she was a Berserker herself, she was nowhere near that dwarf’s level. Not only were
the various Skills and effects of her secondary Job far less pronounced, but her fists’ range was nowhere
near as wide as that dwarf’s inhumane axe. As such, they had been constantly accumulating damage on
her. She was bleeding all over the place with a body that was covered in gashes and riddled with arrows,
half her face was melted off by magic, someone had drilled a hole clean through her chest and she had
even lost one of her left arms somewhere along the way. And yet the fact that neither her bloodlust nor
her grin diminished despite all that made her quite terrifying in her own right.
“C’mere, cupcake!”
The heavily injured fiend reached out with one of her hands and gripped onto a human soldier’s head
with enough force to cause both his skull and helmet to creak ominously. He screamed in pain and
desperately swung his axe at her arm, but it only bounced helplessly off her gauntlets. Kora then lifted
the poor man off his feet and began swinging him about wildly like a ragdoll as she pushed his comrades
away with his body. He had gone completely limp by this point, but whether it was because he passed
out or passed away was irrelevant, as what was left of him was flung into the path of an oncoming Icy
Comet Spell. The two projectiles collided with each other, and the result was something that could only
be described as ‘dirty fireworks.’
In the next instant, her torso was pierced from behind by three separate spears that went almost halfway
through her. The fiend grit her teeth and bent over forward with all her might while delivering a headbutt
to the guy directly in front of her. The soldiers behind her found themselves flung forward while the one
in front wound up on the floor with a dent in his helmet.
“War Stomp!”
The fiend’s Martial Art smashed what was left of his head into a pulp, while also cracking the ground
around her. The sudden tremors made some of the Empire’s troops lose their footing and stumble. Kora
picked one such off-balanced target at random and swung both her rights at him. The man managed to
put up his shield just in time, but the impact from the double-handed punch still lifted him off his feet
and threw him several meters into the air. He fell back to the ground, reeling from the pain in his entire
body. His kite shield had two distinct fist-shaped imprints on them, his arm was definitely broken and he
had dropped his weapon during lift-off, but he was most assuredly alive.
Even if the fiend’s ridiculous strength and heavy weight meant she could send people flying with a
single punch, that didn’t necessarily mean they were done for. In fact, she had only killed about 30,
maybe 35 people in this entire battle. She hated to admit it, but the quality of these guys was noticeably
higher from that night raid from a week ago. That, and most of her victims fell back to get treated while
their comrades covered for them. The nature of her attacks meant she could keep the enemy at bay, but
made it difficult to finish people off if they didn’t die on the first hit.
‘That’s why you shouldn’t send them flying, but bury them into the ground instead.’
Her master’s words of wisdom flashed through her head. She knew that would-be-box was right, but
since it was advice rather than order, she didn’t really listen to it. There was just something immensely
satisfying about literally blowing people away, even if it wasn’t necessarily fatal. And if there’s one
thing Kora valued above all else, it was her own enjoyment. Therefore, she pushed away those thoughts
of efficiency and charged at her next victim. She curled her biceps to strike, but her master had quite
literally beaten her to the punch.
A gigantic, barrel-chested figure landed suddenly on the man in front of her. Well, it landed on a few of
them that were bunched up together, but that was besides the point. After using the Empire’s soldiers to
cushion his fall, he stood up at a height that was almost equal to Kora’s. His head was covered by a
facewrap that left only his yellow eyes visible, while a heavy cloak concealed his body. His allegiance
was obviously not in question. Not only did he blatantly attack and kill Imperial troops, but his clothes
were entirely silver in color apart from the large image of a black, swooping eagle on his back.
The Sandman was quite literally draped in the Ishigar Republic’s flag.
“True Darkness!”
His tinny voice rang out in the next instant, and a huge dome of blackness that was a little over 20
meters in diameter covered the field around him. The human soldiers near the edge instinctively
retreated out of it. Although True Darkness merely robbed the area around a Warlock of all visible light,
that didn’t mean it actually did any damage. However, their decision was definitely the right one, as the
shrill screams and unpleasant crunching noises heard from within that world of darkness signified it was
not a safe place to be.
And then, after several seconds, the lightless bubble went deathly silent. One of the higher ranking
humans around gave an order to brace for attack, and the soldiers rapidly established a shield wall
perimeter some 4 or 5 meters around it. The Republic’s troops were still holding the line immediately in
front of the breached wall, some 100 meters south of their location. Whoever or whatever that terrifying
figure they caught a glimpse of was, it was completely cut off from any hope of reinforcements.
Of course, they didn’t know it yet, but they were the ones about to be begging for backup.
A multitude of figures burst out of the darkness before it had a chance to dissipate. Leading the charge
as per usual was Kora, whose wounds and missing arm had fully regenerated thanks to a Rejuvenation
Potion Boxxy had ‘borrowed’ from the elves. Well, it wasn’t like it paid for it or anything, and it was
better in the short-term than spending over half its MP re-summoning her, so it had no qualms about
using it on her.
The fiend stretched her arms out to the side and then swung them forward with all her might.
“Thunderclap!”
Her two pairs of closed palms met each other with explosive force, producing a powerful, ear-splitting
shock wave that swept over the human forces in front of her. The ones closest to her were knocked down
to the ground from the sheer force of it, while those around and behind them keeled over while clutching
their ears. As expected of a Berserker’s Martial Art, it was extremely effective on those weaker than the
user. The fiend’s unnatural physique only further amplified its power.
“GRRAAARGH!”
The one that leapt out alongside her was a horse-sized, lizard-like creature made of molten rock, that
charged head-first into the Empire’s perimeter. Although they might have been able to body-block it
under normal conditions, the soldiers were all reeling from Kora’s Thunderclap. The cone-shaped shock
wave had either thrown their sense of balance out of whack, or had outright ruptured their eardrums.
Since they were like that, the Molten Guardian was able to trample over them, literally blazing a trail
through their ranks.
The magical construct’s owner flew out of the wall of blackness a moment after the first two. Xera’s
usual fetishistic outfit was transformed into a beautiful silver-colored gown so as to mark her very
temporary allegiance. The purely decorative garment was backless, strapless and, as the slit skirt that
fluttered teasingly between her legs revealed, also underwearless. The succubus had silently entered the
area covered by True Darkness under cover of Invisibility after her beloved Master’s grand entrance, and
was already sharing the flames of her passion with the Empire’s troops. Or, to put it another, she cackled
like a maniac as she burned people alive with a barrage of Fireballs, Flamethrowers and Inferno Spells.
Normally the humans would be firing Spells right back at her, but the professional, trained soldiers’
hearts had already broken. First, there was that monstrous dwarf. Then there was that winged woman
that didn’t care if her own comrades got caught up in her battle. Following that was the appearance of
that truly terrifying demon. Then that dome of blackness had appeared before they realized what was
even going on. They were barely keeping it together as they made a perimeter around it, only to have
that four-armed menace come out fully recovered and accompanied by two more demons of similar
strength.
Well, technically speaking, one of them was more like an elemental or golem and was nowhere near as
powerful as either of them, but that didn’t matter. Because the True Darkness Spell had dissipated mere
seconds after that hellish trio had shown themselves. It revealed a scene where the dozen or so soldiers
that should have gotten caught up in it had disappeared. The only traces of them being there were
several puddles of fresh blood and an untold number of bloodied, mangled armor pieces scattered about.
But no, that wasn’t the straw that broke the limetick’s back. The people outside the circle had more or
less given up on seeing those people come out of that space alive, so not seeing their bodies was not
what made them lose it. The culprit for finally making the high-strung men snap was the lone figure that
stood in the middle of that slaughterfest.
“Huaheuhahuahehahuehahahehaaa!”
250 centimeters tall, drenched head-to-toe in fresh blood, cackling maniacally with a truly otherworldly
voice and practically exuding the stench of death. The shock of that terrifying sight combined with the
effects of both Butcher of Humanity and Despair Aura hit the surrounding humans with full force,
causing their already wavering hearts and minds to break in an instant. It was at the level where they
beat a disorderly, panicked retreat. They ran with all their might, trampling over their fallen comrades,
who were curled up on the ground while discharging various bodily fluids.
The man, no, the monster leapt at their fleeing backs and caught up to them in an instant. It then began
mercilessly ripping them limb from limb with its bare hands, and the few people that were brave enough
to look back would realize that a good number of those severed limbs disappeared somewhere under that
cloak. At some point the incarnation of death chasing them had picked up a greatsword off one of their
corpses and began doing its best Hilda impersonation as it mercilessly hacked through them. However,
rather than cut people in half like the dwarf’s axe, the mundane weapon simply crushed them into pulp
as if it were a simple hunk of steel.
Well, it was still technically a sword, which was more or less exactly what its wielder was after.
Level up!
+1.
The Sandman charged forward alongside its minions, mercilessly mowing down everyone in sight. It
was like a gardener clearing the weeds (humans) so that the crops (Levels) may grow. And it reaped
quite the bountiful harvest indeed.
Level up!
+1.
It might have encountered more difficulties if those humans turned around and counter-attacked in an
organized fashion, but that was unlikely to happen. Panic and fear could spread like a wildfire, and the
Mimic was even more of an arsonist than Snack when it came to matters of psychological warfare.
Level up!
Of course, it wasn’t just the newly-acquired Blade Dancer Job that steadily gained Levels. The fact it
had all three familiars out on the field and doing work caused its second-oldest Job to steadily gain
Levels as well. And yes, Claws was out here too, although these rank and file soldiers had little chance
of detecting her presence. She had gotten so good at hiding herself away, that her streak of
assassinations went unnoticed in all the confusion. The most her victims might have perceived would be
a black shadow or a blur that skittered past the edge of their sights right before she took their heads.
Those standing next to the ones that had been killed had no idea who or what had just murdered their
comrades, which did not help their delicate state of mind in the slightest.
One could hardly blame them though. Even Boxxy had trouble tracking her position sometimes - that
was just how adept she was at staying out of sight. It was honestly quite pleased with her performance,
to the point where it would be hard pressed to choose between her and Arms for the position of its 3rd
favorite minion. Well, Snack was still the absolute tastiest, so she was the undisputed champion in that
category. The runner-up was naturally Fizzy. The Mimic thoroughly enjoyed caressing and tongue-
polishing her shiny mithril frame head-to-toe whenever it had the chance to do so.
Ambrosia was definitely at the bottom of its list, though, as Boxxy still wasn’t quite sure whether that
dungeon core could keep her loyalties in check. At least her language lessons were getting better as of
late since she steadily learned how to teach others. The dryad had even gotten ahold of the Mentor Skill
somewhere along the way and was diligently practicing her Cooking Skill as instructed, both of which
were already at Level 3.
Still, as useful as she was, she was still a potential threat that Boxxy had to treat with care. Well, not too
much care. Her true nature was that of a monster, so the two of them naturally saw eye-to-eye on most
topics, despite the dryad being tainted by the influence of an elf-loving goddess. At the very least,
Boxxy was sure its lair would be safe, as its experiments had revealed she would not forgive intruders in
her dungeon, regardless of whether they were elves or not.
Level up!
+1.
The Mimic continued slaughtering people as it let its thoughts stray towards useless things. It was
already at the stage where the act of murdering helpless, terrified humans was so routine it could
probably do so in its sleep. That was why it was able to casually navigate its Status and Skill windows as
its limbs mechanically took their lives. And the reason it did so was because it wanted to unlock the next
Blade Dancer Skill it had its eye on.
Proficiency level increased. Evasion is now Level 1. AGI +3. END +1.
This one was actually available as early as Level 10 of the Job, and was a common Skill that many Jobs
had access to. Its effects were normally quite subtle in that they assisted the user’s movements when it
came to dodging and avoiding attacks completely. However, it was a Skill that grew stronger the more
Agility (AGI) one had, and both Boxxy and Keira had that in spades. And although the Mimic was quite
good at dodging things already, being able to do so without any wasted movements would let it
counterattack more easily. There was far more to an efficient dodge than simply ‘moving out out of the
way’ after all.
Like for example that Shadowbolt Spell that it just avoided by ducking under it, letting the mass of
darkness pass just over the top of its head. If it had dodged it the way it was used to, then-
Wait, Evasion gained two whole Levels?!
It didn’t have time to think about such things as Sandman’s hulking figure moved with uncanny speed to
avoid yet another one of them.
Just how dangerous were those Spells to give it that much proficiency? The Mimic leapt back from its
position and broke off its pursuit of the fleeing Imperial soldiers. A third Shadowbolt came flying at it
from well outside the Spell’s standard 30-meter range, but this one was blocked by Claws. The stalker
demon had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and used her back-mounted sickle-legs to cut through
the incoming projectile well before it reached her master. Arms, Snack and the affectionately-named
Smokey also broke off their pursuit and rushed to Boxxy’s side.
As the ever-retreating line of Imperial soldiers drew further away, the Mimic was finally able to identify
its attacker. It was, of course, a Warlock. A particularly old one at that. Much like Boxxy, he also had
three familiars out on the field.
The first one was obviously a fiend - a towering pile of muscle that was slightly taller than Arms. Unlike
her, however, he was humanoid in appearance and had the standard set of limbs, although his arms were
probably twice as thick as they needed to be. His skin was a pale, dull color somewhere between blue
and purple, and his legs ended in a pair of goat-like hooves. His facial features were obscured by a steel-
like helmet, although the horns that protruded from it were very much like the Mimic’s own familiar.
His left arm, shoulder, hand and leg were encased in shining, thick-looking armor, while the right half of
his body was nothing but bare, chiseled muscle. In his right hand he carried a huge glaive that
momentarily reminded Boxxy of Punchy, and a pair of tight short shorts similar to Arms’ hid his groin
from view.
The second demon was a hellhound, a massive canine creature that was a size bigger than Smokey. It
had two wolf-like heads that let black smoke out of their nostrils with every breath, while hissing, bright
yellow drool dripped from its growling mouths. The sharp fangs in its jaws and the long claws poking
out of its paws went from a dim red at their base to a bright yellow at their tips, almost as if they were
molten steel. Its thick fur was a fitting gray like burnt ash, and its literally flaming eyes made it
impossible to tell which way it was looking.
The third demon was a green-skinned beholder that looked a lot like the one the undercover Mimic had
seen back in Bootsplit. What was his name again? Thump-it or something? Regardless, it had the same
array of 10 tentacle-like eye-stalks coming out of its floating head, all of which were fixed directly onto
the Sandman as it levitated over his master’s head.
As for the master in question, he had a marvelous gray beard that went down to his chest. His body was
draped in a plain-looking blue robe while a matching wide-brimmed hat was on his head. His gnarled
hand carried a thick wooden staff that looked more like a large stick than a magic item. In short, the old
man’s equipment made him look just like the Level 30 or so Warlocks that were part of the Empire’s
army. However, the fact he was able to stare unflinchingly at the Sandman - a being that should appear
as nothing less than terror incarnate to such people - proved he was clearly not one of them.
In fact, his face was one the Mimic had seen before. Even if it sometimes struggled with names, the
monster very rarely forgot a face. And it clearly remember seeing this one just after it had become a
Doppelganger. It was the same person that had unabashedly stared not at the ginger-haired elf his
carriage came across on the imperial highway, but at the two demons behind him. The same one that
Boxxy had decided to ‘let go’ as it was on its way to Bootsplit. In retrospect - a very wise decision.
“Greetings, mister Underwood,” said the old man in a thoroughly excited voice. “My name is Arakawa
Shinji, and I-”
*CLANG*
Boxxy had thrown a poisoned knife at Shinji while he was running his mouth. Unfortunately for the
Mimic, the blade bounced off an invisible barrier mere centimeters in front of the startled Warlock’s face
and fell harmlessly to the ground.
“... Okay. See here, I don’t-”
*CLANG*
Something metal bounced off of the old man’s magical shield once again.
“Gods damn it! Fine, have it-”
In what was becoming a trend, the old man’s words were cut off as the rebounded metal orb that was
still in the air split open in the next instant.
*KAPINNNNN*
The Artificer-made flashbang did just what it said on the tin as it flashed and it banged. One would think
a cheap trick like that wouldn’t work, but Boxxy had learned firsthand it was nigh-impossible to
overcome certain biological reactions with Status alone. In fact, its own heightened Perception (PER)
had worked against it when it accidentally activated the Elder Dryad’s Authority a few days ago. Keira
rolling around on the floor while screaming her lungs out was no mere act, but the creature’s honest
reaction. It was honestly proud of itself for managing to maintain the facade even despite the unexpected
occurrence. Therefore, even if its opponent was one of the Empire’s VIPs, it was inevitable that Shinji
and maybe even the demons around him would have been blinded by that, even if for a little while.
And Boxxy used those precious few moments to turn around and run away with all its might.
Boxxy wasn’t sure exactly what that old Warlock wanted with it, nor did it really care. Its self-
preservation instincts had kicked up the instant that VIP had identified himself, warning it that this was
not an opponent it could take lightly. Unfortunately, the Mimic’s instantaneous surprise attack was
thwarted by some form of transparent magical shield. The most likely culprit for that would be Shinji’s
beholder familiar, as that sort of thing was one of their specialities and it knew for a fact the Warlock Job
was completely lacking in any defensive magic. That, and Boxxy was pretty sure it saw one of the
demon’s eyes flinch the instant that throwing knife hit the barrier.
Well, the fact it failed to remotely stab Shinji in the face wasn’t entirely unexpected. A human didn’t get
to Level 100 by being that careless, but Boxxy had to at least try. After all, the best way to kill a
powerful magic user was to do it before they had a chance to react, and assassinations weren’t going to
happen so long as that beholder was around. Therefore, it flashbanged the lot of them and turned tail. It
didn’t know what Jobs or Attributes that old man had, but he had no chance of catching up to a runaway
monster on foot considering the relative frailty of a magic user’s body. And to its credit, the Mimic was
quite right, as that VIP did not chase after it.
His pet, however, was another story altogether.
The Sandman’s hulking figure had barely covered a distance of 15 or so meters before Boxxy sensed
something large coming directly at it from behind. The Mimic didn’t even stop to think as it kicked the
ground, moving sideways with an exaggerated motion as it narrowly avoided the hellhound’s pounce. It
wasn’t a clean dodge, however, as the two-headed wolf’s burning claws still managed to tear off the
Doppelganger’s left arm with its burning claws. The demon left a trail of smoke and sparks as it brought
its canine body around and charged at its target once again, but Boxxy was ready for it this time.
“Massive Rejection!”
A wall of dark smog shot out from Boxxy’s hastily reconstructed left hand while its right firmly gripped
onto the Voidcaller staff. The two-headed wolf ran face-first into it, and found its large body thrown
several meters backwards with a surprised yelp. It landed on its side and rolled over once before
stopping itself by digging its claws into the ground.
“Shadowbind!”
Boxxy’s next Spell produced a large number of shadowy chains that rose up from underneath the
momentarily staggered demon. They wrapped around its legs, necks and body, causing it to fall over on
its side before binding it firmly to the ground.
That should hold it for a while.
While hellhounds may boast the best speed and tracking ability among demonkind, their actual muscle
strength fell behind that of fiends, so they were not as physically adept as they appeared. Putting it
another way, their high-speed fighting style was quite similar to that of a Blade Dancer or Rogue in that
it relied more on finesse than raw power. Their feral nature also made them the most simple-minded type
of familiar that a Warlock could be contracted to. It made them both easy to control and easy to predict,
which in turn meant they were quite susceptible to magic so long as their opponent could keep up with
their speed. Something this particular Mimic was just barely capable of doing.
Boxxy took this opportunity to check in on its 3 minions who had been tasked with covering its escape.
Arms and Smokey were doing a splendid job of body-blocking Shinji’s glaive-wielding fiend. The red-
skinned demoness was using all four of her arms to fend off her kin’s weapon, while the Molten
Guardian slashed and bit at his legs. Well, objectively speaking their teamwork was horrible and they
were unquestionably weaker than their opponent, but the two-on-one meant they were still able to ever-
so-slightly push him back for the moment.
Snack had circled around and was bombarding that beholder with Fireballs and Magma Missiles. Her
attacks were having very little effect, however, as the many-eyed floating head effortlessly deflected her
Spells with its defensive magic. As for the VIP himself, Claws was keeping him busy by neutralizing all
his Spells with her back-mounted scythes. That wouldn’t last long though, as her MP was rapidly
running out and that Warlock probably had a full tank. Normally she’d just gut the guy and bite his head
off, but she wasn’t able to get close enough to do that so long as that beholder was backing him up. The
only reason she was able to do even that much was probably because a significant number of Warlock
Spells were ineffective against demons to begin with.
“Aroooo!”
As if to prove that point, the hellhound broke free of its bindings after only 2 or 3 seconds with a
piercing howl. It growled and glared at its target once again and leapt out at it once again-
“Arf!”
“Shadowbind!”
-only to find itself right back where it started.
Boxxy did some more thinking, and realized that running away was a bad idea. Both a hellhound and a
beholder had its scent, so simply running away and hoping for the best was stupid. Not to mention that it
was only a matter of time before the other side’s superior power overwhelmed its own. Even then, it was
unlikely that Warlock would just give up so easily. The fact he had called it ‘mister Underwood’ just
now more or less proved he was here to find it specifically to begin with. That beholder had probably
revealed Boxxy’s nature as a shapeshifter by now, so there was a good chance that news might spread
and reach a certain spymaster if he let him go.
So if running was a foregone conclusion, then how about fighting? Well, if Boxxy was going to do
something it had to do it fast, so it wasted no time assessing its options.
Strictly speaking, the best way to kill a high-Level magic user was to catch them off guard and take their
head before they knew what was happening. Using the dryads was one way to do that, but the Mimic
had no way it could give them orders right now. They only listened to ‘mommy’ to begin with, and the
Elder Dryad’s Authority did not extend to Boxxy’s familiars. Therefore, while they may be aware of the
Mimic’s location, they were unlikely to do anything by themselves after being thoroughly told to sit
tight.
No, even with the dryads’ help it might not turn out so good. The opponent had a beholder. So long as
that literal eye-in-the-sky was around, any dirty tricks the Mimic might try would get spotted
immediately. And since Shinji was a Level 100 Warlock, it was safe to assume he was very experienced
in controlling his familiars and giving them airtight instructions. In short, if Boxxy was going to do
anything, it had to take out that beholder first. The real question was whether that human was using Soul
Link like Boxxy was. Thankfully, it had the perfect guinea pig on hand to find out.
“Shadowbind!”
The Mimic restrained the hellhound just as it broke free of its second set of bindings. It then activated
Power Overwhelming, letting a flashy aura of crackling energy wrap around its cloaked figure. It
grabbed hold of its staff with both arms and raised it above its head as if it were an axe.
“Reality Slash!”
The skull-tipped rod was swung diagonally along with those words. A few moments later, something
struck the chained hellhound dead-on. There was a brief, narrow flash of light as if a blade was swung to
mirror the Mimic’s movements, leaving a deep gash along the trampled grass and splitting one of the
beast’s immobilized wolf heads apart.
Your target has been nearly split asunder. Target HP -3,561.
The beast’s other head let out a howl of pain as the Spell dug deep into its flesh. Not only did it cut its
left skull clean in half, but it kept going straight through the neck and shoulder, stopping only once it
reached about a third of the way through its torso. And although the chains keeping it in place were also
broken by that, its assailant had no intention of letting it run wild.
“Shadowbind!”
Being a ruin Spell, the next Shadowbind was also influenced by the effects of Power Overwhelming, as
it chained the half-headless wolf to the ground with enough with enough force to strange the life out of
it. Not that it would have come to that, of course.
Your target has been nearly split asunder. Target HP -3,912.
This time the staff was swung horizontally, and the demon’s other head was destroyed as well. Its
massive body fell to the ground motionlessly and would probably begin fading away into nothingness
soon.
This sort of explosive damage output was why Boxxy was extremely wary of that Warlock. It varied
from person to person, but it was doubtless that Shinji would be capable of doing a lot more than that if
given the chance. Provided that he had access to Power Overwhelming, of course, but that was besides
the point. And the point was he clearly did not have Soul Link like Boxxy did, otherwise that hellhound
would not have died so easily. A decision that the Mimic was going to make him regret.
“Snack, stop wasting time on that eye and come to me!” it commanded telepathically while it ran back
to where its minions were.
The succubus responded with curt ‘Yes, Master!’ before she stopped trying to fruitlessly drop Meteors
on the beholder and flew towards Boxxy. Shinji seems to have realized they were up to something and
sent a Reality Slash of his own at her, but Claws leapt through the air and cut the invisible guillotine in
half. It was an impressive feat, although she failed to get the angle right and lost one of her back-
mounted limbs in the process. A deep cut appeared on both Kora and Xera’s backs, signifying that the
damage had been shared through their Soul Link.
However, damage wasn’t the only thing the Skill shared between them.
“Here, drink this!”

Once the succubus was close enough, Boxxy threw a vial of pink-colored liquid at her. Xera caught it,
uncorked it and downed it as fast as she could. A bright pink aura shone out of her body, and the
regenerative effects of the high-quality and highly-toxic Rejuvenation Potion were transmitted to the
other two. All three demons’ wounds closed up as if time was running backwards, and Drea’s lost
spider-like limbs grew back out of her upper back as if it were never gone.
“Dark Infusion!”
Next, the Mimic empowered all of its familiars at once by using the succubus as this normally short-
ranged Spell’s target. Xera moaned, Kora roared and Drea chittered as they felt their bodies swell with
power. The fiend was the one that benefited the most, though, as the sudden influx of strength and speed
allowed her to gain a temporary edge over the glaive-wielding field and knocked him back with a well-
timed uppercut. If it was like this, she was quite sure she would be able to kick his ass. Unfortunately for
her, her master had other plans.
“Snack, you and Smokey keep that blue fiend busy! Claws, I’ll distract the Warlock while you and Arms
get in position to take out that beholder!”
Boxxy frantically gave orders as it tossed a trio of blue-tinted potion vials into a mouth it opened under
its cloak, and quite literally ate them. Taking that hellhound out earlier had taken quite a bit of its MP, so
it wanted to replenish what was missing right away.

The demons all moved to their position, and Shinji’s eyes locked onto the Sandman’s yellow orbs. There
was something different about the way he looked at the towering figure, but Boxxy had neither the
luxury nor the interest to care about that, as the old man started glowing with the very obvious visual
effects of Power Overwhelming. He pointed his staff directly at the incoming Mimic and unleashed one
of the most devastating anti-personnel Warlock Spells available.
“Ebonfire!”
However, being a Warlock itself, Boxxy had not only anticipated it, but knew full well how to counter it.
The Sandman’s large body momentarily split in two as the distorted figure of a 13-year-old child with
pitch-black skin and no face fell out from under that heavy silver-colored cloak. This was Boxxy’s true
form and body, while the Mirror Image it left behind as a body double erupted in black flames and
disappeared into ash in the next instant. The exposed Doppelganger immediately grew back into its
former size and clad itself in a fresh disguise out of its Storage. The sheer speed at which it operated its
pocket dimension under duress was so quick that it rivaled that of Hilda’s Rearm, which was practically
instantaneous.
From Shinji’s point of view, his opponent had literally evaporated, only to see that a ‘new’ Sandman had
popped up immediately behind the original. No, a brief mental check with his beholder confirmed that
this was the real one, and the one his Spell hit was just a shell, a body double. He tried using Ebonfire
once more, but his opponent had avoided it in much the same way, eliciting a click of his tongue in
response. That Spell relied on the user’s eyesight to pick a target, so he was unable to hit the real body if
he couldn’t see it, even if he knew where it was. Projectile-based Spells were also useless, as that man-
no, that monster had already proven more than capable of avoiding them.
“Alright, dodge this! Dark Explosion!”
This time, the cloaked creature used the brief gap between the incantation’s utterance and the Spell’s
actual activation to jump up into the air with all its might while covering as much of its body as possible
with a steel carapace, courtesy of Metal Mimicry. The ground immediately below it was dented in the
shape of a perfect hemisphere, almost as if it was scooped out with a spoon. As for Boxxy, it got thrown
high up into the air as it was still well in range of that blast.
You have been blown away by the force of the explosion. HP -2189.
Even though it absorbed much of the shock wave with armor, even though it was holding Voidcaller that
boosted its resistance to magic, even though it only caught the tail-end of that Spell, it still lost about
half of its HP in an instant. As expected, a Warlock’s magical power output was quite ridiculous. Not
even blood would be left behind if Boxxy had taken that attack head on.
*DO-DO-DO-DOOOON*
In the meantime, the little ‘presents’ it had thrown at the shielded Warlock’s feet while he was chanting
let off a chain of explosions of their own. The man had briefly shut his eyes so as to not get blinded, but
those particular balls were hand grenades, not flashbangs. Shinji’s eyes still worked properly, but the
flames, dirt and smoke those explosives produces was enough to temporarily obscure his sight. Even if
that beholder was capable of feeding his master with that information, learning about it second hand was
unlikely to help the human target it accurately. And, of course, the familiar’s magical barrier made sure
his master was unharmed.
Well, that pain-in-the-lid demon was about to be eliminated, so Boxxy wasn’t particularly worried about
that. It also made a mental note to make sure it had actual smoke bombs rather then being forced to
improvise like that.
“Arms, Claws! Now!” it called out.
“On it, boss!” replied the fiend in high spirits.
“Uuu… I really don’t wanna get near that guy…” whined the stalker.
A beholder simply had way too many eyes. Even if Drea was mostly fine being seen by other demons,
‘mostly’ was definitely the operative word in that statement. Regardless, she still did as her master had
instructed and let Kora grab her by her primary set of legs. The fiend then spun around on her heels
once, then twice, then threw the horribly embarrassed Drea through the air with a loud
“ORRRAAAAAA!”
“Mind Pulse!”
Shinji used a Spell unknown to Boxxy to disperse the cloud of debris around him sooner than expected.
He looked up to see that his opponent hadn’t come back down to the ground, but was currently gliding
around on a set of bat-like wings. He was about to renew his assault, when he caught a blur zoom by out
of the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see that troublesome and inexplicably airborne
stalker from earlier collide with his beholder. Her claws and scythes ripped through the floating head’s
multi-layered barriers with ease. She dug her claws deep into its main eye, although she had lost quite a
bit of momentum by the time she got that close. Her victim roared in pain, but the actual damage done
was nowhere near enough to-
“Demonate!”
Boxxy finished chanting its Spell the instant after the stalker’s claws were firmly attached to the
enemy’s beholder. Her body shone with a bright green light for a moment before it exploded violently,
killing both demons at once and scattering their various bits around.
“That’s enough!” shouted Shinji. “Abyssal Plane!”
The old Warlock struck the ground with the bottom of his plain-looking staff, causing a thin purple film
to spread rapidly over the trampled, bloodied weeds underfoot. Boxxy, Kora, Xera, Smokey, Shinji’s
sole surviving familiar and anyone else who was within 30 meters of the old man fell flat on the ground.
The gravity around them had instantly increased tenfold, and none of them were able to support the
weight of their own bodies. The physically weak ones like Xera even started choking since they were
unable to even breathe properly, while the stronger ones like the fiends or Boxxy could do little else than
weakly move their limbs around.
Out of the corner of its eye, the Mimic saw the Republic’s remaining snipers had started taking shots at
the VIP that had revealed himself. However, their arrows merely crashed to the ground pretty much the
instant they entered the Ultimate Skill’s area of effect. Even the few Spells that entered it dissipated into
nothingness almost immediately. Boxxy tried casting some of its own, but no matter how much it
chanted, it couldn’t produce even a single Shadowbolt. The overwhelming Abyssal Plane was powerful
enough to even disrupt other people’s magic.
As for the culprit that unleashed this terrifying Skill, he was the only one left standing, even if barely.
Shinji really didn’t want to use his Ultimate as maintaining it placed a heavy burden on his body and
mind, but that blasted creature had forced his hand. He simply wanted to have a little chat with it, and it
just lashed out like an angry toddler. The Warlock limped over to where ‘Underwood’ had crash landed
and looked down at the pinned monster while leaning heavily on his staff. His black, glassy eyes gazed
into Boxxy’s yellow orbs.
“You really need to listen to other people when they’re speaking to you,” he said with a low, rasping
voice. “But I suppose it can’t be helped. You’re a monster aren’t you? You simply don’t know any
better.”
“... Talk is cheap,” came the curt, aggressive reply.
“Nonsense! No matter how much one may try to use violence in lieu of conversation, words will always
retain their power. Words are the means to meaning, and for those who will listen - the enunciation of
the truth. And the truth is there is something very much wrong with this world of yours.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“I’m not from around here, you know. I came to this… realm about 20 years ago, from elsewhere. A
plane of reality where we understood each other with words, not with swords. A world where things
such as Attributes, Skills, Jobs and Levels were not part of everyday life and only existed in fiction. A
place where gods and magic did not exist, and neither did monsters.”
“Sounds dull.”
“Dull? Oh yes, that may have been so, but I would still go back there if I could. I’m not saying the
people back home were flawless… but they were at least better than the ones here.”
“... Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because nobody will listen unless I force them to!”
Shinji’s eyes and voice flashed with the pressure and dignity only an Ascended human could give off.
“My so-called ‘fellow men’ all cling to their ancient beliefs, to those sideways morals that will lead this
world into ruin! I mean, look at this ‘war!’ It’s bullshit! It’s exactly what Ģ ̨ ̡é̶̴o͟ ̕ r̷̀͟g̴e̷̡͟ ̸̧̡҉͞B̶̷͝͞u͟ ̶̴̕s͡h̵̷͢ did in Í̶̵r͏̷̀a͟ ̛ ̕ ͏̸q̶̴! Don’t
even get me started on all that slavery business! Sometimes I wonder if those other nobles are worse
than the thousands of monsters I’ve killed since I got here!”
There were some weird, buzzing words mixed in there. It was extremely bizarre, almost as if the sounds
that came out of the enraged old man’s lips weren’t syllables, but white noise. The odd event seemed to
lend some credibility to this man’s ramblings that even Boxxy found to be insane.
“And of course, none of them had even tried to establish peaceful relations with the primitive
civilizations around us! Not a single effort to stop this perpetual cycle of violence and revenge! Why?!
Because the ones they need to understand are not people, but ‘monsters!’ Creatures that they see as
nothing but loot and XP! What sort of blind prejudice is that?! I mean yes, they do attack people on
sight, but who can blame them after we subjected them to generation after generation of genocide?!”
The man’s rant tapered off as he breathed heavily.
“But you!” he continued with renewed vigor. “You’re different, aren’t you? You’re practical, pragmatic,
logical. You’ve seen both sides of the fence! That’s why I thought I could get through to you - make you
understand! That there has to be a better way than this endless cycle of mutual destruction!”
“You’re right. There is.”
“Truly?!”
“Indeed. However-”
Your mass has been reduced by 40%.

Your weight has been reduced by 40%.
After secretly equipping two of Keira’s rings underneath its cloak, the burden on Boxxy’s body became
only a third of what it used to be. Its body still felt heavy, but it was at a point where it could bear with
it. It then lunged upwards at the surprised, almost happy looking old man and grabbed him by the neck
with its left hand.
“-it’s not nearly as tasty!” it growled as it started choking the life out of Shinji.
Boxxy then transformed its right arm into a giant metal spike and stabbed the suffocating old man
through the chest. Then the stomach. Then the chest. On the 5th or 6th strike, it felt something break
underneath its ever-tightening grip on his neck, and Shinji Arakawa - the man who claimed to have
come here from another world - went completely limp.
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Anti-centennial.
“Ah! Should have used a sword…” it muttered regretfully as the effects of the Ultimate Skill around it
dissipated. It then discretely collected the old man’s corpse into its Storage and turned its attention
towards escaping.
“Snack! Get yourself back to the dryads! Move!”
“Huff, huff, huff,” panted the succubus as she picked herself off the ground. “Y-Yes! Right away,
master!”
She forced herself to stand, then cloaked herself in Invisibility and flew off towards the closest Hylt tree
- the one due north of Boxxy’s current position. Out of the corner of its eye, it noticed that Shinji’s
formerly bound fiend had picked himself off the ground and was giving his liberator a thumbs-up.
“Thanks for that!” he spoke with a deep, thundering voice. “I really don’t know how much more of that
moron’s bullshit I could stand! Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I have two decades’ worth of resentment to
vent!”
He then ran off into the distance while chuckling ominously with his glaive held over his head. Well, it
was none of Boxxy’s business, but the fact he was headed away from the fort was probably a good thing
for the elves. Putting that guy’s existence out of its mind, the Mimic then forcibly dismissed the highly
conspicuous Arms and started chanting a Spell. It was actually in a bit of a rush, as that little showdown
had attracted too much attention. The wrong kind of attention. At the very least it would seem it had a
bit of time, so it wasn’t particularly worried as it steadily mumbled the magic-inducing gibberish under
its breath.
“Snack! How far did you get?!” it called out just as it was about to finish.
“I’m just entering the upper canopy right now, Master.”
Good enough!
“Transfamiliar!” it shouted.
The Sandman’s towering, cloaked figure vanished in a puff of green smoke. In his place was a very
confused-looking succubus that had fallen over on her outrageous breasts. Xera lifted her face off the
dirt and looked around, trying to get her bearings. Well, the scene around her was terribly familiar, but
she caught a glimpse of something that wasn’t there before.
It was a black-haired, white-winged woman that was flying towards her at full speed.
“Well... fu-”
*SMASH*
Anti-centennial
Description: Those who stand on the shoulders of giants will never attain the heights of one
who has stepped over said giants’ lifeless corpses.
Requirements: Single-handedly kill an Ultimate Skill holder.
Effects: Increases all XP gained by 10%.
Boxxy, who was already back in Keira mode, licked its lips at the absolutely delicious Perk it had gotten
out of that fight. Well, winning that in the first place was a major stroke of luck since, in its haste, it
completely neglected to consider a Level 100 human’s Ultimate Skill before engaging him in combat.
Logically speaking, an Ultimate was always related to the Job it came from, so a Warlock that focuses
almost entirely on offensive power should normally have one that was excessively destructive. In
comparison, Shinji’s Abyssal Zone just seemed… lackluster.
That wasn’t to say that the old man’s Ultimate wasn’t powerful. It was doubtless that any human or elf
who didn’t have a good amount of Strength (STR) or Endurance (END) would have been crushed flat
under that enormous pressure. However, it also appears to target things indiscriminately and even
interfered with magic to some degree. Even the Warlock’s own fiend couldn’t move freely inside it, and
any and all ranged attacks coming in from the outside were nullified. Weaklings aside, all it did was stall
and prolong a fight, as that Warlock seemed unable to do anything to Boxxy other than tie it down and
throw words at it. Well, he probably had some way or another of using its effects to deal damage, but
never got the chance.
Honestly speaking, the Mimic had lucked out since it happened to have those two weight-reducing rings
in its possession, which made it truly unfortunate for the delusional old man. And, as per usual, a man’s
misfortune was a monster’s gain. And there was much to be gained still, as Boxxy decided to take the
corpse out of its Storage before it got back to the dryads. Using Corpse Absorption directly in front of
them might be a bad idea, as it might ruin the illusion of ‘mommy.’
Wait, was it even a good idea to use Corpse Absorption to begin with? It was undoubtedly a high-quality
corpse, but Boxxy had some doubts when it considered the possible results. That Skill always targeted
the highest-ranking parts of one’s Status, so realistically speaking, there were only four possible
outcomes.
The most likely one would be failure, as per usual. The second-most likely would be an Attribute gain,
which would be INT without a doubt. The tastiest one would be if it absorbed a whole bunch of Warlock
Job Levels, while the final favorable result would be a Skill gain. So while most likely it would get
either a huge chunk of INT or a bit fat nothing, it didn’t want to waste the potential of the other two. Job
Levels being absorbed would be a huge waste since it was already Level 50. Any XP gained at this stage
would still be ‘stored,’ but would also be greatly neutered. It would be a lot better if it managed to find a
Level 75 Warlock trainer before that happened.
As for the Skill gain, well, that was going to be either Ruin Mastery or Domination Mastery, most likely
the former. Cadaver Absorption would transfer the highest-Leveled Skill of its target, so Mastery type
Skills that could grow all the way up to Level 25 were prime candidates. Those that were stuck forever
at Level 10 had no chance of being obtained beyond a certain point, while Ultimates that had only a
single Level to begin with were right out.
Of course, this wasn’t just blind conjecture, but the results of much trial and error. After all, Boxxy had
so far only gained various Mastery Levels whenever it absorbed a corpse’s Skill. The fact it managed to
obtain Divine Attunement from that relatively low-Leveled Priest was pretty much an exception, as her
Holy Mastery was probably not maxed out. Well, the Mimic did also get Acid Spray from those giant
crab-like monsters during its time in Erosa, but that too was an exception since non-humanoid creatures
very rarely had any form of Mastery.
Either way, its current Ruin Mastery Level was 12 out of 15, so if it gained a whole lot of proficiency for
it from Shinji’s corpse, then it had a feeling much of it would be wasted, just like the potential Warlock
Levels. And if the Cadaver Absorption was going to fail or just provide a bunch of INT, then there was
no real rush to it. Therefore, Boxxy decided to hold off on absorbing the corpse and crammed it back
into Storage. That airless space should serve to help preserve the body for a long while. Not that Boxxy
understood how or why that was, but it was an undeniable side-effect that food inside its Storage took
longer to spoil. Besides, it could still absorb a rotting corpse, so far as the head and heart were intact, so
it had plenty of time.
As for the items the man was wearing, the robes and staff were not some disguised high-end magic
items, but the same relatively low-grade stuff the rest of the Empire’s forces had. At least the jewelry
was on-point. That human was wearing a number of magic rings and a shiny-looking silver amulet with
a dark, orange gem embedded in it. All of them had different enchantments, of course, as the effects of
identical enchantments would not stack with each other and only the one with the highest magnitude
would work. Like if someone were to wear 5 rings that gave +10 INT each and five more that granted
+15 INT, they would be left with a grand total of +15 INT and 9 useless decorations on their fingers.
This sort of thing was common knowledge among adventurers, so there’s no way Boxxy wouldn’t find
out about it. That’s why it wore a ring that reduced mass and another one that reduced weight, rather
than two that reduced weight.
The Mimic wasn’t exactly sure as to the cause behind this strange limit, though. Of course it had tried to
ask around as Keira, but the simple-minded creature was suddenly confronted with a whole lot of words
and terms it wasn’t familiar with. The Enchanter it had questioned enthusiastically started explaining
how the Something-or-other Coefficient could not do its thing while another thing was interfering with
the third thing, but Boxxy wasn’t really listening. So what if it had absolutely no idea what the shit a
‘five-point conflux event’ was supposed to be? This was a creature that knew 84 distinct ways of taking
a person’s life and could put an explosive device together with both its eyes and MLG closed, so it could
do without useless trivia like that.
And thinking about that particular gland made Boxxy’s mood go sour as it recalled its repeated failures
to copy a beholder’s superior sensory organ. Those eye-demons were quite popular among Warlocks that
dabbled in the demonic arts, as they eliminated many of their masters’ weak spots. So while Boxxy had
plenty of opportunity to observe and study their MLG, it completely failed to grasp how it worked.
There was just something about it that didn’t make any sense. The most troublesome part was how the
whole thing was completely detached and just sort of floated around inside the demon’s body. This was
most likely because a beholder’s MLG worked more than as a simple sensory organ, given how it would
spin wildly in many directions whenever its owner erected a defensive barrier of some kind. Regardless,
this was an organ that the Mimic’s unstable shapeshifting flesh could not hope to recreate. Even using
the trick with osmosis it learned when it was playing around with those wheels proved to be largely
ineffective.
Boxxy was just about to enter the safe space where the five dryads were waiting when the Comm-crystal
on its belt started vibrating.
What’s this? Should still be a few minutes before they sound the retreat, right?
After hesitating for a brief moment, Boxxy realized this wasn’t Keira’s Comm-crystal, but the
Sandman’s. The one the beastkin was supposed to use was left behind with the dryads in the first place,
so there’s no way this would be it. And yet the Mimic had almost answered it since it had gotten a bit
full of itself after killing that foolish Warlock.
I really need to start labeling these things like that Underwood fellow.
Such things weren’t important right now though. The most pressing matter was ‘Why was that guy
calling the masked vigilante all of a sudden?’ No, it really should have expected this. The Republic’s
officers more or less demanded the password to that particular pair of magic items the day before. It was
only natural that they wanted to be able to contact and coordinate with the mysterious Sandman at any
point during or immediately after the siege.
This sort of thing is why I didn’t want to give them the password in the first place! it shouted inside
Keira’s head. Ah, but denying them would be bad for business, huh? Well, if they’re anything like Carl,
they probably hate being left waiting, so I might as well get ready!
The Mimic quickly changed back to its previous disguise and answered the Comm-crystal. The familiar
sight of Silus Underwood appeared before it.
“Hello, mister Underwood,” it said in a low, displeased voice.
The elf on the other end furrowed his brows for a moment before confirming today’s passphrase.
“... In brightest day, in blackest night-”
“-I shan’t stop tickling bums with all my might.”
“Hello, Sandman. You know, I honestly wish you’d pick more decent words for these.”
“Nevermind that,” growled Boxxy. “What do you want? I’m busy!”
“You’ve been busy indeed, haven’t you? That’s exactly why I’m calling. Just so we’re on the same page
- you did remove the Warlock VIP that attacked you, yes?”
“Yes. He’s dead.”
“Ah, good. Very good,” said Underwood with a slightly relieved tone.
It would seem the intelligence officer needed additional confirmation regarding that Warlock’s fate.
Although one of his scouts was keeping an eye on the Sandman, he failed to see much of their battle
since it kicked up a huge amount of dust and smoke. The grunt in question hadn’t even realized the
opponent was a VIP until that large-scale Ultimate Skill was revealed, at which point many sets of eyes
were gathered on them. As a result, multiple people reported that the cloaked vigilante had somehow
shrugged off the immense gravity and caught his opponent by surprise, choking him by the neck and
stabbing him through the torso over and over. The human’s presumed dead body disappeared
somewhere under the Sandman’s cloak, and the vigilante himself vanished mere moments before that
Spymaster’s lackey had shown up shortly afterwards.
“I won’t ask how or why,” said the elf, “but you have the Republic’s gratitude.”
“I can’t eat gratitude.”
“Indeed. That’s why I have been authorized to offer you a deal. Shinji Arakawa should have had with
him a necklace, a silver one with an orange gemstone in it. If it is in your possession, then the Republic
would very much want to take it off your hands. For a generous reward, of course.”
The Sandman went silent. While it was true that more money was definitely a good thing, it did not want
to pass up uniquely shiny things so easily. That’s why it still held onto things like that bum’s golden
skeleton, as well as the Profanus Gloria - the cursed chalice that created it in the first place. Besides, if
the Republic wanted it, then perhaps this was a magic item of some power. Boxxy hadn’t yet confirmed
its effects, but if this was an Artifact, or maybe even-
“Since you are mulling it over, then am I to understand the item in question is in your possession?”
The elf’s words completely derailed the monster’s train of thought. That Underwood fellow had
managed to get a read on Boxxy’s thoughts just from that brief moment of silence. The Mimic had
always been wary of his sharp intuition, which was why it wanted to minimize contact with him as much
as possible in the first place. Unfortunately, asking for another point of contact was pretty much
pointless. Even if the Republic agreed, Underwood would definitely be watching over the conversation
anyway.
“Yes, I have it,” it admitted, “and I would be happy to take you up on your offer.”
If the Republic wanted this thing, then perhaps handing it over was for the best. The last thing Boxxy
wanted was for them to start hunting the Sandman, and that would seriously put a damper on the
Mimic’s activities.
“Very good.”
“About the reward-”
“We will need to discuss that a later date,” interrupted Underwood. “While we want the item, it is by no
means urgent. That said this is neither the time nor the place for negotiations.”
“Hmm, that is so.”
“Therefore I would like to ask that you safeguard the treasure for the moment.”
“Then I shall take my leave of this fort and contact you a few days from now. Assuming you still live, of
course.”
“Of course,” answered the elf with a wry smile. “I shall look forward to that day. Underwood out.”
The intelligence officer cut off the connection, and the blue-tinged image of a head cloaked in rags
disappeared from his palm. He then went back to organizing what was left of the 1st Scouting Battalion.
Even if the snipers in the tree tops had the element of surprise at first, they were still taking quite the
pounding from the enemy’s archers and long-range Spells. The Republic’s forces as a whole had already
dwindled from 13,000 to about 8,000. The enemy’s casualties were nearly double their own by this
point, as at least a third of that 30,000 strong force was already decimated. Hilda’s Ultimate had given
the Republic a massive edge in melee combat, which when combined with the massive disturbance that
Sandman inflicted was already-
*RRRUMBLE*
The floor underneath Underwood’s feet shook mightily with a heavy roar. The stone keep that rested in
the middle of Fort Yimin rattled and creaked while dust fell out of the less-than-tidy ceilings and walls.
“The ‘Black Tower’ has just used his Ultimate!” someone yelled in the busy war room. “I’m getting
reports the south-facing wall is collapsing from the sudden earthquake!”
“We’re pulling back!” shouted the Legate from the back of the room. “Order the close-ranged fighters to
break off the engagement and return to the keep at once!”
“Yes, sir!” came a chorus of replies.
Flares were shot into the air and orders were barked into Comm-crystals as the room practically flew
into action.
“Those on the walls and in the trees should focus on covering the vanguard’s retreat, and then join them
on their way inside the keep!”
“Yes, sir!” answered Underwood’s division.
It was still a bit early, but the officer’s humble opinion was that this was definitely the right move. Those
melee-oriented soldiers and adventurers under the effects of Tempest of Rage would get pincered and
annihilated at this rate. Even if the Ultimate gave them a massive edge in combat which resulted in
many casualties on the Empire’s side, it didn’t mean the Republic’s fighters were invincible. Not to
mention that none of the troops fighting on the southern side of the wall were under the effects of that
dwarf’s Skill, so the Republic had little hope of pushing them away on that front.
“Prepare the northwestern gate! Make sure it’s ready to fly open the instant we need it to!”
“Yes, sir!” shouted a third group of elves.
“Prefect, let’s arm our little surprise!”
“Yes, sir!” came Vera’s clear voice. She had clearly anticipated those words, as the cube in her hand was
already showing the image of a serious-looking beastkin that appeared to have someone unseen playing
with her cat-like ears.
“What’s Imiryl doing?” asked Underwood towards his assistant to the right. “Wasn’t she supposed to
keep that Shaman away from our walls?!”
“She had to withdraw since that flying VIP returned, sir.”
“Damn,” cursed Silus under his breath.
That Monk woman was a nuisance that they just couldn’t stop. No, Imiryl might be able to do something
about her, but not when she’s outnumbered two-to-one. She had gotten a brief reprieve when that Monk
broke off to interfere with the Sandman, but as expected she returned almost immediately. Falling back
was the right choice, all things considered. Still, some small part of Underwood wished he could drive a
knife right through that angelic bitch’s face. After all, she was the one who-
The elf took a deep breath to reign in his seething emotions and asked in a deadpan voice.
“Any news regarding Faehorn?”
“None, sir,” came the expected answer.
“I see,” said Underwood with a grim expression.

Even a high-Leveled Ranger wouldn’t escape falling off from that high a drop unharmed. No amount of
AGI would allow someone to dodge the ground, after all. Even if he miraculously survived that drop, he
would have been gravely injured and surrounded on all sides by the Empire. The only way he would still
be alive was if he surrendered and let the enemy take him prisoner. However, Silus already knew that
stubborn man would never allow such a thing. If his only way to survival was imprisonment in the
Emperor’s dungeon and then being paraded around as a war trophy, then Milo Faehorn would definitely
fight to his bitter last breath.
And since nobody has seen hide nor hair of him since his fall, then he was already just another nameless
corpse on the ground.
Just another morsel on those dryads’ dinner plate.
Well… At the very least we can add some seasoning!
A grim and slightly sarcastic thought went through Silus’s head before he refocused his attention to
coordinating the next phase of Operation Honeytrap. It may have been only for an instant, but in that
brief moment Underwood found himself agreeing with a certain unhinged catgirl’s assessment of the
Imperial army as ‘bags of high-grade fertilizer.’ Even after that flash of cruelty passed over him, he still
felt a strong sense of resentment. Well, he still had some reservations regarding the soldiers who were
just following orders, but their leaders were another thing altogether.
It was, after all, hard to describe the ones who had orchestrated this damned war as anything other than
sacks of shit.
On the battlefield surrounding Fort Yimin was a certain elven Druid. A man well into his late 30s, with
dark green eyes and hair, clad in a padded gray robe and holding a gnarled wooden staff tipped with a
globe carved out of jade. This individual had been drafted into Republic’s army along with his
adventurer comrades. His role was primarily of a healer, while the rest of his party consisted of a Wizard
to serve as a ranged attacker, a Rogue charged with scouting, and a Paladin to act as a vanguard. It was a
balanced, flexible combination when it came to adventuring, but as it turned out, not so great in open
warfare.
The Wizard had no MP to spare for offense and was entirely focused on providing cover for the Druid
and other Republic forces immediately around him with various defensive Spells. The Paladin had
gotten separated from the group during the chaos, and his teammates had no idea where he was or if he
was even still alive. The Rogue had completely failed to report back after her scouting assignment 4
days ago, which meant she was either dead, captured, or a deserter. Whatever the case, it was unlikely
they would see her anytime soon, if at all.
In other words, the party of four had been reduced to just two, and the most they could offer to the rest
of their comrades-in-arms was support. Keeping as many people alive as possible was hardly what one
would call glorious, but it was the best use of their combined magic.
“Elyon!” called out the Wizard that was standing almost back-to-back with the Druid.
He was one of hundreds of humans who had been drafted to help protect the Republic. While some of
them rejected the draft and were deported to the Empire, this man had chosen to stand against his former
countrymen. He was a man in his early 20s, although the completely bald scalp and X-shaped scar on his
right cheek made him look much older and meaner than he actually was. He was equipped with a robe
identical to Elyon’s, but used a short, bronze wand instead of a staff. Wands were a type of magic item
that did not boost their wielder’s power, but were weapons in their own right. Channeling one’s MP
through the short rod would allow the user to instantaneously invoke a singular magic attack that
depended on the make and material of the wand. Streams of fire, shards of ice and sprays of acid were
but a small fraction of what a wand was capable of.
“Healing Rain! What is it Nottley?!” snapped back the middle-aged elf as he finished his chant.
“It’s the signal!”
The one called Elyon shifted his field of vision upward and to the side, confirming that a series of bright
red flares had been launched over the keep.
“That quake from earlier must’ve knocked down the walls,” he muttered as his feet carried him back
through the sand-filled gap in the wall.
He knew that event was no natural occurrence. The force behind it was exceptional, and the elf was
quite positive those tremors were probably felt kilometers away. At the same time, the power behind it
was oddly focused and contained. It was most definitely caused by a person, and a troublesome one at
that. The Level 42 Druid had, at the time, reflexively used a Mend Soil Spell to try and calm down the
angry ground beneath his feet. However, this action did absolutely nothing, as if he was a child trying to
stop a landslide by scooping it up with a small bucket. This gap in power proved that the one causing
those tremors had a much, much higher AFF than his own.
And the culprit behind it was unquestionably that Shaman VIP mentioned in the briefing.
After all, Natural Affinity (AFF) was an advanced Attribute that was similar to Faith (FTH) in that only
certain Jobs - such as Druids, Shamans and Monster Tamers - had access to. Unlike FTH, however, it
showed one’s devotion when it came to serving and protecting the natural world as a whole as opposed
to furthering some deity’s agenda. This difference in perspective was the reason those three Jobs
sometimes butted heads with the clergy comprised of Paladins, Monks and Priests. Well, the Republic
was a place where such quarrels didn’t really happen. Unlike other deities, the teachings of Nyrie almost
completely aligned with the interests of those ‘Godless pagans.’ That’s why Elyon and his Paladin
comrade got along so well in the first place.
The elf looked around his surroundings, but did not see that reliable man’s figure anywhere. Then again,
the Republic’s retreat was not exactly orderly, so it’s easy he might have missed him. He and his Wizard
friend were already inside the wall and had some breathing room, although the absolutely wrecked
southern fortifications showed the Druid’s hunch was spot on. It wasn’t a small gap either, as pretty
much the entire stone structure bridging the gaps between the two southernmost Hylt trees had turned to
rubble.
“Here, Clarity Potion,” said Nottley while tapping the distracted Druid on his shoulder.
“Yeah, thanks.”
The Druid accepted the crystal vial filled with milky liquid and downed it in one go. It was a sickeningly
sweet concoction that quadrupled the user’s automatic MP recovery rate, but its effects would end the
instant said user invoked a Spell or activated a Skill. It was more or less useless during combat, but was
a cost-efficient way of drastically shortening downtime between them.
“You think Durothil survived?” asked the human Wizard.
“... I was just thinking about that. Normally I’d say yes, but… Seeing him flip out like that, I honestly
can’t say.”
The calm and stoic Paladin charging into enemy lines while screaming ‘Fucking KILL!’ was unexpected
to say the least. It would seem that the Tempest of Rage not only boosted one’s melee damage output,
but it also had an adverse effect on their psyche. The vast majority of Republic troops could handle the
influx of anger, but a few of them - such as the elf named Durothil - went quite literally mad with rage.
No, perhaps this was merely their pent up and repressed resentment finally boiling over beyond their
ability to hide or control it. Nottley might not have noticed, but the Druid was certain Durothil took the
sudden absence of their female Rogue quite hard. Miria was his sister, so there was no way he wouldn’t
get rattled by her disappearance.
“Look alive, people!”
A clear voice was heard over the buzzing crowd, which immediately went silent. This was a natural
reaction, as the one speaking was a Centurion - a mid-ranking officer in the Republic’s army. One could
easily tell his station by the large, crescent-shaped brush on his helmet and the knee-length cloak on his
back, both of which were black in color. Take those away and he would look just like any other foot
soldier of the Legion.
“The enemy will be upon us once again within minutes!” he continued. “Everyone here is to head inside
the keep and aid in its defense! Those who can use magic or attack from a distance are to occupy the
south and east facing turrets and towers and hold your fire. I repeat - all of you are to hold your fire at
all costs! The rest of you are to line up the walls and deter the enemy from scaling up them. You are to
focus on defense and stall the enemy as much as possible, just as before! Now move!”
“Yes, sir!” came a chorus of disorganized voices.
A number of Wizards flew into the air with magic, many of them carrying their allies up to the
fortifications in question. A Wizard’s Flight Spell was very tricky to control, to the point where very few
Wizards could use it competently in combat. Well, not unless they had the Aerial Combat Skill like
Imiryl. Unfortunately, that was a Skill only available at Level 60 of the Job, so very few of them actually
had the chance to learn it. The same applied to the Level 36 Wizard named Nottley, who was currently
floating upwards with Elyon on his back.
“Tch. ‘Hold your fire’ he says,” he grumbled with a click of his tongue. “That’s my specialty you
know!”
“Hey, at least you’re not a Pyromancer,” pointed out the Druid with a humorless grin. “At least you have
other means of attacking.”
“Yeah, I guess… Still, it’s odd that we were told to not use fire.”
“The higher ups probably have some strategy in mind.”
“Something involving those green kids?”
Nottley nodded his head towards the still-smoldering Hylt tree that got enveloped by dragon fire earlier.
“Probably. However, I wouldn’t really put too much… stock in…” the elf’s voice trailed off as he
squinted at the crowd far below his feet. “Huh? Durothil?! Nottley, look! He’s alive!”
“He is? Where?!”
The Wizard stopped the two’s ascent and his eyes followed Elyon’s outstretched finger. It was pointing
directly at a heavily armored elf among the crowd of Republic troops making their way into the keep.
His gilded and inscribed equipment was horribly dented or outright cut through in places. The gray
tabard on his chest bearing a black eagle was dyed red with blood. His helmet had gotten blown off
somewhere, revealing his scruffy brown hair and the fresh vertical scar on his face. He was missing an
eye, limping heavily, and his right arm hung loosely from his shoulder, but he still carried himself with
an air of dignity.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” exclaimed the Wizard.
“Quick! Drop me off and go pick him up!”
“Huh?! But he’s so heavy!”
“Nottley, he’s injured. He’s not climbing up all those steps without aid.”
“... Fine, but you’re paying for the next round of Clarity Potions!”
“Whatever, just go!”
The Druid dismounted from his teammate’s back, who had set him down atop one of the four corner
towers of the keep. Nottley then returned to the ground to pick up their no-longer-missing comrade, as
Elyon silently watched over the Empire’s movements from his vantage point. The tower he was standing
on was a 20-meter tall structure, which made it one of the highest points in the area barring the five
gigantic Hylt trees. Needless to say, it gave him a rather unobstructed view of what was happening on
the ground.
Now, Elyon wasn’t a Ranger or anything, but even he could tell how screwed his side was. The Empire’s
soldiers were about to start flooding through the holes in the walls, and were bound to completely
surround the keep and block off any hope of escape. This naturally narrowed down his options for the
future to being killed in action or taken prisoner. And unlike a certain High Elf, he would unhesitantly
pick the latter if it came down to that choice. If there was anything mother nature valued above all else,
it was the ability to survive at all costs.
“Still, those dryads really had too little impact,” he muttered under his breath. “I know they probably
don’t care much about us elves, but they should be able to do more than that ‘catapult garden,’ right?”
Honestly speaking, while the appearance of those dryad quintuplets was quite awe-inspiring, their actual
effectiveness was not. Elyon was one of many Druids assigned to tending to those Hylt seedlings in the
initial stages of the siege, so he had more insight into the matter than the vast majority of his allies.
Flinging rocks over the walls was a creative use of their power, and probably could’ve done a lot more
damage if they didn’t run out of ammunition so quickly. Granted, he didn’t see first-hand what those
rocks actually did, but he doubted their contribution to the battle was all that significant.
Was that really the extent of those legendary creatures’ ability though? It was entirely possible as those
‘green kids,’ as Nottley called them, both looked and acted completely like innocent children. Naive
ones with poor judgement, to boot. It was bad enough they were following around a beastkin, of all
things, but incessantly calling her ‘mommy?’ That was downright preposterous. Outrageous. Heretical
even!
And no, he wasn’t having such bitter thoughts just because they completely ignored him when he tried
to introduce himself, okay? This and that were completely unrelated.
Well, his envy aside, there was also the possibility that the higher-ups were keeping a lid on those
dryads’ true purpose in this siege. If they were hiding a trump card of some sort, they would not dare
show it to grunts like Elyon. That was just begging for the information to leak out, after all. It was
widely believed that Underwood fellow had somehow gotten his hands on the rare Spy Job, so he was
definitely well suited to sniffing out the Empire’s moles. However, the veteran Druid had no doubt that a
few of them slipped through the cracks regardless.
“Elyon! Huff, huff! I’m back!”
Nottley returned with the near-crippled Durothil on his back. The Wizard’s face glistened with sweat,
showing just how heavy his comrade really was. Elyon abandoned his thoughts of analyzing things out
of his control and proceeded to apply his healing magic to his long-time friend. Even if his HP
recovered, the fact he had fractured bones was a problem. Long-lasting injuries like those did not heal as
quickly as battle wounds, and would take weeks to recover without magic. And although Durothil may
have been a Paladin, he lacked the means with which to heal himself. He was more of a Warrior that
focused on martial combat while championing Nyrie’s name, so he did not branch out into the magical
aspects of his Job.
In the first place, Paladins didn’t usually have a lot of INT or WIS, so said Spells would be quite weak
under normal circumstances. Well, that mithril gnome in the fort had healing magic as potent as a
Priest’s, but that was mostly because she gained a good deal of those two Attributes from her Artificer
Job. That and her fanatical devotion to that loony God of hers probably meant she had a high amount of
Faith (FTH). After all, it was an Attribute that could easily be raised or lost depending on the
individual’s actions. A trait which it shared with Elyon’s Natural Affinity (AFF).
“Sorry for taking off like that…” grumbled Durothil while the Druid was treating his arm.
“I know, you couldn’t help it. That Tempest of Rage got the better of you, didn’t it?”
“... Yeah.”
“Did you at least make those guys suffer for taking Miria?” butted in Nottley.
“I… Yeah. I must have killed about a dozen men out there… Not my proudest moment though… I lost
my weapons somewhere along the way, but just charged at the enemy with my bare fists… I’d probably
have died out there if not for the Sandman.”
“The Sandman? You saw him?!”
“Heh… I didn’t just see him, Nottley. I felt him.”
“... That’s gay.”
“Really, Nottley? Really?”
“It’s fine, Elyon.”
The three of them shared a moment of silence while the people around them prepared for the next part of
the siege.
“So what happened with the Sandman?” inquired the Druid.
“Well…. Most of an Imperial soldier landed on me.”
“... What?” blurted out the other two in perfect sync.
“Like, just the upper half. Everything below the man’s waist was missing. Like it was bitten or ripped
off. See this blood? This isn’t mine.”
The Paladin pointed to the red stains on his tunic. Looking at it closer it wasn’t just blood, but several
bits were also stuck to the fabric, causing his comrades to dry heave a bit out of disgust. It wasn’t like
they were particularly squeamish or anything, but as back-liners they weren’t nearly as accustomed to
gore as a vanguard like Durothil.
“So anyway, being hit with that mess sobered me up a little, and I noticed that bits and pieces of people
were flying all over the place. I looked around for the source and I saw that guy from the rumors
towering over the crowd while mercilessly chasing down the humans who were running for their lives.”
“Running for their lives?” said Nottley while raising an eyebrow. “I highly doubt Imperial soldiers
would do something shameless like that.”
“No, you don’t understand, man. That Sandman - he’s fucking terrifying. A single glance at him made
my skin crawl. I can’t imagine what it was like for the ones that were right next to him, just that I was
glad he was on our side.”
“Sounds like Despair Aura, a Warlock Skill,” noted the learned Wizard.
“Oh yeah, he’s definitely a Warlock. Had his demons out and everything.”
“Still, to send so many people fleeing at once… That’s no ordinary Warlock, huh?”
“I’ll say. The fear and anxiety from just seeing his blood-drenched form from afar completely
overpowered my anger and brought me back to my senses. The enemy was so busy withdrawing that
they just left the me who was knocked over by half a corpse on the ground while they fled for their lives.
I got trampled pretty hard but... I would’ve died out there for sure if that man hadn’t appeared.”
“I see…” said Elyon with a sigh. “I guess we owe that guy one, huh?”
“Yeah, most definitely,” agreed Nottley.
“Either way, good job on making it back,” added the Druid as he finished treating the last of Durothil’s
broken bones. He had also healed the large scar on his face, but the eye seemed like a lost cause.
“Heh. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
The Paladin nodded his head southward. The Empire had begun their push towards the keep and were
pouring in through the holes in the wall. The catapult garden that Elyon had worked so hard on was
being trampled underfoot. They also spotted the Shaman called the Black Tower, the very obvious
culprit behind that earthquake from earlier. The man stood out like a sore thumb, so it was impossible
not to notice him.
“Well, I guess I better go make myself useful.”
Durothil stood up and was about to head down the steps to the walls below, but Nottley stood in his way
with crossed arms. It was obvious he wanted to keep him from leaving.
“And how exactly do you plan on fighting without weapons?”
“I saw Frankie on the way up. He’ll hook me up with some of his spare gear.”
The Paladin forcefully shoved his concerned teammate aside and strode off without so much as looking
back. The Wizard looked like he was going to go after him, but Elyon stopped him by grasping his
shoulder with a spare hand.
“Leave him alone, Nottley. He has his duty, and we have ours.”
“... Have I mentioned I fucking hate this war, by the way?”
“Only about 200 times.”
The two of them shared a brief chuckle before turning their attention to the oncoming Imperial troops. It
wasn’t long before the two sides started exchanging Spells and projectiles in earnest. At some point the
almost-fully-recovered Hilda had leapt off the ramparts and cut a bloody swathe through the enemy
force before engaging the Black Tower in one-on-one combat. Imiryl herself was having a mid-air duel
against that angelic Monk that Elyon saw fly overhead a few times.
As for the Druid himself, he was contributing by sitting cross-legged in the center of the tower’s roof
and focusing on his Tranquil Presence Skill. It was something that slowly restored the HP and MP of
those around him, letting them fight for longer than they would naturally be able to. Nottley the Wizard
was finally free to hurl Spells at his opponents, although he had to stick to ice-based magic due to the
Centurion’s orders from earlier. The rest of the magic users and archers on the tower with them did
much the same while the keep’s barrier-generating magic item kept them safe from harm. For the
moment, at least.
Down on the ground, the Imperial troops were gradually encircling the keep from all sides. Many of
them lugged around steel-tipped battering rams to break down the doors on the east side. Others tried
clambering up the walls either under their own power, or by using tools such as grappling hooks and
siege ladders. The ban on fire-based magic was quite evident and a serious handicap in that respect. Not
only were such Spells naturally devastating against living creatures, but they could easily turn that siege
equipment into ash and cinders.
“Freezing Beam!” chanted Nottley, and a pure white beam shot out of his hand at the crowd underneath.
It brilliantly bounced off some magical barrier or another, dealing a grand total of ‘fuck all’ damage.
“Tch. Okay, then let’s try… Chain Lightning!”
A flash of purple electricity arced out of his fingertips. It did even less than his previous attempt.
“Haah, no good as expected, huh?”
Even if Wizards could use a multitude of elements, each individual was naturally inclined to specializing
into one, maybe two of them through Skill choices and Mastery training. However, as those parts of
their arcane arsenal became more potent, the rest of it would lag behind and barely improve at all.
“Give it up, Nottley!” shouted his comrade from behind. “Just put your Mana Shield up already!”
The Wizard glanced up to see something like cracks forming in the air, a clear sign that the keep’s
innermost barrier was about to break. As much as he disliked going on the defensive, he had to admit it
was a much better use of his MP than throwing those pathetic Spells around. He still made sure to click
his tongue in frustration as he and several others started layering the defenses on in preparation of that
barrier being broken through.
However, they would soon find out that this action, although correct on principle, was ultimately futile.
“Hummooooo-”
A loud, deep something sounded out throughout the besieged fort.
“-oooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-”
The bizarre noise that was somewhere halfway between a groan and a roar rapidly rose in volume.
Those with trained ears and senses would be able to tell that this disturbance had not one, not two, but
five distinct sources, all making the same noise at that same pitch.
“-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-”
Scouts on both sides of the conflict started keeling over while the mysterious voices became so loud that
they threatened to rupture their eardrums. It wasn’t just them, but pretty much everyone in the area
followed suit. Humans, elves and dwarves alike were all momentarily paralyzed by the deafening noise
that seemed to rattle them down to their very bones. Even the remaining VIPs - Zone, Imiryl, Hilda and
the Black Tower - were all driven to their knees.
The very ground shifted and undulated unnaturally, causing more than a few people to lose their footing
and fall over. Several gigantic roots burst out of the dirt, completely sealing the holes in the walls and
trapping roughly 70% of the Empire’s remaining forces inside the fort. The cry that seemed to split the
very air apart suddenly stopped, and a heavy silence hung over the battlefield. Combatants on both sides
hastily rebuilt their formations, yet none of them dared to utter so much as a peep. Their bodies and
minds reflexively tensed up as they scanned their surroundings. For even though only a handful of
individuals knew what was about to happen next, none of those men and women believed even for a
second that the auditory assault was the end of it.
*SHUNK*
A chorus of bizarre sounds came from outside the wall. It was short, abrupt, and sounded like a bunch of
something had happened all at once.
*SHUNK*
Barely a second later, the noise repeated itself-
“Ah…. AAAAAAAH!”
-followed by a scream. Lots of screams, actually.
*SHUNK*
That dreadful noise rang out once again, followed by what sounded like a widespread panic. Those
inside the walls could hear the sound of the Imperial soldiers fighting something, but could not see it.
*SHUNK*
Zone, having regained her senses, spread her wings and immediately bolted upwards. She was already
up and over the wall before anyone could do anything to stop or interfere with her. And what she saw on
the other side of those roots was something that could only be described as one thing.
Hell.
*SHUNK*
She turned around in the air and stared silently at the soldiers - her fellow countrymen - below her. Her
trademark ice cold expression was shattered, and her face showed a mix of spite, anger and fear.
*SHUNK*
What she had just witnessed was something she could neither fully comprehend nor handle. But she still
wanted to do something. Anything.
*SHUNK*
But what? What could she possibly do against that?! Her mind spun along at great speeds looking for an
answer, but came to a grinding halt when she realized the ghastly noises had stopped, leaving behind
nothing but silence. It was a sign that whatever powers were at work here were finished with the people
outside.
Which meant that they would undoubtedly-
*SHUNK*
-move onto the inside.
Hundreds of slim roots sprang up from the ground. Each of them had impaled a single Imperial soldier
from below, skewering them completely. Metal, flesh and bone - all of it was pierced completely as if it
were nothing but paper. The targets were chosen seemingly at random, and they all let out that terrifying
sound at the same time. A few of the sturdier ones clung onto life, letting out a few disgusting noises or
spurts of blood before the spear-like roots retreated into the ground with the same blinding speed with
which they appeared. It wasn’t until the humans’ punctured bodies - living or otherwise - hit the ground
that their allies began to realize the grim scene in front of their eyes was, unfortunately, a reality.
*SHUNK*
A second wave of spears followed the first one almost immediately. The Imperial soldiers flew into an
uncoordinated panic. How were they supposed to fight an enemy that used the very ground beneath their
feet as shield?!
*SHUNK*
Several of them realized the trees were at fault and started attacking them in earnest. However, a Hylt
tree’s Ironbark was not to be underestimated. That tough natural armor effortlessly absorbed any and all
attacks and Spells that came at it. A few of them managed to chip or singe it, but that was it.
*SHUNK*
The human Wizards realized it was futile, and immediately followed Zone’s example and bolted into the
air.
*SHUNK*
“Shoot down the fliers!”
A commanding voice rang out within the Republic’s stupefied ranks. Adventurers and soldiers alike felt
their bodies jolt as if struck by lightning, and immediately targeted the flying Spell-slingers.
*SHUNK*
The humans who tried to flee were riddled with wounds and lost their lives in an instant. Those of them
that were closer to the outside wall, Zone included, were able to shamelessly escape the Republic’s
deathtrap.
*SHUNK*
“Hold!”
The same voice rang out atop the keep walls, clearly audible over the chaos beneath its walls. The
Republic troops followed it without question, and halted their attacks. It was quite clear by this point this
is what their superiors were plotting, so all they had to do was simply follow those orders
*SHUNK*
They just silently watched the Empire’s plight, with a mixture of horror, fear and awe.
*SHUNK*
It was like being in the eye of a hurricane of death.
*SHUNK*
None of them dared to move or even utter a peep, lest they raise the ire of their betters.
*SHUNK*
Many of them tried closing their eyes, but doing so was somehow worse.
*SHUNK*
It just made that horrible sound even more pronounced.
SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK
SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK
It had taken a mere 2 minutes to completely decimate nearly 15,000 people. Their mangled corpses and
discarded weapons littered the ground. The upturned and hole-filled soil eagerly drank up all their
oozing blood, and the terrain on the inside of the fort walls steadily became a bloody swamp. There was
a loud rumble as the giant roots that prevented the soldiers’ retreat went back whence they came,
revealing that the scenery beyond them was the same hellscape. The only survivors outside the keep
were the handful of the Republic’s troops that leapt off the walls after following Hilda’s questionable
example, the dwarven Berserker herself, and the shaman known as Black Tower. He didn’t know it yet,
but the Shaman’s habit of going around topless had excluded him from the dryads’ game of ‘Pop the
Blue Things.'
“So… uh… Elyon?” muttered Nottley as he struggled to find his voice.
“... What?”
The Druid in question had, almost without thinking, gotten right up next to him in order to get a better
view of what was happening below. It was a decision he was regretting immensely right now.
“What were you going to say about those dryads earlier?”
“... That they were weaker than expected?”
“So… How does it feel to be wrong for once?”
“BLUURGH!”
The elf vomited violently over the side of the tower.
“Yeah. Urp! That’s, uh, about right.”
The human Wizard could only sympathetically pat him on the back while doing his absolute best to keep
his own breakfast down.
“BLUUUURGH!”
He failed.
(122) Interlude Barking Up The Wrong Tree
Somewhere deep beneath the earth, yet at the same time hundreds of meters up in the sky, a
consciousness stirred. It saw without eyes, breathed without a nose, heard without ears, tasted without a
tongue and spoke without a mouth. As it rose from a slumber that felt like hours but spanned centuries,
it once again reached out and grasped for its inherited memories. Except that this time it was in no rush,
and handled the precious things slowly and carefully.
This time?
A troubling thought passed through that peculiar mind. Was this truly the first time it had awoken? For
some strange reason it had the nagging feeling this was not the case. How else would the words ‘this
time’ come up so naturally, without it even knowing. It slowly and meticulously studied those inherited
memories that were both foreign and its own. And after several months of dissecting them over and
over, it had arrived at the answer.
I don’t remember.
Granted, not the best answer, but it was still the only one available to it. Deciding that mulling over
things it could do nothing about, it pushed that nagging feeling away and instead focused on the task at
hand. Objectively speaking, delaying it any more at this stage was neither good nor bad, but it felt
lonely. It wanted to get out there and meet its kin. Thus the sea of thoughts, memories and sensations
converged and compressed themselves. The muddy, seemingly endless mindscape steadily shrunk to a
single point which threatened to burst under the pressure.
And then, the dryad opened her eyes. The other half of the existence known as a Hylt tree stirred much
like her host and home. Painfully, agonizingly slowly she rose up from one of her branches, taking an
entire day to completely emerge from its bark. And then she blinked several times in rapid succession as
she once again checked through those implanted thoughts that were centuries, possibly even millennia
old.
“Ah… In the end something still feels off…”
She spoke with a voice so sweet that it could give someone a toothache. She reached up to the sides of
her head with both hands and felt the antlers growing out of it. Her fingers traced the signs of her
adulthood to her vine-covered scalp and she gently ran her fingers between her ‘hair.’ Then, on some
strange impulse, she patted herself. It made her unexpectedly happy, but also frustrated at the same time.
“Hmm? This isn’t quite right either.”
Her eyes drifted idly over the area, her high vantage point giving her an unobstructed view for
kilometers around. Well, except for her trunk behind her and the lush canopy overhead. The ground
underneath her shade was dominated by a sprawling city. Structures built out of wood, stone and brick
were densely packed around her protruding roots or dotted around her trunk. Various beings - both
humanoid and not - milled about at a pointlessly rapid pace. This was of course, merely a matter of
perspective, for that dryad spent several days staring idly into the distance without really noticing either
the passage of time or the lives of those tiny, tiny creatures.
And then she yawned mightily, causing her perception of time to rapidly accelerate to the point where
her seconds and were of the same length as those of the real world.
“Mmm, that’s better!” she said with a chipper voice.
She stretched her arms out, twisted her waist and squatted a few times to limber up her thoroughly dull
body.
“Well then, I suppose I should see if any of the others are up yet.”
The dryad known as Birchis sank back into her branch, and appeared within a certain ‘safe’ space. It was
inside her neighbor and sister’s trunk, yet still had fresh leaves and vines covering most of the walls and
ceiling, while the floor was left bare and relatively flat.
“Lilly!” she called out. “Are you awake?!”
Slowly but surely, another dryad rose from the ground. Her appearance was identical to that of Birchis in
every conceivable way, apart from her thoroughly drowsy expression and vacant stare. The newly
arrived dryad blinked a few times and yawned before her apparent sleepiness went away.
“Morning, Birchis. You’re up too?”
“Yup. I think it’s just you and me for the moment though.”
“Haaaah,” yawned Lilly again. “Guess the others should be waking up soon too, huh?”
“Probably.”
“Then, shall we wait for them?”
“Might as well.”
The two sisters went to lay down on the floor, and two beds of soft grasses and leaves sprouted out of
the hard and gnarled bark to provide comfort. The dryads just sort of lazed around for a few hours until
Pinea, Castelia and Torenia showed up. They all greeted each other happily and the latter three took after
the former two’s example and also laid down on improvised bedding of their own.
But something still felt off. These girls had ‘known’ each other for a mind-boggling amount of time, yet
the silence that hung in that room was unnatural. Awkward.
“... I have a nagging feeling that something’s wrong,” muttered Pinea.
“I was just thinking that.”
“Yeah.”
“Me too.”
“Same here.”
After confirming they all felt the same way, the nature of the silence changed to a thoughtful one. Even
if their shared, stunted growth had made them all dumber than a regular dryad individually, there was
nothing they couldn’t solve if they put their heads together.
“Now that I think about it,” said Lilly, “how come we all came here? Why are we inside my trunk?”
The others furrowed their brows trying to come up with a reason.

“It just… felt right, I guess?” offered Torenia.
“Yup, yup,” said Castelia with a vigorous nod of her head.
“Hmm? Wait, did you two always get along?” asked Birchis.
“Why wouldn’t we?” came the unified answer.
“Wasn’t there something about sharing the sunlight being a problem?”
“But our branches and leaves are as intermingled as our roots by now, so that can’t possibly be the case,”
answered Castelia with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“I guess so…”
“Besides,” she added, “mister Sun shines down on all of us. His light and warmth is something that
should… be… shared…”
Her voice gradually diminished as she realized the words that came out of her own mouth were
somehow not her own.
“Oh! Castelia says some nice things!” commented Lilly. “I guess you learn a thing or two after being
burned so badly, huh?”
“Burned?”
“Yeah! Your canopy got- Wait, what?”
No matter how one looked at Castelia, she was perfectly healthy and impossible to differentiate from her
other siblings by sight alone.
“Come to think of it, how come we’re all lying on these beds?” questioned Pinea. “I mean it’s comfy
but… it’s strange, isn’t it?”
The group once again went silent as they sank deep into thought. The fragmented and deteriorated
mementos of a distant past floated inside their minds. Trying to dredge up those lost memories was
pointless, and their efforts only served to make them aware of an inexplicable void, a mysterious longing
they couldn’t quite nail down. At the very least there was progress, as they were finally able to pin down
the nature of that unpleasant feeling they’ve all shared since waking up.
“Someone’s missing,” they spoke in unison while staring at the empty space in the middle of their five-
pointed formation.
“I want to be patted on the head,” stated Birchis. An outburst that was met with many affirmative nods.
“I want to play with fuzzy things!” chimed in Lilly, much to the approval of her sisters.
“I want to take a nap in someone’s lap…” lamented Torenia, and the others understood her completely.
“I want to be hugged!” selfishly demanded Pinea, but none of the other quintuplets could fault her for it.
“I want to pop the blue things!” shouted Castelia, which was met with a soft round of applause.
The impromptu dryad conference once again fell into silence, but this one lasted for only a few seconds.
“Say, Lilly,” said Pinea while pointing at the wall opposite her. “What’s that?”
“Hmm? That’s my heartwood, silly.”
“No, I mean that. There’s something there, see?”
All of them turned their eyes towards where their sister was pointing. Lilly waved her hand and cleared
some of the vegetation blocking the view, allowing them all to see the oddity that Pinea had spotted.
Carved into that dryad’s most precious place were a series of symbols. Although they looked like
doodles and random scrawlings, they were actually the letters of a language. A certain ancient tongue
was something no mortal could decipher, and was far older than any of those five ladies. Yet they
understood that writing’s meaning instantly.
‘Mommy loves you.’
“Mommy!” they screamed in unison.
Both happiness and sadness swelled up within them as the memories of those precious few days flooded
back into their minds. How could they have forgotten? They were the ones that asked that relentlessly
cheerful catgirl to leave those words behind in the first place. They would have undoubtedly burst into
tears by now if dryads were capable of such a thing.
And then the nostalgia steadily faded, giving way to a grim realization.
“... That wasn’t our real mommy, was it?”
“Well yeah. She wasn’t a dryad, or even an elf…”
“I don’t think she was a person at all, come to think of it.”
“She was really nice and kind though…”
“Yeah. She played a lot with us even though she didn’t have to.”
“Took care of us, too. Those blue things she gave us were delicious.”
“Hmm? That’s not quite right though.”
“Pinea has a point. Come to think of it, it was the red juice inside the blue things that was the delicious
part, right?”
“Yeah. There were plenty of white things that were the same on the inside of those shells.”
“But mommy said not to touch anything but the blue ones…”
“Maybe the white ones weren’t ripe yet?”
“Oh! That’s right, isn’t it?!”
“Yup, yup, seems right!”
The quintuplets’ mood rose significantly as they let nostalgia overwhelm them once again. Even if they
had grown physically, their mental state had barely moved on from their former, childish selves. A
problem that would naturally correct itself with the passage of time.
“I still think popping them was the best part though. Very fun.”
“I completely agree.”
“Personally, I think that game of ‘Catch’ was better.”
“Yeah! Throwing things was also fun!”
“I still want to play with something fuzzy though.”
The dryads chatted back and forth for a while, before they realized one of them had suddenly gone
completely quiet.
“...”
“What’s wrong Castelia?” asked Torenia.
“I feel itchy,” she answered while scratching her midriff.
Those three simple words set off a cascade of complaints.
“Come to think of it, I feel quite itchy too.”
“Me too…”
“I don’t really itch, but some of my roots feels numb.”
“I’m totally fine, by the way.”
“Say, back then Birchis itched it was because of those stupid bugs, right?”
“Yeah!”
“Them again?!”
“Let’s go check!”
The five of them decided this was no time to mope around, and they immediately transported themselves
through their intertwined roots and branches until they reached the source of Castelia’s itchiness. As
expected, they found a bustling termite nest that was selfishly burrowing under her bark.
“Ugh!” groaned their victim. “Nasty, nasty things! Do not want!”
The cavity inside her own trunk was instantly filled with dozens of thick, heavy vines that moved around
like the tentacles of a giant octopus. Castelia tried crushing, smashing and entrapping those infuriating
vermin, but failed to do much. The termites either squirmed or bit through her grasp, or outright evaded
her whip-like attacks. She felt proud of herself after she finally managed to kill 3 of them, but then
remembered there were literally thousands more of them.
“Ah, this is hopeless!” she despaired while pulling on her antlers as if she was trying to rip them out.
“It’s okay, sis! We’ll help!”
“Yeah! Let’s all work together!”
However, despite their enthusiasm, the total termite death tally after an entire day of work was around
60. They had tried everything their implanted knowledge provided them with, including poisoning the
air and flooding them out, but none of it worked. The quintuplets decided to momentarily retreat to the
safe room inside Lilly and rethink their approach.
“... Say, how did Birchis’s itching go away back then?” asked Pinea.
“Uhm… Mom- I mean, K- Kei? Kerira?” stammered Birchis.
“I think just calling her ‘mommy’ is fine.”
“I agree. Mommy is mommy. Anything else feels like an insult.”
“Besides, we never properly asked for her name, so it’s pointless to try and remember it.”
“Yeah, don’t force yourself.”
“*Ahem* Okay then. Mommy led some people inside my bark and they killed them all with f-fire.”
“Ugh…”
The others groaned in unison at hearing the f-word. Even if that element was somewhat of a natural
enemy for them, they could easily deal with it given time. Well, even the seemingly endlessly tenacious
Hylt trees couldn’t survive if repeatedly bombarded with dragon fire, but that was to be expected. The
breaths of those living calamities were said to be able to burn mana itself, after all.
The problem at hand was that those bugs probably reproduced at a rate where killing a mere 60 in a day
probably didn’t even make a dent in their numbers. If they were going to try exterminating them, it
needed to be done in one fell swoop. But ‘fire’ was out of the questions since the dryads had no idea
how to do anything like that.
“... We could try popping them,” suggested Pinea.
“That might work, but-”
“-they’re not blue.”
“So? We can still pop things even if they’re not blue, right?”
“Ah! That’s it!” exclaimed the other four in unison.
“But won’t mommy be mad?”
“... I don’t think mommy’s still around, Torenia.”
“Oh. Right…”
“I miss her so much…”
“Yeah…”
All of them solemnly stared at their feet as they grieved for that creature that had surely passed away by
now. This sad scene was the reason why dryads tended to shy away from contact with the world at large.
Getting overly attached to someone destined to die off long before they did would just result in a gaping
wound in their metaphorical hearts. Well, these 5 would be fine since they had each other, but that didn’t
mean they didn’t hurt.
“Well, if mommy’s not around, then we can do what we want, right?”
“Yeah, Lilly has a point! Let’s go pop those nasty things!”
“YEAAAH!”
The five of them returned to that crawling cavity and began focusing on the ‘needles.’ First they opened
long, narrow tunnels within the termite-infested timber. Inside those holes they formed thin, dense
spears out of solid, polished Ironbark. The outcome was a weapon that could rival a Masterwork spear
forged out of the finest steel. A spring-loaded mechanism, also made of condensed Ironbark, was then
added to the underside of it.
“Gnn, this is much harder to do than I remember,” complained Torenia.
“Really? I think it’s surprisingly easier this time around,” said Castelia with a casual tone.
“Of course you do! We’re inside your trunk, dummy!”
“Tehehe! That’s right isn’t it? Sorry, sis!”

“Mmm, well it’s fine so long as you understand.”
“Still to come up with this sort of thing, mommy sure was amazing, huh?”
“Yup, yup!” came a chorus of affirmations and nods.
The dryads’ admiration of their ‘mommy’ was genuine. They knew they would have never figured out
how to make those ‘needles’ all on their own. It took Boxxy’s unique perspective as a trap-loving,
shapeshifting Artificer to be able to come up with a simple-yet-effective design that even those juvenile
dryads could build and use. After all, even if the process through which a dryad moved and deformed
vegetation was mechanically different from a Doppelganger’s shapeshifting, the end effects were quite
identical.
“Fuu. How many did you girls make?” asked Castelia after a while.
“15.”
“18.”
“16.”
“... 4.”
Torenia hung her head in shame while Pinea gently did her best Keira impression by patting her on the
head with a warm smile. As expected, the face that said ‘there there’ louder than any words was super
effective, and her sister started feeling better right away.
“What about you, Castelia?” asked Lilly.
“I made 60.”
“Uwaah… talk about ‘home ground advantage’ huh?”
“Okay! Then let’s give this a try!”
“Yeaaah!”
Yet for all their enthusiasm and fist pumping, the plant ladies found themselves briefly paralyzed with
indecision.
“Uhm, how do we make sure we go at the same time without mommy here?”
During the siege of Fort Yimin, it was Keira who coordinated their attacks. The reason she did that was
mostly to instil horror and indecision in the Imperial troops. It worked flawlessly, but her naive
‘daughters’ had no idea about that monster’s insidious motivations. In fact, from their perspective, it just
seemed like a part of the game.
“How about we just sing the song?”

“Oh! Good idea!”
The tune they were referencing was something Boxxy came up with while it was bored and had nothing
to do. The former Mimic had always enjoyed the tasty sounds known as music. That was partly why it
had somewhat of an obsession with making music boxes in the first place. As such, at some point it had
taken up composing songs inside its head as a hobby, of sorts. Just something it could do to pass the time
when social obligations kept it from doing anything useful or tasty.
“But, uh, how did it go again?”
“Had something to do with stars, right?”
This particular piece was inspired by the special date Keira and Rowana went on before the catgirl got
shipped out to the front lines. The view of those shiny dots in the distance framed by the darkness of the
Hylt tree canopy had given the monster a new appreciation of the night sky.
“Ah! I remember now!” exclaimed Birchis.
She shared the centuries-old memory of that strange song with her sisters, which in turn caused their
own minds to vividly recall it. After muttering among themselves for a while, they turned their attention
to the swarming mass of insects far below them and lined up next to each other. They closed their eyes
and opened their mouths, took deep breaths, then let their combined voices rise as one.
Twinkle, twinkle, shiny star,

How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a shiny in the sky.
When the blasted sun is gone,

When the nothing shines upon,
Then you show your tasty light,
Shiny, shiny, all the night.
Then the traveler in the dark,

I will eat up like a shark,
He would not see which way to go,
In the night when light is low.
Though I know not how you taste,

I will steal you with all haste.
But I must learn how to fly,
And then reach you in the sky.
Can you fit me like a ring?

You’ll be mine, you shiny thing!
So until I reach that far,
Twinkle, twinkle, shiny star.
The tune had been far slower and creepier than when Keira sang it, but it still did the job, as each line
was punctuated by by a terrible SHUNK sound. When the dryads opened their eyes, they saw that
hundreds, maybe even a thousand termites were thoroughly ‘popped.’ The stupid bugs kept crawling
over the evenly-spaced out holes in the timber they were feasting in, so the spring-loaded retractable
needles were able to reap heavy casualties.
“Alright!” cheered the plant ladies.
“A shame we can’t move the needles through the timber like we did through the soil.”
“Yeah, this will still take forever like this.”
“Why don’t we just make some grooves in the timber?” suggested Pinea.
“That’s it!” shouted the others with great enthusiasm.
Making those things was really hard since they had a bunch of thin, delicate parts. Especially the firing
mechanism. That sort of precise work was really difficult for the dryads, almost like trying to thread two
needles at the same time. But if it was just about making passages to move the already constructed
Ironbark contraptions around, then they could do that without even breaking a sweat.
Pinea’s idea worked splendidly, and the five dryads had gained total dominance over those infuriating
termites. Over the next few days they thoroughly worked together to clean Castelia, Torenia and Lilly of
their termite infestations. The thousands of bug carcasses were flushed out of their bodies and deposited
somewhere deep into the ground where they would become food for them later. In high spirits, they then
went to investigate why Pinea’s roots felt so numb.
However, what they found was in some ways worse than the termites.
Unbeknownst to them, an underground crime ring had taken up residence in the city’s sewers. Although
the elves had learned from their ancestor’s mistakes and made sure to build them well out of the way of
Pinea’s roots, those people had purposefully dug them out. And they were actively draining her sap for
their own, selfish needs.
“That’s not yours!” yelled the quintuplets as they revealed themselves.
“Waah!” screamed the lone man who was keeping an eye on the numerous tree sap taps.
“W-w-who- What are you?!”
“What’s going on here?”
The dark, dank tunnel was lit up as a group of 6 people rushed in through a door with lit mining helmets
on their heads.
“Th-th-these girls just appeared! Out of nowhere!”
The thugs and the dryads exchanged glances.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed one of them. “Are those the dryad sisters?! Like, the ones from the history
books?!”
“Since when can you read, dumbass?”
“... My pop-pop read to me when I was little, okay?”
“This sap is not yours!” screamed the plant ladies. “Return all that you have taken at once!”
“What do we do, Larry?”
“Why you askin’ me, boss?”
“You’re the one who knows what those things are, right?”
“Kinda. I mean, sorta… I mean, uh…”
“For fuck’s sake, you’re completely useless!”
“Ah! I remember now! It’s okay, boss! Those dryads won’t harm us elves so we can just ignore their
wailing!”
The leader’s eyes caught the intense rage within those weird women’s eyes. It was far more convincing
than his bumbling goon of a subordinate.
“... You sure about that, Larry?”
“Yep, positive! Though they’re a bit different from what pop-pop told me…”
“Different how?”
“Well, they’re supposed to be completely green, but their hair is-”
*SHUNK*
Without hesitation, without warning, without holding back, and without even batting an eye, all of those
insolent elves were pierced clean through. Only the guy who was originally there to keep an eye on the
sap-tapping was spared. The five green faces in the room turned to him, who was currently crawling
backwards and evacuating his bladder.
“Return the sap!” they demanded.
“I-I-I CAN’T!” he shouted. “I don’t have it! I d-d-don’t know where it is! I don’t even know what they
do with it or, or or or who they sell it to! Those buck- buckets in the corner is all I have! I swear!”
Pinea’s sharp glare deviated from that of her sisters as she beheld the row of metal buckets in question.
She extended a tentacle-like vine from the side of her root, which shot forward and eagerly slurped up
what was rightfully hers. However, it was far too little, and she was still losing sap from those metal taps
lining her root. Well, now that she knew the cause, she could at least eliminate it. She furrowed her
brows, squinted her eyes and puffed up her cheeks, as if she was straining to do something.
A few seconds later, the dozens of metal spouts stuck in her body were forcefully ejected, and the
‘wounds’ they left behind healed up in an instant. She then slammed the vine into the cowering man,
sending him flying into the wall, killing him instantly.
“Argh! Those vermin! I’ll make them pay for this!”
Some feeling had returned to that particular root because of her intervention, but several others were still
numb, most likely because they were receiving the same treatment. And while that was bad in and of
itself, it wasn’t the actual reason she was ticked off. It was because those people - those sentient beings -
had deliberately attacked her. Termites couldn’t help themselves - they were just following their
instincts, so she could never truly bring herself to hate them. But those elves had gone out of their way
to bleed her of her precious sap. To say it was an unforgivable act was an understatement.
“Uhm, Pinea?” muttered Birchis.
“... What is it?” she answered after calming herself down a bit.
“That- Those ones weren’t blue, right?”
“No, they were black and brown. Why?”
“So how come so much juice came out?”
What was arguably the smartest of the quintuplets turned her attention to the pools of blood that flowed
out of those criminals’ bodies. Pinea’s eyes shone, and she moved the vine she used to reclaim her sap to
eagerly slurp up that red fluid.
“Haaaah,” she sighed with a relieved face, as if her thunderous rage was but an illusion. “Just as tasty as
I remember it…”
“R-really?” asked the others.
“Yeah! Actually, it might even be better!”
“No fair! You drank it all!”
“Yeah I wanted a taste, too!”
“Sorry… Oh, I have an idea!”
The city of Morgana. A historic settlement, named after a war hero of old and built under the shade of
the only five Crimson-Leafed Hylt trees in existence. A bustling population of exactly 18,504 souls had
gathered under the uniquely beautiful and strangely mesmerising plants. The city itself was on an
important trade route as well as a popular tourist destination, making it one of the most prosperous
places on the continent.
Yet, when the sun rose over it the next day, it shone down on naught but a gigantic field of rubble, with
not a single living being in sight, except for the world-famous trees that were in full bloom for the first
time in recorded history.
(123) Not A Chapter Qa With The Author
I've noticed you guys have quite a few comments and some rather long discussions. While I appreciate
the interest and thought I'd make some details very clear, apparently this wasn't the case. So, since I
don't have much else to do, I'll take some time to answer any and all of your questions, regardless of
whether they're related to this series or not.
Just keep in mind I reserve the right to give you nonsensical, idiotic answers if the questions deserve
them. 'There is no such thing as a dumb question' is a saying I wholeheartedly refute with every fiber of
my being. And if someone disagrees, then I want you to consider the following: Why do whiskers have
cats?
P.S. Word of warning for those coming in from chapters following this one - I will not tolerate questions
with spoilers in them. They will be deleted on-sight.
(124) Snow Day April Fools Chapter
Silus Underwood took a deep breath as he observed the mountainside around him. An endless sea of
snow-covered pine trees stretched out to the left and right of him. Immediately behind was a large
wooden lodge, while in front was a wide downward slope covered by fresh powder. Of course, said
slope had not occurred naturally, but was something made and maintained by the proprietor of this
resort.
“Excuse me, sir?” spoke up the elven Scribe that worked as his assistant and secretary. “Are you sure
this ‘trip’ is necessary?”
“Of course I am, Astros. We all deserve a break, especially since it was our actions that brought an
abrupt end to that pointless war.”
Word of what happened at Fort Yimin had spread throughout the Empire’s ranks like swine flu. The
country’s leaders received hundreds of reports and sent several scouting missions to confirm them. The
result was that the unthinkable situation where their force of 30,000 people and 6 VIPs had been
completely wiped out was indeed real. It took a mere 4 days after the failed siege for the Emperor to pull
away all his troops and agree to a 5-year peace treaty between the two nations. And since both parties
made a binding oath before Teresa, Nyrie and Axel, there would be very little chance of it being broken
prematurely.
Of course, this wasn’t the end of it. It was doubtless that the Empire would use this time to sharpen their
fangs and evaluate the dryad threat. 5 years was plenty of time to devise countermeasures and strategies
to avoid another Honeytrap. Of course, the Republic’s leaders were making preparations of their own.
Their goal for this half-decade was to forge a military alliance with the dwarf-and-gnome populated
Horkensaft Kingdom. It didn’t take a genius to realize those shorties would be targeted next should the
Empire gobble up the Republic.
But, at least for the moment, the elves could enjoy the brief respite from that ghastly war business.
“I know that,” argued Astros, “but I personally do not feel that bringing the Exarch all the way out here
was a good idea.”
The Scribe tilted his head towards his side, towards the elected leader of the Ishigar republic. He was an
elderly elf, whose face was lightly wrinkled. He had short black hair with a receding hairline, and wore a
pair of goggles on his face. He was dressed with a casual-looking padded jacket and trousers, both
yellow in color, and wore some heavy black boots. A pair of thick gloves on his hands also served to
protect him from the cold.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” said Underwood. “We reserved this place just for us, and we brought a few squads
from the 3rd Legion here with us for protection.”
Indeed, the myriad of other people around were wearing similar clothes to the Exarch, except their
colors were dark gray, bordering on black. About 30 of them were keeping an eye out for any potential
threats and there were even several beholders floating around. There were about 15 others who had
distinguished themselves during the war and were here as guests of honor. Of course, the majority of
those people were the ones who survived the historic siege at Fort Yimin.
“Besides, we’re deep in the Republic’s territory. In fact, this remote region probably makes us more
secure than if we were to stay in the capital.”
“And the Legate approved all this so easily?” asked Astros.
“The man’s right there, you know.”
The Scribe turned his attention towards where the Exarch was, and realized that the leader of the 3rd
Legion was right next to him, and the two were having a talk about something or other. He failed to
notice Aidun at first since he was wearing the same outfit as the commoners, except for a number of
shining medals on his chest.
“Very well,” said Astros with a sigh. “If all of my superiors deem it a good idea, then I have no say in
the matter.”
“Nonsense. It is important to speak your mind. You have to understand those in power are also capable
of making mistakes. If you spot a potential problem, it’s your duty to report it immediately.”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” he replied with an enthusiastic salute.
“Ah come on, don’t go all military on me like that. We’re not at war anymore and you’re not technically
part of the army, right?”
Astros was not an officer, but one of many adventurers that got drafted shortly before the start of the
conflict. Of course, those people were discharged once the armed conflict with the Empire was settled.
“... Right, sorry Silus. I got a bit over-excited.”
The two of them shared a light chuckle, while two of the guests of honor walked past them. Both of
them were carrying thin boards with rounded edges that were almost as long as their owners were tall.
Astros watched curiously as they set them down, stood sideways on top of them and then kicked off.
They slid down the specially prepared slope while turning left and right while using their whole bodies.
“This ‘snowboarding’ is quite interesting, isn’t it?” said Underwood.
“Indeed. I had no idea such a thing existed until yesterday.”
“Unsurprising. It was something that popped up recently about 6 or 7 years ago. A strange man settled
down in the area and made this resort. Said he brought this ‘snowboarding’ thing over from his
homeland. It’s somewhat of a niche hobby, but has been steadily gaining popularity.”
“I can understand that. It does seem thrilling in a way.”
“Oh, it is! It’s very good fun, I suggest you give it a try sometime.”
“Uhm, Silus? You know how you told me to point out potential problems?”
“Yes?”
“What’s that?”
The scribe pointed in the opposite direction of the slope. On the snow-covered ridge above the wooden
lodge were a pair of figures. One was a gnome-shaped mithril golem. The other was a fully armed and
armored dwarf. They seemed to be arguing about something.
“Those are guests from the siege,” explained Underwood. “No need to worry about them.”
“No, I know who they are. That’s exactly why I’m worried!”
“... Good point. Let’s go put a stop to that right away.”
However, before they could reach them-
*Swoosh Swoosh*
“I hit plenty of stuff with this thing, but it never went off. So what gives?” complained Hilda.
The dwarf was swinging around the club-shaped Boomstick Fizzy had made for her weeks ago. It was
heavily dented and a few cracks were visible here and there, showing just how much abuse it had been
under.
“That’s strange,” said the golem. “The firing mechanism is pretty basic.”
“So... what? Did ye gave me somethin’ cheap?”
“Not really. The more basic a mechanism is, the more reliable and sturdy it becomes. Less moving parts,
you see.”
“Right, right… So then why didn’t it go off?!”
Fizzy sank deep into thought as she examined the battered item with her eyes. There shouldn’t be
anything wrong with the device, yet it didn’t work as intended. Was this some flaw in the components?
No, the gnome had personally forged them so she was sure they were quality goods. In truth, the fact
that this thing was still holding itself together despite all the abuse it went through was a testament to her
crafting prowess. So then, if it wasn’t a structural issue, then perhaps it was an OHT problem?
“... Did you push the trigger?” she asked.
“Trigger?”
Fizzy facepalmed so hard it produced a loud, bell-like gong. As expected, it was an Operator Headspace
and Timing issue. Possibly aggravated by a lack of RTFM.
“Yes, trigger,” she groaned. “You know, the small button on the handle? The one I put in so it doesn’t go
off on accident? The one I told you about at least 6 times?”
“D’oh! I completely forgot! Ye mean this thing, right?”
*Click*
“... Did you just-”
*SWOOSH*
Hilda gave her Boomstick an overly-enthusiastic swing before Fizzy could stop her.
*SNAP*
That proved to be the final straw, as the abused Artificer-made weapon finally broke. The sheer speed
and force of Hilda’s arm caused the handle to snap, sending the now-armed payload flying off into the
distance. It flew off the ridge, over the the lodge and landed in the middle of a group of people, where it
once again demonstrated Fizzy’s crafting prowess.
*Ka-BOOOOOMMMMM*
By exploding violently, of course.

“Gah! What’s going on?!” blurted Underwood in a panic. “Is the Exarch okay? What about the
Legate?!”
That mysterious explosion had originated exactly where those two were standing, so his worry was very
much real. Even if their clothing had protective enchantments, it was still just padded cloth and fur.
“Primus! Sir!” shouted someone off to the side. “They’re up above!”
Silus’s eyes darted upwards, only two see two smoking and singed figures flying through the air. Their
gear had done its job and absorbed much of the damage, but was ripped to shreds in the process. The
members of the 3rd Legion stared dumbly in disbelief as the unconscious Exarch and Legate soared
above them in a grand arc while wearing nothing but their underpants.
Incidentally, the Exarch wore briefs, while the Legate had a pair of white-and-green striped boxers.
“Secure them at once you idiots!” shouted Underwood.
“Y-yes sir!” replied the others in unison
Having snapped out of their shock, the troops all began running in the direction their leaders were
flying. The pantsed duo made touchdown a few seconds afterward. The Exarch crashed into a bystander,
knocking them both over and kicking up a cloud of white powder in the process. The Legate landed on
the slope face-down and proceeded to slide down head-first at breakneck speeds.
“Shit!” cursed Underwood. “You guys go after the Legate, I have the Exarch!”
“Yes sir!”
A dozen or so Legionnaires ran down the slope after their boss while Silus went to check on the
Republic’s top brass.
“Are you okay?!” he shouted into the snow cloud.
A head covered in crimson hair and sporting two triangular fuzzy ears popped up out of it.
“Ah, I’m fine, mister Underwood!” said Keira in a cheerful tone. “Accidents like this do happen since
everyone here is a beginner. It’s no big deal!”
She then obliviously kicked off and slid down the slope without waiting for the elf’s reply. Her motion
dispersed what was left of the snow cloud. Underwood felt an ice-cold chill run down his spine, as he
realized that the catgirl’s snowboard was left behind half-buried in the snow.
“H-hey. HEY!” he shouted. “THAT’S THE EXAAAARCH!”
Keira was currently going down the slope while using the barely-clothed Exarch as a snowboard. She
rode on his back while his face dragged across the snow in front. She caught up to the group chasing the
Legate and greeted them with a wave.
“Hello everyone! Having fun?”
“H-huh?” replied one of the troops. “Decanus Morgana?”
“Be careful, okay?!” said the catgirl as she picked up even more speed.
“W-wait! What’s that you’re riding!?”
However, the man’s shouts fell on deaf ears as Boxxy was focused entirely on doings its best not to fall
over and make a fool of itself. It even had to get rid of its MLG due to all the beholders flying around,
which only made it more nervous.
“Huff huff huff huff huff huff!”
The severely panicking and heavily sprinting Underwood caught up with his men almost immediately
after.
“S-Sir! Decanus Morgana just-”
“I know! Huff huff huff! I’m working on it! Huff huff huff!”
I’ll never catch her at this rate, his racing thoughts said. I need a board! Oh, there’s one!
Jumping on the snowboard that was conveniently around let him use gravity to more easily accelerate
down the fairly steep slope. He lowered his body and stabilized his stance, allowing him to gain that
crucial bit of extra speed. He had already learned to snowboard years ago, so he was able to steadily
catch up with the oblivious catgirl.
“Stooop!” he screamed several times, but to no effect. It wasn’t until he came up to her side that she
finally seemed to notice his presence.
“Didn’t you hear me telling you to stop you airheaded fuzzball?!” he shouted angrily.
“Huh? Mister Underwood, what are you doing here?”
“Who cares about that?! Look below! Below!”
Keira glanced down at her feet, only to realize the strangely soft board she was riding was, in fact, a
person.
“Ack!? When did this happen?!” she blurted out.
“Don’t give me that shit! Do you even recognize who that is?!”
“And just who do you think your board is?!”
Silus dumbly looked down, only to realize he was riding the Legate in much the same way.
“Ack!? When did this happen?!” he blurted out.
“You’re the same as me then, aren’t you?!”
“Doesn’t matter! You have to stop right now!”
“I’d have stopped if I could! I’m barely a beginner at snowboarding, so how am I supposed to know how
to stop a person?!”
Of course Keira had plenty of ways to stop. Unfortunately, all of them would blow her cover. Well, since
she was already in this mess and Underwood was basically an accomplice, Boxxy decided to play this
one out.
“So what do we do?!” she asked. “Pretend we’re out in the country where it’s warm and fuzzy?”
“And how is that supposed to help?!”
They argued back and forth as the Legate and Exarch’s faces bounced off small bumps in the snow.
“Wait! I think I’ve got it!” exclaimed the catgirl. “His underpants - when I pull on his underwear I slow
down!”
And indeed as if to prove her point tugging on the Exarch’s briefs kicked up a good amount of white
powder and visibly slowed her down.
“What?!” said Underwood wide-eyed. “You can control elfboards with their underwear?!”
He then tentatively tried pulling on the Legate’s boxers.
“Oh! It works! But, we’re leaving a strange track behind, aren’t we?”
Indeed, looking at their path there was a long, narrow and slightly curved gash in the snow.
“What is that?” he asked incredulously.
“It’s the track left behind by the brake, of course!”
“Brake?! Where would be there be a brake on an elf’s body?!”
“The penile break!” she exclaimed while tugging on the Exarch’s briefs with a confident smile on her
face.
Underwood’s stressed out mind nearly snapped in half at those words. It would seem that pulling on
their underwear caused their members to extend, which dug into the snow and slowed them down.
“Wait!” he shouted. “You mean this is that?! That’s not a break!”
“Close enough. It’s long and hard, and does the job right!”
“Cut that out! And please stop using that break! He won’t be able to leave behind any children!”
“We don’t have time to argue! The priority is to stop them both right away! We can just give them a
potion or something later!”
Just as Keira finished her argument, she, Underwood, and their two elfboards hit a snowy ramp that
caused them to gain a good deal of air. They somehow managed to land without crashing or falling over,
but heard a strange squelching sound as they did. Looking behind, they noticed a pair of red stains in the
snow, along with two trails of what could only be blood leading directly to them. It took but a moment
for realization to hit them.
They broke. The brakes.
Looking back in stunned silence, both of them completely failed to realize where they were headed.
Before they regained their senses, the slope suddenly became much steeper and countless green pine
trees sped past them on either side.
“Shit, we veered off the trail!” shouted the elf. “Gah! Someone stop us already!”
As if to answer those prayers, a female voice came from the side.
“Primus, sir, are you okay?! I’m coming to help!”
The green-haired Ranger Lia, who was also one of Underwood’s subordinates, was catching up to them
on her own board.
“Hold on!” she shouted.
She expertly dodged and weaved between the trees, until she was right on Silus’s left side, while Keira
was to his right.
“Miss Torlee, you’re...” muttered the elf who was at his wit’s end. Seeing that marvelous performance
and control made him feel relief for the first-
“Everything’s fine now that we’re here!”
Underwood glanced at the direction that second female voice came from. Namely - at Lia’s feet. He saw
the figure of the fully armored, two-meter-tall Lola, gliding across the snow on her back with a confident
expression on her face.
“Why the heck are you two acting like elfboarding is a perfectly normal activity?!”
“I was learning how to snowboard,” explained Lia, “but I accidentally ended up riding Lola instead. And
then I discovered she’s much easier to handle than an actual board! I guess it’s because we’re such good
friends, huh?”
“You’re not supposed to use your friend as a board, you know!” complained Underwood.
“Let me show you how to properly ride an elfboard, okay?” she continued, seemingly ignoring her
superior’s remarks. “First, you grab onto your board’s Comm-crystal.”
She held up a blue, softly glowing cube.
“This will serve as a handle and let you steer your board.”
“No, no, no, that’s impossible! In the first place, please understand that not all elfboards come with
Comm-crystals!”
“Oh my! That’s terrible! You can’t control your board if you don’t have a-”
*THWACK*
A random protruding branch knocked the Comm-crystal out of her hands and nearly threw her off
balance.
“Nooo!” she wailed as it landed softly in the snow far behind her. “What do I do?!” she started
panicking. “I can’t do anything like thiiiis!”
“Why did you even bother coming out here in the first place!?” snapped Underwood.
“I have some advice for you,” said Keira calmly with a wide smile. “Have you ever heard of a penile
break?”
Those ridiculous words that were inappropriate in every way possible sent poor Silus into total despair.
His mind had completely given up and was drawing a complete blank as the trio of runaway elfboards
glided ever downwards the narrow corridor in the forest.
*THUMP*
“Oi Undy! Ye okay?!”
*THUMP*
The elf turned around when he heard a voice that could belong only to Hilda. However, while that dwarf
was indeed there, she had brought something outrageous with her.
*THUMP THUMP THUMP*
Namely a gigantic snowball that bounced around as it headed right towards them, threatening to crush
them into paste. Hilda’s head that was sticking out of the center of the snowball and moved around along
with the ball’s rotation. The speed was so high that Underwood only caught glimpses and after-images
of her.
“I’m comin’ to help ye!” she stated confidently.
“You liar!” retorted Silus. “Clearly you’re the one who needs help! You can’t do jack shit!”
“That ain’t true! I’m gonna save ye all, just you wait!”
Just then, the afterimages of the dwarf’s head were replaced by those of a pigtailed, pure white gnome.
“We’re all going to die…” came the despaired, metallic voice.
“... Huh? What?!” shouted Underwood.
“If ye give up now, then that’s game over!” came Hilda’s high-spirited words.
“The worst part is,” wailed Fizzy, “you’ll die while still clinging to false hope.”
“There’s someone chiming in with really negative remarks in there!” pointed out the male elf to nobody
in particular.
“Oi! Don’t be fooled!” cautioned the dwarf.
“By your bullshit?” argued the golem.
“What the heck are you two doing? This is like that whole angel/devil whispering in your head thing!”
“No,” came Hilda’s suddenly dark voice. “I am not me. I am not you.”
“But I am me and I am you,” echoed Fizzy.
“That’s right!” they called out in unison as a black miasma spread across the snowball. “There is no
black or white! All will return to true darkness!”
Underwood was about to completely lose what few marbles remained in his possession, when the pitch-
black ball suddenly glowed with a prismatic radiance so bright it nearly blinded him. He, Keira and Lia
all stared dumbly at the inexplicable phenomenon before them. As the dazzling light faded away, they
were able to make out a third, completely new head that blurred past their vision. It was a grizzled male
human with a large scar across his cheek and a stoic expression on his unshaven face. Both Silus and
Boxxy instantly recognized him as Edward Allen, spymaster to the Emperor himself.
“I’ve been waiting inside the snowball this whole time,” he stated, full of confidence.
“Say, Hilda-” uttered Underwood.
“Fizzy-” chimed in Keira.
“Have you ever heard of a penile brake?” they uttered at once with cold glares in their eyes.
“Huh?” replied Edward with a stupid look on his face. “What are you two on about? I mean- Hey! What
are you two doing in there! No, wait-”
Every creature on that mountain then heard a shrill voice.

“GUUUUAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Charlie, the God of Probability opened his eyes. He had just finished running a practically impossible
simulation inside his divine noggin.
“Heh, that’d be fun if it could happen for real,” he said to himself. “Should I make the necessary
arrangements? Ah, but I already know how it ends, so that’d be no fun, huh? Mmm, but part of me
wants it to happen so bad…”
He let out a deep sigh.
“Better not. I always tend to go overboard at this time of year.”
(125) Those Who Are Left 1
“Is this good enough?” asked Keira while looking over her handiwork.
“Yeah! It’s the best, mommy!” shouted the five dryads.
“I’m glad,” replied the beastkin with a happy smile.
Truthfully speaking, Boxxy wasn’t quite sure why they asked it to engrave something like ‘Mommy
loves you’ into Lilly’s heartwood, but it decided to play along. Writing on the wall was free, and it got to
put its limited knowledge of the Divine language to use, so it had no real reason to refuse.
“...”
Okay, maybe it should have refused at least a little. Well, what was done was done, and it didn’t want to
risk enraging those girls when it was so close to freedom, so it led that one slide. Besides, they were
about to go to sleep for a very long time, so it decided that particular message didn’t bother it at all.
“Um… mommy?” spoke up Pinea. “Is- is it okay if you sang to us again?”
“Yeah, mommy’s songs are always funny and strange!” added Birchis.
“Also,” said Castelia, “I really want to hear about the shiny stars again! Please!?”
Numerous shouts of ‘Yeah!’ and ‘Please!’ bombarded Keira.
“Okay! Okay, settle down now!” she exclaimed while waving her hands around in mock embarrassment.
“You girls want a lullaby, then?”
“What’s a lullaby?” they asked all at once.
“It’s a song to make sure you sleep well.”
“... So we’re going back to sleep after all?” asked Pinea while casting her eyes downward. While all the
dryads clung incessantly to their ‘mommy,’ that one had grown especially attached to her.
“You have to, sweetie. Otherwise you won’t grow up right. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No… but will mommy be there when we wake up?”
Hell no! I’ve had enough of you damned brats! Just go to sleep and leave me alone, already!
Keira had thoughts like this on the inside, while on the outside-
“I can’t promise that. But you can’t let that keep you from growing up to be big and strong. Your future
is important to me, so while it pains me to see you go, you have to go back to sleep. It’s for your own
good.”
“...”
“So can you do that? Can you be strong for mommy?”
Pinea looked up with eyes filled with determination.
“Okay! I’ll do it!”
“Good girl,” said the catgirl with a smile while giving her a big hug.
“Hey, no fair!” shouted the other four in unison.
“It’s okay, mommy has plenty of hugs for everyone!”
Keira gave each of them a farewell hug, after which the dryads did as instructed, lying down on the soft
beds of leaves and grass just like their mommy had done a few times before. The catgirl then began
singing a slow, calming version of the one-of-a-kind song tentatively called Shiny Star. She sang it over
and over for about 15 more minutes until the effects of Elder Dryad’s Authority wore off like clockwork,
exactly 1 week since it was activated, give or take a few minutes.
The five juvenile plant ladies had already fallen asleep by this point, and were sinking slowly into the
bark-covered floor of Lilly’s safe room. They would eventually return to their own trees through their
combined roots, so falling into hibernation here wasn’t going to be a problem for them. Not that the
Mimic actually cared though, it was just glad to finally be rid of them. And if it had its way, then it
would keep it that way at any cost.

More good news. It would seem the Agent of Chaos Skill’s bizarre effects were rather short lived this
time, huh? It didn’t seem to do much of anything, either, which was even better. Wait, why was a patch
of grass on Castelia’s head steadily changing from green to a reddish shade of brown? Actually, it wasn’t
just her, as the rest of the quintuplets began to show a similar discoloration. It was pretty much a given
that this wasn't a natural occurrence, but a direct result of Boxxy’s interference as the Hero of Chaos.
The Mimic didn’t worry though, for it already knew how to deal with this situation.
Oh well! Not my problem!
As if a monster had any reason to fret over what sort of potentially cataclysmic events it had set in
motion. Even if something horrible were to happen as a result of this, then it wouldn’t be until the girls
woke up. Which would be long after any sort of vested interest it had in this place - or indeed this
country - had already passed. It also thought it heard a certain deity that presided over matters of luck
and chance cackling madly, but that was surely its own imagination. That was most definitely the wind
and nothing else. After all, Boxxy wasn’t like Fizzy, who claimed to constantly be hearing Rick’s voice
in her head. The monster was simply tired and needed to rest, that was all.
Ah, but it couldn’t just yet. It had convinced those dryads to retrieve about 150 of the more well-
preserved and quality-looking bodies from the field. That particular mountain of corpses was currently
piled up in one of the corners of the safe room, just waiting for its gentle touch. They were surprisingly
well preserved considering they already died 2 days ago, and Boxxy was eager to see what it could gain
from them.
So without further ado, the Mimic set about absorbing each and every one of those morsels. And while
most of them were failures as expected, it still had a good number of successes as well. It reaped a total
of 11 minor ones, giving a grand total of +144 STR, +98 DEX, +41 AGI, +97 END, +120 INT and +44
WIS. As for the the other ones, they looked something like this.

Proficiency level increased. Axe Mastery is now Level 6. STR +18. DEX +6.

Level up!
Level up!
...
Congratulations, you are now a Level 13 Rogue! DEX +26. AGI +26. END +26.


Job slots full. Unable to learn Job: Priest.
Proficiency level increased. Cadaver Absorption is now Level 9. All Attributes +1.

Proficiency level increased. Shield Mastery is now Level 10. STR +4. END +4.

The Natural Affinity (AFF) Attribute has been created by a special action. AFF +1.
Proficiency level increased. Primal Mastery is now Level 5. AFF +10. INT +5. WIS +5.
Well, the Skills were, as expected, a bunch of different Mastery ones. While somewhat tasty, the Mimic
seriously doubted whether Axe Mastery and Primal Mastery would ever come into play. The former
involved wielding weapons that relied a lot more on brute strength than finesse. There might be some
applications to be found with axes, but as a whole Boxxy preferred swords and daggers since those made
stabby time much, much easier than something like an axe.
As for the latter, it seemed to be related to Spells that a Druid or Shaman would use. And since the
Mimic didn’t know any Primal magic, it would be a mostly useless Skill. Well, at the very least it
unlocked the AFF Attribute, though how useful it would be would remain to be seen. No, that was
optimistic at best. The Mimic was honestly hoping that the new Attribute would remain useless, and
wouldn’t dip into the negative like Faith (FTH).
The Job situation, on the other hand, was… educational at best. As expected, Rogue Skills had a good
deal of overlap with Mimic ones. Not only that, but it took up the Mimic’s 8th and apparently final Job
Slot. Well, in some ways this was a good thing since it meant the Mimic was not going to be saddled
with some stupid, useless Job like Cat. At least, not for the moment. Although not immediately, Boxxy
was still planning on eventually visiting a Scribe to undergo Job Removal.
That ‘procedure’ was something Boxxy had already gone through several times by masquerading as a
disillusioned adventurer who wanted to start over. It was initially unwilling to revisit that foggy, painful
memory of having its Warlock Job stripped away, but eventually learned that the process was supposed
to be painless if done properly. Apparently, as long as the person - or in this case, monster - willingly
submitted to a Job Removal, then the worst they would feel would be a vague sense of loss and fatigue.
In other words, the reason Boxxy was so traumatized back then was that it underwent a forced Job
Removal. Its own body had instinctively resisted having part of it stripped away, which only made the
separation harder. However, this resistance was not futile, as Job Removal was unable to forcefully
remove a Job that was of equal or higher Level than the user’s own Scribe Level. In other words, it was
theoretically impossible take away someone’s Level 100 Job unless they willed it. Well, practically
speaking they were most likely in the clear so long as they went above Level 85, as very few Scribes
were able to reach that high within their lifetime.
When it came to the subject of life spans, it actually gave Boxxy a bit of distress. Apparently ‘pure-
blooded’ Mimics would normally only live for about a year before their unstable bodies began to
collapse. Well, it wasn’t strictly speaking a Mimic anymore, but it definitely felt like that was unfair. At
the very least it found some solace on the fact that a Doppelganger was an existence that could live
longer than enlightened races. According to records from the days of the Silent War, more than a few
Doppelgangers were over 100 years old at the time of their capture. That, coupled with those demonic
traits, was the most likely cause of Minic’s ridiculous longevity.
Well, having all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough if a devious monster showed up and murdered
them. Just like that ‘Holy Necromancer’ and that idiotic Warlock. The former had already been
subjected to the Cadaver Absorption, but Boxxy got nothing out of him since it failed. Because of
course it failed. That put a damper on the Mimic’s expectations from Shinji’s corpse, which was still
tucked away in its Storage. In the end, it decided to put off absorbing it until after it managed to push its
Warlock Level past 50.
But before that could happen, Boxxy T. Morningwood would have to face a very tough trial indeed.
Mentally steeling itself for what was to come, the Mimic ever-so-subtly changed Keira’s relentlessly
smiling face. The catgirl’s mouth curled into a small, barely-there frown, while her bright eyes full of
energy became oddly dull as she cast them at her feet. She hugged herself across the stomach as if she
were cold, and made sure that her head, shoulders, tail and ears were drooping visibly.
Is this enough? Or is it too much? I honestly can’t tell. Well, might as well try it out!
The catgirl walked out of the silent safe room for the very last time. She quickly corrected her
expression, as her monstrous side’s delight had slightly warped her face, and stepped out onto a branch.
While the dryads were awake, they were the ones that ferried her up and down the tree, but Keira needed
a good way to get down now that they were asleep.
Thankfully, her superiors foresaw this issue, and an elven Wizard was quietly waiting for her on that
branch. He instinctively tried to call out and reassure the devastated-looking catgirl, but at the same time
held his voice back. He was scared of saying something careless that would make things worse. So, in
the end, he just silently levitated himself and the slightly heavier than expected beastkin off that branch
and descended towards the ground hundreds of meters below at a slow and steady pace.
The two of them touched down on one of the keep’s rounded corner towers. The carnage from the
slaughter 2 days ago had been more or less cleaned up, but the air was heavy with the stink of rotting
flesh. The bodies of those slain were either buried after being sanctified or cremated with magic. This
was to prevent the dead soldiers and adventurers from rising up as the undead. Such things were
common among ghastly battlefields, so the Republic was taking care to handle their remains in a fitting
and respectful manner.
What a waste. All that delicious human flesh…
“Are- Are you okay?” asked the worried-looking Wizard.
“Hmm?”
“You, uh, spaced out for a second there…”

“O-oh… Yes, I’m okay. Or at least I will be… eventually…” came the weak-willed response.
The truth of the matter was that Boxxy was remembering with glee the absolutely intoxicating smell of
20,000 humans’ worth of freshly spilled blood. A huge feast beyond anything it had ever seen, and it
could only take a few scraps for itself without raising too much suspicion. Truly a disappointing
outcome.
“Look, I know high command wants to speak with you as soon as possible, but if you-”
“I said I’m fine!” she snapped back, causing the elf to recoil slightly. “... I’m sorry about that. I’ll be
going now. And… thanks for the lift.”
She finished the exchange with a weak smile as she opened one of the wooden trap doors in the floor
and headed down the sturdy stone staircase, into the keep itself. She walked to the familiar conference
room, and entered it after knocking to announce her presence. Inside were four faces she had grown
accustomed to seeing over the past week. Primus Underwood, Prefect Vera, Legate Aidun, and the
slightly mysterious strategist called Drannor. She made sure to rest her eyesight on Faehorn’s empty seat
for a good 3 or 4 seconds before sitting down in front of her superior officers.
“*Ahem* Then, shall we begin the… debriefing?” suggested Underwood.
“Quite so,” nodded the Legate. “Now then, Decanus Morgana. Am I to understand those dryads have
returned to sleep?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied with a monotone, almost whispering voice.
“Do you know when they’d wake up?”
“No, sir.”
“Did they show any disturbing or out-of-place signs following the two days after Operation Honeytrap?”
The coloration of their ‘hair’ was a bit weird, but the elves didn’t necessarily need to know about that.
“No, sir.”
“Have you received any contact from the Sandman?”
Crap, I completely forgot they wanted their shiny back! Well, I’ll take care of it later tonight.
“No, sir.”
“Very good, Decanus. Go get some rest and report to Primus Underwood first thing in the morning for
your next assignment.”
“Yes, sir.”
Keira stood up, gave a firm salute towards the empty seat and walked out of the room while practically
dragging her feet. Once she was out, Underwood frowned, crossed his arms and opened his mouth to
utter the same words as his deceased friend.
“... Have I mentioned I hate this-”
“That’s enough of that, Primus,” interrupted the Legate in a commanding tone.
“Apologies, sir.”
“Well, I’m with Underwood on this one,” said Vera. “Seeing that girl… it makes it hard to think of all
this death as just numbers. I mean - did we truly do the right thing?”
“Of course we did,” answered Drannor matter-of-factly. “If we had done nothing then we would have
lost countless more of our people. I may have been skeptical at first, but that girl’s actions have saved
the entire western front. If word spreads that Hylt trees could fight back against invaders, then the
Empire wouldn’t dare come near this fort ever again. With some luck, they might assume that all Hylt
trees were like that, and would be far more wary of them as a result. With some luck, they might even
hesitate to attack the Republic in the first place.”
The Legate nodded grandly in agreement, then turned his head towards Silus.
“Primus, can your Sandman contact lend us that orb again? Maybe obtain it permanently?”
“No, sir. He claimed the Elder Dryad’s Authority took a long time and a lot of effort to recharge, so it
wouldn’t be feasible to use it twice in the same season.”
“Are we sure he’s not just saying that?”
“As I explained before, sir, I had some people already examine the dormant crystal while it was in my
possession. They found out absolutely nothing about its construction or function, nor were they able to
make any sense of that chant. Worse still, even several days after it was used, there remained not a single
speck of mana in that thing. Most likely it’s the type of item that requires some ritual or rite before it
could be used.”
This conclusion was technically correct, but Underwood’s scholars had no idea that Elder Dryad’s
Authority simply ‘lent’ someone her mana. Said magical energy would return inside the sphere after a
week had passed, allowing it to be reused immediately. In fact, it was already glowing happily inside
Boxxy’s Storage. In other words the ‘ritual’ required was to simply wait for it.
“We could have held onto it and researched it more thoroughly, but none of my people were confident
they could do such a thing. Ultimately I decided securing that man’s cooperation was far more valuable
than clinging onto that vague potential.”
“I see,” said the Legate. “Considering the results, it’s hard to argue with that decision.”
The fact that this Sandman had taken out a VIP by himself was already worthy of praise.
“Still, I think it would be good to borrow it as soon as we can,” he added.

“Sir. For the record, I think that would be unwise,” chimed in Vera. “Even if we could trigger it, I doubt
any of us could actually use it.”
“What do you mean, Prefect?”
“Well, Faehorn said it himself, sir. That ‘Authority’ merely gives the user a warm welcome from those
dryads and establishes communication. But trying to convince them to take our side and slaughter our
enemy with very little to show in return? I don’t think that’s going to be easy.”
“... It would be rather difficult, wouldn’t it?” said the Legate after a brief silence. His memory of trying
(and failing) to interact with the green children over the past week was more than enough to support
Vera’s claims.
“Indeed. In some ways we - for the lack of a better term - lucked out that this fort was surrounded by
naive youngsters. And that a caring person was able to take charge of them and bring them over to our
cause. Even if it was a blunder. Trying that on an adult dryad… I can see it backfiring in a major way.”
“Yes, I see your point, Prefect. I shall take it into recommendation. Primus, what of the Decanus?”
“What about her, sir?”
“Will she be able to fulfill her duties?”
“Then this assignment you mentioned - are you planning to send her on a mission, sir?”
“Not exactly,” said the Legate while leaning forward, his elbows against the table. “While things have
more or less settled down on this side, the central front is struggling. They have been requesting
reinforcements, and I plan to send 3,000 of our troops their way. This includes the Decanus and her men
as well.”
“If I may ask, sir, why her specifically?”
“This Sandman business aside, she is still an excellent scout and Ranger. Although I am loathe to let her
go, the 2nd Legion desperately needs people like her to help defend the Rainy Woodlands.”
“I see…”
It wasn’t objectively speaking a bad idea. A soldier existed to fight during wartime and be vigilant when
the country was at peace. But that girl was hardly what one would call a soldier. She may possess some
ability, but her mental state was in question. Having someone around who could become a liability
would end up doing more harm than good when it came to Republic operations in that region.
“I believe it would be unwise to dispatch her immediately, sir,” answered Underwood. “Although
Faehorn’s… passing was doubtlessly quite hard on her, it isn’t the main cause of her current state of
mind. Regardless of her words at that time, it would seem she is having trouble dealing with the
consequences of her actions. She probably feels directly responsible for the death of all those Imperial
soldiers. Frankly speaking, only a monster would feel nothing after killing so many people, even if they
did so indirectly or were acting on orders.”
Those words alone meant that Boxxy had succeeded at one of its toughest challenges yet, although the
monster in question wasn’t around to hear them.
The Mimic had no trouble expressing sadness, happiness or anger, as these were things it experienced
firsthand. Xera’s demonstrations combined with its affection for shiny chests allowed it to flirt and act
like it cared for someone, albeit at a very basic and rudimentary level. Still, Keira’s obvious
inexperience with matters of love only made her seem more genuine and endearing in Rowana’s eyes, so
it actually worked out in its favor.
However, that shameless Mimic being burdened by a sense of guilt and remorse over something it had
done? Such a thing was impossible. Indeed, even though Clarissa the Goddess of Dice Rolls would say
there was a ‘non-zero chance’ of that happening, it was still far less likely than the the whole planet
turning into an incomprehensibly large cheese wheel overnight. Incidentally, in the unlikely event such a
thing happened, the resulting wheel would most likely be cheddar or gouda. Maybe camembert. Blue
cheese was right out.
Planetary dairy aside, feelings such as grief, remorse or guilt were so removed from Boxxy T.
Morningwood’s understanding that it hesitated to ask whether such things were actually tasty or not.
This made acting them out as Keira quite troublesome. Thankfully, it knew the theory behind what it had
to be doing since it read a book about that something-or-other. What was it called again? Post-Tastetastic
Shiny Disorder? Whatever it was, it taught the Mimic about the face it needed to make and the way it
should act, but no matter how much it practiced over the last few days, it always felt its performance
was unnaturally stiff and obviously artificial. It had avoided contact with the elves as much as possible,
but it was understandably worried about this debriefing.
“I see,” said the Legate. “Well, anyone could tell at a glance she was deeply troubled.”
And yet, Boxxy had succeeded in its ruse, despite it lacking confidence it could pull it off. The monster
had severely underestimated the power of Keira’s face that was the perfect combination of beautiful and
cute. Any man whose heart wasn’t moved after seeing her bright and innocent smile disappear had no
right to call himself a man. After all, as a certain Warlock once said - ‘Cute is justice!’ Then again, he
said quite a few nonsensical things such as ‘A flat chest is a status symbol!’ or ‘Yes lolita! No touch!’
but even a stopped clock was right twice a day.
“However, we want to send her there regardless of whether she’s ready to fight,” insisted Drannor the
strategist. “While she may be capable in her own right, this Sandman character is also quite valuable.
And for better or worse, he will only meet face-to-face with this Decanus. They’re a package deal
whether we like it or not.”
“You want to send him as well?” asked Underwood.
“Of course! I will admit I was sceptical about the dryads at first, not to mention I still don’t fully trust
the guy, but by all accounts his personal might is quite substantial. We would be fools not to take
advantage of someone who could kill a VIP in one-on-one combat if all he’s asking for in return is
money. We just need to make sure we maintain a cordial long-distance relationship and keep him from
getting too involved with the government and its citizens.”
“I understand. Then, would it be possible to at least give her some time to recover from her mental
distress?”
“Hmm…”
The strategist fell into thought as he considered all the variables. Ever the diligent one, Drannor made
sure to keep himself updated on the other fronts’ status, especially the central one. The Republic had
used the terrain and wilderness to slow the Empire’s advance through the area to a crawl. By his
estimate, the reinforcements that would be coming in from Fort Yimin would allow for a stalemate of
sorts, though that would take some time to happen. Once it did, however, introducing an unknown
element like that Sandman just might tip the balance in their favor. As for matters of time, they still had
about a month before winter truly began, then perhaps a dozen or so days before it froze the Empire in
their tracks.
“We can afford a week,” he concluded.
“Very good,” declared the Legate. “Primus, give the Decanus a week’s time to recuperate back at the
capital, then evaluate if she is fit for duty.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, let us move onto the next topic. Prefect, have we located Faehorn’s weapon, yet?”
While the deceased Ranger’s body was found and recovered, his trademark bow was still missing. It was
a superb item, even amongst its Artifact-grade peers. Considering who wielded it and what he had
accomplished with it made it valuable enough to be considered a national treasure.
“No,” answered Vera, “and it’s likely we won’t find it. We’ve already scoured the area around that tree
several times, but we’ve been unable to find any sign of it. Most likely someone has already looted it
during or after the siege.”
“Hmm, I see. Then I suppose I should request that the government put out a bounty for it.”
A Legate held a good deal of political power, so Aidun could get something like that handled post-haste.
“With all due respect, that would be a bad idea, sir,” said Underwood. “The item’s common appearance
means we’ll have a huge influx of frauds, scammers, or just people who confused it with a regular
weapon. Processing all those would put quite a bit of strain on the government’s clerks and Scribes.”
“Well that’s to be expected with any item bounty,” commented Drannor. “I’m more concerned with the
scenario where whoever took it is a ‘collector’ or had already sold it to someone like that in secret. Such
people are liable to go underground and cover their tracks when they find out the government is looking
for it. I think a covert investigation is a more prudent approach.”
“All of our spies are busy with the war, though,” argued Underwood.
“But if we don’t act now, the trail will just grow cold! Wait too long and we might lose it completely!”
“So, shall we appoint some of our drafted adventurers to track it down instead? Surely we won’t miss 30
or 40 people.”
“No! Doing such a thing has certain political ramifications that-”
The argument regarding the late Milo Faehorn’s weapon lasted for a long time. However, that particular
discussion, along with the decades of searching that followed, were all for naught. The Republic would
eventually have to give up on recovering the Artifact, and the ridiculous bounty for it would never be
claimed.
For the bow known as Enduring Gale, which was carved out of an ancient Hylt tree’s heartwood, had
already begun fusing with the branch it landed on by the time its last owner hit the ground.
Boxxy T.
Name Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress Name Level Pr
Morningwood
Doppelganger Blade
Species STR 619 LCK 217 Doppelganger 23 86% 20
(Juvenile) Dancer
Rogue
Sex N/A DEX 676 MNT 370 Mimic 50 MAX 13
(+)
Hidden
Guild END 847 PER 230 Warlock 50 MAX
Arrow
4854/4854
(+18.4/sec)
3863/3863
MP WIS 489 AFF 12 Ranger 30 10%
(+6.7/sec)
Skill List
Crystallize Agent of
Assassination 10 MAX 8 21% 1 MAX
Magic Chaos
Chant Essence
Storage 10 MAX 5 10% 1 MAX
Reduction Concealment
Cadaver Demonic
9 13%% 6 70% Shapeshift 13 14%
Absorption Insight
Biomass 12 58% Despair Aura 4 11% Stealth 10 MAX

Natural Armor 10 MAX Soul Link 3 64% Lockpick 3 55%
Metal Clockwork
10 MAX 5 34% Meditation 4 50%
Mimicry Expertise
Explosives Sword
Mend Flesh 10 MAX 4 93% 10 MAX
Handling Mastery
Adaptive Projectile
7 74% Deconstruction 3 49% 8 76%
Defense Mastery
Dagger
Acid Spray 10 MAX Tracking 4 27% 10 MAX
Mastery
Divine Ruin
4 10% Marksman 5 23% 12 19%
Attunement Mastery
Domination
Feline Agility 8 24% Whisper Wind 4 62% 8 11%
Mastery
Shield
Mirror Image 6 35% Fleet Footed 3 8% 10 MAX
Mastery
Pheromone Staff
5 41% Hunter's Mark 2 62% 5 81%
Control Mastery
Broken Bow
3 63% Hornet Style 4 52% 6 46%
Reflection Mastery
Puppet Adagio
4 68% 3 71% Axe Mastery 6 19%
Parasite Variation
Summon Winterlich Primal

10 MAX 3 31% 5 51%
Familiar Waltz Mastery
Power
9 91% Evasion 4 65%
Overwhelming
Chaotic
Demonology 7 65% 1 MAX
Disposition
Frostbite Dark Infusion Demonate Multishot

Dark Explosion Mind Blast Blast Arrow
Shadowbind Hysteria Shrapnel Shot
Singularity Mind Control
True Darkness
Massive Rejection
Reality Slash
Keira walked into Underwood’s office and gave him a dispirited salute.
“Decanus Morgana, reporting for duty… sir.”
She talked in a low, shaky voice and there were heavy bags under her eyes. She probably didn’t get any
sleep last night.
“Guh…” groaned Underwood.
As expected, seeing that relentlessly happy girl so extremely depressed tugged on Underwood’s
heartstrings. It was the kind of scene that made him want to hug and comfort her, tell her everything will
be alright. However, he kept such emotions in check as best he could. Not only was it highly
inappropriate, but he also knew full well she had a certain someone back in Azurvale who would be
more than happy to fill that role.
That’s why it pained him to say what he was about to say, but this too was part of his duty.
“Decanus. You have a very important mission today. You’ll be meeting with Mr. S again.”
Her tired eyes went wide and she shrank back a little.
“He’s not going to give me another weapon of mass slaughter, is he?!”
“No! Nothing like that!”
Silus wanted to comment on how an Elder Dryad’s Authority wasn’t technically a weapon in and of
itself. However, doing so would only hammer home the fact this girl was solely responsible for all that
death. The best he could do was reassure her with his words.
“What you’re fetching today is just an old heirloom that’s important to our ancestors.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure, yes.”
“So it won’t suddenly murder a lot of people for no reason?”
“Of course not. It doesn’t even hold any magical power on its own.”
On its own, huh? thought Boxxy. So that shiny amulet is part of something bigger? No wonder wearing
it didn’t seem to give me any special effects.
“Understood, sir!” saluted Keira with a bit more vigor in her voice. “I’ll get ready right away!”
“Hold up Decanus. You’re not going alone.”
“Well yeah, the typical escort will be there, right?”
“That’s true, but I mean there’s someone else who… demanded to come along.”
“... Does mister San- I mean Mr. S know about this?”
“No. He does not.”
Of course, Keira already knew the answer to that question. Underwood had said nothing about a ‘special
visitor’ over the Comm-crystal when they last spoke the day before yesterday, so she was just probing
for information.
“And he doesn’t necessarily need to,” he added.
“Sir?”
“The person in question wants to meet with the dryad in that tree, not Mr. S. A deal was made, and we
have to arrange that meeting to honor our side of it.”
“... And by ‘we’ you mean ‘me,’ right?”
“Yes. I know this is sudden, but the approval for that came late last night and I hadn’t been able to
contact Mr. S to let him know.”
Well, ‘Mr. S’ already knows anyway. I can handle that easily enough, though.
“This outsider’s presence is why we’ll be sending along some extra muscle along with the standard
dispatch.”
“I understand, sir. I’ll make sure not to bring shame to the 3rd Legion.”
“Very good. Gear up and meet with the escort south of the fort within 15 minutes. Dismissed, Decanus.”
“Yes, sir!”
Keira saluted once more and walked out of the room. And while she seemed to liven up somewhat
during the briefing, Underwood only saw it as a flimsy mask, a facade to reassure others she’s alright.
He let out a brief sigh and went to stare out the window that overlooked the still-bloodstained interior of
Fort Yimin’s walls.
“I should have told her we’re about to send her home…”
He briefly regretted not letting her know she’d most likely see her loved one before the day was out, but
he wasn’t completely sure what would happen beneath that tree to the south. It was best not to give out
false hope that might distract her from her duties. No, if anything, those duties were probably a
distraction in and of themselves.
He kept staring idly out of the window, losing track of time as his thoughts wandered. He snapped out of
it when he caught sight of Keira crossing the courtyard on her way out of the fort. A small smile spread
across his face. She stood out way too much with that shiny red hair of hers.
“Well, she’ll get better so long as she’s lively. I’ll just leave it to those guys to cheer her up a bit.”
Keira walked past the remains of the south-facing wall just as Underwood was returning to his duties. A
team of adventurers and soldiers were still clearing away the rubble and flattening the upturned soil. The
bodies and their equipment had been more or less cleared up by this point, and only ominous stains
remained. Once she was officially out of the fort, she immediately located her escort in the distance. It
wasn’t much of a feat since a platoon of fully-armed soldiers stood out like sore thumbs on the grass-
filled Clattering Plains.
The elven soldiers that were idly waiting about noticed Keira’s approach and instantly scrambled, lining
up into 3 rows. However, only about 30 or so of the original 50 were present. The others had most likely
died in the siege and had been replaced by new, unfamiliar faces. Boxxy made sure to make Keira look
even more glum as it approached the formation. The officer in charge of this particular platoon - the
same elf as before the siege - stepped forward and saluted.
“Decanus Morgana, ma’am. Permission to speak freely.”
It was strange that the elf who technically held a higher rank was speaking so formally to Keira, but the
catgirl decided to roll with it.
“Go ahead, Optio.”
The officer went down on one knee and bowed forward, putting both of his fists on the ground. Much to
Keira’s surprise, all of the other soldiers followed suit.
“Thank you.”
“Uhm! What?”
“If it wasn’t for you, we’d all be dead.”

Oh come on, really?! screamed Boxxy inwardly.
“But- But! Your c-comrades- And I-”
“We were all prepared to throw away our lives, ma’am.”
Did that Underwood guy make them do all this?
“It was your intervention that made the others’ sacrifices meaningful.”
And how come they pulled that pose off so flawlessly? Did they rehearse or something!?
“It also gave us, who were left behind, the chance to see another dawn.”
“The chance to meet our loved ones once again.”
And this long-ass speech, really?! Come on, I have shinies to acquire!
“And for that, we are all eternally grateful.”
Gah, what a pain! Now I have to act all moved and stuff!
Regardless of Boxxy’s inner annoyance, what actually came out of Keira’s mouth was-
“I… uhm… *Sniff* You’re very wel- *hic* welcome.”
The catgirl’s quivering lips curled into the first seemingly genuine smile she had shown since the siege.
She even wiped away a few tears and sniffled several times. Seemingly satisfied with that reaction, the
entire platoon stood back up on their feet and readied themselves for departure.
“The *hic* uhm. *Cough cough* Are the visitors here yet?” asked the catgirl while pretending to hold
back her fake tears of non-existent gratitude.
“Visitors, ma’am?”
“Yes. Mister Underwood said we would be escorting additional people to the meeting spot today.”
“First I heard of it, ma’am. Our briefing certainly didn’t say anything about it.”
“Apparently it was decided late last night. Very short notice.”
“Understood. Then is that them coming up behind you.”
Keira turned around to spot three figures moving up to them. On the right was the one-woman army
known simply as Hilda. Her armor still bore the scars of battle, but it was probably still more durable
than the standard issue Legion stuff. On the left was the High Elf Imiryl, whose face was painted with
the color of despair. A single look at her immediately gave the impression of ‘don’t wanna.’ Well, if she
was being forced to revisit that sadistic dryad’s domain, then her reaction was hardly a surprise.
What was a surprise, however, was the one in the middle. He stood at a height halfway between Kora
and a regular person. His dark brown skin had been covered in ritualistic bright yellow tattoos, which
were clearly visible since his large, chiseled chest was left bare. At least his lower body was covered by
a pair of cheap hemp trousers with various holes and stains, tied to his waist wit a rope in lieu of a belt.
His clean-shaven head dimly shone in the morning sun, while his bare feet made loud sounds with every
step as they flattened the grass underneath.
And the massive, rune-inscribed shackles and chains that bound his hands and feet made his status as a
prisoner crystal clear..
“Yo! How’s it hangin’ miss Merry Popper?”
Hilda raised a hand while shouting out a greeting with a casual tone.
“Miss Hilda!” shouted Keira indignantly. “Please stop using that embarrassing nickname!”
“Huh? But it fits ye so well! Especially after what ye did at the siege!”
Keira immediately became glum again.
“Yeah… that’s right isn’t it… I’m nothing but a monster…”
“Hilda, you blockhead!” shouted Imiryl-
*DONNN*
-right before striking the dwarf’s helmet with her staff.
“Oi! What’s the big deal, ye stuck up cunt!?”
“That’s my line! Please avoid upsetting miss Morgana any more than you have to! I really don’t want to
risk that… thing from lashing out at me just because the messenger wasn’t feeling well!”
“I would appreciate it,” spoke up the large man with a deep voice like melted butter, “if you refrained
from insulting the honorable lady dryad.”
“Honorable?! There’s nothing honorable- I mean! Yes! Of course! You have a point! I apologize for my
rash behavior!”
She bowed profusely and repeatedly to her own prisoner, who graciously accepted it with a light nod of
his head. It made many of the bystanders question whether she was really the best person for this job.
And indeed, she wasn’t, but standard protocol demanded that a high-Level prisoner had to be escorted
by at least two people of similar strength. Mostly to subdue him alive should he attempt to escape.
‘Alive’ being the operative word here. Otherwise a single one of them would be more than capable of
killing an MP-deprived, shackled and unarmed prisoner on the run.
“Uhm… who’s this?” asked Keira while pointing towards the black guy.
“Ah, that’s right ye wouldn’t know,” said Hilda. “This here is one of the Empire’s VIPs. His name is
Rocky and-”
“Ruk’lunda,” corrected the prisoner.
“If I say yer name is Rocky, then yer fucken’ name is Rocky!”
*CRUNCH*
The Berserker punched Ruk’lunda’s knee with all her idiocy-powered strength, causing him to fall down
and buckle over. The unpleasant sound it made, combined with the weird way his leg was bent, made it
quite obvious his kneecap was busted. And yet all the victim did was inhale sharply and groan under his
breath as he struggled to keep himself upright.
“Can’t get too soft on this guy. Needs to know his place an’ all that,” explained Hilda while shaking off
the traces of blood on her metal gauntlets. “Anyway, Rocky here, AKA the Black Tower, willingly
surrendered after those five ladies were done with their performance. He fed the higher-ups some sob
story about being deceived and losing his reason to fight us, then struck some kind of deal with ‘em.
And now we have to make sure he meets with Mr. S’s pet.”
“Do not refer to-”
*SMACK*
Rocky’s protests were cut short by a vicious punch to his other knee, forcing him to finally collapse to
the ground.
“That enough for ye, Rocky? Or should I start workin’ on yer ribs? You know I’m in the clear so long as
I don’t kill ye, right?”
“Hnnng. Point. Taken,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“See? Who says ye can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Anyway, that’s why we’re here.”
“I… see…” muttered Keira. She then turned her head to face her squad.
“You, you and you,” she pointed out towards 2 Priests and a Druid, “quickly heal the prisoner’s injuries
so he doesn’t slow us down.”
“Yes, ma’am!” they answered and started preparing healing and recovery magic.
“What? But how will he learn his lesson if you do that?” argued Hilda.
“Then I suppose you want to carry him the whole way?” she snapped back.
The dwarf looked over the towering pile of man and very rapidly came up with an answer.
“... Okay. Never mind.”

Her armor already weighed plenty, so she was not confident she had enough strength leftover to carry
that guy as well. ‘Rocky’ was healed up in short order and once again stood up on his feet. Imiryl then
somewhat reluctantly opened a Transfer Gate. Even Boxxy could tell her gates were of a different
quality and size than the ones her apprentices made. However, there was one slight problem.
“Miss Imiryl,” said Keira in a tired tone. “Please place us closer to our destination.”
The Hylt tree in question was technically visible on the other side of that portal, but it was so far away
that it would probably take them an hour to reach it on foot.
“... Yes, ma’am.”
The humbled High Elf closed the gate and opened another one. This one was about 200 meters from the
trunk, and was where she was supposed to open it in the first place. The platoon, the prisoner and the
two escorts all walked through it. Well, except for the person that opened it. She had to more or less be
dragged through it by the scruff of her neck by Hilda.
How come the prisoner is more willing to go than the person keeping an eye on him? questioned Boxxy.
Is she right in the head? No, that one definitely has a few screws loose.
After reaffirming its intent to stay as far away from that twitchy Wizard as possible, Boxxy took the
heavy coffer from the guy who usually kept an eye on it. Putting on a fake business-smile-but-not-really,
it went off towards the tall trunk by itself. What played out once it reached the base of the tree was the
familiar sequence of the tall, hooded figure dropping down from above, accepting the chest, handing
something over to Keira and disappearing back into the canopy. It was all consistent with the last few
visit, except for two details.
For one thing, the chest wasn’t filled with coins, but with gems, jewels, rings, sculptures and other
luxurious trinkets of no practical application, despite their a high price. Their combined value would
come out to about 12,000 GP, assuming one could pawn them off, but Boxxy had no intention of doing
that. Simply put, it already had plenty of money to spend, and while piles of gold coins glittered in their
own special way, it yearned for shinier shinies.
The other detail that was out of place was that, before he disappeared, the cloaked figure placed his
oversized, gloved hand on Keira’s head and roughly tousled her hair. She appeared to protest at first by
fidgeting and flailing her arms, but gradually calmed down and obediently let the Sandman stroke her
head while she looked at her feet. After about a minute of this, he took his hand off her, gave her a
thumbs up, and then ascended the trunk via the living vine that was waiting for him.
The platoon’s spotters finally calmed down, as it seemed that bit of physical contact was not as hostile as
it seemed. The Optio then received a surprisingly upbeat long-distance whisper.
“Mr. S says it’s okay to meet with the dryad. Bring the prisoner to my position.”
The instructions were relayed to the high-Leveled trio, who started walking toward the catgirl. Some
more willingly than others, but even Imiryl couldn’t act like a child forever. She had to face her fears
properly, or else she might not get past her trauma. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. The fact
Hilda flat out promised her she was going to bitch slap her into unconsciousness if she resisted any
longer had nothing to do with her newfound determination.
Regardless of their motivation, the thoroughly annoyed Stonekin dwarf, the quietly excited Ascended
human and the scared shitless High Elf soon found themselves standing opposite the obviously cheered
up Keira.
Hopefully that performance will get that guy off my case, thought Boxxy.
“So, uh,” spoke up Hilda, “where’s this plant lady?”
“Right behind you!” came Cyrilla’s gleeful voice.
“HIEEEEEK!”
Imiryl let out a pathetic scream as she immediately bolted away from the dryad that had appeared out of
nowhere. A small root popped out of the ground, making her trip and fall flat on her face.
“Hahahaha! That’s a great reaction you made there, cuntface!” said the mischievous plant lady. She then
held her arms out while wriggling her fingers in a suggestive manner. “Just makes me want to tease you
more!”
“Noooooo! Get awaaay! Oh, right! ... Flight!”
Finally remembering the existence of magic, the Level 100 Wizard bolted off into the distance. The rest
of the escort could hear a distant booming noise as she disappeared beyond the horizon.
“Oh fer the love of- What the shit has her so on edge?!” asked Hilda with an incredulous voice.
“Mmmm, well, she’s just afraid I’d have to repeat the 999 reasons to respect your elders.”
“999 what now?”
“Technically it was 1,000,” pointed out Keira with an innocent smile.
“Huh? 1,000?”
The dwarf racked the brains that haven’t managed to ooze out of her ears with all the headbutting,
allowing her to recall a certain scandalous rumour.
“Oh! Oooohhhh… Oh.”
“Anyway, this is the man I was talking about, miss Cyrilla.”
Keira pointed towards the towering Shaman that was almost twice her own height. His somewhat scary
face was stern and his eyes were locked onto the dryad’s vine-covered head.
“Hmmm? This loser’s the one, huh?” said Cyrilla mockingly. She then eyed the myriad of yellow tattoos
on his chest and arms, and gave him a few sniffs for good measure.
“Ah, fuck. Why’d you have to bring this prick here?” she complained. “I wouldn’t have come out if I
knew there was a bloody Shaman out here! Let me guess, he’s here to complete that Rite of
whatchamacallit, right?”
“Uh, hold on, there leafy!” spoke up Hilda. “What’s this Rite business about? Don’t think I wanna be
allowin’ somethin’ shady like that!”
“You ain’t in no position to tell me what to do, gramps!” snapped back Cyrilla.
“... Gramps?”
Hilda’s irritation turned to anger, which would usually translate into choppy choppy axey time.
However, nobody who had seen what happened at that Fort would dare even think of being hostile to
one of these plant ladies.
“Well, I don’t plan on agreeing on anything like that anyway,” continued Cyrilla. “I ain’t about to let
some - *spit* - human tell me what to do. Do you know what those jerks did to my little sister further
down south?! She hadn’t even gotten a chance to wake up before she got turned into a fucking house!”
She was referring to the preliminary force the Empire sent ahead to scout out and secure the surrounding
area. The ones that cut down a 70 year old hylt tree just to make their camp following the Republic’s
hillside ambush.
“Hm? What’s up with you, fuckboy?” said the dryad to the Shaman after calming down a little. “Why
you crying for no reason? Do you miss your mommy or something?”
And indeed, looking at the prisoner’s face, one could see tears freely flowing from his eyes, although his
face remained as serious as before. Then, in the flash of an eye, he went down on his knees and
prostrated himself before the green dryad.
“I am sorry!” he shouted with all his might. “I am sorry for what my countrymen did to your venerable
kin! Please, grill me, whip me, skewer me any way you like! I will atone for their sins with my own
body, so please!”
“Geh!”
The dryad adopted a disgusted expression and took a few steps back. In some ways this man appeared
far more dangerous than that blue demon with the large wings.
“This shit right here? This is why I hate you fucking Shamans! And your Druids! You guys are way too
fucking creepy whenever you hang around! Monster Tamers are cool though.”
“I beg of you!” he shouted some more. “Please let me make amends! For your sister to the south and the
ones to the north!”
“The north? Do I have sisters there?”
“Umm, yes, miss Cyrilla,” interjected Keira. “A group of 5 of them, actually.”

“Then, did something happen to them?!”
“One of them got burned a bit by a dragon, but we chased that bully away!”
“Oh ho! A dragon, huh? I see, I see, so it was a dragon. Uh-huh, that’s rather unexpected. Dragons don’t
usually show up around here, after all. I hope it wasn’t a yellow one.”
“Err, no. That one was green.”
“Ah, of course. A green one. Right, it has to be a green one, right? Mhm. Yep. Especially when you
consider the sun and the… uh… climate and stuff.”
Cyrilla nodded her head several times while cupping her chin, then turned around to face Keira with a
serious look.
“What’s a dragon?”
“...”
Before the catgirl could find the right words, a certain someone called out again.
“Please! I beg of you!”
“Ugh, can someone shut that guy up!”
“You got it, lady!” exclaimed Hilda before kicking him in the ribs with all her strength, breaking at least
a few of them the process.
“Geh! Koff koff!” he sputtered.
“Thanks, shorty.”
“Aye! Glad to be of service!”
“Anyway, those guys are already gone. My new mates took care of those pesky humans for me. Even
brought me back what was left of my precious unborn sister.”
“New mates?”
“Yeah. That guy with the heavy cloak. Well, he’s not around much, but his pets keep me company.
They’re teaching me all kinds of fun stuff!”
Keira was relieved she made sure to show only her Sandman shape in front of that girl. Dryads knew
very little of subtlety and subterfuge, so Cyrilla would probably spill the beans right here and now if she
knew Keira and the Sandman were one and the same. Still, this was a dangerous topic, so she decided to
shift the conversation away from it.
“So, these ma- friends of yours avenged your sister?”

“That’s right! Don’t need no fucking Shaman’s help! Those bastards always try to curry favor with me,
you know! Sometimes they hang around for months chanting some stupid words at me, but I just ignore
them and hide in my tree. They either get bored and leave or they die of starvation ‘cus they’re idiots.”
“There, you see mister Rocky?” said Keira with a smile. “No need to get so upset, okay?”
The squirming man on the ground merely gave her a nod in return. Truthfully speaking, the whole
reason he participated in this war was because he had been shown ‘evidence’ that the elves were
exploiting the sacred Hylt trees. But after witnessing the reckless action of that Monster Tamer’s pet
dragon, as well as the miraculous rate at which the tree recovered, he started having doubts if he was on
the right side of this war. Those doubts grew into suspicion when the SHUNK-ing started. His
connection to the soil allowed him to perceive movements that only the legendary existence known as
dryads could pull off. And if the trees themselves moved to defend the elves, then there’s no way they
were being mistreated.
And this meeting confirmed those suspicions. He didn’t know why he alone was spared from that
massacre, nor did he care anymore. One of the living testaments to nature’s perseverance and grace was
before his very eyes. Not only that, but she’d even shown to have become an ally of a sorts to these
elves. With this, he had no regrets in voluntarily spilling the beans about everything he knew about the
Empire. He was even willing to face his own countrymen in battle, but doubted the elves would be so
trusting of him.
“We done here, Rocky?” asked Hilda while looming over him.
He nodded his head in affirmation.
“Alright then, up ye go!”
The dwarf lent him her shoulder, although considering the height difference it wasn’t exactly a reliable
thing. Still, the two reached an awkward balance and started heading back towards the rest of the
platoon. Their ‘ride’ was gone so they’d probably have to go back to base the hard way after healing up
the prisoner’s ribs.
“Ah! We’ll be leaving now, miss Cyrilla!” said Keira with a smile. “Thank you for meeting with us!”
“Eh? He’s going away? Just like that?”
“Yup. Seems he just wanted to see you with his own eyes!”
“Oh. I see. Well, at least he knows his place.”
“Then, goodbye miss Cyrilla.”
“... Whatever.”
The catgirl waved to the dryad as she jogged to catch up with Rocky and Hilda. A gesture the dryad
unwittingly returned. Well, the important thing is at least that guy didn’t want to perform that stupid
Rite. She didn’t quite remember what it was called, but she was sure she almost got roped into it once
before, when she was younger and more naive. Of course she wasn’t about to just let anyone drink her
nectar just so they can gain some Perk. Just who do those upstarts think they are?!
Well, that tall and diligent person she met a few weeks ago was different. Even though he used her
mother’s Authority, he didn’t once presume to give her orders or make demands. He treated her with the
respect she was due, and performed a number of favors for her. He even taught her a few tricks about
handling various vermin all on her own. And all he asked in return was a quiet place for him and his
minions to lay low. This was the first time someone had actually helped her out while asking so little in
return.
It really was a shame only his pets were around lately. For if anyone had earned the right to sample her
nectar, it was the Sandman. And Cyrilla was more than a little eager to present her teats to him.
In the middle of a certain plaza in the Ishigar Republic’s capital city of Azurvale stood a stone archway.
The semi-circular structure was 20 meters wide at ground level and 8 meters tall at its highest point. Its
edge appeared to be made up of a large number of slabs hewed from white marble that fit together like
an elaborate puzzle. Several impossibly long vines coiled themselves around, running up and down the
stone, almost as if they were holding them in place. Which, given the lack of any mortar between the
marble slabs, may have been the case.
A foreigner who visited the city for the first time would most likely assume this was a monument of
some kind. However, this hypothetical tourist would be gravely mistaken, for while this archway was
indeed a landmark, it was by no means a monument. It wasn’t even one-of-a-kind. This structure, along
with the secrets of its construction, were just two of many things left behind by Tol-Saroth. An unrivaled
genius who lived long ago, and a name that was both hated and respected to this day. If any guests to
Azurvale were to hear of that archway’s somewhat dubious origins, they would immediately understand
why the people kept their distance. However, the presence of dozens of armed guards around it as well
as the 20 or so wagons lined up at the edge of the clearing surrounding it would remain mysteries to
them.
Well, at least until they actually saw it in action.
A quiet rumbling noise emanated from the ground. The archway started shaking and shifting, causing
the soldiers that maintained the perimeter around it to raise their guard. The gaps between those marble
bricks started glowing with an eerie green light. It began at both ends of the structure and steadily
climbed up its sides. Several seconds later, both trails of light met at the very apex of the overgrown
archway. The light coming from within it pulsed once, then twice, then thrice before going out
completely.
“Ah, crap. Not again…”
One of the guards cursed under his breath while rolling his eyes. He then walked over to suddenly
dormant archway that was as thick as himself and performed some percussive maintenance on it.
*FWOOOM*
The solid kick he gave it did the trick, and the structure suddenly lit up with a much brighter light than
before, along with a gentle hum. A few seconds later, the insides of the arch started filling up with multi-
colored apparitions that steadily settled down into shapes. It was almost as if someone was painting a
landscape on thin air.
“They should really have someone take a look at that,” grumbled the guard while returning to his
station. “This is the 5th time this month it stalled!”
Despite his complaints, the shimmering Forest Gate in front of him successfully established a
connection with its paired Gate hundreds of kilometers away. Looking through it from either direction
would reveal the scenery of a town that was vastly different from that of the city of Azurvale. This was
because its function was not too different than that of a Transfer Gate Spell, except the distance it
covered was much more than any mortal could achieve on their own. However, it could only be
activated once every two days and would stay open for only about 30 minutes. That’s why its operation
was strictly regulated by the government. Anyone wishing to use this marvel of magic was to purchase a
Gate Ticket in advance and would have to move in an orderly fashion once the Gate was open.
“Connection secure!” yelled one of the government workers towards the gathered carriages and
travelers. “Proceed forward in an orderly fashion!”
The mass of people and wagons started moving forward almost as one, following the directions of the
officials around them. Stepping through the gate would instantly transport them across the country,
while an entirely different set of travelers would come out of the other side of the glowing archway. This
was yet another feature unique to the Forest Gate. Normally speaking, Transfer Gates would create a
two-way link between two points in space, but this structure was able to sustain two simultaneous
passageways back-to-back. That way travelers could transfer both ways without bumping into each
other, or troops and materials could be sent in from both sides if needed.
The Forest Gate’s activity was quite the peculiar sight, all things considered. However, it was something
commonplace to the residents of Azurvale. The Republic used a system of dozens of such archways on a
daily basis, so it was no surprise that those who saw them in use regularly would become desensitized to
the sights and sounds. But even these jaded individuals would find themselves staring in its direction in
disbelief on this sunny afternoon.
A certain red-haired, red-tailed and cat-eared beastkin girl burst through the gate almost the instant it
had been opened. She dashed forward on all fours, crossing the large clearing around the gate in no time
flat. She approached the line of startled guards, who had reflexively moved to block her. However, she
just casually leaped over one of them while doing a front-flip.
“Hey Frank!” she called out while upside-down in mid-air. “Sorry, but I’m in a rush!”
She then landed with a small roll and kept running off into the distance. The startled guards watched her
leave out of curiosity, but gave up on chasing after her once they realized who she was. As if they could
forget the fuss she kicked up when she had to depart the capital through this very Forest Gate weeks ago.
First-timers were always a bit twitchy, but the individual named Keira Morgana was something else
entirely. They expected her to be excited, nervous or maybe even scared to pass through, but she defied
all logic by somehow being all three of those things at once.
Ultimately, they all silently agreed she wasn’t anyone suspicious. They’d all been notified this truly
unique individual had performed some great deed at Fort Yimin. Not to mention their colleagues on the
other side should have already verified her identity and such. The town on the other end of that Forest
Gate was closer to the front, so it naturally had a lot more security. All things said and done, trying to
block her in the first place was silly. Chasing after her was even more pointless. After all, their job
mostly involved to make sure people didn’t push and trip over each other, so running after a VIP like
that could be seen as abandoning their duty.
Their reluctance to follow the catgirl was most definitely not because they believed they had no chance
at catching her. This and that were completely unrelated.
As for Keira herself, she was currently sprinting through the busy streets while dodging people, running
along walls and leaping over stalls. Once she got closer to her home neighborhood, she stopped being
showered with cries like ‘Watch out!’ and ‘What are you doing, you psycho?!’ and was instead being
greeted with ‘Welcome back!’ and ‘Good to see you!’ These antics of hers had pretty much become
commonplace ever since she moved into that part of the capital, and the people who saw her acrobatic
performances had steadily grown fond of them. Although she seemed reckless at first, she never bumped
into pedestrians or knocked over anything. Rather than being a nuisance, her unrestrained and energetic
demeanor injected some life into these old roads. It was already at the point where people were starting
to miss seeing her run about with that pure, joyful smile on her face.
It didn’t take long for Keira to reach the front door of Rowana’s house, which she threw open with her
usual greeting.
“Honey! I’m ho...me?”
“...”
“...”
“...”
However, much to her surprise, Rowana was not alone. Inside the small and surprisingly tidy house was
a middle-aged elven couple that had the same brilliant silver hair as her. The three of them were seated
around the plain wooden table and appeared to be enjoying a spot of afternoon tea. At least until a
sudden ‘intruder’ barged in and caused them to stare at her in disbelief. The catgirl’s flushed and panting
face gradually calmed down in the awkward silence. Her wide grin disappeared for a moment, but was a
replaced with a more business-like smile right away.
“... Excuse me, I think I have the wrong house,” she stated matter of factly before trying to close the
door and run away. However-

The man leaped from his chair and tossed a small vial at the ‘outsider.’ Keira just barely ducked under
the container, which shattered against the Ironbark outside. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a sticky
yellow-brown fluid steadily eating through the Hylt tree’s notoriously tough exterior while letting out
some very untasty-smelling fumes. She turned her attention forward-
“Gah!”
-just in time to see another one flying directly at her, which she once again dodged by ducking under it.
“Are you trying to kill me?!” she snapped at him.
“Yes!” replied the male elf while throwing a third one at her.
“Waaaah!”
The catgirl jumped out of the way with a scream as the unknown potion destroyed part of the porch just
outside the door.
“Dad!” screamed Rowana. “Stop this at once!”
“Mwahahaha!” laughed the elf, seemingly ignoring his own daughter. “You fight well, but let’s see if
you can handle-”
*DONNNNN*
*CRASH*
His little speech was cut short by the other woman in the room, presumably his wife, smacking him over
the head with a black frying pan, forcing him to fall face-first into the ground.
“Calm down, dear,” she said with an angelic-yet-cruel smile. “Surely that’s no way to treat a guest.”
Surprisingly, the guy stood up immediately afterwards.
“That’s no guest!” he argued. “She’s a scoundrel - a thief! Who else barges into someone else’s home
with that sort of nonchalant attitude?!”
*DONNNN*
*CRASH*
The wife struck him again, much harder than the first time. She had hit him so hard that it caused the
floorboards his head landed on to break and crack while his feet went airborne for a few seconds. He
then went completely limp.
“Please forgive my husband, my dear girl,” said the wife while hiding the now-bloodstained kitchen
utensil behind her back. “He gets a bit excitable around new people.”
“... Um, okay? Well, uh, I’ll be going now…”
Keira jumped off the door she had climbed up onto and made to leave the house. Rowana had said she
wanted to hide their relationship from her parents until she felt comfortable enough to break it to them.
After all, her father was purportedly one of those people - the ones who didn’t approve of same-sex
couples. Therefore, the diligent Keira would not dare to break her promise to keep her ‘arrangement’
with Rowana under wraps.
However, she was once again stopped on her way out.
“You’re Keira, aren’t you?” asked the old woman in a calm voice.
At least this time it was through words rather than dubious alchemically-strengthened acids. The catgirl
stiffly turned around to face her with a quivering smile.
“Y-yes?”
“Oh my, how splendid! My name is Doris Slyth, and this rather hot-blooded gentleman is my husband,
Samulus. As you may have gathered, we are Rowana’s parents.”
“Err, good to meet you. Ma’am.”
“Likewise. But dear me, you really are a cutie, aren’t you?! Hohoho, as expected of Rowana’s new
roommate!”
The way she emphasized ‘roommate’ while winking at Keira made it quite clear she already knew of
their relationship.
“H-How did you…?” muttered Rowana wide-eyed. It would seem she did not miss her mother’s not-
too-subtle hint, either.
“Hohohoho! You shouldn’t underestimate a housewife’s information network!”
“... Lia told you, didn’t she?” asked the daughter with a tired look on her face.
“No, silly. That child told her father, who told his brother, who told his son, who told his cousin, who-”
“Okay! Okay, I get it!”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Slyth?” spoke up Keira while pointing at the unmoving man on the floor. “Is… is he
going to be alright?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, he’ll be fine! His little tantrums always leave him tired out and in need of a nap.”
Her face was still smiling, but the icy-cold stare directed at her unmoving husband could probably put
out a raging inferno.
“No, you clearly knocked him unconscious, didn’t you?!”

“Nonsense! As if my frail arms could seriously harm someone as sturdy as Samulus!”
“R-right. Of course, forgive me.”
“Well then-”
The old woman grabbed her husband by the collar and pulled his bloodied face out of the hole in the
floor.
“-I do believe we will be going now. Rowana, make sure you bring this adorable child along with you
when you visit us, okay? I believe the four of us have a lot to talk about.”
“... Yes, mom.”
“There’s a good girl.”
Doris gave her daughter a goodbye hug, then happily headed towards the front door while dragging her
still-unconscious spouse like a bag of rotten potatoes.
“Thanks for looking after my daughter,” she whispered as she passed by Keira, just before she closed the
door on her way out.
“So, um…” mumbled Rowana after a few moments of awkward silence. “Those were my parents.”
“Yeah…”
“And um… you’re back.”
“... Yes. I am. *sniff* I’m back, Rowieee!”
The catgirl literally leaped at the elf, wrapping her in a bear hug before she could even react. She pushed
her down on the table and gave her a long, deep kiss on the lips as tears ran freely from her face. A few
seconds later, she lifted her head up and stared down at the suddenly flushed Rowana.
“I’m- *hic hic* I’m home!” she declared with a half-smiling, half-crying face.
“Yes, yes you are!” replied her girlfriend while pulling her in for another hug, allowing the catgirl to cry
into her shoulder without restraint.
Eventually the two of them managed to disentangle themselves and get off the table. They then sat down
on the bed. The still sobbing Keira began pouring her heart out while Rowana did her best to comfort
her. The beastkin told her about everything. The supposed abuse she underwent at the hands of the
Empire, the imaginary guilt at being solely responsible for the death of thousands of people, the non-
existent grief at Faehorn’s passing, even her made-up unwillingness to return to active duty a week from
now.
Rowana didn’t say a single thing. She neither condoned nor praised Keira for anything she had done or
gone through. Instead, she resolutely took in all her woes and sorrows while doing her best to ease her
troubled mind. There was no doubt in her mind that Keira had gone through hell and back during the
month they had spent apart. In fact, she had more or less expected her to come back with these kinds of
horrible news.
But most important of all was the fact that Keira had returned to her safe and sound. The elf was even a
bit proud of the young catgirl. Both for making it through all that hardship and for willingly laying her
heart bare before her. Rowana could not erase the things that had happened, but she could still help her
distraught girlfriend come to terms with what had happened.
As for Keira-
Hmm, I guess about 15 more minutes of inconsolable crying should do it before we settle down and she
starts pampering me.
-it was business as usual.
After spending the rest of the day and most of the night ‘pampering’ each other, Keira silently
disentangled herself from Rowana’s sleeping embrace and went outside. She then summoned Xera, who
went inside to keep the elf from waking up. The nude catgirl ducked behind the house and assumed
Boxxy’s favorite chesty shape. It then quickly and stealthily climbed up the tree and entered Ambrosia’s
dungeon for the first time in a long while. The dryad herself popped up the instant it entered the main
chamber and greeted it with a beaming smile.
“Milord! ‘Tis good to see thee again!”
“Likewise.”
“I had no idea thou had already returned!”
“Ah, sorry about that. It happened a bit suddenly so I couldn’t tell you.”
“I beg thy mercy, milord! Thou need not apologize for it is this one who failed to anticipate milord’s
visit!”
“Enough of that,” it cut her off. “How goes your cooking training?”
“‘Twas hardly a bother, milord. I believe I have made a lot of progress, although it would appear thy
ingredients are beginning to expire.”
“Oh? How come?”
“I do not know, milord. Humans are especially foreign to me, so I have no idea. I just harvest their limbs
according to thy instruction, but it would seem they hath grown frail and stringy over the past month. I
do not believe they would make a satisfying meal in their current state.”
“Hmm. I’ll go check on them real quick. Stay here.”
“Yes, milord.”
Boxxy activated Nexus Access and transported itself into the area controlled by the dungeon core’s
Prison Management function. It was a large chamber that had no entrance or exit, making it impossible
to get in or out without using the dungeon core. Inside were the four human specimens it had captured
before its departure for the war, all of them chained and submerged into pools of green-tinted Waters of
Life. That way it could feast on their flesh and bones all it wanted without worrying about running out of
food.
However, just as Ambrosia had stated, they had grown frail and weak. Three of them were passed out,
while the last one seemed to have passed away. How did it come to this? The Mimic double-checked
that Prison Management was operating as intended and sustained their basic needs such as food and
drink through magic, so that wasn’t the problem here. Examining its ‘dinner donors’ more closely, it
noticed several unnatural symptoms. Their supple and well-muscled limbs were now almost literally
skin and bones. Additionally, their hair had turned white, their backs were hunched over, their faces
were wrinkled and their loose skin had become covered in various spots and lesions.
In short, they all seemed to have aged rapidly over the course of the last month.
This bizarre phenomenon was something the Mimic knew about. Apparently the Waters of Life, much
like Rejuvenating Potions, as well as other of the more extreme alchemical products, sapped the user’s
life force and reduced their lifespan. Meaning every time the dryad harvested a part of their bodies for
her cooking practice, the forced regeneration caused them to age unnaturally. But still, to make all four
of those youngsters into crippled old men and women - just how many times did she cut them apart? No,
considering her somewhat zealous personality as well as how she needed neither sleep nor rest, it was
surprising that only one of them had died.
Having confirmed all of this, Boxxy transported itself back to Ambrosia’s side.
“Seems they are suffering from the side effects of those Waters of Life,” it stated matter-of-factly. “Can’t
be helped. Dispose of those things, and I’ll get some replacements soon.”
“Understood, milord,” said the dryad with a bow. “I shall endeavor to prepare a meal worthy of thy
tastes at that time.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it! Now, I have some business to attend to.”
“... Of course,” she said with a somewhat dissatisfied scowl on her face.
Boxxy wasn’t sure what brought this on. It always made sure to treat the dryad amicably since the
strength of the dungeon core’s hold on her was still uncertain. Antagonizing or displeasing her was
something it wanted to avoid. And yet she was obviously pissed off about something.
“Ambrosia? Is something the matter?” it asked in a concerned tone.
The dryad’s displeased face twisted into a disdainful look. One that completely looked at her supposed
liege as if it were a piece of trash.
“Milord, thou have been fooling about with mine daughters, have you not?”
“I asked for their help and kept them company, but I didn’t do anything to them.”
Other than making them murder a ton of people and possibly causing a mutation…
“Then why does though reek of some other dryad’s nectar?!”
“Oh, that?”
Prior to its departure from Fort Yimin, Boxxy had dropped by Cyrilla’s place to pick up a few things it
had left behind. Once the dryad understood that the ‘Sandman’ was about to leave, she eagerly offered it
a drink of what she called ‘nectar.’ Not willing to turn down something that had such a tasty-sounding
name, it readily took her up on that offer, prompting her to pull down her leafy bra and present her
nipples to it.
The Mimic was a bit surprised to find out dryads had such things underneath those leaves. How come a
plant had teats? Or rather, how come they had breasts in the first place? The more it thought about it, the
less sense a dryad’s nubile body made. Then again, they were supposedly blessed by Nyrie herself, so
this was probably just how the power of the Goddess of Fertility manifested itself.
As for the nectar in question, it was watery and vaguely sweet. The flavor was not exactly to Boxxy’s
liking, but the Perk it got from it was quite tasty all the same.
Nature’s Bounty
Description: Becoming one with nature is a privilege, not a right.
Requirements: Drink at least 200 ml of Hylt Nectar.
Effects: Increases maximum HP by 3 for every point of the AFF Attribute.
Provides a permanent boost of +25 AFF.
However, the exact reason why Ambrosia had an issue with this was outside the Mimic’s understanding.
“Yes, that!” she insisted.
“Well, one of the dryads I met offered and I thought I’d give it a try.”
That seemingly harmless answer only made the elder dryad angrier.
“If milord wanted nectar, then I would have gladly given thou all that I had!” she blurted out while
stomping her foot. “Thou had me at thine disposal, and yet thou went after some young floozy instead?!
Milord is truly despicable!”
She ended her indignant tantrum by rapidly sinking into the ground and disappearing from sight. That
little display taught Boxxy two very important things. The first one was that, just as it had suspected, the
dungeon core did not have complete control over a being as powerful as Ambrosia.
The other, more troublesome realization, was that dryads were apparently capable of jealousy.
Ambrosia was lying back in an armchair made out of vines and leaves. She had an utterly content smile
on her face, while a child-like, black-skinned, yellow-eyed humanoid was sitting in her lap and suckling
from her breast. Boxxy was somehow able to lie, excuse and apologize its way back into her good
graces, but only under the condition it drank all of Ambrosia’s nectar. The dryad had, for whatever
reason, also demanded it do so in its base form, which was why it had to somewhat regretfully abandon
its chesty visage. Not to mention it had better things to do than waste its time on being nice to a
vegetable.
However, any and all misgivings it had with the arrangement disappeared the moment its vertical mouth
latched onto the dryad’s left nipple. The nectar that flowed from Ambrosia’s impractically large
mammaries was completely different from the unripe stuff it got out of Cyrilla. The flavor was
intoxicatingly sweet and tasty, to the point where it nearly rivaled the delicacy that was a fresh human
heart. It was so thick and rich that Boxxy subconsciously tried to chew on it. Not only that, but it also
satiated both the Mimic’s thirst and hunger at the same time. It also served a practical purpose as well.
A special action has been performed. AFF +1.
Such notifications popped up every now and then, but Boxxy failed to pay them much attention. All that
mattered was the heavenly golden liquid pouring down its gullet at alarming speeds. It gushed out of
Ambrosia’s incomprehensible breasts with a steady stream that showed no sign of running dry no matter
how much Boxxy chugged.
Actually, just how much of this stuff was in there!? The Mimic had already consumed at least 20 liters
of the stuff! Realizing something strange was going on, Boxxy decided to ask the dryad herself.
Boxxy: Ambrosia?
Without letting go of that nipple, of course.
“Is something the matter, milord?” she answered with a blissful smile.
Boxxy: I know I said I’d drink all of your nectar, but just how much of it do you have in
there?
The dryad tilted her head and looked around the spacious cavity inside her trunk. It was so tall that the
Mimic couldn’t even see the ceiling.
“Hmm… Enough to fill half of this space, I guess?”
“You what?!” shouted Boxxy.

That answer was so ludicrous that it unintentionally let go of her nipple while looking up at her, causing
her boob to jiggle slightly in response. There was no way this vegetable’s absurd words were fact, right?
No, such a thing was more than likely considering the one who casually made that claim was this
anomalous creature.
“That’s only the left one though. The right one is actually slightly fuller!” she proudly declared,
completely shattering all versions of Boxxy’s common sense.
“Nononono, this is impossible!” it complained. “Just where are you keeping all that stuff?! No, more
importantly than that - there’s no way I can drink that much at once! I’d drown in it!”
“I am well aware of that.”
“... You are?”
“Of course. Even I realize such a thing is impossible. However, I never said thou had to drain mine
bosom in a single sitting.”
“Oh. Right.”
Come to think of it, it wasn’t like she gave the Mimic a deadline or anything like that. In other words-
“As long as milord samples mine nectar at regular intervals, then I shall forgive thy transgressions,” she
said with a coy smile.
“I see. That’s fine, then,” replied Boxxy, much to Ambrosia’s delight.
It’s not like it was against this arrangement. Not only was that nectar one of the tastiest things to ever
cross its tongue, but it also steadily increased its AFF, which in turn increased its HP due to the
associated Nature’s Bounty Perk.
“However,” it interjected, “please keep in mind I am a busy box. I may have to be away from the city for
weeks, maybe even months at a time.”
“Understood, milord. In such cases I shall make sure to prepare plenty of mine nectar for thy return.”
“... What do you mean ‘prepare?’”
“I am constantly making nectar, milord. ‘Tis a slow and arduous process, but worry not, for I have
copious amounts of it at hand.”
Ambrosia then lifted a ludicrously proportioned boob in each of her slender hands as if to make a point.
Now that Boxxy was looking at them both, it realized that the left one it had been working on seemed to
have actually grown slightly larger. Well, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it doubted whether it
would ever truly drain her breasts of that tasty stuff. On second thought, it didn’t really need to go that
far. It just had to keep her complacent until some circumstance or another forced them to part ways.
Until then, she would serve as both a loyal guard dog and a source of near-limitless tastiness. Not to
mention it wouldn’t need to murder people in order to feed itself.
It would still go out and hunt for them, though. Boxxy had an itch at the back of its throat that could
only be scratched by fresh meat dripping with blood. Not to mention that growing too reliant on the
dryad was not a good thing. It also had to make sure this nectar of hers didn’t have any addictive
properties like that psychoactive Honeydew stuff. Hylt sap was supposedly one of the main ingredients
of that drug, so it wouldn’t be strange if prolonged consumption of nectar had some side effects.
“I see,” said Boxxy after putting its thoughts in order. “Then, is this enough for today?”
“Mmm, it’s never enough, milord,” she said with another coy smile while licking her lips.
Is… Is she seriously coming onto me,? it realized. Why? How? What?! Charlie-dammit! These dryads
are all insane!
This rather harsh assessment was coming from a murderous box that caused an average of 1 massacre
per month without so much as batting an eye. However, whether that invalidated or strengthened
Boxxy’s opinion on the matter was in the eye of the beholder. Which was unfortunate, because there
wasn’t a beholder around to give a final verdict. Ambrosia’s mental health aside, the Mimic excused
itself from her lap and quickly transformed into its favorite spider-chest form. Honestly speaking, it had
gotten so few opportunities to use it lately that it was starting to feel nostalgic. Therefore, it decided to
stop what it was doing, get comfortable and just relax for a while.
After chesting around for a good hour or so, Boxxy finally got around to doing the thing it decided on
doing ever since it returned to the dungeon. It used Nexus Access to teleport to a random wall in the
upper reaches of the cavernous Hylt tree’s cavity and activated Terrain Sculpting. First, it carved a huge
room into the timber surface, with the dryad’s permission of course. It then flattened the floor until it
was smooth enough to slide on and created a square hole that was 25 meters long on each side and 4
meters deep. Finally, it used the dungeon core to create a dozen or so magical lamps and attached them
around the floors and ceiling, illuminating the area from multiple angles. Those were not of any practical
use, but then again, their purpose was hardly what one would call ‘practical.’
Once Boxxy was satisfied with the site, it opened its Storage as wide as it could and began evacuating its
contents into that wooden pit. Countless golden coins flowed out like a river. Precious gems and jewels
glittered beautifully in the light. Decorative weapons and armor forged out of precious metals were
buried under the avalanche of money. Hundreds of valuable miscellanea such as ornaments, plates,
statues, trinkets, crystal shapes, magic staves, even that solid gold skeleton and the cursed goblet that
created it kept piling into the huge pit.
Watching the remaining empty space filled the Mimic with both longing and motivation. After all,
Boxxy’s vision of a treasure room would not be complete until it filled this pit to the point where it was
positively overflowing with shinies. And once that was done, it would merely make another room. And
then a third, a fourth, a fifth, and so on and so forth.
However, at that moment in time Boxxy didn’t have nearly enough treasure to fill up the first room, let
alone a second. The respectable hoard it unloaded just now was its entire collection - everything even
remotely shiny that the Mimic had picked up on its travels - ended up filling barely a quarter of the pit’s
capacity. Well, truth be told, it didn’t throw literally all the shinies in there. It still held onto items of
critical importance that it needed to have easy access to, such as the Voidcaller staff or Keira’s rapier and
rings.
As for why the greedy monster took the time to create this space in the first place - well, it had two very
good reasons. Number one was because its Storage was sizable, but not infinite. The Skill’s 1,000 cubic
meter capacity was getting dangerously close to being completely full. If Boxxy didn’t do something
about it, it would eventually find itself being forced to choose between throwing away either shiny
things, tasty things, or useful things in order to make room for new things. This was a choice it really did
not want to make. The obvious solution was to deposit the vast majority of its inventory somewhere that
was secluded, secured against intruders and was guarded by someone it was absolutely sure would not
rob it blind. And the only place that met its criteria was the dungeon known as Dryad’s Domain.
The second reason for its actions was something far simpler. It had nowhere else it felt was safe enough
to let go of its worries and enjoy its collection to the fullest. And now that the dryad was more or less
pacified and had returned to doing tree things, Boxxy gleefully jumped into its predominantly golden
hoard and started wholeheartedly playing with it. It dug as deep into the pile as it could, almost as if it
were swimming. Enveloped completely on all sides by glittering shiny things, feeling both their weight
and touch with its entire body - it was bliss. The Mimic always dreamt of taking a literal golden shower,
but later realized that pouring molten gold onto shapeshifter flesh would probably kill it. Ultimately it
had to settle for a money bath like this one, but the result was extremely satisfactory. It just wished the
alluringly shiny Fizzy was around to serve as a centerpiece, but the golem had already been redeployed
to the central front.
After convincing itself that the absence of that exquisite mithril existence couldn’t be helped, the Mimic
resumed rolling around in its ill-gotten gains. It juggled rubies, wore various bits of gilded armor for no
reason, made forts out of gold coins and relentlessly dragged its tongues along anything in reach as if to
mark it as its own. It even filled its mouth cavity to the brim with gold and jewels, then just sat still for a
while as it savored the satisfaction acting a true treasure chest for once.
Somewhere along the way it got the notion of ‘bathing’ in a mixture of gold and nectar. However, it
wasn’t sure what that potent liquid might do to its precious shinies. Permanently tarnishing or otherwise
damaging them would be a terrible shame, after all. It would need to run a few experiments to determine
if the long-term effects of that nectar on both itself and its shinies, but it didn’t have to do that right
away. It was currently preoccupied with frolicking around like a child surrounded by a sea of toys.
“Master, are you not going to return to the house?”
Snack’s sudden telepathic communication put a serious damper on Boxxy’s mood.
“It’s too early for that,” it declared with an annoyed tone.
“But Master, it’s already dawn. Isn’t this normally-”
“Wait, what?!”
Boxxy quickly dug through the treasure pile until it found that silver-plated clock it stole from the
pawnshop and confirmed it was indeed early morning. According to this, the Mimic had been fooling
around for a good 4 hours already, and not 30 or so minutes as it had thought initially. Boxxy had heard
on several occasions that ‘times flies when you’re having fun,’ but it failed to comprehend its meaning
until right at that moment. This was somewhat a problem, as the Mimic didn’t feel like getting back to
‘work’ in the slightest.
But I don’t wanna leave! Just look at all the shiny things! And Ambrosia can just give me that tasty milk
of hers whenever I want it! This is bullshit!
It silently grumbled to itself, but it knew better than to allow itself to sink into depravity and
complacency. The world was full of incomprehensible threats, and it had to make sure it was powerful
enough to either fight them off, or at the very least flee from them. Preparation was one of the most
important aspects to survival, so slacking too much now was sure to catch up to it eventually. It had to
keep developing all of its Jobs - Doppelganger, Warlock, Artificer, Ranger and Blade Dancer. Those
were its weapons, and honing and sharpening them had to be a top priority. Well, it also had to get rid of
the Rogue Job and look for a way to get rid of the Cat Job. Not to mention that having Keira suddenly
disappear without a trace would throw months of work down the drain, and it really hated the thought of
that.
“Snack, prepare for transfer. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Yes, Master.”
Boxxy mournfully climbed out of the golden pit. It then meticulously collected the bits and pieces that
had spilled out of its playpen and placed them back inside. The Mimic then lovingly reclaimed several
handfuls of gold coins to use as spending money. Finally, it used Terrain Sculpting to completely seal the
Treasure Room and casted Transfamiliar, finding itself inside Rowana’s house. It quickly morphed into
Keira and lay down next to the unsuspecting girl, waiting patiently for the sulfur-like smell of that Spell
to dissipate before waking her up. Otherwise the shapeshifter ran the risk of the elf’s unnaturally
sensitive nose picking up on it. Thankfully, it was the byproduct of magic, so it only took about a minute
for that incriminating scent to disappear completely. Boxxy closed its eyes and took a few deep breaths
as it mentally prepared itself to assume Keira’s persona.
The catgirl’s bright yellow eyes flew open and her scowl instantly became a bright smile. She pulled
Rowana into a tight hug while tenderly kissing her neck and stroking her naked back.
“Mmmh…” moaned the elf as she gradually woke up. “Huh? What’s- Oh, Keira!”
Rowana had momentarily forgotten that her girlfriend was no longer away.
“Hehehe, good meowrning Rowie!”
“Good morn- Hey! Watch it! That tickles!”
“I can’t help it! Rowie is too soft and warm! Especially this part of you!”
“Hahn! C’mon sweetie! It’s far too- Nngh! -early for that sort of thing!”
“Why? Do you have somewhere else you’d rather be?”
“W-well, no, but-”
“Then it’s settled!”

Following Keira’s declaration, the two of them fooled around for a few rounds before finally making it
out of bed. Rowana got busy preparing breakfast while her girlfriend incessantly clung onto her from
behind. It would seem that as much as she missed the catgirl, Keira missed her ‘Rowie’ even more.
Eventually they settled around the table and started eating.
“Good to see you’re feeling better,” commented the elf.
“Yeah well, I had a lot of people try to cheer me up. They helped a bit, but Rowie is the absolute best
after all!”
“Fufufu, I’m glad.”
Even if Rowana said that with a smile, she still wasn’t convinced Keira was really okay. Not only was it
impossible to recover from all that trauma in a few days, but the catgirl was acting a bit more reserved
than normal. If it was the old Keira, then the two of them would probably still be rolling around the bed
and staining the sheets.
“So… any plans for today, Rowie?” asked the beastkin with an expectant glint in her eyes.
“Ah, uhm… I… kinda have to go to work…”
“Oh…”
“I’m sorry, love. I just… you showed up so suddenly that I didn’t get a chance to-”
“I’ll be fine, Rowie,” said Keira reassuringly. “I have some things to do and… I think it might be best if
I did those on my own…”
“Alright. Just… You know you’re not actually alone, right?”
“Of course I do.”
The two of them shared a light kiss before returning to their plates in relative silence. The unasked
question regarding visiting Rowana’s parents hung over the elf heavily. It wasn’t like her mother
specified when and where, so she one-sidedly decided to put it off until Keira was back from that stupid
war for good. If she was going to run the risk of being disowned or maybe even run out of town, then
she wanted to be sure the two of them had a future together. That, and the thought of confronting her
temperamental father was extremely frightening, even if her mother was an ‘ally.’
Once breakfast was done, Keira got dressed in casual clothes, put on a thick coat, threw the heavy
leather bag she brought with her yesterday over her shoulder and went to leave the house. Rowana
scolded her, reminding her that it was cold out and she should stop walking around barefoot, but the
beastkin insisted she would be fine. They had a slight argument, but ultimately the catgirl left the house
wearing a spare set of the elf’s boots.
First things first, Keira dropped by a few places and shops mostly to say ‘hi.’ She also made sure to let
Lia’s father know that his daughter was still safe and sound, at least for the moment. Afterwards, the
catgirl swung by the Hidden Arrow guild’s headquarters to drop off a ceramic jar containing Faehorn’s
ashes. Condolences were passed around and she was informed the funeral ceremony would be held in
the day after tomorrow, which she obviously promised to attend.
Having fulfilled her obligations, she dropped by Fizzy’s guild - the Hammers of Horkensaft - where she
put in an order for Artificer parts and tools on the golem’s behalf. Leaving the Central Consortium
behind, she made her way towards a guild-recommended fletcher’s shop and put in an order for a new,
lightly enchanted shortbow and 1,000 steel-tipped arrows. After that was settled, she dropped by the
leatherworker next door, where she was measured for a new set of gear that would keep her warm during
the harsh winter. She also made a point to immediately purchase some cute boots for herself since
Rowana’s didn’t fit her right.
As for the expenses involved, Keira had received both a regular salary as a soldier and a stipend for her
exceptional performance. She officially had more than enough money to afford all that stuff, not to
mention her guild membership sometimes got her a discount. Therefore, not only was shopping in that
form perfectly acceptable, but it was also more convenient.
The final stop on the catgirl’s shopping spree was a magic item emporium. There she bought a short
brass wand that could be used by anyone to easily start a campfire, as well as an amulet that provided
10% cold resistance. The purpose of these items was not to act as a cover for Keira, but to actually help
combat the incoming winter. Acting aside, that season’s supposedly deadly temperatures were a genuine
concern for Boxxy. It had never been in a situation where it was subjected to extreme weather
conditions, so it wasn’t sure how well its body could handle them without magical assistance.
After the shopping was done, Keira once again dropped by the inn run by Lia’s family for a late lunch.
The food was supposedly worse and more expensive than an actual restaurant, but being surrounded by
familiar faces and steadily earning Doppelganger XP was more important. After chatting about
inconsequential things while eating her fill, Keira went on a long walk around the capital. Eventually,
she came to a small and rather desolate park. The autumn season had already made the various trees lose
most of their leaves, although the stubborn Hylt canopy far overhead was still the same luscious green it
always was. The catgirl smiled solemnly to herself, sat down on one of the benches and began staring
off into the distance, well beyond the horizon.
Strictly speaking, Boxxy’s behavior throughout the day was quite odd considering its true nature.
Usually it would have ducked into an alley or sewer before sneaking off back to the dungeon, where it
would indulge in either relaxing or tinkering in peace. Either that or it would have hunted down some
homeless people due to various reasons, maybe even perform some petty theft on the side. In short,
sitting alone in a windy park while seemingly contemplating something was not something this man-
eating monster would ever want to do. However, this ‘normal’ behavior was perfectly in line with
Keira’s personality and circumstances.
Which was exactly what Boxxy wanted to show the two people that had been tailing it since morning.

Boxxy noticed it was being tailed at around the time it was exiting the magic item emporium. It realized
that a certain pair of elves were always hanging around outside the various places it visited as if they
were waiting for it. Of course they did their best to blend in with the background or keep out of sight,
but could not evade the mimic-grade MLG inside Keira’s chest cavity. One of them appeared to be an
adult male with a painfully average face and short, dark green hair that was extremely common among
the elves. The other was a young girl on the cusp of womanhood, who appeared to be just as bland and
unremarkable as her partner. To top it all off, both of them wore dull-colored casual clothes, much like
Boxxy’s current outfit.
And yes, they were most definitely working together. Even if they kept a good distance between
themselves and their target, the identical set of flasks and weapons they kept hidden beneath their coats
were a dead giveaway. The utter lack of any badges or identifying papers was a sign they were most
likely not part of the FIB like Underwood. Meaning they were either enemy spies or belonged to some
underground organization.
The highly suspect pair kept following the seemingly oblivious catgirl around the city, no matter how
many seemingly random turns she took. Keeping track of them was a bit tricky at first since they
intermittently went in and out of the MLG’s range. Boxxy solved that problem by ducking into a random
lavatory on its pointless post-lunch hike and using Voidcaller to quickly and (relatively) quietly summon
Drea. Since then, the Mimic continued being tailed by the elven duo, who were in turn stalked by the
Stalker, who fed information regarding their actions and whereabouts back to her master.
That’s how Boxxy found itself in the current situation, sitting in a desolate park on an overcast day,
while staring off into the distance. According to Claws, the two elves were hiding behind some trees and
bushes a few meters outside the MLG’s range. Based on what both the demon and the Mimic had seen,
those two were very skilled at infiltration and stealth. Since a direct confrontation was unlikely to be
fruitful, the Mimic decided on preparing a chance for them to strike. Of course, this move still held an
element of danger. After all, trying to deduce their actual Jobs or Levels based on sight alone was
impossible. At the very least they appeared to be far too young to be higher than Level 65 or so.
Boxxy wasn’t just guessing when it made this estimate, though. Most combat-oriented Jobs saw a
drastic decrease in growth once they approached that Level, mostly due to a lack of worthy prey. Indeed,
finding a monster whose Level was over 50 was easier said than done. And even then, this would most
likely be a Ranked Up individual like Boxxy, which meant that a whole team of similarly-Leveled
adventurers would be needed to take it down safely. Which, in turn, meant that the XP for defeating it
would be split up amongst the participants. But not only was the Mimic well above those Levels, but it
also had Drea for backup. That’s why it was fairly certain it would easily triumph if it fought for real.
The problem was that doing so might compromise its disguise. Even if this park didn’t appear to have
any people in it right now, there was no guarantee that there would be no witnesses. Not to mention that
whatever organization these two belonged to might grow even more cautious if two of its members just
up and disappeared. In the end, Boxxy decided it would play along with their schemes for a while. At
least until it felt its life was actually in danger, of course.
Which was why Keira, who was leaning back on the wooden bench with her arms crossed, steadily
began to nod off. Her head drooped and her eyes closed, and she let out a light snoring noise. If her
pursuers maintained their position, then their goal was most likely not the catgirl herself, but one of her
acquaintances or contacts. However, this was clearly not the case, as the man began warily approaching
her after a few minutes while the girl kept an eye out for any witnesses. She even checked the cloudy
sky and bare branches above her for abnormalities. Just the fact that she looked up seemingly out of
habit marked her as someone experienced.
Well, she still failed to spot Drea who was clinging to the side of a nearby tree, but she could be forgiven
for that. Even the Stalker’s master had difficulty tracking her down if she got serious.
The beastkin kept snoozing quietly as the elf crept closer and closer without making a sound, likely due
to the Stealth Skill. He reached into his coat and pulled a strange cylindrical flask from it, but its
contents were more gaseous than liquid. It was quite obvious he intended to spray his quarry with some
dubious substance, likely to knock her out for a while. After all, if he meant to kill or harm her, he would
instead reach either for the dagger strapped to his thigh or one of the small knives on the back of his belt.
When he was about 2 or 3 meters away from Keira, however, the man failed to notice the dry twig
hidden underneath the grass and fallen leaves.
*CRACK*
He stepped on it, producing an audible sound that the Stealth Skill could not eliminate.
“Zzzz…. Hm!?”
There was no way a Ranger of Keira’s caliber would miss that auditory anomaly. She ‘woke up’ and
instantly stood from her seat while turning around. Her wide-open eyes beheld the clearly suspicious
individual for a few tense moments before she spoke up.
“Do you have business with me?!” she asked in a rather aggressive tone.
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that you really shouldn’t be sleeping at a place like
this. You’ll catch a cold, you know.”
His instant reply and casual tone would have probably fooled most people, but Keira had grown more
wary and suspicious of her surroundings during her deployment. The catgirl’s eyes darted up and down
the man, scanning for any visible hints that he was spouting bullshit.
“Is that so? Then what about that thing sticking out of your coat pocket?!”
The alchemical spray he was holding earlier had been hurriedly stuffed in there. However, the elf failed
to account that the container was too big to fit properly.
“Oh this?” he said while pulling out the item in question. “It’s just a little something for self defense in
case muggers or other unsavory types show up. Can never be too careful, you know? Especially during
these turbulent times.”
“My thoughts exactly!”
The catgirl’s ears twitched slightly, after which she abruptly rolled to the side. She just barely dodged a
thrown knife covered in some suspicious liquid. It ripped her her coat’s shoulder, but failed to scratch
her skin. While the man was occupying her attention with his words, the girl had snuck around to her
side and tried to ambush her with that ranged attack.
“Master, can I eat her up?!” asked the Claws with more than a hint of anticipation.
“Not yet. Remain on standby until I say otherwise.”
The male didn’t lose any time and reached for his dagger, which was also coated in the same blue-ish
stuff as that knife. He dashed forward and slashed at the catgirl’s side, but she stepped closer to him and
caught his outstretched arm by the wrist. She made note of the above-average force behind that blow and
grunted a bit, then slashed at his clenched fist with the claws on her free hand. The man let out a yell of
pain as he dropped his weapon while blood gushed out from his nearly dismembered fingers. Keira
snatched the blade before it fell to the ground and created some distance between them. She put the
dagger in her mouth and clung onto the handle with her teeth, before dropping down on all fours. The
catgirl then turned tail and started running away in a zigzag pattern.
However, she had just barely started escaping when both elves unleashed a flurry of throwing knives.
Most of those missed, but one was allowed to embed itself in Keira’s thigh.
“Aaargh!”
She screamed out in pain and fell to the ground, dropping the dagger in the process. She tried to get up
and continue running, but her leg didn’t seem to be listening to her. The tiny knife did barely any
damage, but the paralytic poison on it was already coursing through Keira’s body.
The elven couple caught up with the crippled beastkin a few moments later. The man grabbed her from
behind in something akin to a sleeper hold and forced her to her feet. She struggled and screamed, but
his physical strength was too much for Keira to break out of. The female elf at the scene then sprayed
the captive in the face with the same stuff her partner-in-crime was trying to use initially. Keira coughed
and thrashed about some more. Her movements gradually turned duller and more lethargic until her
body went completely limp.
The two assailants carefully looked her over, making sure she was out while scanning their surroundings
for any passers-by or other would be witnesses. After concluding that everything was in order, the man
pulled out a large, thick bag and stuffed the unmoving catgirl inside. He then threw it over his shoulder
and he and his accomplice calmly walked out of the park. Their captive was packaged in such a way that
it was hard to tell whether that lump of ‘something’ on the man’s back was actually a person or not.
Well, his catch was not technically a person to begin with, but that was besides the point.
“Now can I eat them up, Master?!” insisted Claws through the telepathic link.
“Not quite yet. Just shadow them.”
“Aw… Okay…”
Of course Boxxy wasn’t really unconscious, but merely playing along. Its absurd END Attribute made it
quite resistant to poisons so it hardly suffered any ill effects from it, despite its ‘captors’ being
convinced otherwise. After all, if anything knew how to act like something they weren’t, it was be the
Mimic-cum-Doppelganger. And the purpose of this whole charade was quite simple.
Boxxy wanted to find out why they bothered to attack Keira in the first place. They went out of their
way to capture her alive, which cemented the notion that there was something they, or most likely their
boss, wanted from her. And if someone wanted something, then they just might be willing to part with
something else in order to get it. The Mimic saw this whole thing as a sort of business opportunity, albeit
a risky one. However, Boxxy had an easy out since it could just silently chant Transfamiliar at any given
time. It even had countermeasures in place should they try to bind it with those mana-sealing shackles.
“You almost screwed the pooch on this one, K,” said the elf girl suddenly.
“I know, I know!” shout-whispered ‘K.’ “It’s just been a while since I was out in the field, okay?
Besides, you completely cocked up the chance I gave you after she woke up!”
Boxxy was keeping a close eye on both of them through its MLG, so it could easily listen in on their
conversation.
“That couldn’t be helped. Her dossier said she was extremely observant, you know. Hardly a surprise
she noticed me once you made her go into high alert.”
K made a sour face as he silently admitted to himself that he was the one at fault. His eyes swam for a
few moments before he came up with an excuse.
“Well, the mission was a success in the end, right?” he said pleadingly. “I mean, we secured the target
without drawing any undue attention. No need to mention that little mishap to the head, you know?”
“... I suppose you have a point,” conceded the woman. “Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut, but you owe me
one.”
“Yeah. Thanks, J.”
The two of them went silent as they entered the more densely populated areas of the city, but they had
already said quite a bit. First of all, they apparently had a good deal of information on Keira, enough to
warrant a dossier. This was rather troubling, as Boxxy was quite certain it’s alter ego didn’t do anything
suspicious enough to warrant that sort of thing. Second of all, they were indeed part of some
organization, and judging from the man’s tone, the ‘head’ was not to be trifled with. Most importantly,
however, was the fact that the thing they were doing was clearly illegal, meaning it was highly likely the
Sandman might make an appearance.
“Claws, where are they taking me?” asked Boxxy.
Even if it had its MLG to rely on, it was quite difficult to get its bearings without keeping track of the
gigantic Hylt trees in the distance.
“Towards the north end of the city, Master. Looks like they’re headed straight for the commercial
district.”
Now this was interesting. That part of the city was where all kinds of deals were made - from small
trades between two people to gigantic agreements between guilds. Not to mention it also had several
peculiar buildings called ‘banks.’ Boxxy wasn’t too sure exactly what people did in there, nor did it care.
The only thing that mattered about them was that they contained massive amounts of money,
accompanied by copious amounts of security - magical or otherwise. The Mimic had cased those places
in the past and already had plans for breaking into most of them, raiding their underground vaults and
absconding with the money. However, doing so would attract too much heat, so it decided not to perform
any heists until it was ready to leave this place.
Interestingly enough, a bank was precisely the place that Boxxy’s abductors ended up entering. A place
called ‘Namhel Brothers,’ to be exact. The large foyer on the ground floor was lavishly decorated, well
lit and heavily guarded. Although one might expect such things from a bank, this one easily outdid all of
the other ones in the city, presumably because it was the most successful one.
The woman called J queued up at one of the tellers in the spacious lobby while K went towards one of
the guards.
“Excuse me,” he said with an appropriately quiet tone.
“Yes?”
“I have a package for mister Namhel. The eldest one. He should be expecting me.”
“Understood, sir. Please take a seat while I confirm the details.”
He gestured at the large sofa next to the wall, and K obediently took a seat. The guard pulled out a
Comm-crystal and spoke to what looked like a young woman for about a minute. After receiving an
affirmative answer, he brought K into the back and led him up a staircase to the building’s third and final
floor. The two of them briskly walked down the carpeted hallway that ultimately led to a door with a
gold-plated plaque.
Reginald Namhel
Chief Executive Officer and Co-founder
of Namhel Brothers, Azurvale branch
Beyond the door was a small office, its only occupant being the woman the guard spoke with earlier,
likely a secretary or assistant to the big man himself. She greeted the two visitors with a small smile and
directed them towards the door next to her desk. It looked exactly like the one Boxxy had been carried
through moments ago, but the fact its MLG failed to peer into the neighboring room proved it was
anything but normal. Its sudden short-sightedness was a clear sign that the place had been warded
against eavesdropping, magical or otherwise. The conference room back in Fort Yimin had the same sort
of protection, so while this wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation for the Mimic, it was certainly out of place.
Boxxy’s feeling of incongruity only grew deeper when it was taken into that place. The office was both
unnecessarily wide and remarkably plain. Surely the workspace of a big shot in a place that had so much
money flowing through it would have at least some shinies lying around, right? Especially when it had
those military-grade magical wards around it. Yet instead of golden statues or an indoors fountain, it just
had some tasteful furniture around the desk in the middle, a few old portraits hanging from the walls and
several bookcases and cupboards strewn about the place. Even that secretary’s much smaller room
looked more luxurious than… whatever this was.
As for the owner of the room, he was standing next to one of the tall windows and staring down at the
street.
“Excuse me, mister Namhel. Your delivery is here,” announced the guard.
The owner of the room - and indeed most of the bank - turned around.
Simply put, Reginald Namhel was an older elf who had aged gracefully. He had a thick, well-kempt
beard and a full head of slicked-back hair. A few dignified streaks of gray were mixed in with his
chestnut-brown hair, facial or otherwise. He also appeared to be noticeably more thick-jawed than the
average elf, giving him a slightly more rugged appearance. His body was covered by a fancy-looking
dark blue robe that concealed a set of muscles one wouldn’t expect from a pencil pusher. The hem of the
garment stopped just above his ankles, allowing the whole world a glimpse of his heeled boots. A choice
Boxxy approved of, considering that the footwear’s well-polished, pitch-black leather was the only even
remotely shiny thing in the room.
“Ah, Kevin!” exclaimed Reginald with a jovial voice. “Thank you so much for doing me this favor.”
“It was no bother, sir,” answered ‘Kevin’ while setting his luggage down on the ground.
“No need to be modest, my dear lad! I know full well how heavy those things can be. Come, let me treat
you to a drink for your troubles.”
“I really shouldn’t, sir. I still have more work to do.”
“Nonsense! I insist! And if anyone gives you any lip over it, just send them my way!”
“... Well, in that case it would be rude of me to decline, sir!”
“That’s the spirit! Ah, you may leave us now, mister Morx.”
“As you say, mister Namhel,” said the guard with a bow of his head before returning to his post.
The instant he slammed the door shut, the older elf’s good mood disappeared instantly, his generous
smile replaced by a stern scowl.
“You’re late, K,” he said in a displeased voice.
“I know. We didn’t get a good opportunity to secure the package until about an hour ago.”
“Hmm… Things like that do happen, I suppose. No matter, just get her ready for the interview and wake
her up.”
K did as commanded and took out the still ‘unconscious’ Keira from his bag. He seated her in one of the
cushioned armchairs, then walked over to a nearby cupboard. He rummaged around it for a short while
before taking out a thick, dull gray metal collar and a pair of matching shackles. The former was
promptly placed around Keira’s neck while the latter bound her wrists together. Although they appeared
to be a few sizes too big for the slender catgirl at first, the magic items quickly shrank in size until they
dug into her tanned skin. They then lit up with a number of reddish runes and began greedily devouring
the Mimic’s MP.
Boxxy reacted by stealthily turning the flesh beneath its restraints into bronze. It was one of the few
mundane metals that was highly resistant to magic. While this did mean that bronze-forged gear was
excellent at deflecting magical attacks. In fact, the Mimic had personally testified as to those abilities
during its Mercenary Guild days. However, the anti-magic nature of this material also came with some
heavy downsides. Not only was it nigh-impossible to enchant, but also interfered with the activation of
most Spells and Martial Arts, and even prevented the use of some Skills.
Well, neither Shapeshift nor Metal Mimicry were affected by it, so Boxxy was able to cut off the MP-
draining effects by drastically reducing the area of skin-to-metal contact without either of the two elves
realizing it. The pair still waited around patiently for a few minutes until they were sure their captive
was sucked dry, though. The man called K then reached into his coat and produced a vial of what looked
to be an all-purpose antidote. He lifted the catgirl’s head and dumped its contents into her gaping mouth.
Keira’s eyes slowly began to open. She blinked a few times while moaning groggily, then suddenly
‘remembered’ what had happened.
“Who… Wha- Hey!” she screamed. “What’s going- Oof!”
She tried to stand up from her chair in a panic, but K grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her back
into her seat.
“Let me go!” she struggled against his vice-like grasp. “Take your filthy hands off me! Don’t touch
me!”
“Settle down my dear,” said Reginald in his initial, reassuring tone. “Please understand you are here for
your own protection.”
“Yeah right!” shouted the catgirl. “And the sun likes to turn blue during the winter! Do I look like that
big of an idiot to you?!”
“Hmm, well, you don’t look like one, but you most certainly act like one.”
“Why, you! I said get your fucking hands off me!”
*CHOMP*
The catgirl bit at the wrist of the man who was restraining her. Her pointed canines dug deep into his
skin, enough to draw blood, but this ‘K’ person didn’t even flinch. Come to think of it, his reaction to
having his fingers cut almost clean through back at the park was rather… subdued. Boxxy definitely felt
the undeniable sensation of bone grinding against claws, yet that guy treated it as nothing more than a
nasty paper cut. It was as if the surprise hurt him more than the actual wound.
“Okay, let’s say we let you go,” said Reginald while pacing in front of Keira. “What happens then?
You’ll turn us in, let the authorities lock us up?”
The catgirl’s cold, silent glare showed that was exactly what she would do.
“First of all - good luck with that. It’ll be your word against mine. A brat who showed up a few months
ago out of nowhere, or one of the city’s benefactors who supported this failing Republic for decades?
Who do you think the people will believe?”
Well, he was right on principle, but he clearly had no idea what Keira had accomplished at Fort Yimin,
otherwise he wouldn’t be so cocky. Still, Boxxy made sure not to slacken its resentful glare in the
slightest.
“So what happens after that? Will you go back to pretending you’re an adventurer? Or will you return to
that pointless relationship with your supposed girlfriend? Perhaps you’d much rather dress up in a heavy
cloak and exact revenge upon us in the name of ‘justice?’ Maybe even sick some demons on us, hmm?”
This old guy’s insinuations were right on the money, making it clear he was aware of Keira’s true
identity. That knowledge alone, whether confirmed or just suspicion, made him extremely dangerous.
Boxxy decided then and there that this guy would be eaten without fail, but letting him run his mouth for
a while longer might provide some more insight into exactly what was going on.
Which is why it would vehemently deny everything that was said.
“Are you sure your head’s screwed on straight, gramps?” responded Keira with a fittingly confused
look.
“Oh yes, I am most definitely of sound mind,” he said confidently. “You, however, are way too reckless.
Infiltrating one of the Central Consortium’s guilds? Are you insane?! I’m not completely sure how you
managed to avoid being found out, but believe me when I say this - it cannot last! Honestly it’s a
miracle we managed to find you before you screwed it up for the rest of us.”
Reginald leaned menacingly towards the genuinely confuzzled catgirl.
“But don’t you worry. I know exactly how to handle snot-nosed upstarts who start making waves for no
damned reason. After all-”
In the next instant, his head transformed into a shape that looked like an upside-down pear. It had
wrinkled, pitch-black skin, a pair of perfectly round yellow eyes and a mouth that ran vertically across
his non-existent face.
“-you’re hardly the first Doppelganger to stir up trouble around here.”

Reginald’s gangly face distorted back into his previous visage, which had adopted a rather smug look.
Normally this would be the the point where newcomers to the city would throw themselves at his feet.
They’d lavish him with praise, swear loyalty or otherwise try to get in good with him, but all such
claims would be woefully insincere. He didn’t blame them, though. It was a natural reaction when faced
with someone who held both their salvation and their destruction in his hands. Of course they’d want to
seek the protection of someone as prominent and powerful as he was, and in return he’d have them do
certain things to maintain his Facade.
And this ‘girl’ in front of him would surely be no different. The main reason they caught wind of Keira
Morgana’s true identity in the first place was because she followed the same self-destructive pattern as
other fledgling Doppelgangers.
However, contrary to his expectations, the catgirl in front of him was neither impressed nor relieved, but
instead kept shaking in her boots with a slightly pale face.
“Th-th-that! You’re… one of those things?!” she muttered in disbelief.
“You can drop the act now, youngling,” he insisted with a scowl. “We’ve been investigating you for
quite a while, so there’s no question-”
“You’re wrong!”
*SLAP*
Reginald hit Keira with the back of his hand in a motion strong enough to be considered a punch.
“Do not interrupt me, youngling!”
The catgirl whimpered and winced while blood dribbled from her nose and mouth.
“Yes, yes, I get it, you’re good at acting,” he said while rolling his eyes.
“I’m not acting!” she growled through gritted teeth. “Don’t lump me in with you monsters!”
The old Doppelganger gave a long sigh as he realized this youngling was one of ‘those.’ The type that
denied everything until the very end. Well, it was hardly a bad habit to have, but there was a time and
place for it. There was only one way to get through to these delusional method actors and force them to
comply - by forcefully tearing down their Facade. And if they still refused to cooperate, then he’d just
have them eliminated.
“Fine. I guess we’ll do this the hard way.”
The elf called K made a move at those words. An extra arm sprouted from his right side, revealing his
nature as a shapeshifter. He unsheathed the dagger on his thigh and pressed it against his captive’s
cheek.
“Aaaaah! Noooo! Let me goooo!”

Keira started thrashing around and screaming again, but could not break out of his hold on her shoulders
and neck.
“No, you idiot!” growled Reginald. “Not that hard way! You’ll get blood all over the carpet again!”
“... Sorry, boss.”
The visibly disappointed K returned the weapon back to its sheath and used the extra arms to pull out
some rope from his underneath coat. He wrapped it tightly around the still-yelling catgirl’s torso and
arms, then tied her to her seat before finally taking his hands off her. Boxxy semi-seriously struggled
against the rope and realized it was much tougher than it initially thought. Well, a binding like this was
of little use against a shapeshifter in the first place, but it wanted to see just how far it could take this as
Keira as a sort of experiment.
Either way, the Mimic had already decided it wasn’t going to submit to this stuck-up prick. Being under
someone else’s thumb was the thing Boxxy T. Morningwood swore to avoid months ago when it first
broke out of the dungeon. In a moment of weakness, it had begrudgingly accepted the deal offered by
the Goddess of Incomprehensibility and had silently prepared itself to live with the consequences of its
decision in the following weeks. Fortunately that whole fiasco had come to an extremely satisfying
resolution, so Boxxy had no regrets in that regard.
Reginald was completely different from the lax and casual Charlie, though. He seemed like a total
control freak, which was completely unacceptable. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t have his uses.
The monster-in-charge walked around to his massive desk and opened up one of the drawers while
Boxxy was thinking up ways to take advantage of him. He reached inside and brought out a metal baton
with an exceptionally thick handle covered in what appeared to be Bouncewood bark. The rest of the
iron rod grew slimmer towards the other end, and was tipped off with a small metal sphere that was
about 2-3 centimeters in diameter.
“See this?” he asked while waving it around. “A little marvel that I got my hands on a long time ago. It’s
called a Stun Stick, you see.”
He pushed a little button at the base of the handle, causing the item in question to emit a low hum.
“Its creator intended to pacify people with it, but couldn’t get it produce enough juice to take down
anyone of a significant Level. The most it can do to an elf or human is give them a small jolt. But to us
Doppelgangers - well, I’m sure you’re aware what will happen.”
Unbeknownst to him, Keira was already well aware of that product’s specs via Fizzy’s lessons. The fact
that he thought it wasn’t enough to incapacitate a person merely showed he didn’t know how to use it.
He could be forgiven for that, though. The little switch that regulated the power output had been broken
off, and the device appeared to be stuck in the ‘minor annoyance’ setting. Hardly a reason for Boxxy to
drop its act.
“Please…. *Hic* Don’t hurt Rowie…”
Keira kept whimpering and crying as she was seemingly at her wit’s end.
“... Quite. Well then, let’s see what you look like underneath all that!”
He pressed the rounded tip of that obviously Artificer-made item into the catgirl’s cheek.
*ZZZT*
Your target has been electrocuted. Target HP -163.
“Ack!” screamed Keira, more in surprise than pain. “W-what was that for?!”
“... Huh?” said Reginald dumbly.
He looked down at the Stun Stick in his hand and back to the perfectly healthy and un-shifting beastkin.
The Stun Stick was doing the extra bit of damage as expected, but his involuntary subject was still
sobbing and jibbering without showing any adverse reactions. Not to be disheartened, he zapped her a
second time.
*ZZZT*
“Ow! What are you trying to do to me?!”
This was incredibly perplexing. Not only did the damage drop down to nearly ‘normal’ levels, but the
notification claiming his target had been stunned never showed up. He decided he’d give the thing a
third try to be sure.
*ZZZT*
Same outcome as before.
*ZZZT*
The fourth try didn’t fare much better either.
“The hell?!” he exclaimed
“That’s my line you sick fuck!” shouted the catgirl through teary eyes. “Do you take pleasure in toying
with people?!”
The thoroughly confused Reginald went over to where K was standing.

“What?” he asked with a dumb face.
“Just need a… control group.”
*ZZZT*
“AAAARGH!”
The adult elf recoiled with a yelp of pain while clutching his left shoulder - the same spot that Reginald
had applied the Stun Stick to. He muttered obscenities through gritted teeth as his left arm went limp by
his side. The hand poking out of his coat’s long sleeve had turned thin, pitch-black and four-fingered. As
expected, the jolt was much too weak to completely incapacitate an adult Doppelganger, but still had
enough of a kick to partially undo their shapeshifting and reveal their true nature.
“Hmm, seems to be in working order,” mumbled Reginald while ignoring his comrade’s suffering, “so
how come it doesn’t do anything to the youngling?”
The older Doppelganger was aware of the possibility that a shapeshifter could be strong enough to shrug
off a minor zap without being adversely affected. He was one of them, after all. However, such an
individual would not be phased by the non-lethal toxins that K and J were sent out with, especially since
K didn’t report any incidents regarding the abduction itself. Especially not a juvenile one like his guest.
“Maybe she’s a new Doppelganger variant?” he mused. “Mutations do happen quite often with our
kind…”
In truth, the idea Reginald dismissed offhandedly was actually spot on. Boxxy’s abnormally high END
and MNT Attributes allowed it to resist most of the physical and mental side effects of being
electrocuted. It still stung like a bitch and made its face feel numb, but it would need to take a much
more serious attempt to screw with its body. Especially once Adaptive Defense kicked in and provided it
with a delicious 31% resistance to electricity, not to mention the relatively expensive anti-electricity
enchantment on its ring.
Not that Reginald needed to know any of that.
“I already told you I’m not one of you assholes!” shouted Keira for the umpteenth time.
“No, no, we both know that can’t be. My investigation makes that clear.”
“Investigation? W-what are you talking about?! You’ve been stalking me?!”
“Of course we’ve been keeping an eye on you. Did you think nobody would look into the simultaneous
appearance of a loud-mouthed kitty and this ‘Sandman’ character? Not only was that ‘vigilante’
somehow always around you, but all my sources tell me he used Mirror Image to shake off pursuers
more than once. You may have fooled the ignorant, but all signs point to you two being one and the
same from my perspective. Only a Doppelganger is capable of shapeshifting to that extent, after all.”
“No… No, that’s crazy!”
“Then there’s the matter of you leaving your damn pheromones all over the places you frequent. They
positively reek of a youngling, you know. I even have multiple reports that claim you have a habit of
suddenly disappearing in dark alleys, after which a number of homeless people go ‘missing,’ not to
mention that disappearing act you pulled last night.”
“Listen to me! Someone is lying to you!”
“That’s not all. There’s also the matter of that vaguely arachnid shape we spotted climbing up and down
that tree. Very creative, by the way. Even my people had a tough time making out that form, but the fact
it left from your ‘home’ was a dead giveaway. Then there’s the complete and total lack of a background
on either-”
“Boss, can’t we just do this thing my way?” interrupted K, who had recovered in the meantime.
“... You know what? Fine. Fine! I’m done playing nice. Go ahead and lop off an ear or two.”
Boxxy finally caught onto what the underling was talking about earlier. All shapeshifter flesh was
unstable, and it was a universal truth that separating it from the main body would cause it to lose its
shape and degrade into a formless blob of meat. Well, Snack was an exception to that, but she was a
demon so her body never made much sense in the first place. The important thing was that the Mimic
might have been able to fool the Stun Stick, but this one was beyond its abilities.
Well, being ‘found out’ was an inevitability anyway. The important thing was that this little exercise had
already born fruit. Boxxy learned not only why Keira was targeted, but also how it got found out. The
latter was probably revealed on purpose, although the Mimic wasn’t quite sure as to why. Probably
because that old bag of bones wanted to brag about how great he was. Regardless, Boxxy was relieved
to find out it didn’t get caught due to some mistake it had made, but rather because this group of
Doppelgangers seemed experienced in tracking down their own kind. They also seemed to have a rather
sizable information network, meaning it was most likely not a tiny organization.
And now that the information gathering portion of its visit was more or less over and done with, it was
time to focus on the second, much tastier goal of its visit - securing profit.
“What? Why?!” shouted the frightened-but-not-really Keira as K reached for his sheathed blade again.
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough!” he said with a menacing tone while grasping one of her fuzzy ears.
He then swung his dagger it, intending to slice it clean off. However-
*CLANG*
-the weapon bounced off Keira’s steel-covered ear.
“What the-?!” blurted out K while taking a few steps away from Boxxy. Even Reginald was taken aback
by this sudden development.
“Hehehehe,” chuckled Keira. “Hahahahaha! HAHAHAHAHA! AH HAH HAH HAH HAH! AH HAH
HAH! Hah ha! Aaaaahh!”
A spider-like limb grew out of the catgirl’s open palm. It’s spear-like steel tip easily cut through the
ropes binding her to the chair. The mana-sealing shackles and collar let out a small hissing noise
accompanied by a trail of fumes. The catgirl stood to her feet, allowing those bindings to fall off her
wrists and neck. A cursory glance was enough to reveal they had been melted through by some kind of
acid.
K put up his guard and was raring for a fight, but the highly suspicious individual didn’t make a move
and just smiled pleasantly and spoke with a casual tone.
“Now then, mister Namhel. Am I correct in assuming you had some misgivings regarding my
behavior?”
“‘Misgivings’ is putting it lightly, youngling,” he said with a scowl. “Do you not understand your rash
actions put our whole Facade in danger?”
He wasn’t letting it show on the outside, but he was really struggling to keep up his dignified mask.
Having his captive casually shrug off those bindings like they were child’s play was more than a little
unnerving.
“Really? How’s that?”
“Do I seriously need to spell it out for you?! You’ve nestled yourself so deep into the adventuring
community's affairs that you’ll most likely trigger a large-scale Doppelganger sweep when you’re
discovered!”
Reginald would probably be fine, but his underground network would be completely dismantled in the
process. The books detailing the Silent War of ages past were quite vivid in showing what the
enlightened were capable of.
“Ah, but that’s a matter of ‘if’ rather than ‘when,’ is it not?” countered Keira.
“No, it isn’t! You can’t avoid those mandatory appraisals forever!”
“Who said I’m avoiding them?”
“... Come again?”
“Surely someone of your standing has a Scribe or two underhand. Why don’t you have them appraise
me? I’m sure you’ll understand then.”
“There’s no need for that. I can do it myself!”
“Oh? Then go right ahead!”
He put his hand on the catgirl’s forehead and used a Full Appraisal. The flood of information that
flooded his mind left him at a complete loss for words. Since when did this world have something like a
Hero of Chaos? And just where did that Butcher of Humanity Perk come from?! No, more importantly
than that - an Artificer, a Warlock, a Ranger, a Rogue and a Blade Dancer all packed into one
Doppelganger? And just what was the deal with those absurd Attributes?! And what about the two
unknowable Jobs?! Or that absurd Shapeshift and Biomass Skill Level?! Just how long did this thing
train to-
“SEVEN MONTHS OLD?!” he screamed despite himself. “You gotta be shitting me! How? Why?!
What?!”
His proud veneer of vanity had already been shattered by the incomprehensible Status in front of his
eyes. Whatever or whoever this Boxxy T. Morningwood was, it had obtained enough strength to
overpower each and every Doppelganger in this building. Well, admittedly a Doppelganger was not as
suited to combat as other monsters, but that was besides the point. This thing was probably powerful
enough to match an Ultimate user. No, forget that - this thing might just be able to slaughter an entire
army all by itself. And all that in under a year? This smiling being before Reginald’s eyes completely
destroyed- nay, ignored any and all common sense that Reginald had fostered over his life.
“Do you understand now?”
Reginald replied to Keira’s casual question by falling on his ass and nodding vigorously while doing a
poor attempt to crawl away backwards. The shock was so severe that he had momentarily forgotten how
to elf.
“Uh, Boss?” asked K. “You okay? What’s this seventh month business?”
“...”
Said boss looked up at his subordinate in an almost damning way. No, this one wasn’t to blame. K’s
response was only natural considering he just saw his cold and calculating superior open-jawed, wide-
eyed and on the ground. However, that simpleton had no idea just how dangerous that thing that looked
like a girl truly was. Otherwise he would probably be running away at full speed from his own captive.
Wait… captive?
“You… You didn’t really get captured, did you?”
“Of course not,” replied Boxxy. “I just had your guy over there show me the way.”
“I… see…”
“And now that introductions are over with,” said Boxxy, “I believe we should get down to negotiations.”
“Very well. K, leave us.”
“Huh? But what if she tries to pull something?”
“We’d be already dead if she wanted to kill us. Off you go now.”
K swiftly decided what the big guy did was none of his business, and quietly left the room. Of course, he
didn’t particularly care about Reginald. Even if they acted a certain way, Doppelgangers were still
monsters. What K was worried about in the first place wasn’t his superior, coworker or fellow
shapeshifter, but rather his meal ticket.
“Alright then,” said Reginald while sitting behind his desk. “To begin with, do you have any…
questions?”
Boxxy sat opposite him in the same armchair that Keira had been ‘bound’ to.
“First of all, does your little club have a name?”
Those words irked the elder Doppelganger quite a bit. Having his life’s work compared to something as
pathetic as a ‘little club’ slightly injured his pride.
“... No, it doesn’t,” he answered after a brief pause. “No need to name something that isn’t supposed to
exist.”
“Hmm, I guess. As for the reason you contacted me - do you still have any objections to my methods?”
“Yes, I do. Everything you do goes against the Facade me and my compatriots work to maintain.”
“What’s this Facade you keep talking about? Is it tasty?”
“... Well, the matter of flavor aside, the Facade is essentially my way of life. A set of rules and laws that
me and my organization enforce on other Doppelgangers so that all of us can maintain our relatively
peaceful lifestyle. However, I realize now that trying to impose such a thing on someone like you would
be… suicidal.”
“Yup. A very wise deduction,” said Boxxy with a nod. “Now, do you have any questions?”
“Many, but I’ll limit myself to the essentials. You’re not a natural born Doppelganger, but Ranked Up
from something else, right?”
“May I ask from what?”
“You can.”
“... And would you give me an honest answer if I did?”
“Nope.”
Well, that was expected. In all his years, Reginald had never even imagined that Ranking Up into a
Doppelganger was even possible, so it was unlikely the individual in front of him would simply give out
the details. Knowledge was power, after all, and the fact that Boxxy wanted to negotiate rather than use
force was a clear sign it was no fool. Still, he was going to quietly look into the matter of Rank Ups now
that he knew the possibility existed. Surely this ‘Keira’ was born as a type of shapeshifter, right? After
all, the Metal Mimicry Skill it displayed earlier was not something common among shapeshifters. Then
again, there were no such monsters that could produce acid out of thin air. Looking at it objectively,
anything was possible when this nonsensical monster was involved.
“That’s fine then,” he concluded. “I’ll save my inquiries for another time.”
Boxxy suspected the older shapeshifter might look into its origins, but wasn’t particularly worried about
it. Reginald stood no chance of deducing its original species anyway. To begin with, it was extremely
rare for one of the idiotic mimics to survive long enough to achieve Rank Up especially since they didn’t
exist in the wild but were exclusively dungeon-born. Boxxy would have also died long ago if it hadn’t
managed to contract a succubus so early in its lifespan.
Even extensive research into monster lore would be unable to provide an answer. Even if the origins of
mimics was recorded in the history books, those mentioned nothing of the biological link between them
and Doppelgangers. Boxxy would also have remained ignorant if it didn’t use a monster-controlling
dungeon core to appraise Minic’s Status. It doubted any Scribe, enlightened or otherwise, would have
enough knowledge to Appraise a House Mimic in the first place.
Speaking of which-
“Actually Reggie. Can I call you Reggie?”
“Well-”
“I’m calling you Reggie. Anyway, I do have one more question. Are you capable of Job Removal?”
The boss himself being a Scribe was unexpected, but not unwelcome. If it was this guy, then there was a
chance he might be able to remove Boxxy’s ever-so-useless Cat Job.
“No, I’m not,” came the disappointing answer.
“Why not?”
“That’s a Level 60 Skill. My own Scribe Job is capped out at 50 and it’s unlikely it’ll advance beyond
it.”
It took a lot of time and effort to secure Level 1 of the Job illegally, and even that was mostly because
Reginald had gotten lucky. ‘Acquiring’ a high-Level Scribe trainer was much too risky to even consider,
and he wasn’t going to be making a Breakthrough anytime soon. Nor did he need to, as he already had
all the necessary Skills to suit his organizational needs, such as Eclectic Memory, Fraud Detection and
Language Comprehension. Honestly, the Appraisal-type Skills were just an extra.
“Hmm, that’s too bad,” said Boxxy while hiding its disappointment. It would seem the hurdle of
abolishing that Cat Job had just gotten even higher.
“Alright then, Reggie,” it continued, “here’s what’s going to happen. You will not approach me nor any
of my associates. In return, I will avoid robbing you blind and/or devouring yourself and everyone else
in this bank.”
The Mimic had no idea just how big that organization was, but Reggie’s knowledge regarding Keira,
combined with his reaction to that ‘little club’ statement showed it was likely quite sizable. Lopping off
the head here and now was likely to create a lot more problems than it would solve. Besides, Boxxy also
wanted to avoid alerting Republic authorities that the Doppelgangers had a foothold in their capital by
causing a fuss. It also thought of taking over the old guy’s place, but that was unlikely to work out. Even
if it did succeed in deceiving an untold number of shapeshifters like itself, it knew nothing about running
an organization.
In other words, the best solution would be a non-interference pact. A kind of long-distance partnership.
“... I can agree to that,” said the older Doppelganger after a brief moment of contemplation. “Is it okay if
my agents keep an eye on you from a distance?”
“I’d rather you not. The idea of someone spying on me is quite uncomfortable. Well, you’ll probably go
ahead and do whatever you like regardless of my opinion, but you should take this as a warning - keep
your lot away from the area around my home base. It won’t be my fault if any of them meet with an
accident and end up in my belly.”
The catgirl-shaped monster threateningly opened both its Doppelganger and beastkin mouths at the same
time with a low hissing noise, as if to prove its point. That plus-shaped maw filled with row upon row of
jagged teeth was ominous enough to make even someone like Reginald feel unsettled. His long-dormant
instincts as a monster were currently screaming at him that this Boxxy T. Morningwood was completely
serious when it spoke of cannibalizing others of its kind, despite that sort of vicious and gluttonous
attitude being completely unbefitting of a Doppelganger.
“Are we clear?” asked the horrifically-mouthed catgirl.
No, perhaps thinking of this Ranked Up individual as a Doppelganger was wrong to begin with. After
all, a dragon’s temperament would not change just because it shed its scales.
“... Crystal.”
The maw closed up as if it had never existed, allowing Keira’s face to return to her casual smile.
“Good. Lastly, I have an offer for you.”
“An offer, you say?”
“Indeed. I’ll take care of any stubborn problems or troublesome issues you might have, and in return you
will make certain things happen.”
“A favor for a favor, hmm? Not a bad deal I suppose. Though I suspect you have something you want,
yes?”
“That’s right. I need you to find me a Warlock trainer who can get me past Level 50 and won’t ask too
many questions.”
“Really? Then you won’t be breaking through on your own? You do know that doing so will net you a
Perk worth 5 free Job Levels, right?”
“I know, but that would be a horrible waste of my time.”
While the idea of getting free Levels on top of any overflowed XP was tempting, actually getting
Demonology all the way from Level 8 to Level 10 would take months. Still, that was a hurdle it would
have to cross eventually. Level 100 mentors were extremely rare and fittingly expensive, so Boxxy
would most likely be forced to work towards a breakthrough at Level 75. Right now, however, it had a
very good Edward-shaped reason to get as strong as possible as quickly as possible.
“Very well. In that case, I do have a certain something-something you can assist me with. How should I
contact you once I’ve made the necessary arrangements.”
“Have one of your goons send a personal request for me at the guild. That way I’ll have also have an
excuse to be away from town for a while and a justification for any spoils I bring home.”
“I see, that’s a good way to handle things, I suppose. Let’s go with that, then. And you know where to
find me should you need me.”
“Yup. Just keep in mind I’ll be shipping out in a week or so.”
“Noted. Well then, miss Morgana - or is that Morningwood? On second thought, is it alright if I just call
you M?”
This habit of Reginald’s was not strictly to maintain secrecy, but to make it easy for Doppelgangers to
identify one another. Faces and names were changed on a weekly basis, so just having them call each
other with a single letter was simply a way of avoiding confusion. After all, even the shapeshifters had
trouble keeping track of who’s who within their own organization.
“No, it’s not.”
However, the Mimic didn’t feel like being addressed the same way as that guy’s subordinates. It rubbed
it the wrong way, not to mention it might give others the impression it was working for him. It was also
rather hypocritical considering it systematically and one-sidedly assigned nicknames to those around it.
“Of course. Please accept my apologies.”
“Keep your fake apologies to yourself. It’s not like I can eat them anyway.”
“... Quite.”
“Anyway, I think we’re done for the day, yes?”
“Indeed. You have given me much to think on.”
“Then I guess I should take my leave. Later, Reggie.”

“Until next time.”
“Say goodbye, Claws.”
“Uhm… G-goodbye, Reggie,” said Drea nervously.
“Madam,” replied Reginald with a nod of his head as his two guests nonchalantly leaped out of an
already open window.
The old Doppelganger was surprisingly okay with that exit. After all, he hadn’t even batted an eye when
the man-sized, multi-limbed bug-thing suddenly dropped down from the ceiling. Neither did he bother
questioning things such as how or when she got in here in the first place.
After today, he would probably not be surprised even if winged pigs suddenly started pouring out of his
nose.
It had barely been 20 seconds since a certain catgirl-shaped monster and its pet assassin had leaped out
of Reginald’s office before it reappeared. Keira's upside-down, fuzzy-eared head popped out from the
top of the open window briefly, before she grabbed onto the wooden frame and swung herself inside.
She then sat down on the windowsill, allowing her hair and tail to sway gently in the chilly breeze.
“Hey, Reggie, me again,” she said with a wave.
“Welcome back, Boxxy,” he replied in a calm tone that did not betray he was currently reevaluating his
entire life. “Did you forget something?”
“Yeah. How long does a Doppelganger take to Rank Up past Level 25?”
“About 12 to 15 years.”
“That’s way too long!”
“Well, I don’t know about your case, but a baby Doppelganger's mind and body still need to develop to a
certain degree before it can start accumulating XP and Levels. It’s something our kind shares with
enlightened children, you see.”
Come to think of it, when Boxxy Ranked Up the last time, it was more of a prepubescent child rather
than a baby. Perhaps that was why it was already getting so close to Level 25 of the Job, despite it being
less than half a year since then. As informative as that was, however, it was the answer to the wrong
question.
“I meant just the Rank Up process itself. How long does it take?”
“Ah, of course,” answered Reginald while remembering this being’s absurd Job list. “About three,
maybe three and a half hours.”
“That’s way too short!”
Boxxy’s first Rank Up lasted for a few days, while the second one took well over a week. It had already
been worried how it would explain Keira’s disappearance for a prolonged period of time, and was even
considering putting it off until after the war.
“Well, cross-species Rank Ups are always more time consuming. One of my former associates, for
example, took a good 15 days to become a Shoggoth Slime.”
“... And why haven’t you Ranked Up?”
Surely Reggie’s position and presumably long life would have gotten him to Level 50 of the
Doppelganger Job by now.
“Because, to the best of my knowledge, our kind can only evolve into combat-oriented species. Even if
all of them are shapeshifters, the vast majority of them have a lot of trouble ‘fitting in,’ as it were. The
individual I mentioned earlier could get by in theory since slimes are relatively excellent shapeshifters,
though he chose to abandon civilization as a whole. My options, on the other hand, are especially…
unbecoming. I’d much rather live out my life as a successful Doppelganger than become an
Abomination or a Wendigo, you see.”
Boxxy knew of those monsters through that shapeshifter’s encyclopedia it read a while back.
Abominations were essentially sentient lumps of flesh that, while capable of assuming any form, had no
way of passing off as anything but a monster due to their house-like size. Wendigos, on the other hand,
lived high in the snow-covered mountain peaks. They were quite similar to werewolves, except that a
Wendigo could freely change between their brilliantly white-furred animalistic form and a more human-
looking appearance. However, even then their features were quite obviously monstrous, making that
form ill-suited for infiltration.
In other words, if Reggie were to Rank Up, he’d have no way of maintaining his place in elven society.
“I see. I completely understand,” nodded Boxxy.
If forced to choose between becoming a more powerful being and giving up on a literal building full of
shinies, then the Mimic would most likely choose the latter.
“Thanks for the info, Reggie!”
“Please, it was no trouble. After, all, this is the kind of knowledge I offer to every newcomer that- Oh,
it’s gone already, huh?”
Boxxy had abruptly and silently left the office while Reginald was falling into his old, prideful habits.
The old ‘ganger shrugged the whole disappearing act off and once again resumed trying to figure out
whether today was a bad dream or not.
As for the unbelievable creature in question, it was currently sitting on the bank’s rooftop and was
chanting one of its most frequently used Spells.
“Transfamiliar!”
The Mimic’s world spun and blurred for a fraction of a second before it found itself in a secluded corner
of another roof. It had momentarily reverted to its base form, causing Keira’s outfit to to hang loosely
from its child-like physique. After it got itself reoriented, it morphed back into the catgirl and re-formed
the MLG inside her chest. It silently confirmed nobody was around before gracefully dropping into an
alleyway. It then calmly walked around to the front of the building it arrived on and went through the
double doors.
The room Keira found herself in was made entirely out of wood. The floorboards were polished and
smooth to the point where they were almost shiny, and the walls and ceiling were painted pure white.
There was a tall counter separating the place in two parts, with several people forming a queue in front
of one of the two clerks dressed in white coats. The women behind the counter immediately noticed the
sore thumb of a catgirl that just walked in and stared at her with brazen looks of both disbelief and
awe.Their sudden actions caused the customers to also turn their heads and follow their eyesight. As
expected, the beastkin just stood out way too much, although those clerks’ stares seemed different
somehow.
Not to be disturbed in the slightest, the beastkin confidently walked up to the free clerk while humming
some random tune.
“Excuse me,” she said sweetly.
“Uhm, yes? How may I help you?” asked the still shocked elf.
“Is apothecary Slyth here?”
“S-she is but, uhm… you wouldn’t happen to be K-K-Keira, right?”
“Yup! That’s me!”
“Ack! Please lower your voice!” shout-whispered the clerk. “We have patients who need their rest in
here!”
“Sorry…”
“W-well, it’s fine as long as you’re careful. You wanted to visit Rowana, right?”
Keira nodded enthusiastically.
“Her shift is almost over so please wait over there.”
The clerk pointed towards one of the cushioned seats lined up at the corner and the catgirl gleefully went
over to sit and wait for her girlfriend to finish work for the day. Rowana was an apothecary at this
modest 24-hour clinic and typically worked the day shift from 9 AM until 5 PM. Of course she wasn’t
the only apothecary here, and sometimes took the evening or night shifts depending on the
circumstances, though today was not one of those days.
As for why Snack was lurking around this place - that was obviously because of Boxxy’s orders. It had
told the succubus to keep an eye on Rowana ever since it let itself get captured, just in case someone
targeted the elf. After all, that woman was a major contributor towards the shapeshifter’s Doppelganger
Levels, so she was convenient to keep around. That and the Mimic really didn’t want to act worried, in
grief or generally depressed because those emotions were very much not tasty, even if they were fake.
The elf’s safety aside, Boxxy also planned to have her take Keira’s form and make a public appearance.
That way the catgirl had an alibi ready just in case things turned violent at the meeting earlier. Keira
being tied to the scene of a massacre was quite damning to Boxxy’s Facade after all.
… Huh.
The Mimic had unintentionally started using Reggie’s word for maintaining a fake persona. As much as
it disagreed with that Doppelganger’s passive and unshiny methods, it had to admit that particular term
just felt right.
“Hey, Keira. What are you doing here?”
The catgirl’s thoughts disappeared somewhere and she lifted her eyes from her knees towards the person
who had addressed her. A certain woman dressed in a coat that was almost identical to Keira’s.
“Rowieee!”
Her face practically blossomed into a wide smile while her tail wagged back and forth in excitement.
She abruptly stood up and hugged the elf around her chest and under her arms. She then nuzzled her face
playfully against Rowana’s collar. However, rather than being embarrassed or flustered, the elf merely
smiled in response and patted her girlfriend between the ears.
“Sorry I made you wait. You probably missed me today, huh?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, you don’t need to worry about that. I got the next 3 days off so we can hang out until you’re
satisfied.”
“Yaaaay!”
“Hey keep it down you two!” shouted the clerk from earlier. “This is a place of peace and recovery so
either shut it or take it outside!”
It would seem she was completely ignoring the fact she was the loudest one in the room, although her
words were a bit harsher than one would expect. Rowana gave her an awkward ‘sorry’ before she and
Keira left that place. With the catgirl relentlessly clinging to her arm, of course. The old Rowana would
probably disallow such behavior in public, but the month-long separation combined with the impending
parental visit made her realize there were more important things in life than what others thought of her.
Therefore, she wholeheartedly enjoyed the warm and fluffy feeling she got from Keira hugging her left
arm against her modest breasts.
As the two were happily walking through the street, the beastkin suddenly looked up at the elf.
“Hey, Rowie…”
“Hm? What is it sweetie?”
“Where’d Minic go? Now that I think about it, I didn’t see it around the house yesterday… or this
morning…”
“Ah, a friend’s helping me take care of it. It had gotten quite a bit restless ever since you left, you
know.”
“Restless? How come?”
“It kept knocking things over whenever I was away, and when I came back it would yap at the wall for
some reason.”
“Aww, it must’ve been lonely without me!” said the catgirl while grinning pleasantly.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. I’m sure it’ll be overjoyed when we go pick it up!”
“I hope we’re not causing trouble for your friend though…”
“Actually my coworker said it’s been surprisingly well behaved, but every time I took it back it started
getting unruly again.”
The house sounds like it had been broken into, concluded Boxxy. Probably Reggie’s guys. Must have
been someone snooping around. It definitely wasn’t robbery since Minic is the shiniest thing in that
house, yet wasn’t taken. I’ll get to the bottom of that next time I go to that bank.
It really wasn’t hard to deduce once the Mimic realized Doppelgangers were snooping around. As per
usual, however, the words that came out of its mouth were completely different from its inner thoughts.
“I’m sure it’ll feel better once I give it a big hug!”
“Fufufu, I’m sure the little guy will be overjoyed. Keira’s hugs are the best medicine, after all. You
know… if we could put you in a bottle and sell you as a happiness potion we’d make a killing!”
“EEH?! No way! That’s so wrong!”
“Ah hahaha, sorry, sorry. That was a bad joke on my part.”
It was an inside gag between her and the other apothecaries, but thinking on it objectively just the
thought of bottling up a live person was more than a little-
“The only one allowed to drink that potion is Rowie!”

“That’s what you have a problem with?!”
“And you don’t?”
“No! I mean yes, I don’t want to share you with anyone, but there’s a far bigger issue before we even get
to that point!”
“Ehehe, Rowie’s pretty cute when she’s flustered!” said Keira with a mischievous smile.
“Why, you! You’re doing this on purpose!?”
“Just a little, nyahahaha!”
The two of them continued shamelessly flirting as they walked through the city. Much laughs, giggles
and hugs were had, not to mention a few quick and discreet kisses. They met up with Rowana’s
acquaintance, a male elf that was one of the resident healers at the clinic and was currently off-shift.
Minic leaped out of his house the instant he answered the front door and rubbed its ornate wood frame
against Keira’s leg. The catgirl responded by picking it up in a hug and mumbling some nonsensical
babying words at it. The older elf watched the adorable scene unfold with a calm smile and let off a
comment saying she’d be a good mother, prompting both Rowana and Keira to get somewhat upset with
him. After the distinct moment of the man asking himself ‘Was it something I said?’ had passed, the
happy couple thanked him for his help and continued on their way home with their pet in hand.
However, it would seem Rowana’s fears regarding the matter of strangers butting their heads in where
they didn’t belong were not for naught.
“Well, well, well! What have we here?! A couple of unnatural freaks?!”
A loud and rude voice suddenly came at the carefree couple from the side while they were making their
way across a plaza with a small fountain nearby. Its source was a tall, middle-aged male elf with a mean
look in his eye. Rowana, having been confronted with reality so suddenly, did the only thing she could
think of.
“C’mon, Keira. Let’s ignore the guy and get home.”
She wanted to run away.
“... Yeah.”
Boxxy actually agreed with her on this one. It seriously did not want to get tangled up with something
pointless. It already had its fair share of meaningful encounters for the day, so it could seriously do
without any more of them. Unfortunately, the couple’s displays of public affection seemed to have
gathered quite a bit of attention, as 13 other people suddenly cut them off and surrounded them on all
sides.
“Oh no you don’t!” shouted the man from earlier as he made his way into the circle. “You’re not going
anywhere, you heretics!”
His surprisingly harsh words combined with that suspiciously well-organized formation ended up
drawing the attention of many a passer by. Most of those bystanders ended up hanging around and
forming a small crowd with Rowana and Keira at the center. Some had heard that elf’s harsh words and
wanted to see what the fuss was about, while other were drawn in by the appearance of that exotic
beastkin girl.
“Look at them, my fellow citizens!” continued the instigator of this situation while scanning over the
crowd. “These queers have been popping up all around us without our notice! A coupling between two
women?! Surely this is abnormal!”
A number of the onlookers started murmuring at those words.
“They ignore the teachings of our beloved Goddess Nyrie- No, even worse! They purposefully act
against Her will! Should we just sit idly by and allow such treachery to happen right under our noses?! I
say thee nay!”
The buzzing from the crowd steadily grew into shouts directed at the flabbergasted couple.
“Yeah! They forsake our Goddess!”
“They must be spies for that blasted Empire!”
“That’s right! No proud citizen of the Republic would shun Nyrie herself!”
“Stone them!”
Their voices steadily rose both in volume and aggression, causing Rowana to quiver with fear. She had
seen this sort of thing happen before to others, but had severely underestimated how terrifying it was to
be the target of such harassment. It was as if one of her worst nightmares had become real.
As for the ones raising their voices at her and her girlfriend, many of them were people who didn’t have
much of an opinion on the matter. However, the original 14 people who put this farce into motion were
definitely the loudest, and were shamelessly pandering to the crowd’s repressed anger concerning the
ongoing war. The current situation was steadily becoming a perfect example of mob mentality at work,
and Boxxy was able to pick up on the fact that it was more or less staged. A revelation that helped it
immediately decide on a course of action.
“It’s fine, Rowie,” said Keira in a low voice. “I’ll handle this.”
“Y-you will?”
“Of course. I’d never let anything bad happen to you,” she declared with a confident smile.
Those quiet, reassuring words seemed to drown out all the unjustified hate raining down on Rowana
from all sides. It was as if the girl staring resolutely into her eyes was a shining beacon chasing away the
darkness around her.
“Just follow me and try not to look scared. Focus on me and nothing else, okay?”
The elf nodded once to show she understood, then silently accepted the scared-stiff Minic from Keira
while verbal harassment still rained down on her. She hugged the House Mimic tightly against her
bosom, bringing an odd sense of peace and tranquility not only to herself, but also to the living jewelry
box in her grasp.
“Ready, Rowie?”
“... Yeah.”
Keira then grabbed her by the hand and calmly led her towards the older elf that started all this. When he
saw them approach, he showed them an arrogant sneer as if he were looking at goblin dung.
“Oh?! What’s this?! The heretic sluts seem like they want to say something!”
The middle-aged elf’s venomous words egged the crowd even further on.
“Screw her!”
“She doesn’t have the right!”
“Throw her in the dungeon already!”
The catgirl didn’t even flinch under the shower of insults, although her girlfriend’s knees started to shake
once again. The ignorant Minic, on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm. Why wouldn’t it be?
The loud noises let out by those angry man-things were scary at first, but it then realized it was being
protected by that awe-inspiring existence. It had absolutely nothing to fear as long as its ‘big brother’
was around.
The mob of people steadily grew tense as the trio made their way towards the ‘leader.’ However,
contrary to expectations, Keira didn’t confront, attack, adress or even acknowledge the man. Instead, she
walked past him with a carefree smile and approached the line of people behind him.
“Hey! Who said you could leave, heathen?!”
She continued to ignore him as she reached the edge of the crowd.
“Excuse me,” she spoke in a calm, sweet voice, “but could you let us pass, please?”
The individual she addressed was a younger elf around Rowana’s age.
“W-well, I… th-that is…”
His eyes swam left and right as he didn’t know how to deal with being suddenly put on the spot.
“You’re not going anywhere!” shouted someone from the side.
“That’s right! You have to pay for your crimes!” chimed in another.
“Crime? Hahaha, what are you even talking about, mister?” asked Keira with a dismissive wave. “I
wouldn’t dare think of breaking the law.”
If there was a God of Hypocrisy, he would have undoubtedly wanted to make Boxxy his Hero right then
and there.
“The law is just lacking!” roared the ‘leader.’ “That’s why freaks like you are still allowed to roam
free!”
“Yeah!” shouted one of the people that had been inciting the crowd since the start. “Your very existence
is offensive to the Goddess!”
“Again, what are you talking about, mister? My Goddess has no problems with girls dating, you know.”
Typically speaking, the beastkin tribes predominantly roamed the vast, pure-white desert that resided on
the southeast edge of the continent. And one of the reasons their kind thrived in the harsh conditions of
the Pearly Dunes was because they worshipped Zephyra, the Goddess of Rain and guardian of explorers
and travelers alike. The deity repaid their piety by blessing the rain in that entire region, which only
served to reinforce their faith in her to an almost zealous degree. After all, a single mouthful of the
desert’s rainwater was enough to satisfy a person’s thirst for three days and three nights.
However, the Goddess Keira spoke of was a completely different deity. Technically speaking, Kimberley
was indeed a Goddess. The fact that she was also a God, a breakdancing gecko, a talking lamp, a plate of
moldy biscuits and countless other things all at the same time was irrelevant. After all, the catgirl’s
words still had the desired effect, as evidenced by how a good number of people began wavering. They
were not-so-subtly reminded that the Ishigar Republic, much like most other nations, did not stifle their
people’s religious freedom.
Indeed, such a practice was generally considered harmful to the country at large, for there were many
deities that transcended borders. For example, it wasn’t uncommon for military personnel to be seen
asking Axel, the God of War, to watch over them during their battle. If they survived and fought bravely,
then they paid tribute to him. If they died in action, then morticians would offer prayers to Mortimer at
their funerals so that the God of Death would guide their souls into the afterlife. Scholars that delved
into research - magical or otherwise - gave thanks to the Goddess of Magic and Wisdom for every
invention, discovery or breakthrough they managed to achieve.
All of this was common knowledge that the people caught up in the moment had forgotten about until
Keira pointed it out. Several of them outright left while hanging their heads in shame. Many others
would have followed their example soon after, but one of the crowd’s instigators made another attempt
to rile them up.
“So you admit you are in a relationship with that woman!”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Rowie is the love of my life, you know!”
Rowana’s cheeks flushed red. She always expected Keira to blurt out something like that sooner or later,
and actually hearing it was just as embarrassing as she imagined. Having her announce such a thing in a
place like this made her both troubled and happy in equal measure.
“... Come to think of it, is that really that big a deal?” murmured someone in the oddly quiet crowd.
“They can’t have kids though!” answered someone next to him.
“So? I mean, no offense gramps, but you don’t stand much of a chance in that regard either.”
“Besides,” came a third voice, “it doesn’t feel right shouting at that adorable face…”
“I’ll say. That smile is so dazzling I might just fall in love with her!”
“Oh, really now?” spoke up one of the few women around. “Something you want to tell me, dear
husband?”
“Eh?! No! Uhm, th-th-that wasn’t what I meant at all!” the stranger stammered. “It’s just like, that, you
know? As a, uhm, a daughter! Yes, that’s what I meant to say! That I’d love to have an adorable
daughter like her! Definitely that!”
Similar scenes started spreading through the rest of the crowd. Pretty soon not only did they begin to
disperse, but some of them even stepped forward to apologize to Rowana and Keira for their rude
behavior. The dozen or so original instigators found that the situation around them had completely
spiraled out of their control. Normally they might have succeeded in spreading that particular brand of
prejudice around while making an example out of their victims, but today they had made the error of
targeting Boxxy T. Morningwood. No, it was more apt to say that it was Keira that defused the situation.
This was only natural, though. Not only was Keira designed to be adorable and endearing, but her
Charisma (CHR) Attribute amplified not only her charm, but also her ability to sway others with her
words and actions. Usually the effects of that Attribute were quite subtle, but Boxxy’s abnormally high
CHR coupled with the catgirl’s confident-yet-charming demeanor caused the Attribute in question to
have a much more pronounced effect on the Mimic’s Facade.
In short, Keira had already become something that could only be accurately described as ‘weaponized
cuteness.’ She was the perfect tool to disarm the volatile situation without resorting to violence. Granted,
it wasn’t like violence was not an option, nor was the peaceful route going to do anything to address the
root cause of the issue. However, such things were far from Boxxy’s mind. The actual reason the Mimic
had chosen this particular course of action was because it didn’t want to play along with their game. It
had chosen to disperse the crowd peacefully rather than forcefully purely out of spite. And it looked like
it was about time to deal the finishing blow.
The elf from earlier who had the loudest voice was currently trying to make a hasty retreat by blending
in with the crowd. His dozen-or-so co-conspirators were doing the same thing and spreading out in all
directions. They weren’t idiots, after all. Trying to rile up a crowd at that point would only backfire on
them. After all, their position on the matter of same-sex couples was completely in the minority, so their
position was objectively weaker. The one in charge had probably decided this one was a lost cause and
gave some sort of signal for everyone to retreat.
“Listen here, meat.”
However, said ‘leader’ suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Those three ominous words were delivered
with a low, guttural voice that most definitely did not belong to a person. He frantically looked over his
shoulder towards the direction they had come from, which made him unwittingly lock eyes with the
beastkin he had tried to accost less than a minute ago. She moved her mouth slightly and spoke to him
directly through Whisper Wind.
“I’m letting you go for now. However, if you or any of your comrades ever approach us again, I
guarantee you will all be eaten. By me.”
Keira’s bright yellow eyes turned a bloody red for the briefest of moments as if to drive the point home.
It had the right effect, as her target was thoroughly convinced that was not a threat, but a promise. There
was no way someone who could overcome that oppressive atmosphere was normal, after all. It only
made sense that the girl in question was actually a monster.
Of course, Boxxy wasn’t blatantly revealing its true nature to some random guy on the street. It’s just
that it noticed something peculiar about the person in question when it walked past him earlier. Simply
put, his scent was off. It wasn’t that his odor was uncharacteristic of elves, but rather that it was literally
‘off.’ Boxxy’s nose - the same one that was capable of picking up traces of Lia’s human heritage -
completely failed to detect any sort of smell coming off that man’s body. The Mimic then realized it had
encountered that bizarre phenomenon very recently.
In fact, it was less than an hour ago.
“Now go,” it growled, “and make sure you tell Reggie that I am very displeased.”
(132) Not A Chapter Skill Compendium
Mimic Skills Show
Absorbed Skills Show
Cat Skill Show
Doppelganger Skills Show
Warlock Skills Show
Ranger Skills Show
Artificer Skills Show

Blade Dancer Skills Show
Hero Skills Show
Racial Skills Show
General Skills Show
Skills I couldn't be bothered to organize Show
“Hmm ~♪ Hm-hmmm ~♪ Ha-hu-ha-hu-ha-hmmm!~♪”
Keira and Rowana were walking side by side as they made their way home. The catgirl had a spring in
her step and was humming a random, lively tune, while the elf was silently watching her from the side.
Minic had been released from her bosom and was currently running about in a carefree manner, although
it made sure not to stray too far away from its idol.
“Hmm! ~♪ Ha-hmm!~♪ Ha-hum-ha- Huh? What’s the matter, Rowie?”
It would appear the beastkin had finally noticed that a certain someone was staring so hard at her that
she looked like she was about to shoot beams out of her eyes.
“Ah! Uhm, nothing, sweetie,” answered the culprit as she hurriedly averted her gaze.
“You sure? Those mean guys didn’t hurt, you did they?!”
“No! Nothing like that!”
“Then what is it? You’ve been awfully quiet ever since they showed up, so don’t try to pretend like
you’re fine!”
“Well… It’s just that… You’re amazing, you know that?”
“... Okay?” said Keira with a genuinely puzzled look.
The elf’s current behavior was quite atypical. It was only a given that Rowana would want to praise her
girlfriend, and had done so on multiple occasions. This one, however, felt… different. For one thing, she
had never shown that kind of thoughtful look on her face when doing so. Nor had she ever used the
word ‘amazing’ before. Almost as if this was the first time her compliment was truly genuine.
“I mean it,” she insisted. “I fully expected you to hurt that guy for the horrible things he said. Instead,
you defused that entire situation with just a few words.”
“So?” asked the catgirl with a shrug of her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is! What you did back there was unbelievable! Like, who does that?! I could never do that! I was
way too terrified to even think straight! I was sure you were gonna start breaking arms at any moment!”
“Come on, Rowie! You should trust your girlfriend more than that! You know I’d never blatantly harm a
civilian!”
“B-but they were saying all those horrible things! From all sides! I mean, didn’t that make you angry?
Weren’t you scared?!”
“Of course not. It’s not like they had giant claws, sharp teeth, dangerous-looking weapons or destructive
magic, right? If it’s just a bunch of misinformed people mouthing off at us, then that’s not scary at all.”
“Oh… Right…”
In the heat of the moment Rowana had forgotten completely about what Keira did for a living. She was
an adventurer, and was taking part in the war. Compared to the horrors she confessed to have witnessed
in that bloody siege, what happened back there was probably not even a blip on her radar.
“Besides, a bunch of them even apologized to us, didn’t they?”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around that one.”
“It’s only natural, though. I mean… it’s probably just my silly opinion, but I honestly believe the people
in this city are inherently good. Almost everyone I’ve met has been understanding and patient with an
outsider like me. I have a life here because of them, and I am not the type of person that would betray
their kindness by failing to resolve some silly misunderstanding!”
“Fufufu,” chuckled Rowana. “You really are quite shameless, aren’t you?”
“Wha?!”
“I’m not sure anyone but you can pull off an embarrassing speech like that.”
“Mwu! I was being serious!” complained Keira with a pout.
“I know, sweetie. That’s exactly why I think you’re amazing. But honestly, you should be at least a little
suspicious of others. You remember how we met in the first place, right?”
“... Ack! I completely forgot about that bastard that groped me!”
“Well, it’s not like I disagree with what you said. Even if it’s idealistic, I love the part of you that sees
the good in everyone. You even felt sorry for the casualties on the other side of this stupid war, didn’t
you?”
“Yeah… I did…” said Keira with a sigh.
Rowana finally felt relief wash over her. She had been secretly worried her girlfriend might have lost
herself in the war. And while she did suffer some deep scars, she had obviously managed to bounce back
wonderfully with her heart still in the right place. If anything, she may have become a stronger person
for it.
“They got off too easy,” she added.
“... What?”
“That Imperial trash deserved to suffer a lot more for what they did to me!” she said with a manic grin.
“Died in an instant? Not enough! Next time I catch one of those pieces of shit I’ll be sure to thoroughly
put my pain into their soul!”
“...”
It would seem that this side of Keira was doing great as well. The catgirl had always hated that nation,
and with good reason, but the events of the past month seemed to have only amplified her grudge. And
someone like Rowana, who led a comfortable life that was mostly free of worry, had no right to judge
her. Nor did she intend to, for even that bloodthirsty grin she caught a glimpse of was, for better or for
worse, still Keira.
Which is why rather than get angry, upset or scared, Rowana slowly wrapped her arms around Keira and
embraced her tightly.
“Eh? Uhm, R-Rowie?”
“Shh. Just be quiet and stay still for a while.”
“... Well, if you insist,” answered the catgirl while returning the hug with closed eyes.
The two stood in silence as Rowana reconfirmed her feelings for Keira. The way the catgirl had boldly
and proudly declared her love in front of the very people that wanted to condemn her for it was still
fresh in the elf’s mind. Before she’d even realized it, that reserved, awkward girl had already become
such a splendidly gallant person. She was also a scatterbrain, horrifyingly blunt, had difficulty reading
the mood and had a number of other issues and faults, but none of that mattered. Even that murderous
rage that lay buried within her didn’t phase her anymore. The elf had already accepted all of it into her
heart, both the good and the bad.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Yip!”
However, this rather special moment was rudely interrupted by a certain living box that had bumped into
her leg.
“Hmm? What’s this, little guy? You want in on this too?” asked Rowana with a gleeful smile.
“Hehe, I think it feels left out.”
“Yip! Yip!” yelped Minic while bouncing about playfully.
“Fufufu, alright then!”
The elf bent over and picked the tiny monster up. She then held it between herself and Keira and the two
of them hugged each other around it. The completely stupefied Minic had no idea what was going on,
though. It had just been trying to catch a fly that was buzzing about when it was suddenly picked up.
Well, not like it was against this particular situation. It wasn’t often that it managed to find itself wedged
between two pairs of breasts. After all, where Boxxy would crave shiny and/or tasty things, Minic
wanted to be smothered by fluffy and warm things. The fact that the combination of Rowana’s and
Keira’s bosoms perfectly fit that description was just a coincidence.
In the end, the two lovebirds somehow or another managed to get back home by sunset. However,
Boxxy soon realized that it had messed up, despite how well things were going. Or rather, it had messed
up exactly because of that overtly fluffy atmosphere that appeared out of nowhere. As a result, Keira
clinging to Rowana over the next 3 days was pretty much set in stone. If that was allowed to happen,
then the Mimic would have a lot less freedom to act as it wanted. Especially since it was supposed to
‘rest up’ for the week. Leaving Snack in charge and sneaking off was possible, but risky. As capable as
she was, having that succubus stand in for it for prolonged periods of time was not advisable.
And indeed, the entirety of the next day was spent socializing and goofing off. It then slept all night, and
woke up the day after that feeling particularly grumpy due to a faint itching sensation in its teeth. It had
been almost a week since Boxxy was able to literally sink its fangs into someone, and the current
situation made it quite difficult to scratch them. This annoying sensation was only exasperated by the
fact it also had to attend Faehorn’s funeral service.
The event itself was a private gathering of about two dozen people in total, all of them dressed in black.
Otherwise the number of attendees would easily reach a thousand, as the old elf’s students, graduates
and associates would undoubtedly fill the streets. In the end, the only ones that had shown up that
morning were his closest friends and family. Much sobbing was had and condolences were passed
around, which did not help Boxxy’s mood in the slightest. It really disliked acting like it was grieving
someone.
The bereaved were gathered in the underground shrine to Mortimer that also doubled as a mausoleum.
Faehorn’s niece gave a eulogy, after which a Priest in service to the God of Death performed the actual
ceremony. Long-winded chants were chanted and numerous prayers were prayed while he sanctified the
deceased’s ashes. As to why Faehorn’s body was cremated in the first place, it was apparently done
according to his wishes, described in the will he wrote shortly before the siege at Fort Yimin started.
A fact that made the already annoyed Boxxy unintentionally grind Keira’s teeth. After all, the least that
Ranger could’ve done after losing that expensive bow was to leave his body behind. But, as things
stood, he would forever be ‘the one that got away.’ Rowana, who of course was there for the catgirl’s
sake, noticed that out-of-place and seemingly unwarranted peeved-off behavior. Thankfully the Mimic
was able to play it off with some cheesy line along the likes of ‘I’m angry at myself for not being strong
enough’ and ‘I should have been there for him.’
After the Priest was done doing his thing, he led the others into a round of silent praying while Faehorn’s
niece entered one of the many tunnels while carrying the fancy ceramic jar that held her uncle’s ashes.
She enshrined them in a pride of place in her family’s crypt and returned to others.
That more or less marked the end of the service, and the attendees made their way back above ground.
Most of them headed off towards the nearest pub to raise a final toast in honor of the late Milo Faehorn.
Some, like Keira and Rowana, chose to avoid getting blackout drunk in the middle of the day and
instead opted to simply go home.
“Excuse me, Keira? Could I trouble you for a short while?”
However, as they were about to depart, Faehorn’s niece - a lady by the name of Ariebelle - called out to
them. The two had been briefly introduced when the catgirl offered her condolences earlier.
“Yes? Something you need help with?” answered the catgirl.
“In a manner of speaking. I just have something I need to discuss with you. In private.”
“I can’t bring Rowie?”
“Hm? Oh no, don’t mind me,” said the elf in question. “I have to head home and prepare lunch anyway,
so take all the time you need.”
The two of them said their goodbyes, after which Ariebelle led Keira to the horse-drawn carriage that
was waiting for her. They climbed in and sat opposite each other while the driver set off in a seemingly
random direction.
“Now then,” said Ariebelle after straightening herself out. “I know this is sudden, but it’s my duty to see
to uncle Milo’s last wishes.”
She reached into the small bag she had been carrying, pulled out a palm-sized wooden box covered in
delicate carvings of flowers and handed it to Keira.
“What’s this?” asked the catgirl, not even trying to fake the confusion on her face.
“This is something my uncle bequeathed to you. It’s one of many a weird things he collected during his
adventuring career.”
“Well… it is a pretty box, I suppose…”
Boxxy genuinely had no idea why it was given this thing. While it somewhat appreciated being given a
miniature treasure chest, the fact that it was empty was more than a little odd.
“Kukukuku, you really are like that, aren’t you?” said Ariebelle with a light giggle.
“Like what?”
“Kuku, you see, uncle spoke of you when I, um… last visited him. He complained fervently about one
of his students. Apparently he had been assigned to dealing with this handful of a beastkin who was
always messing up and taking things way too literally. She was always short of breath, regularly tardy
and even managed to get herself lost on a straight road! Kukukuku!”
She giggled lightly at Keira’s expense while the catgirl went red like a beet.
“But you know,” she continued after a while, “even if he grumbled endlessly, it was still the happiest I
had seen him in years.”
“Is that… so?”
“Indeed. Which is why I have no qualms about parting with the treasure in that box. Please, accept it
with me and my late uncle’ sincerest gratitude.”
Yes! Level Up - GET! shouted Boxxy inwardly. Freaking finally! Those last few Levels took forever!
You’d think that- Wait, what did she say?!
Keira somewhat hesitantly opened the box in her hands, revealing a pink, square-cut gemstone. It was
quite large at about 5 centimeters in height and width and roughly 1 centimeter thick.
“Quite dazzling, isn’t it?” said Ariebelle while gazing at it with a soft expression.
“...”
However, the catgirl didn’t respond. She was too busy staring at the sparkling gem with eyes wide open
and mouth slightly agape, almost as if she were hypnotized by it.
“Uhm, miss Keira?”
“...”
“Hello? Are you okay?”
The elf leaned in and waved her hand in front of the stupefied Keira’s face.
“... Oh! S-sorry! It’s just… this is the first time I’m seeing something like this! It’s amazing!”
“I know. I’m quite fond of it myself.”
“Then you should-”
“Please, take it. I insist.”

No, I wasn’t going to give it back, you idiotic cow! I just wanted to know what this thing was made out
of!
“Th-then I suppose I’ll gratefully accept it. Though, I wonder how come mister Faehorn left this for me.
Is there something special about it?”
“To be frank, I don’t know either. Uncle never told me where or how he got it, and none of the Wizards,
Scribes or Enchanters that examined it could tell me anything about it other than how remarkably un-
magical it was. As far as I know it’s just a pretty rock uncle picked up somewhere.”
No, she was definitely mistaken. Well, not about that last bit, because this gem was so dazzling that
Boxxy felt like it could almost taste the shininess. However, what managed to turn the creature
momentarily speechless was something else entirely. While Keira’s eyes and fingers told the Mimic that
this thing in its hands definitely existed, it was completely invisible to its MLG. Even trying to focus
that magical perception on a single spot proved worthless. If Boxxy closed its eyes, then all it would see
would be a square-shaped hole of nothingness where the jewel should be. It was the same surreal feeling
it had whenever Edward was around. Were the two connected somehow? Or did they simply exhibit a
similar effect?
Either way, Boxxy wasn’t going to find any of that out by obsessing over it here and now. It would
probably play around with it later, but right now it had a much more pressing matter to consider.
Shiny - GET!
Even if it was irritating and annoying at first, this whole funeral business had turned out to be
unexpectedly tasty. Surely this was proof that good things came to those who waited.
“Well, it still makes me happy,” concluded Keira. “I’ve always wanted something fancy like this! Thank
you ever so much!”
“I’m glad you like it. I’m sure putting a smile on that face was exactly what uncle wanted to achieve
with this little stunt. Now then, I should make amends for whisking you away from your companion so
suddenly, no? Do you perchance need a lift?”
“Uhm, if it’s no trouble, then could you drop me off by the Central Consortium?”
Since Boxxy had an excuse to be away from Rowana right now, it decided to see if Reggie had sent
word regarding his ‘little something-something.’
“Very well. Driver!”
The carriage they were riding on swiftly delivered Keira to the building that housed her guild. She and
Ariebelle exchanged some parting words before the elf rode off into the city. The catgirl casually entered
the CC building, climbed up to the second floor, headed towards the north wing and went into her
guild’s headquarters through the security checkpoint.
Well, it may have been called a ‘security checkpoint,’ but it really didn’t look like one. It was just like
any other guild’s foyer - a few counters staffed by pretty receptionists, several couches to seat visitors
and some colorful flower pots and paintings to liven the place up a little. Of course, there were also the
large double doors in the far corner of the room that had a pair of guards lined up on either side of them.
Their posts were mostly decorative though. Only a lunatic would dare openly invade a building with 8
whole guilds in it. As such, those guards were mostly around to keep unauthorized personnel from
wandering into places they shouldn’t be and keep visitors from stepping out of line, both figuratively
and literally. This place was usually quite busy, so it wasn’t unthinkable for altercations to happen when
people had to wait in line for almost an hour only to be turned away at the last moment due to a
technicality or oversight.
At least, that’s what it was like before the war broke out. Pretty much all adventurers above Level 20
had been drafted for the war, so the only ones that remained were either trainees or special exceptions
like Keira. The influx of Quests was also on a sharp decline since the various guilds were all short-
handed. As such, the normally bustling entrance hall was eerily quiet. With nothing better to do, the two
guards were currently seated around a coffee table and playing some game of dice. They greeted the
newly arrived Keira with a nod of their heads, which she returned with a smile. The sole receptionist on
duty - a young human girl with brown, braided hair wearing a standard issue Hidden Arrow uniform -
noticed the catgirl’s appearance a few seconds later.
“Good day, Keira!” she said excitedly while waving at her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you back so
soon!”
“Hey, Clara! How are things?”
“Mmmm, well… Bored out of my skull. Same as always.”
“Sounds tough.”
“Well, it’s nothing compared to what the others are going through out there… Anyway, is there
something I can help you with?”
“Kind of. I was just dropping by to check a few reference books out of the library.”
Her words weren’t just an excuse to drop by nonchalantly to check if she got any messages from Reggie.
Well, that was one of the reasons it came here, but Boxxy legitimately wanted to check on something. It
realized yesterday that it knew next to nothing of the region it was being deployed to in 5 days’ time,
other than it was a dense pine forest. The Mimic was quite curious as to what sort of monsters or
animals could be found there, so it came here to gather information. After all, this was a good chance to
obtain some tasty cross-species Skills, especially since it was in no danger of being saddled with yet
another useless Job since it had no open slots for it.
“Oh, I see. Ever the studious one, aren’t you?” replied Clara.
“Of course! It’s only natural to be prepared when braving the wilderness! Uhm, speaking of which, do
you happen to have any simple Quests you can give me?”
“... You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I am! It’s just that it’s been awhile since I got a chance to move around! And, uh, I’m worried I might
grow rusty!”
“You’re bored too, aren’t you?”
“... Little bit.”
“Hahahahahaaa, told you so!” called out one of the guards from the side. “There’s no way someone as
lively as the Merry Popper would sit still for a whole week! Wahahahaha!”
“Geh! That nickname already made it to the capital?!”
“Of course it did, girly,” said the other guard with a grin. “You shouldn’t underestimate the power of
rumors! They spread faster than a Sonic Sparrow hopped up on mocha juice!”
“Well I think it’s kind of cute,” declared Clara, clearly ignorant of that monicker’s origins. “Though I’ll
refrain from using it since Keira doesn’t like it. Since I’m not an asshole like you, Jahnes!”
“... Thanks for that,” muttered the pouting catgirl. “So, um… any Quests?”
“Hmmm, we’re only giving out mostly menial ones like deliveries, harvesting-”
“Hey Clara!” chimed in one of the guards. “Don’t forget about that personal request that arrived this
morning!”
Keira’s ears perked up and she started hopping excitedly in one place at those words.
“Personal request?! I’ve never gotten one of those before!”
“Jahnes! I told you to keep quiet about that!” shouted Clara.
“Withholding stuff like that is a crime, you know! So is reading it, by the way. And don’t think I didn’t
see you doing that earlier!”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t want her to see it!”
“Don’t care, I’m still going to report you. Unlike you, an ‘asshole’ like me doesn’t get to shirk his
duties!’
“But surely you could’ve at least TRIED to keep quiet about it! I’m sure it will upset poor little Keira!”
“Uhm, I’m right here, you know.”
Boxxy’s irritation from this morning was rapidly returning. A Level was gained and a shiny was
obtained, but the way this idiotic woman thought she could make that sort of call on Keira’s behalf
really grinded the Mimic’s gears. It made a mental appointment to eat her pet dog at some point so she’d
stop poking her damnable nose into other people’s business. And yes, Keira wasn’t technically a person,
but that was besides the point.
“I know!” replied Clara in a huff. “I know- I’m sorry. It’s just that… Are you absolutely sure you want
to read it? There’s no way this is a legitimate request in the first place!”
Of course she’d think that, the meddlesome moron simply didn’t know any better. It was highly likely
that Reggie would have used some sort of code to obfuscate names, places or dates so that nosy
busybodies wouldn’t catch wind of his scheme.
“Does it have my name on it?” asked Keira.
“… Yes.”
“Then I want to read it.”
“But-”
“Now! … Please.”
Clara let out a deep sigh, rolled her eyes and walked off into the back room. She came back a minute
later, holding an envelope she was apparently trying to hide. The seal was broken and the words ‘Keira
Morgana - Hidden Arrow’ were clearly visible on one side of it. She pulled the Central Consortium’s
official Quest Submission form out of it and handed it to Keira.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The catgirl snatched the folded paper out of her hands and began reading it.
Submitter: Hugh Mungus

Address: At the other end of my giant cock
Quest Name: Becoming a cumdump
Description: Your virgin pussy needs to learn what it means to love and obey my dick
Approximate Difficulty: 8=====D~
Estimated Completion Time: 3 days straight
Due Date: 9 months
Reward: A minimum of 50 creampies, with a bonus of 25 more if you get pregnant.
Keira ripped the piece of paper in two, crumpled them into a ball and set it ablaze with her magical
lighter. She waited a few seconds for the fire to completely envelop it, then threw it against the floor,
stomped on it 5 or 6 times and even spit on it for good measure. She finished it off by kicking the
smoldering pile of trash with all her might, scattering ash all over the place and leaving a very noticeable
burn mark on the carpet.
The other three people in the room watched the whole thing transpire with their mouths agape. The only
sound that could be heard was Keira’s ragged, furious breathing. Even Clara was unable to utter so much
as an ‘I told you so.’ Once the enraged beastkin calmed down a bit, she turned to face the others with an
angelic smile that seemed like the condensed form of all of the world’s innocence.
“Whoops, my hand slipped!”

Boxxy walked out of the Central Consortium building in an exceedingly bad mood. That absolutely
ridiculous personal ‘request’ had caught it completely off guard, causing its accumulated grievances to
almost literally explode. The fact that the casualties of this outburst were limited to a piece of paper and
a bit of carpet was a small miracle in and of itself. Well, that and the next 30 or so minutes of the
Mimic’s life. As a result of her rash actions, Keira had to sit through a pointless lecture regarding the
destruction of guild property. At least she avoided having to pay a disciplinary fine and got off with just
a warning by blaming her reaction on various circumstances.
Who knew playing the ‘I was raped’ card could be so effective?
As for the piece of paper that caused the whole ‘hand slip incident,’ there was no way it came from
Reggie. To begin with, the whole point of making a personal request through the guild was so Keira
could have a plausible excuse to be away for a while. However, there was no way that piece of hate mail
would be considered something like that.
And ultimately, hate mail was all that it could be. It wasn’t all that strange for pretty female adventurers
to attract that sort of harassment, which was why that nosy receptionist had opened it up in the first
place. She probably wanted to protect the ‘pure and innocent Keira’ from that sort of filth, even if she
risked being reprimanded for her actions. If one considered the timing of it, it would become pretty clear
the person responsible was some idiotic elf that got taken in by the Doppelgangers’ bullshit
demonstration from two days ago. The catgirl stood out way too much during that incident, so it was
natural that she would catch the interest of at least somebody in that crowd. An interest that had
manifested itself as an anonymously submitted pile of filth.
As for how such a miscreant could find her in such a short time, it was actually a rather easy thing to do.
After all, as far as the Mimic knew, the number of young, cat-eared beastkin girls with crimson red hair
in Azurvale was exactly one. Not to mention that Keira’s existence had become something of an urban
myth in some areas of the city, growing closer to common knowledge around the places she frequented.
This much was only natural considering the catgirl’s exotic appearance inevitably drew the attention of
others. Standing out just enough to leave a lasting impression was what Keira was designed to do.
In short, tracking down her wherabouts based on her appearance alone would not be difficult in the
slightest. One had to merely ask around for anyone fitting her description and they’d learn the catgirl
was an adventurer in the Hidden Arrow guild called ‘Keira’ in a matter of hours. Which meant that if the
beastkin’s actions during that verbal confrontation from two days ago caught the attention of a rather
unsavory individual, then her receiving that ‘request’ with such timing wouldn’t be strange at all.
… Maybe that’s exactly why Reggie sent it?
An interesting thought popped up in Boxxy’s mind as it was mulling things over. The catgirl-shaped
Mimic stopped in her tracks as she entertained that possibility. Guild officials and prying eyes would
dismiss it immediately as ‘unfortunately common’ harassment. On the other hand, repeated incidents
could cause them to take action, so it wasn’t exactly a re-usable messaging system. Ah, but the form did
say something about 50 somethings with ‘a bonus of 25 more.’ It was possible that this was a subtle
reference to the favor Boxxy had asked regarding its Warlock Job. The ‘3 days straight’ comment was
also suspect, as it had indeed been the 3rd day since making contact with Reggie. Was it all a
coincidence after all?
“It’s a coincidence,” stated Reggie.
The elderly Doppelganger had immediately put that question to rest when Boxxy visited him later that
afternoon.
“I’m not sure exactly what that request’s contents were,” he continued, “but it’s far too early to have you
help us out. After all, the ‘problem’ I need you to take care of isn’t even in the city right now.”
“I more or less expected that,” stated the Keira-shaped monster, “but I wanted to be certain.”
“Indeed. And while erring on the side of caution was not a bad call, I would appreciate it if you stopped
climbing in and out of the window every time you stopped by. It puts my Facade at risk, you know.”
Granted, this was only their second meeting, but Reginald could easily see this becoming a troublesome
habit.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“You remember K’s appearance when you first got here?”
The catgirl’s head distorted and wriggled as if it was a piece of clay as it assumed the form of a
thoroughly unremarkable male elf.
“You mean this guy?”
“...”
Despite his surreal experience from a few days ago, Reginald had still been caught slightly off-guard by
the sheer speed and accuracy of this creature’s shapeshifting. Not only did it replicate his subordinate’s
visage in what could be described as an instant, but it had done so in an almost excruciating detail. The
face, the hair, the voice, even the dead-fish-like look in his eyes and his unmotivated manner of speech -
all of it had been recreated perfectly. It was almost at the stage where even Reginald would have trouble
telling the two of them apart.
“Yes, him,” he confirmed after a short while. “Just show that face to one of the guards, say you’re here
to make a delivery to me and they’ll handle the rest. Oh, and do be extra careful around the secretary
outside - she’s not one of us.”
“Alright, I suppose I can do that,” consented Boxxy as it shifted back into Keira and moving onto the
other reason it dropped by. “Reggie, I need to speak with you about what happened two days ago.”
“I assume you’re referring to the incident where you encountered one of our ongoing operations?"
“Yeah. What’s the deal with that?”
Reggie suddenly stood up and bowed towards the seated Keira with such intensity that he practically
slammed his head into his desk.
“I apologize, mister Morningwood!” he screamed. “It was an honest mistake! An oversight! I just wasn’t
able to spread word of our agreement fast enough, and those men were in the middle of-”
“I didn’t come here to hear your worthless apologies or excuses!” growled the catgirl-shaped monster.
“Y-you didn’t?”
“Of course not! I can’t eat words! Besides, I wasn’t going to blame you for it in the first place! Any
moron knows that it takes time for information to circulate! You think I’m stupid or something?!”
“No-no-no! I wouldn’t even think of insinuating something like that! It’s just that you asked me that
question out of the blue and I just assumed-”
“That I was a gullible idiot who doesn’t know how the world works?!”
Well, that assumption wouldn’t be too far off the mark, and Boxxy understood that full well. Things like
running an organization, how the government worked or the dos and don’ts of the criminal world were
completely beyond the Mimic’s understanding. For the time being, at least.
“Look, Reggie, let’s just drop the act. We both know you’re not sincere anyway. Just tell me why you’re
doing that stuff in the first place and I’ll steer clear of them.”
Reginald stopped his groveling and returned to his seat with a calm look on his face.
“Very well. It’s nothing that complicated, really. It’s mostly a way of helping raise the average Level of
my organization’s members.”
Well, that much was obvious. Swaying a crowd with just words gave a significant amount of
Doppelganger XP, something Boxxy had confirmed first-hand. In fact, if it wasn’t for that near-riot, then
the Doppelganger Job would still be at Level 24.
“It also serves as a distraction, a sort of smokescreen to our actions,” he added.
“Oh? How come?”
“The commoners may try to hide it, but they are feeling the pressure of the ongoing war. It makes them
fearful and distrusting, sometimes straight-up paranoid. That’s why we work to redirect those negative,
potentially dangerous emotions towards an easy target like homosexuals.”
“Alienating a part of the population seems like it might be harmful in the long run.”
“It really isn’t. Commoners have very little value to us Doppelgangers to begin with, and non-breeders
like those are practically worthless to our cause.”
“That’s not entirely true though, is it?” argued Boxxy. “That woman I’m using was so desperate for
companionship that I had her eating out of my hand in a manner of hours. These days she’s clinging to
me so much that pretty soon she might not even care if I’m outed as a fake.”
The Mimic wasn’t just saying that, either. Although its claim sounded like a mere exaggeration if one
thought about it rationally, people burdened by notions such as love and trust were prone to acting
irrationally. Rowana had already displayed such behavior when Boxxy attempted to create some
distance between them two days ago so that it could act more freely. It showed her an unnaturally
violent and merciless facet of Keira that it was sure would alienate the elf, yet she somehow ended up
growing even more attached to the catgirl. It was a reaction that was as troublesome as it was
unexpected, but one that proved even that extreme example was possible.
“Hmm, I suppose you may have a point,” admitted Reggie as he cupped his chin and fell into thought.
“Repressed and sheltered individuals like her do make for easy targets, and infertility in a coupling like
that is only to be expected. If a Doppelganger were to enter such a relationship, then ‘adopting’ a
juvenile or two would potentially be beneficial…”
“That stuff aside, when can I expect for your ‘problem’ to arrive?” interrupted Boxxy.
“Either tomorrow or the day after.”
“Why not just ambush them on the way here? It’s much easier to kill someone on the road rather than in
town.”
“The person in question is arriving via Forest Gate, so I doubt that would work. Also, I never said I
wanted him killed.”
Boxxy’s glare immediately sharpened.
“I- I mean killing him is also a way to go about it,” he continued, “but not the best solution. You see, the
man in question has been trying to prove our organization’s existence for years now. As far as we know,
he has suspicions but no hard evidence. It’s not an official investigation, but he’s still got someone
backing him up and providing him with funding. Simply murdering him or having him disappear would
be too dangerous, yet we also cannot allow him to do as he pleases. I was hoping someone of your…
particular insight would be able to do something about him.”
“I see. That’s unfortunate. I was really looking forward to ripping someone in half. A lot of someones,
actually.”
“… Quite.”
“Well then, I suppose I’ll check the guild again in two days. Bye, Reggie.”
“Until we meet again.”

Keira stood up from the armchair and nonchalantly left through the same window she entered. Even if
the Mimic agreed to Reggie’s demands regarding visitation, leaving through the front door was a bad
idea considering nobody had been seen entering the Doppelganger’s office. The catgirl proceeded to
stealthily make her way back home and spent the rest of the day slacking off with Rowana. Boxxy had
decided to keep the existence of that pink gem a secret from her, at least for the moment. There was no
way that shiny thing was ‘just a pretty rock,’ as that ignorant elf had claimed, and the Mimic’s intuition
regarding shiny things gave it a good idea as to what was so special about it. Which was why it returned
to its pet dungeon that very same night.
“Greetings, milord,” said Ambrosia as the box-shaped Doppelganger approached the core. “Does thou
wish to sample of mine bosom?”
“... Might as well.”
Boxxy seriously needed something to take the edge off, and the dryad’s heavenly nectar was just the
thing to do it.
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Ambrosia while clapping her hands.
Something akin to an armchair made out of vines rapidly grew out of the floor, and the dryad seated
herself in it. Once she was comfortable, she patted her lap, prompting Boxxy to revert to its base form
and climb onto it. It was then presented with a nipple, which it eagerly latched onto and started to suckle
on with all its might.
“Oh! I see milord is quite enthusiastic tonight,” she said with a smile while gently stroking its bald head.
After about 30 minutes of greedily draining her bottomless breast, Boxxy detached itself from her nipple
with a satisfied sigh. Just as expected, absorbing itself in something both tasty and filling did wonders to
alleviate its stress, leaving it with a distinct feeling of contentment and satisfaction. It was just a shame
that there wasn’t any meat involved. As tasty as the nectar was, it ultimately lacked something. It took
more than mere flavor to make a meal truly tasty, after all, and in this case it was the unique sensation of
crushing someone’s bones between its jaws and gorging on their blood. The notion of devouring
something that was once alive brought with it a certain degree of enjoyment that couldn’t be found in
Ambrosia’s syrupy fluids.
Then again, who said that it couldn’t enjoy both of those things at the same time?
“Claws, where are you right now?” it called out telepathically.
“Uhm… in the dungeon, about 20 meters above you, Master.”
As per usual, the Stalker had been stalking the target of her affections. It’s something she always did
whenever she had no other standing orders.
“I need you to go find me a meal,” it ordered. “Not a beggar or vagrant, though. I want someone of
superior tastiness.”
“Ohh! You mean the type that’s really fun to chew, right?!”
“Yes, exactly!”
“I know just the guy! I spotted this construction site that had a bunch of human laborers, and one of
them was really tall and well-built! I bet he has a strong, absolutely delicious heart! I think I might’ve
fallen in love with him, to be honest!”
“He’s perfect! Do you know where he is?”
“Of course! I followed him back to his house yesterday! He has a wife and kid but they just look sickly
and scrawny.”
It would seem that, as per usual, the Stalker had been stalking the target of her affections. Except that
this time her feelings were clearly along the lines of ‘I’d love to bite his head off.’
“Okay, then go catch him and bring him to Ambrosia at once. Alive, mind you.”
“At once, Master!”
“So, Ambrosia,” said Boxxy out loud. “Claws will be bringing you some fresh ingredients. Make sure
you prepare breakfast for me.”
“It would be mine pleasure, milord,” she answered with a bow.
A gourmet serving of man-flesh with a side order of nectar sounded like the best thing to wake up to
after a Rank Up. Well, Boxxy still wasn’t sure if Ambrosia’s cooking would be very good, but even if it
was unbelievably nasty, then it could still eat the guy raw. Before any of that could happen though, it had
to look into the thing that brought it here in the first place.
The Mimic opened up its Storage and took out the mysterious pink gem it received earlier that day. Just
as before, it was completely absent from its MLG’s perception. Trying to sharpen that magical sense and
focus it on where the gem actually was merely accentuated a small, square-shaped void. Much like with
that Doppelgangers’ non-existent scent, the shiny thing was a blank spot in its ‘vision,’ as if was a space
of pure nothingness. Boxxy had partially felt this bizarre sensation when it first laid eyes on it, but
having the dungeon’s mana enriched air as a background made the ‘hole’ even more pronounced, and
served to confirm the Mimic’s suspicions.
Boxxy’s MLG functioned by constantly releasing weak pulses of mana into its surroundings. These
waves would then provide near-instantaneous feedback whenever they bounced off of or passed through
something, allowing the organ to detect both physical and magical disturbances within its effective
range. However, if something were to instantly devour a portion of said pulse, then the MLG would
perceive the absence of feedback as if there were nothing there. This was probably also how the
Spymaster that captured Boxxy months ago had managed to evade its perception, as something on his
person or in his gear interfered with magical scans.
In other words, it wasn’t that the gem was non-magical, but rather that it was anti-magical. The
lingering mystic energy in the air immediately around it seemed to disappear somewhere. More of it
naturally flowed in to fill the persistent gap, creating a tiny swirl of mana around it. It was somewhat
reminiscent of the dungeon core within this very room, actually. However, the Mimic’s MLG could ‘see’
the brightly glowing yellow ball without any difficulty, even if it was unable to peer inside it. It was,
therefore, a reasonable assumption that the square pink jewel worked in a different way.
Since Boxxy’s magical sensory organ was of no use, it tried to examine the gem through its physical
ones. Touching the pink gem merely revealed it had a smooth surface that was somewhat cold to the
touch. Gripping it or putting it in its mouth displayed no discernable effects on the Mimic’s body, nor
did any strange notifications appear in its mind. Then again if this thing’s secrets were that easy to find,
then the people that what’s-her-face supposedly brought it to would have noticed something was amiss
already. Come to think of it, she said that the result of their magical analysis was ‘inconclusive.’ Most
likely this gem’s properties interfered with any and all attempts to examine it through magic, much like
it messed with Boxxy’s magical perception. If the shapeshifter hoped to make any progress on unlocking
the gem’s true purpose, then it needed to try something that no self-respecting professional would think
of doing.
Meaning that if both magical and physical analysis failed, then what would happen if the item was
subjected to a bit of prodding? Boxxy didn’t feel like blasting it with a Spell since it might break the
fragile-looking shiny thing, but it didn’t exactly need to. It opened its Storage once more and took out
the lighter-type wand it had bought recently. A small, steady stream of flame shot out of its tip, and the
Mimic carefully subjected the gem to it. It was the magical equivalent of poking something with a stick.
Just as pink was about to meet red, however, the upwards-traveling fire suddenly curved unnaturally
towards the jewel. It wrapped around it as if a snake coiling around a rodent before the fire sputtered out
and died all on its own a second later. Intrigued, Boxxy did the same thing a few more times and
witnessed the same reaction each time. It also noted that the lighter itself was not malfunctioning and
that the gem remained perfectly cool to the touch. It then tried subjecting the gem to the non-magical
flame of a lit torch and was able to confirm that nothing extraordinary happened.
Next, it spat out a bit of caustic acid through the Acid Spray Skill, forming a little puddle on the bark-
covered floor of the dungeon. Hovering the gem over it caused the puke-green liquid to bubble up and
evaporate at a rapid pace until every last drop of it disappeared. Some of the trace fumes the liquid let
out had wrapped themselves around the pink gem before disappearing, much like the flame from earlier.
On a hunch, the Mimic took out a healing potion, poured into the freshly-melted hole in the floor and
dropped the gem inside. The liquid steadily turned from a bright red to a mud-like brown and became
slightly thicker in consistency, more like ink than water. Boxxy tentatively gave it a few licks, only to
find out its alchemical properties had disappeared and that, oddly enough, it tasted vaguely of rust.
Boxxy continued its extremely unscientific testing by physically rubbing the gem against the lighter
wand, but doing so didn’t break, dispel or otherwise interfere with the item’s enchantments. Well, that
was to be expected, as magic bound to a physical item was usually nigh-impossible to dissolve without
breaking the object itself.
To sum up its findings so far, the gem seemed to forcibly extract mana from its surroundings rather than
simply collect the ambient magical energy like a dungeon core would. They appeared similar, but the
former had a much stronger pull, even if its effective range was quite low. If one considered how the
gem was strong enough to pull the magic out of liquids, then it was quite clear that it would do the same
to any magical appraisals aimed at it.
But then, if it could do that, then could it also ‘eat’ Spells targeted directly at it? Admittedly, Boxxy felt
like blasting it with offensive magic was a bit dangerous. If its assumptions were somehow wrong, then
even a Shadowbolt, which was arguably its weakest Spell, could potentially turn the gem into dust. And
that would be a horrible waste of a perfectly shiny shiney.
Ah, but Boxxy had a way to disarm potentially harmful Spells, didn’t it? A few seconds later, it had
produced a Spell Crystal with a Mass Panic Spell trapped inside. It placed the 12-sided magical
construct on the ground and put the gem on top of it. The two crystalline objects had barely even
touched before the Spell Crystal had dissipated and the pink gem fell to the ground with a clatter. Dark
Explosion, Massive Rejection, and even Singularity crystals were all sucked up instantly as well,
regardless of whether Power Overwhelming was used or not. At some point Boxxy had let go of its
concerns regarding the item’s durability and began using every Spell or magic trick it had at its disposal
on the thing.
The results? The gem was practically indestructible through magical means. No matter the magnitude or
size of the Spell, the pink jewel remained completely unaffected by any and all magic. In fact, the only
time it displayed any sort of reaction was when the ground under it was damaged by the remnants of the
Spells that weren’t devoured. It even resisted being transported through Transfamiliar, and the flames of
both Snack and Smokey had proven to be equally ineffective on it.
Boxxy even tried dropping it in various alchemical liquids such as potions, poisons and elixirs hoping to
see an anomalous reaction, but all of its trials ended exactly as the first one and provided no additional
information. The Mimic then got the idea of testing the gem out on the golden goblet it had acquired
through the Unholy Wealth ritual. It took the item in question out of Storage and set it down on the
ground, then dropped the gem into the viscous red fluid in the cup. However, rather than sink into it, the
pink jewel bounced off it with an out-of-place ‘boing’ sound and flew high into the air. Whether this was
due to the curse inside the liquid rejecting the gem or vice-versa was hard to tell, but it was quite
obvious that the two did not mix in the slightest.
It was also worth noting that it was indeed possible to put the mysterious gemstone in and out of
Boxxy’s Storage. It was likely that the gem’s tiny, square-shaped mana absorption field was simply far
too small to cause the 1-meter-wide portal to collapse. It was the same behavior it exhibited when
targeted by large-scale area of effect magic, in which case it simply took a ‘bite’ out of it rather than
cause it to dissipate completely. However, while its transfer was successful, it wasn’t entirely without
bad side-effects. Putting it into or taking it out of the Mimic’s pocket dimension consumed about 300 to
400 MP, which was quite bizarre considering that items of similar weight and volume should cost only
1, maybe 2 MP at most.
The more the Mimic learned about the gem, however, the more it lost track of what it was actually
doing. What was intended to be a pseudo-scientific experiment had devolved into Boxxy simply
throwing Spells and potions at the thing just for the heck of it. It was rather fun shooting a Shadowbolt
at the gem and watching the magical projectile break apart into fragments that kept flying forward with
distorted trajectories. After about 30 minutes or so of goofing around in that manner, Boxxy suddenly
realized that two visible changes had occurred. One of them was that the gem had started to glow with a
dim inner light, while other was that its coloration had changed to a slightly paler, brighter shade of
pink.
This reaction was something Boxxy had seen elsewhere and was actually natural in some ways. All that
magical power that the Mimic had been haphazardly throwing at it hadn’t just disappeared into the void.
Whatever this thing was, it had been steadily accumulating a magical charge of some kind. Then perhaps
something truly noteworthy might happen if it was filled up all the way? The problem was that doing so
would probably take quite a bit of time due to how tiny the gem’s effective range was. The jewel could
absorb only a fraction of any Spell aimed at it, and there was a limit to how many potions and elixirs
Boxxy was willing to ‘feed’ to it.
On second thought, why the hell was Boxxy even bothering with such things? If this was about pumping
something full of MP, then it already had the perfect tool for the job.
“Ambrosia,” it called out.
The dryad who had been gleefully watching the Mimic play around since the beginning immediately
approached and presented herself in a prim and proper manner.
“Yes, milord?”
“You’re good at manipulating mana, right? Can you pump this shiny thing full of it?”
“I am not certain, though ‘tis possible. Does milord wish for me to try?“
“Yeah. Here, take it.”
The dryad’s slender hands reached out towards Boxxy’s outstretched tentacle. Her left fingers grasped
the gem, while her right gently wrapped around the wriggling appendage and lingered there for an
unnecessarily long time. After pointlessly stroking the tip of it for a few moments, she turned her
attention to the precious stone in her palm and began doing as instructed. She stared at it intently for
several seconds before the light coming from it became ever-so-slightly brighter.
“‘It would appear that I am capable of infusing this bauble with mine mana, milord,” she declared.
“However, ‘tis considerably more difficult than filling a living vessel.”
“But you can do it?”
“Verily,” she answered with a polite nod.
“Very good! Then please fill it up right away!”
“How much power should I infuse it with, milord?”
“Uh… Just keep going until it won’t take anymore, I guess.”
“Understood. Then, I shall begin.”
Ambrosia turned her attention back to the jewel and began pumping it full of mana. Boxxy watched with
anticipation as the pink gem steadily grew whiter and brighter. It even seemed to expand a bit in size,
though it still remained a blank spot in its magical perception. The Mimic bounced in place excitedly as
it waited for the gem to approach full charge. And once that happened, then- … Then…
“... Huh?”
Then what? Boxxy had gotten so caught up in the charging process that it neglected to question what
would happen after that.
“Ambrosia, stop what you’re doing for a moment,” it commanded.
“As you will, milord.”
By this point, the gem was almost completely white, with but the faintest trace of pink remaining. The
white light it gave off was already intense enough to make it hard to stare directly at the thing, as well. If
one were to take these visual cues into consideration, then it was quite clear that the item was almost
close to full charge.
“Exactly how much MP did you put into that?” it asked.
“About 42,000,” came the casual answer.
“... That’s more than twice the dungeon core’s capacity, right?”
“Thou art correct.”
“And yet it’s many times smaller, isn’t it?”
“‘Tis so.”
“Also is it me, or is this thing buzzing slightly?”
“... It is indeed giving off such a noise, milord.”
Boxxy had very limited experience regarding shiny things that soaked up mana as if they were a thirsty
dwarf floating inside a lake of beer. In fact, it only knew of a single object like that. One that absorbed
half a dungeon’s worth of mana, grew in size and then started glowing and giving off a weird buzzing
noise. In fact, if one were to ignore the difference in shape, size and coloration, then this was pretty
much a repeat of that time.
“Is something the matter, milord?”
“Uhm, yeah… Let’s just forget about the glowy thing, shall we?”
Boxxy took the gem back from Ambrosia, somewhat hesitantly put it inside its Storage and then began
making arrangements for its Rank Up.
It really did not feel like recreating the Calamity of Monotal with its dungeon as ground zero.
Boxxy woke up the next day within the depths of its personal dungeon. It felt the distinct hard ground
against its back as well as something soft and pleasantly warm against the back of its head. Strange, it
didn’t set out a pillow or anything of the sort when it initiated the Rank Up process last night. Or at the
very least it wasn’t part of the Mimic’s preparations for the event.
Snack, for example, had been told to assume Keira’s identity should Boxxy be unconscious for too long.
Just a precaution in case something went wrong, though the Mimic did not believe it would be
necessary. After all, according to what Reggie had said regarding Doppelgangers, Boxxy should have
only been out for three and a half hours at most and would have awoken before dawn. Although Snack
seemed a bit suspicious of those words considering their source, her Master had been pretty sure the
elderly Doppelganger didn’t lie to it.
For starters, Reggie was probably fully aware what would have happened if he had misled Boxxy
regarding this matter. If the ‘real’ Keira vanished without a trace for days or possibly even weeks, then
that particular Facade would come under serious jeopardy. Boxxy would probably be able to salvage it
somehow even if that were to happen, but it would also make sure to return the favor in full.
It was this unspoken promise of mutually-assured destruction between monsters that Boxxy was
counting on to keep the old banker honest. Not only that, but Reggie had very little to gain and plenty to
lose if he blatantly deceived his new ‘business partner.’ In other words, he would have been compelled
to speak truthfully not because of good will, honor or some sort of personal code, but out of self interest.
And that was a motivation that Boxxy could believe in.
So then how come the clock that Boxxy had left out last night was currently telling it that it was now
early noon? For what reason was its head resting in Ambrosia’s lap while she looked down at it with a
peaceful smile on her face? And why in the world did it feel that bizarre craving for sunshine?
All of those questions were answered in the next instant by the notification that popped up inside the
Mimic’s consciousness.
Rank up complete.
Congratulations! Your species has become Creeper (Hylt).
The maximum Level of your Doppelganger Job has been increased to 50.
Proficiency level increased. Phytokinesis is now Level 1. MNT +3. AFF +3.
“... The fuck?” muttered Boxxy.
“Good ‘morrow, milord,” said the dryad when she heard its voice. “Did thou sleep well?”
“The FUCK?!” repeated the Mimic in a loud shout. It scrambled to its feet and scampered away from
the seated and startled dryad.
“Milord?! Is something the matter?!”
“Yes, something’s the matter!” it spat back. “Just- Just stay there and let me figure out what’s going on,
okay?”
“If thou wishes it...”
Ignoring the sulking plant-lady, Boxxy re-grew its MLG and analyzed its own body. To begin with, the
monster had reverted to its base form, which was more or less expected. That form, however, had
undergone two key changes.
First of all, it had grown considerably. While its body maintained the same slender proportions, its
height was no longer that of a twelve or thirteen-year old human child, and was now closer what one
would expect from a fifteen or sixteen year-old. Where before it had to expand its base form to assume
Keira’s figure, right now it was slightly taller than the catgirl was supposed to be. Shrinking down in
size was possible, but not something Boxxy felt comfortable doing. After all, it was already packing
over three times more body mass than a being of its proportions should have, mostly due to the Biomass
Skill. Attempting to compress its already dense flesh even further was stifling and uncomfortable, so it
hated doing it. Then again, perhaps it wouldn’t need to. Keira was, technically speaking, still a growing
girl. Gaining a bit of height every now and then was not only natural, but also expected. Just so long as it
was in small, barely noticeable increments.
Matters of height aside, the second and much more noticeable change in its base form concerned its
skin. Its pigmentation had become several shades lighter, bringing it close to a dark gray rather than
pitch-black. More troubling than that a subtle shift in coloring, however, was that the skin covering the
back of its hands, the top of its feet, as well as its elbows, knees and shoulders no longer looked like skin
at all. It was hard, brown and uneven, making it both look and feel exactly like a sapling’s bark, yet
didn’t seem to limit its movements in the slightest, nor did it feel unnatural or numb as one might
expect.
Boxxy was a bit stupefied at first, but instantly realized that it took very little effort to transform the
bark-covered parts of its body to match the rest of its pliable, gangly flesh. Technically speaking though,
even this tiny change was still a fake, an imitation. Releasing its transformation and allowing its body to
revert back to its default shape caused the vegetative parts to reappear as if they had always been there.
Meaning that, for better or for worse, they had become a permanent and somewhat unwelcome addition
to its body.
Just then, Boxxy had a rather interesting thought. What would happen if it tried ‘pulling’ instead of
‘pushing?’
The newly-awoken shapeshifter brought its right hand up to its non-existent face and stared at its open
palm intently. A few breaths later, the greenish brown bark covering its backhand began to spread. It
enveloped the palm and fingers, encroached on its wrist and steadily crawled its way up its forearm, past
the elbow and all the way up to the shoulder. It wasn’t just a skin-deep transformation either, as Boxxy’s
limb had completely turned into a wooden branch, both inside and out. Beautiful flowers, small vines
and even smaller branches covered in leaves grew out of it as Boxxy curiously explored this newfound
ability. Sure, it could transform to have the appearance of wood before, but this was the first time it had
created honest-to-goodness timber out of its flesh. In a flash of inspiration, it partially mimicked the
curious structure of Ambrosia’s body, allowing it to freely move its arm and fingers while also
maintaining its woody disposition.
“Oh my!” squealed the dryad in question. “Milord can grow thy own flowers?! How wondrous!”
“... You!” growled Boxxy while pointing at Ambrosia with its wooden arm.“You did this, didn’t you?!”
Its moment of wanderlust had passed, causing the shapeshifter to remember that whatever was going on
was clearly outside its plans and expectations. If that overgrown twig had somehow forced this on it
without its knowledge or consent, then it just might consider detonating that pink mini-core (tentative
name) inside her right here and now.
“Whatever does thou mean, milord?”
Not that the suspect involved would readily admit to that, of course.
“It’s your fault I turned out like this, isn’t it?!”
“Like what?”
“Like what?” repeated the Mimic in disbelief. “Like! What?! Look at me! I Ranked Up into some
bizarre half-plant half-monster hybrid! This was not supposed to happen!”
“I assure you, milord, I had no intention of meddling in thy Rank Up!” she explained frantically. “To
begin with, I have no idea what form of creature thou truly are!”
“You still seemed oddly happy about it!”
“Of course I would be happy seeing that milord has grown ever-so-slightly closer to myself!”
“Then why were you holding my head when I woke up?!”
“I just felt like it.”
“You felt like it?”
“I was just standing vigil over milord’s rest, when I suddenly noticed a strangely familiar sensation
coming from within thee. I approached thee out of wonder and somehow ended up cradling thy fruit-
shaped noggin in mine lap. It just seemed like the most natural thing to do at the time…”
“Uh, huh. Come to think of it, why have you been so touchy-feely with me ever since I came back?!”
It wasn’t like Boxxy minded the extra attention, but it didn’t particularly care for it either.
“I simply wished to selfishly cling onto milord while I had the chance. That is all.”
“What is? What do you mean by ‘while you had the chance?!’”
“... Milord will eventually leave me,” she said with a quiet voice. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a month.
Maybe decades or even centuries from now, but thou will undoubtedly be separated from me by the
passage of time. Thy recent absence had simply reminded me of this inevitability.”
“So what, you missed me and that’s why you’re so clingy?!”
“Indeed.”
“And how’s that going to solve anything?”
Ambrosia adopted a solemn smile, one that practically oozed with the melancholy and sadness of having
to live through literal millennia of solitude.
“I simply wish to forge as many pleasant memories with thee as possible. Thou are unique… special…
extraordinary even. Thy companionship, although brief, has filled me with a profound joy and happiness
that I have never experienced before. It is… a tasty feeling that I have decided to cling onto for as long
as possible.”
She waved her hand towards one of the walls on the edge of the dungeon core platform, causing the
countless divine letters and words etched into it to glow with a bright, yellow light.
“‘Tis also why I have endeavored to carve said memories onto mine heartwood. So that I would not
allow myself to forget. I am certain that, when the time comes, thy passing will most likely leave a deep
wound on mine soul. Forgetting thee would probably help mine future self heal, but mine current self
wishes to cherish every single moment I have spent in thy presence. That is the wish of this tree who
hath lived too long … the wish of someone who is forever destined to be left behind.”
Ambrosia put one foot slightly in front of the other and bent over with a twirl of her hands. It was a
flawlessly elegant bow that even a refined lady of noble birth would have difficulty imitating.
“Therefore,” she continued while staring at the floor with eyes closed, “I beg for thy mercy and
forgiveness regarding any transgression I may have committed against thee. I swear upon the Goddess
that I truly meant thee no harm nor disrespect, and humbly request that thou allow me to continue
serving thee as I have until now.”
“... Whatever,” responded the mentally exhausted Mimic after a few seconds of silence. “Do what you
want, just make sure your antics don’t get in my way.”
“Milord is most gracious,” replied Ambrosia while bowing slightly lower.
Boxxy had only dimly listened to that heartfelt speech. Somewhere halfway through her inane babbling,
the Mimic had realized that blaming her was a waste of time and energy. It had briefly forgotten just
how bad this dryad was at lying and scheming in the first place. She was simply far too honest and naive
to even consider such things as sabotage. After calming down and thinking things through clearly, it
realized that if it wanted to find the culprit responsible for this anomalous Rank Up, it needed only to
look into a mirror.
Reggie, the resident expert on Doppelganger physiology, had stated that their kind were prone to
mutation, and implied it wouldn’t be all that odd if a new variant popped up seemingly out of nowhere.
Such things were usually brought about as a result of one’s environment. And if there was one truly
outstanding thing that Boxxy had done on a regular basis prior to its Rank Up, it was its constant
interaction with dryads. It wasn’t mere talking either, as it had even taken to gorging itself on
Ambrosia’s potent nectar for the last few days. As such, its evolution into a partially plantlike
shapeshifter was a direct result of its own actions.
Besides, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The inborn ability to transform flesh into different kinds of
vegetation through shapeshifting was undoubtedly going to be useful. Boxxy just needed to see how far
it could take things and what sort of new forms it could assume. Come to think of it, the Rank Up had
presented the shapeshifter with a new Skill as well, didn’t it?
Phytokinesis
Description: The ability to manipulate plant life through the power of one’s mind.
Requirements: Be born as a plant-related species with telekinetic potential
Type: Sustained
Cost: Variable
Range: 5 Meters
Effects: Grants control over targeted vegetation within range.
Consumes MP based on the size and weight of targets under the effects of this Skill.
The strength, speed and range of movement of controlled targets are dependant the
combined strength of the MNT and AFF Attributes.
Increases the effectiveness of this Skill by 10% per Level of this Skill.
It would seem that the mental abilities normally present in ‘pure’ adult Doppelgangers had manifested
themselves in a rather weird way. Boxxy wasn’t sure whether to be happy about this or not, as it had no
frame of reference. It did, however, had a bone to pick with those dubious requirements. While a
Creeper was indeed a plant-based subspecies of Doppelganger that retained the telekinetic potential of
its main race, this particular individual hadn’t been ‘born’ as one, but had Ranked Up into it instead.
Then again, one could argue that a Rank Up was not far too different from a rebirth, of sorts. Well, truth
be told that was simply the most logical explanation that the Mimic could think of. If a Rank Up didn’t
count as a ‘birth,’ then how else was a monster supposed to acquire the racial Skills of whatever species
it had evolved into? Therefore, rather than obsess pointlessly over a technicality, it wholeheartedly
accepted the new Skill on from itself on behalf of itself.
With that matter confidently and completely settled, Boxxy decided to try out this newly-acquired
Phytokinesis on its surroundings. It looked around the dungeon for a suitable spot for a while before a
flash of brilliance caused it to forget the whole thing and leave it for later. Technically speaking, such a
thing as ‘a good spot to practice plant control’ did not exist within Ambrosia’s tree. There was, after all,
only a single piece of vegetation in this entire dungeon. One that was pointlessly massive and already
had an owner. An idiotic, gullible and absurdly powerful owner that Boxxy stood no chance of
overpowering.
Since flexing its mental muscles didn’t seem feasible for the moment, Boxxy decided to check out its
physical ones. It began by transporting itself to its treasury through the use of the dungeon core’s Nexus
Access. It wasn’t here to play around, though. Granted that did happen to some degree, but the original
reason it went there was to test the limits of its physical strength. Before the Rank Up the most it could
carry was roughly 270 kilograms of valuables, which was about 60 kilograms more than its own body
weight. Any more than that and its muscles and bones would begin screaming and creaking in pain as
the massive load threatened to crush it flat. And now, even though it had gained hardly any mass, it was
capable of bearing just over 320 kilograms of the stuff before its body began to give out. It was a rough,
unscientific measurement, but one that showed a marked increase in muscle power which had occurred
quite literally overnight.
The next thing on Boxxy’s agenda was to go for a run inside the dungeon, trying to gauge if it had also
gained any speed or stamina. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. Or rather, if there was a
difference, then it was far too minute for Boxxy to discern it. To begin with, the Mimic hadn’t really
thought of measuring its speed prior to the Rank Up, so that portion of the post-Rank-Up-warm-up had
become an exercise in futility.
Once that was done, the Mimic unequivocally confirmed the vitally-important shapeshifting didn’t
suffer any ill side-effects from its new, leafy disposition. Flesh, bone, teeth and metal were molded with
the same speed, consistency and accuracy as before. The new plant-based possibilities, however, were
much slower in comparison, although that was only natural. Boxxy had never really had a reason to
study how trees, shrubs, grasses and vines were put together in the first place and had to work entirely
off of its newfound intuition. Ultimately, though, this was still the same-old Shapeshift Skill. If the
Mimic wanted to master this ‘plantshifting,’ then it just needed to keep practicing.
And it would definitely do so, for this new ability was going to be quite useful. For one thing, the Mimic
was able to instantly confirm that it was capable of producing actual Ironbark with relative ease. The
notoriously tough material was almost second nature to it due to its ‘heritage’ as a Hylt Creeper variant.
Covering its body in the stuff gave it a natural armor that was almost as tough as steel. Granted, it could
already accomplish this through Metal Mimicry, but doing it through Shapeshifting had no MP cost. Not
to mention that the material itself was not only lighter, but much, much easier to move around in. After
all, just because Boxxy turned its flesh into actual metal meant there was no way said metal could retain
its elasticity or flexibility.
However, the material seemed ill-suited to be used as weaponry. For one thing, shaping it into a keen
edge was nigh-impossible, as Boxxy found out. Its relatively light weight meant it didn’t have the
‘oomph’ behind it to properly serve as a blunt weapon either. Perhaps, in due time and with plenty of
practice, the Mimic might be able to mold it into the same SHUNK-y contraption it came up with on
behalf of those dryad quintuplets. For the moment, however, it would need to rely on Metal Mimicry if it
wanted to create deadly weapons on a whim.
After that was done, Boxxy then decided to tackle the final oddity that had appeared due to the Rank Up
- the odd craving for sunlight. Well, that could easily be tested out by simply going outside the Hylt
tree’s interior. And what better place to bask in sunlight than the very top of it? Boxxy teleported to the
highest point of the dungeon and climbed out into the vast green canopy of Ambrosia’s uppermost
branches. Her ‘hair,’ as she liked to put it.
Drea’s elaborately constructed nest dominated a large part of the Mimic’s immediate surroundings.
Sheets upon sheets of lavender-colored Demon Silk webbing stretched out in every possible direction.
Boxxy could easily make out floors, ceilings, walls, pillars and other such constructs, almost as if the
Stalker had built a literal house up here. She had even woven a bunch of crude yet undeniably soft and
fluffy furniture. It had all stood up surprisingly well considering its owner had been away for a long
while. Then again, she had plenty of opportunity to fix the place up ever since she had returned to the
capital along with her Master.
Boxxy, however, did not particularly care for such things and thoughtlessly ripped through it as it made
its way upwards. The thick foliage was still blocking a significant part of the midday sun, so it had to
make its way even higher. Eventually it came out to that horizontal branch it had used for the Unholy
Wealth ritual, one of the few spots around that had both a stable foothold and also direct line of sight
with the sky.
The Mimic stepped out into the sunlight and immediately felt a pleasant, fuzzy feeling wash over it. It
opened its arms and unthinkingly sprouted several leaf-filled branches from its back as it tried to catch
as much of those rays as possible. After several minutes of this, Boxxy felt an ever so slight influx of
energy wash over its body.
This warm, satisfying feeling Boxxy was experiencing was undoubtedly the process of photosynthesis.
Granted, the Mimic didn’t exactly understand the underlying principles behind it, nor did it even know
what it was called. However, it didn’t really need that information anyway. The common knowledge that
sunlight was vital in order for most plants to survive was all it needed to know. That’s why it had
anticipated something good would happen if came up here, but the actual sensation was far more
pleasant than it expected.
Who knew sunlight could be this tasty?
Hold on… It feels like I’m forgetting something important… Oh, right!
“Snack, ” it called out telepathically.
“Oh, Master! You’re finally awake!” came the enthusiastic reply. “Am I to understand we shall be
launching operation ‘Ruin Reggie’s Life’ within the hour?”
Xera never liked the fact that that self-important prick dared to think himself her Master’s superior. His
apparent betrayal regarding the vital Rank Up process was, in her completely unbiased eyes, totally
unforgivable.
“Nevermind that,” declined Boxxy. “Just give me a status report.”
“As you wish, Master. I assumed Keira’s guise once morning came as per your orders and have been
filling in for you since then. I pretended to be feeling down and contemplative due to a ‘terrible dream’
so as to avoid interacting too much contact with Rowana.”
It went without saying that, even if Boxxy and Xera could both pull off the Keira act to near-perfection,
there still existed certain personal differences between them. As someone who spent the majority of her
time with the catgirl, Rowana was highly likely to notice any tiny, inexplicable changes in her
girlfriend’s behavior. Well, it wouldn’t happen straight away, but she would inevitably notice that her
girlfriend was not the same person she fell in love with.
And underestimating the mysterious ability called ‘women's intuition’ was not something Boxxy had
any intention of doing.
“Where are you two right now?” asked Boxxy.
“We’re in Rowana’s house, Master. The elf is currently sitting at her desk working out some sort of
budget. I’m in the room with her and making myself look busy with your Artificer tools.”
“... You’re not trying to make a mechanical dildo again, right?”
“Of- of course not. That one time was just me teasing Fizzy a bit, I wasn’t being serious. After all, the
only thing that could truly satisfy my hopelessly perverted body is my one and only Master.”
Boxxy let out an exasperated sigh. It could practically see the succubus winking at it with a demure
smile on her face. It was honestly starting to understand Fizzy’s unfavorable stance towards ‘meatbags,’
especially her contempt of their ‘disgustingly inefficient mating rituals.’
“Any abnormalities or noteworthy events happen during my absence?” it asked after that short pause.
“Nothing in particular, Master. Although there was something that caught my attention while I was
rooting through the elf’s desk last night. It was a partially filled out requisition order for Honeydew on
behalf of her clinic.”
“Oh?!”
The mention of that particularly shiny liquid instantly caught Boxxy’s interest. Come to think of it, that
substance was supposedly banned in the Empire, but was legal here in the Republic, right? It hadn’t been
on sale in any of the shops Keira had visited, so it had almost forgotten that little tidbit. It made a mental
note to off-handedly inquire Rowana about it while it was still in the city. Surely if anyone knew about
it, it would be an Alchemist who apparently worked with it.
“Very good!” it said in an elated mood.
“I am unworthy of such praise, Master. Rather, I believe I should be sternly punished for daring to-!”
“Just shut up and keep the elf busy. Be ready for transfer in an hour or so.”
“... Yes, Master.”
Boxxy then climbed down from its perch and started making its way back to the dungeon core platform.
Even if this particular Rank Up didn’t seem to cause it to starve as much as the other ones, that didn’t
mean it wasn’t feeling a bit peckish. And what better way to alleviate that than to finally sample the
fruits of a certain someone’s training?
Boxxy: Ambrosia, did you prepare my meal like I requested?

Ambrosia: Ah, forgive me, milord. In all the excitement I almost forgot about it. It is indeed
ready, although I will need to reheat it.
Boxxy: Does it necessarily have to be heated?
Ambrosia: Indeed. Most of the dishes I have prepared display superior flavor while they are
warm.
Boxxy: Alright. Then do what you have to do and bring it to me ASAP.
Ambrosia: I do not understand. Does milord wish to sample mine sap as well?
Boxxy: No, you idiot. ASAP is short for ‘as soon as possible.’
Ambrosia: Understood. In that case I shall bring thee thy meal with utmost haste.
The Mimic had already found itself back at the heart of the Dryad’s Domain by the time it finished its
little chat with Ambrosia. The dryad had thoughtfully prepared a large dining table and a fancy-looking
chair, both of which seemed to have been grown out of the ground. Taking the hint, Boxxy seated itself
and waited patiently for its meal to arrive. It was the culmination of Ambrosia’s mind-altered devotion
and Claws’s excellent eyes for prime meat, so it couldn’t help but look forward to it.
Ambrosia reappeared after about 15 minutes or so. She walked towards Boxxy in a prim and proper
manner, with her hands crossed in front of her belly and a welcoming smile on her face. Numerous
green vines grew rapidly out of the floor at her passage like a grand wave of greenery. Atop this cascade
of vegetation were eight extra-large covered plates that were being smoothly and securely passed from
one plant to the next while keeping pace with the dungeon master.
The various dishes were gracefully laid out before Boxxy while Ambrosia stood off to the side. With a
flick of her wrists and a twist of her vines, she began presenting each and every one of her specially
prepared recipes to the shapeshifter that was practically quivering with anticipation.
First was the appetizer, a large plate of bite-sized bits of raw thigh meat, lovingly wrapped in crispy,
slightly charred skin. Boxxy immediately became a fan of those, despite their small size. Next was a
blood-soup with lightly boiled facial features such as noses, ears and lips. The third dish was a thick
steak carved out of neck muscle that was marinated in a spicy, blood-based sauce. The fourth was a
quartet of human hearts with ground liver stuffing, with a hint of sweet-and-sour herb flavoring. Number
five was an order of nectar-basted human ribs that were incredibly savory and practically oozing with
juices. The sixth was a slow-roasted human torso stuffed with shavings of arm and leg flesh. For dessert,
Ambrosia had prepared a snowy-white eyeball-and-nectar pudding that was so delicious it nearly drove
Boxxy to tears. The fact it was served in a pearly white skull instead of a bowl or plate only made it all
the more enjoyable. The last plate was a serving of deep-fried bone chips. The pleasant crunching
sensation and the hint of human fat mixed in with the slightly salty flavor put a very satisfying finish to
the lavish meal. And of course, Boxxy had regularly availed itself of fresh nectar directly from the
source throughout the entire affair.
“How was it, milord?” asked Ambrosia once the feeding frenzy had concluded.
Boxxy was currently sitting in the chair in its favored chest-bound form. In fact, it was an improvement
on the original form. After all, the tightly-bound planks of wood were actual timber, and not merely
flesh disguised to look that way.
“Perfect,” came the utterly content reply. “Absolutely perfect.”
The dryad’s somewhat nervous smile turned into a pleasant grin. She pressed her quivering lips together,
struggling to keep the enormous joy welling up inside her from leaking out. She began quickly cleaning
up, eager to go somewhere private where she can squeal, jump and giggle without disturbing her liege’s
tranquility.
And ‘tranquility’ was perhaps the most accurate way to describe Boxxy’s current mental state. It
honestly had doubts whether a creature that normally ate nothing but dirt, water and sunlight would
honestly come through. However, that wonderfully orchestrated symphony of flavor had shown just how
horribly wrong it had been. Each dish had a unique flavor, texture and consistency that made it nearly
impossible to compare them, almost as if they were each within their own league of deliciousness.
Boxxy could probably spend the next 3 months struggling to pick out its absolute favorite, but even then
the results would be inconclusive. If pressed for answers, it would most likely result in a four-way-tie
between the bone chips, the stuffed hearts, the juicy ribs and the white pudding.
It wasn’t just the flavor, either. The sheer amount of meat, bone and blood the Mimic was presented with
was enough to piece together five, maybe even six people. It was honestly a wonder all of that came
from a single human. Or rather, it was outright impossible for someone to cut out so many vital organs
and large chunks of flesh without killing the source, even with the Waters of Life.
However, Boxxy completely did not care about any of those culinary mysteries. The veritable orgy of
tastiness it just experienced washed away all its stress and grievances, almost as if they were never there
to begin with. Confidence and motivation seemed to well up from within, almost as if it had found a new
purpose to live. It couldn’t just wallow around in decadence forever, although some part of it certainly
wished for it. It honestly felt ready to go out there, grab the world by the balls and bite its head off. It
had a lot to look forward to, after all. Granted, Reggie’s ‘problem’ would probably be a bit irksome, but
the payoff was well worth it. Then there was the matter of the ongoing war.
“Ah… war…” mumbled the solitary chest.
Boxxy liked war, perhaps even loved it. It had already tasted the sweetness of wanton carnage on a few
occasions and was eager to revel in that tasty sensation once again. It wasn’t just this war either, but any
sort of large-scale armed conflict that Boxxy was looking forward to. Out of all the pointless concepts
thought up by the people of this world, this was undoubtedly the tastiest, one that resonated with the
violent, selfish monster on some deeper level.
For war did not determine who was right - only who was left.
(136) Interlude Once Is An Accident Twice Is

Coincidence
*SLAM*
“Honey, I’m home!”

Minic jumped up from Minic’s seat and bounced around excitedly at those words. Minic was feeling
fluffy because Big Sis had returned and Minic would get to spend time with her. Big Sis was sometimes
a Big Bro instead, but Minic didn’t mind. Okay, Minic minded it a little since there were less soft things
around when Big Bro was a Big Bro instead of a Big Sis.
“Welcome back, sweetie.”
Her Softness called out from the other side of the big box. Minic liked Her Softness because she had two
of the softest softies that had ever softed. She often held Minic and presses its sensitive underside
against them, which felt nice and fluffy. Sometimes, however, it would feel one or two hard nubs poking
into its undercarriage, which was less-than-fluffy. But Minic learned to cope with it since Her Softness
got angry at Minic whenever it tried to swat those things away. Big Sis didn’t seem to mind that
behavior, but her softies weren’t nearly as fluffy as Her Softness. It was a bit of a shame, but Minic
didn’t mind the size difference. Okay, Minic minded it a little, but Minic kept quiet about it because
complaining about them would be rude to Big Sis. And Minic liked Big Sis a lot.
“Everything go well with Ariebelle?”
“... Who?”
“You know, the girl that tore you away from me?”
“Oh, right! Faehorn’s niece had a name like that, didn’t she?!”
“You seriously forgot? Just how much of a scatterbrain are you? Honestly!”
“Sorry Rowie… I guess in the end I only recognized her as Faehorn’s niece and nothing more. I know
it’s rude but…”
Minic didn’t understand any of the words being thrown about, but Minic could read the mood from the
tone of their voices. Minic understood this was a serious matter, so Minic tried to keep quiet. Otherwise
it might get yelled at by Her Softness and be barred from her fluffy globes yet again.
“... Well, I’ll let it slide this time, but please work on your etiquette. I can’t have you embarrassing me
like that in front of my parents.”
“I’ll, um, keep that in mind…”
“Good. Now then, I still have to finish preparing dinner.”
“Need any help?”
“No, I’m almost ready anyway. I had plenty of time to prepare since a certain someone spent the entire
afternoon with another girl.”
“Hmm? Is Rowie being jealous, perhaps?”
“No, of course not.”

“Are you suuuuure?”
“... Alright, maybe a little.”
“Ehehehe! Rowie’s so cute when she’s flustered!”
“Har, har, har. What did she want, anyway?”
“Just some details regarding Faehorn’s will. Seems there was a misunderstanding that took some time to
resolve, but in the end it turned out he bequeathed me with something from his personal collection.”
Big Sis reached into her clothes and pulled out a small square thing. It was shiny, bright red and a bit
transparent. It was somewhat similar to Minic’s own shiny gem, but Minic’s precious place was
completely different.
“Oh, wow! What’s that? Some magic item or something?”
“Nope, just a regular ruby. It doesn’t have any practical use and I don’t have the heart to sell it, but… it’s
quite beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is... Though I think you’re way more beautiful.”
“Rowie… I’m happy to hear that, but your dish is burning.”
“Oh, crap!”
It would appear that Her Softness finally noticed the red thing in the black pan has been giving off a
weird smoke for a while now. Minic wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad, so it didn’t know if it
should tell her. Well, either way it didn’t need to. Her Softness resumed tending to the smoky thing with
clattering and hissing noises over at the yummy-station while Big Sis sat down on one of the chairs.
However, she seemed to be feeling rather un-fluffy. Her mouth was curved the wrong way and the see-
balls were half-hidden by the see-ball-curtains in a none-too-pleased manner.
Minic decided to try and cheer Big Sis up, so Minic went over over to her and bumped into her legs a
few times, causing her to turn her see-balls towards it. They shone a lot like the warm ceiling-bright up
on the Grand Ceiling. Was Big Sis feeling unfluffy because the ceiling-bright was slacking off again?
“What is it, Minic?”
Oh, Big Sis spoke to Minic! Minic couldn’t understand the words, but it didn’t need to. It came over on
a mission and it would fulfil it! Therefore, Minic spit out half of the extra-big fur-fruit it caught earlier
while it was alone. The partially eaten fur-fruit fell on the ground next to Big Sis’s leg with a small splat,
sending the red juice everywhere.
“Yip, yap! Yip!” (Here, Big Sis! For you!)
Big Sis looked down at Minic’s gift and her juice-colored head tilted a bit to the side. The see-ball-
curtains opened and closed a few times, but in the end she curved her mouth the right way up. She
briefly turned towards Her Softness, who was facing the other way, and then grabbed Minic’s gift with
her bare leg. A small mouth opened up on the underside of it, and it ate Minic’s gift with a few quiet
crunches. Afterwards, tongue rolled out and licked up every last drop of the juice before the mouth
disappeared. Big Sis then gently patted Minic on the lid with her leg and stroked its red gem with her
leg-fingers. That tickled a bit, but Minic didn’t mind that feeling. Okay, Minic minded it a little, but this
was how Big Sis showed her appreciation, so it just fluffily accepted it.
Several minutes later, Her Softness and Big Sis started eating the smokey thing from earlier. Big Sis
tried to give some to Minic, but it refused politely with a ‘Bleh!’ noise. Her Softness saw that and said
some harsh-sounding words to Big Sis. She then placed a bowl on the ground that had several slices of
fresh big-tree-fruit. Each piece had glistening yellow meat, taut red skin and a few tiny black seeds stuck
inside it.
Minic gleefully started eating its favorite treat. It was much tastier than the bits of old-tree-fruit it was
given sometimes, mostly since this one was gushing with juice. Ah, but this was a different kind of juice
than the fur-fruit. It was more watery and much sweeter, so Minic definitely preferred this one. Not to
mention the fur-fruit’s long, off-white seeds were sometimes too hard for Minic to chew them. The fact
that Big Sis could munch on them without even trying was kind of amazing in its own way.
After the meal ended, Her Softness and Big Sis climbed onto the big creaky bed and began rubbing
against each other again. There was a bit of yelling and screaming, but Minic had already learned that
whatever they were doing wasn’t as painful as it sounded. Therefore, it sat quietly on its personal bed
that consisted of a single head-soft. It felt a bit jealous at first since the big bed had several head-softs,
but it didn’t complain, because Minic is a good Minic.
Eventually the screaming died down and only breathing noises were coming from the bed. Minic still
couldn’t see the point of just laying there for hours and hours, but Her Softness seemed to be back to full
fluffiness when she got back up so it definitely wasn’t a bad thing. Big Sis on the other hand would
probably have to leave soon.
And just as expected, Big Sis got up, stood next to the bed and started mumbling.
“Transfamiliar.”
There was a puff of green smoke and a flash of light as Big Sis disappeared back to her special hidey-
place and Mother reappeared in all her softastic glory. As usual, her massive softies bobbed and jiggled
with unparalleled fluffiness. Minic really wanted to sit on those, but Mother never let it do that, even
back when Father was still around.
“Yaaap! Yap-yap-yip!” (Motheeeer! I want to sit on your softies!)
That didn’t mean that Minic wasn’t going to try, though.
“Shut up, you insufferable little gnat!”
Ah, it would seem it was denied once again. Minic didn’t need to know her words to understand that
much, as it was the same un-fluffy tone she always used.
“Hmnnn… Huh... ? Keira, is that-”
“Sleep!”
*THUD*
“Zzzzz….”
Her Softness let out a few noises and stood up a little, but went back to doing what she was doing when
Mother scolded her. Mother had a gift for scoldings, and often scolded Minic. However, that was just
how Mother always was, so Minic didn’t mind. Okay, Minic minded it a little, but complaining about it
would just earn it more scolding. Still, Minic believed that one day it would be allowed to sit on
Mother’s softies and attain true fluffiness, so it would definitely ask again the next chance it got.
As for Mother, she kept glaring at Minic in a rather un-fluffy way and silently pointed at one of the lids
of the big box. Minic never understood why these big boxes had such relatively small lids or how come
there were so many of them, but it had just accepted it as fact. There were many types of boxes, after all.
Minic was one, and Big Bro was sometimes a box, too. That’s what made Minic recognize Big Bro as a
Big Bro in the first place, though it didn’t understand why Big Bro was sometimes a Big Sis instead. But
Big Sis had softies and was a bit nicer to Minic, so Minic liked both of them.
“Get out or I’ll throw you out!”
“Yak!” (Oh, right!)
That’s right, Mother probably wanted some alone-time again. Minic had gotten sidetracked so it got
scolded again. It walked up to the big wooden lid and exited through tinier lid on it. The fact that Big Sis
could put a lid within a lid nearly blew Minic’s mind back then, so Minic was always a bit awestruck
whenever it passed through. Those wriggly strangers that used to drop by awhile ago used it too, which
was why Minic complained about them to Her Softness. It wasn’t sure why, but it was sent to another
box for a while soon after. That whole affair was just another thing Minic would probably never
understand, so it just went along with it until Big Sis came back and everything became fluffy again.
Regardless, Minic was given leave to play around, so it decided to do just that. At least until the ceiling-
bright came back, which was usually when Big Sis would return. So Minic decided to keep exploring
that one place it found recently, even though it was a bit far. It ran up to the edge of the floor and jumped
off without any hesitation. Minic revelled in the free-falling sensation as it plummeted uncontrollably
towards the ground.
As it fell, Minic felt a strong gust of wind push it from the side. Minic then crashed through a
particularly leafy branch, bounced off a flying feather-fruit, got caught up in some dangling long-leaves,
rolled across one of the slanted top bits a brick box and landed safely in a bin filled with somewhat soft
but nasty-looking stuff.
Minic then climbed out of the bin and skittered quickly-yet-casually across the dirt-covered floor,
wondering for the upteempth time when someone would actually clean it up. Minic wanted to do it
itself, but it lacked the means to do so. Minic didn’t have Sweepy’s outstanding cleaning skills, after all.
If that slim, tall and bristly sibling was there, then Minic was sure it could handle this job without even
trying.
Minic continued along the familiar, dirty floor until it came to a small hole in a stone wall, and crawled
inside it. It climbed down into a dark, dank tunnel that had some extremely filthy water running through
the middle of it. That water was bad news. Not only did Minic not care for the taste, but Her Softness
would somehow know if Minic somehow got itself submerged in that stuff. She would then scold it
while scrubbing it clean with some warm and slightly bubbly water. Therefore, while Minic was walking
along the stone path next to the stream of water, Minic made doubly sure it didn’t slip or otherwise fall
into it again. Because Minic was a good Minic.
After a long while of aimlessly walking the series of tunnels, Minic somehow made it to the place that
Minic wanted to visit. Minic didn’t know how these mysterious and confusing tunnels worked and got
lost with frightening frequency, but somehow always ended up at the right place. And the place in
question was shaped like the inside of a super-sized stone box. There were several tunnels that carried
the filthy water into it, while a slightly bigger one drained it away somewhere. There were a lot of these
stone boxes around, but Minic knew this was the right one since that one tunnel in the corner had
nothing coming out of it.
Minic walked along the edge of the giant box and hopped into that interestingly dry tunnel. It was much
darker than the other ones, but Minic didn’t need see-balls to look around. It could see all of its
surroundings all at once thanks to its shiny red gem, so while it often got lost it almost never tripped
over stuff, except when it did.
However, all that walking around was making Minic feel a bit peckish, so Minic kept its gem open for a
snack. It soon found some fur-fruits lying about the dry tunnel, though these ones were much too big to
eat. They didn’t have any juice in them either, as most of it seems to have leaked out and dried up. On
the other hand there were quite a few buzz-fruits floating around them. Those ones weren’t as filling as
fur-fruits, but were much easier to eat and catch due to Minic’s flexible tongue. Unfortunately these
tunnel-buzz-fruits were much nastier than the ones above, so in the end Minic decided to give up on
them too. Minic was sure Her Softness would prepare another bowl of big-tree-fruit when it returned, so
it had no qualms about passing up on these inferior snacks.
Minic kept resolutely skittering across the tunnel. Minic didn’t see anything interesting for awhile, other
than a number of dried-up fur-fruits every now and then. Some of them had been here for so long that
only their seeds were left behind. Eventually, Minic found itself inside another stone box, almost the
same as the one on the other end of the dry tunnel. Well, other than the fact that this one was completely
dry, had a bunch of fires lighting it up, and was really, really loud.
The noise was coming from a large number of things that were milling about. They looked a lot like fur-
fruits, but were definitely different. For one thing, they were even bigger than those fur-fruits of unusual
size that Minic came across on the way here, though not quite as tall as Big Sis. They did, however, have
perky triangular listen-holes that looked a lot like hers. Their fur looked to be much fluffier than regular
fur-fruits, too. It was mostly gray in color, although the area around their see-holes was black, while the
bits directly above that and running along their long, protruding mouths were white. They also had
fluffy-looking striped tails that alternated between gray and black, and their nose-detectors were small,
black and round, almost like a woof-woof.
Some of them stood on their hind legs and most of them wore at least one article of clothing, such as old
aprons, beat-up hats or rag-like shirts. They moved about with purpose, going in and out of
appropriately sized boxes that appeared to made out of mud and wood. There were a number of them
that had a bunch of random objects lined up on small wooden planks and exchanged them for shiny
stones with the ones passing by. It was almost like that busy place that Her Softness went to get fresh
big-tree-fruits every now and then. She had brought Minic with her once or twice, so it was quite sure it
was the same atmosphere.
Minic curiously approached the bustling space that was filled with chittering noises of various kinds.
Minic had never seen creatures such as these, and was very eager to sit on one of them to test out their
softness. As luck would have it, there was one of them near the edge of all that hustle and bustle. It was
splayed out on its back behind a particularly large box that sounded like it had a bunch more of them
inside. A rather foul-looking liquid was dribbling from the corner of its mouth, but Minic wasn’t going
to be deterred so easily. Minic approached the creature from the side and called out to it.
“Yip yap yap?” (Excuse me, but may I sit on you?)
“Hrrrrrrrrr…” (Mmmm, cold floor…)
Well, Minic didn’t understand any of that quiet growling noise, but it didn’t sound like a ‘no.’ Therefore,
it confidently climbed up its furry arm and sat somewhere on its belly. As expected, the fur was quite
soft, enough to rival Minic’s personal bed, though it still fell short of Her Softness’s softies. Therefore,
Minic decided to refer to these unfamiliar beings as fluff-furs. It was a very luxurious name, but one that
fit that superbly fluffy thing Minic was sitting on. Not only that, but Minic found the gentle up-and-
down motion caused by the fluff-fur’s breathing to be quite relaxing.
“Chrraarata!” (There he is!)
A high-pitched chitter suddenly interrupted Minic’s fluffy time. A trio of fluff-furs approached the one
on the ground. However, they clearly weren’t peaceful as all of them were baring their pointed teeth,
while the one in the lead was holding a knife. And it definitely didn’t have the ‘munchies will be ready
soon’ demeanor of Her Softness.
The three intruders surrounded the soft-fur on the ground. They clearly had some business with him, but
their eyesight was inevitably drawn to Minic’s fancy frame and shining red jewel. It was nearly the same
look that Big Sis had when she and Minic first met.
“Chraar!” (Look at that shiny thing!)
“Chra! Shreehss?” (Wow! Did this deadbeat always have such a thing?)
“Krrrr…” (So shiny…)
“Hrack! Hrarrrak.” (No way! He’s too poor to even afford mushroom wine.)
“Hrakrr?” (So should we take it instead?)
“Grrrrr!” (Paws off, it’s mine!)

“Grrrrrr!” (No, the shiny is mine!)
“Graaaar! Hurrrrrrr!” (Quiet you idiots! I’m the boss here so it’s mine!)
Minic had no idea what was going on, but judging from how their chittering and soft purring grew into
dangerous-sounding growls, this clearly wasn’t going to end in a fluffy situation. Therefore, Minic
decided now was a good time to leave. So while the three fluff-furs were busy hissing and snarling at
one another, Minic carefully climbed off its seat and tried to skitter away.
“Hr? Shrraaaararaara!” (Huh? The shiny is trying to run away!)
However, it would appear Minic’s escape attempt had been seen through almost immediately. The fluff-
fur that shrieked just now tried to jump and grab onto Minic, but Minic managed to leap out of the way
of those grabby-claws. Minic wanted to run away, and tried its best to do so, but one of the fluff-furs
managed to grab onto Minic before it could gain any speed. He then lifted Minic above his head and let
out a triumphant cry.
“Krraaa!” (Shinyyy!)
“GRAR!” (I SAID MINE!)
The one with the knife moved forward and cut him on the back. He howled in pain and stumbled
forward, dropping Minic in the process. He retaliated by turning around and clawing his attacker across
the face, causing some juice to gush out from the knife-holder’s see-hole. The third one took advantage
of the confusion and chased after Minic, but Minic had already began skittering away at top speed in a
random direction. The much taller fluff-fur would have easily caught up to Minic, but for better or for
worse, Minic had ended up running into the crowd of fluff-furs.
Howls, roars, chitters and other sounds started intensifying around it as the big stone box’s interior was
thrown into chaos. Two of the fluff-furs grabbed Minic on either with one paw each, and then started
punching and clawing each other while pulling on it from both directions. A wooden stick with a pointed
tip suddenly appeared and slid into one’s shoulder, causing him to fall to one side and let go of Minic.
The other held onto Minic firmly and made a run for it, only to be hit by a thick piece of metal from the
side and forcibly relinquishing possession of Minic to the really big and tough-looking fluff-fur.
This one kept moving around while swatting other fluff-furs with one hand as if they were nothing, all
while holding onto the struggling Minic securely. Pretty soon, they all gave up on trying to come near
the big and tough one, and merely hissed and growled from a distance. Just when it appeared they’d
more or less calmed down, a fireball streaked in from the side and hit the big fluff-fur in the side,
heavily singing his softness.
“Hrahr! Shraaaararara!” (Iron-Club! Drop the shiny if you know what’s good for you!)
The one that launched that hot thing - the one-eyed fluff-fur holding a long stick pointed it menacingly
at the big tough one.
“Grraahr! Rrrrargh!” (Stupid Flame-Eye! If you want it then come at me!)

“Hraerhall!” (Fireball!)
The tough fluff-fur’s protests were cut short by another fireball that just barely grazed his listen-holes.
“Hrahrahraaa!” (Just give it up, you know you can’t beat me!)
“Grrrrr!” (We’ll see about that!)
Another one came flying at the fluff-fur that was still clinging onto Minic, but this time he managed to
dodge it entirely. He had moved a bit too far to the left, prompting one of the surrounding fluff-furs to
leap out of the lines and bite into his exposed arm with all force. The two of them struggled for a few
moments, before the one-eyed from earlier was preparing to do his thing again.
But before the upteempth fiery projectile could come flying at him, the tough fluff-fur had been tripped
up by yet another fluff-fur that came in from the audience. He ended up falling backwards and
unintentionally flinging Minic into the air-
-right into the path of the oncoming Fireball.
The surrounding fluff-furs watched with mouths and see-balls wide open. However, just as the projectile
that would undoubtedly burn Minic into a crisp was about to make contact, it curved unnaturally to the
right and hit one of the bystander fluff-furs.
Oh, hey! Minic’s old friend Blue-box was back! Unfortunately, Minic didn’t have time to chat right now
and had to dismiss it. Minic knew it was rude, but it had a duty as Big Bro’s subordinate to return to him
at all costs. This was a good chance for it too, since all the fluff-furs seemed to be staring at the one that
was hit just now. Therefore, Minic skittered across the dirty floor with all its might. A few of the fluff-
furs jumped back when they saw it approach, but one of them pounced on it and held it down with both
claws.
However, that one-eyed one didn’t quit and launched yet another fireball. The fluff-fur that was holding
onto Minic turned around and held Minic in the path of the incoming mass of flames. Like before, the
projectile’s flight path curved unnaturally causing it to swerve around Minic and hit the fluff-fur behind
it squarely in the face. He fell over without even uttering a yell and Minic fell out of his suddenly limp
hands.

Minic was a bit happy to see Blue-box was back so soon, but it once again dismissed it with a silent
apology. Minic landed upside-down on its lid, but it managed to flip itself over by opening its mouth
really wide. Just as Minic was about to break out into another run, it realized that the fluff-furs have
drawn back even farther away from Minic. Even that mischievous one-eye was looking at it funny, and
seemed to hesitate a bit before he tried once again.
“... Hraerhall?” (... Fireball?)
The fireball flew out of his hand and towards Minic yet again. It did a splendid half-circle turn around
Minic and flew back at him, hitting and shattering the stick he was holding onto and knocking him to the
ground.
Did Blue-box love to see the fireballs that much? It always seemed to appear at times like these, but
Minic didn’t mind. Okay, Minic minded it a little since Minic rarely got some quiet time with Blue-box,
but it already accepted this behavior as just how things were. Either way, it would appear that the fluff-
furs had played around enough since they all started running away, probably back to their own duties.
Even the big and tough one was limping away so quick that Minic wondered if his weirdly-bent leg
might snap.
Well, honestly speaking, Minic had quite enough goofing around for one day as well. Minic headed off
into a random dried-up pipe and made its way through the completely unfamiliar maze of tunnels.
Somehow or another Minic managed to find its way aboveground and dimly recognized the
surroundings. It would also appear that the ceiling-bright was already back to work up on the Grand
Ceiling. People were already walking about, so Minic had to be extra careful not to get stepped on as
Minic made its way back to where Big Sis was undoubtedly waiting. Somewhere along the way,
however, it accidentally bumped into someone’s leg.
“Ow! Oh hey, you’re Rowana’s pet, aren’t you?”
The pointy-listen-holed man knelt down and held out his hand towards Minic. It was the same person
that Minic stayed with awhile back, though Minic still wasn’t sure why Minic was sent there in the first
place.
“How you been, Minic?”
“Yip!” (That is indeed my name, good sir! A pleasure to see you are of sound mind and body! Forgive
the sudden disturbance, but would you be willing to assist me?)
“Hehe, lively as ever, huh? Still, you’re a long way from home. Quite the little explorer, aren’t you?”
“Yap yap!” (Marvelous! Then I would be deeply grateful if sir would be kind enough to see me back to
Her Royal Softness and Honorable Elder Sister’s box of residence.)
“Well, this busy street is no place for you. Come on, little guy, let’s get you back to where you belong.”
Minic was gently picked up and carried off towards the direction Minic was trying to go. It would seem
Minic had managed to relay its intent despite the language barrier. Minic was quite proud of itself for
accomplishing such a feat. And indeed, just as promised, the nice man brought Minic right to Her
Softness’s box and knocked on the lid of it. Her Softness noticed the signal and opened the lid within a
few moments.
“Morning, miss Slyth.”
“Good morning. Oh, Minic! There you are!”
Minic was passed from one set of hands to the other and felt the distinct sensation of Her Softness’s
softies pressing against its underside.
“Thanks so much for bringing him over. I hope it wasn’t a bother.”
“Haha, no worries, miss Slyth. I know full well he’s quite the slippery bugger. Has way too much energy
for such a pipsqueak.”
“I’ll say. I still have no idea how he manages to move around so much even though he never sleeps. We
take him for walks and everything, but he never seems to tire out.”
“Well, what can you do. That’s part of the little guy’s charm.”
“I suppose you’re right. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea for your troubles?”
“No, that’s quite alright. I actually have to get ready for work. Good thing for our little friend here that I
decided to leave early, eh? Besides I wouldn’t want to intrude upon you and your girlfriend’s quality
time together.”
“Uhm… Th-thanks.”
“No worries! Hahaha!”
The man departed with a chuckle and a wave of his hand as Her Softness brought Minic inside the
comfortable old box. She seemed displeased since Minic had gotten quite grimy during that little
adventure, meaning it would probably be bubble-water time soon. Minic saw that Big Sis was sitting in
the corner fiddling with those springy, clicky and poppy things she liked to play with.
Oh wait, no, that was actually Mother. She and Big Sis sometimes traded places, probably as part of
some fun game. Minic could immediately tell them apart, even though others seemed to confuse them
quite often. Minic didn’t hold it against them though, those two really looked quite alike when they
wanted to. It was only to be expected they would be like that. After all, Minic could feel an oddly
nostalgic bond between Big Sis and Mother. Almost the same as the one that existed between Mother
and Father.
Looking upon it again, Minic was reminded of a better time, back when Father and all of Minic's
siblings were still around in that noisy and constantly rowdy place. Sweepy, Cookers, Sir Seatmeister the
Third, Wardrobzilla, Tablesworth, the Bowl Triplets and all the rest - it missed every last one of them.
Minic had to go through some rather unfluffy experiences ever since their separation, but right now
things were different. It had people that looked after and cherished it, people that it could share many
fluffy times with. For the first time since that fateful day, Minic actually had a home again. Granted, this
one was smaller, a bit dirtier and didn’t have any of its siblings, but Minic didn’t mind.
Minic didn’t mind a single bit.
(137) Hypocrisy 1
“Welcome back, Keira!”
Walking into the Hidden Arrow guild’s lobby, the cat-eared beastkin was enthusiastically greeted by
Clara - the only receptionist on duty. The two guards that were here last time had relocated themselves
to just outside the room, so they had already exchanged greetings with the ‘Merry Popper.’
“Hey, Clara,” she said with a somewhat awkward wave of her hand. “Uhm… S-sorry again about the
other day.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine!” answered the human girl dismissively. “Even if you went a bit overboard, it was still
not that big a deal. We all lose our cool from time to time. I personally want to do the same thing to the
guys that keep sending such filth! Honestly, being a woman in a man’s world is really frustrating
sometimes. Did you know the main reason I was hired in the first place is because of my face?”
The receptionist complained with a tired voice as Keira made her way over to her counter.
“Oh, also because of my race,” she continued. “Apparently the higher-ups are worried we appear too elf-
centric, so they hire humans like me at every damned opportunity. All in the name of ‘diversity’ or some
such nonsense.”
“Hmm? But would you have gotten the job if they weren’t looking for people like you?”
Truthfully speaking, this brown-haired girl was not the best at keeping her mouth shut and her hands to
herself. Her nosy tendencies were quite unsuited for a position that handled other people’s money and
sensitive personal information on a regular basis.
“... Okay, you may have a point there… Anyway! What can I help you with today?”
“Uhm… any Quests I can take?” asked the catgirl.
“Pretty much nothing, same as before. You missed an interesting Open Quest yesterday though.”
An Open Quest was a type of commission that multiple adventuring groups could take part in. Quests of
that type were predominantly used for large-scale operations that demanded a lot of manpower.
“Oh? What was it about?”

“Mostly dealing with the katun uprising from yesterday.”
“A katun uprising? That’s… unusual,” noted Keira.
Katuns were a species of raccoon-like monsters with goblin-level intelligence. They generally knew how
to use weapons and at least 1 in 20 of them were naturally adept at magic, but were rather docile by
monster standards. In fact, they tended to shy away from those bigger than themselves, such as adult
elves. That didn’t mean they didn’t get violent every now and then, though. They still fought back if
backed into a corner and went berserk at the sight of gold, jewels, mirrors or other particularly shiny
objects.
“The city’s guard thought so too,” said Clara, “but dozens of them kept crawling out of the sewers in
broad daylight and endangering the citizens, so it was hard to call it anything else. I’m kinda surprised
you missed all the commotion.”
“Well, my house is rather high up so things happening down on ground level are a bit… Anyway, what
was the Quest about?”
“Oh, the city officials wanted to hire any available scouts to help comb the sewers and track down the
source of the disturbance. They eventually found the commune they were all coming from and a joint
operation suppressed it completely. The whole thing was resolved at around sundown.”
“I see. I’m kind of glad I missed it to be honest.”
“Really, now? I thought you’d be jumping at the chance to get out there.”
“Yeah well… let’s just say my nose does not cooperate with me when it comes to sewers…”
“Right… Well as far as Quests go there really isn’t anything I can give you.”
“Come on, there must be something for me to do!”
“Nope, there really isn’t. At least, not for someone with your circumstances.”
“... There are no personal requests you’re trying to hide from me again, right?”
“Of- Of course not!”
“You’re sure? You lying to me hurt almost as much as that stupid letter you know!”
“I know, and I’m really sorry about that… I already got many-an-earful from my boss about it, so please
spare me that look, okay? I’m on thin ice as it is!”
If she denied it to that extent, then it would appear Reggie still hadn’t sent word. Even if she was an
idiot, she still had a job to do.
“Well, alright. I’ll forgive you this once since you meant well.”
“Thanks…”
Just as Boxxy was about to leave in a fit of disappointment, one of the guards standing just outside the
door poked his head into the room.
“Hey, kiddo!” he said while waving Keira over. “We were just handed another personal request for you.”
“For real?!”
“For real.”
“Ohh! I hope it’s someone nicer this time!”
The catgirl practically bounced over to him without even trying to hide her excitement, and the
guardsman handed her a sealed envelope.
“Just, uh… Don’t set anything on fire this time.”
“No promises. Kidding! I’m kidding, okay?! It was a joke so please stop chanting Create Water under
your breath!”
After the minor commotion settled down and the guard returned outside, Keira took a seat intended for
visitors, unsealed the envelope and looked at the form within.
Submitter: Jane Willow

Address: Azurvale Commercial District, Elbow Pine Alley, 5th house on the left, opposite
the smithy.
Quest Name: Alchemical testing
Description: I have been developing a new blend of shampoos, ointments and soaps with
alchemical additives to help boost their hygienic and cosmetic effects. The purpose of this
endeavor is entirely commercial. However, I am unsure whether they will have any
unforeseen side-effects on non-elves. As such, I request miss Morgana’s assistance in
finding out whether my products are compatible with beastkin or not.
Approximate Difficulty: ?
Estimated Completion Time: Indeterminate, 3 to 4 hours a day
Due Date: As soon as it is convenient
Reward: 30 GP per day. Additional compensation and free medical care will be provided
should any side-effects arise.
Finally! exclaimed Boxxy. Now this looks like something that guy would send!
It was mundane, reasonable, and just vague enough to leave a good deal of wiggle room. The Mimic
would probably consider this a serious offer if it wasn’t expecting to hear from Reggie. Well, there was
still a chance it was an actual soap-obsessed egg-head, but it could always give up on the Quest should
such a thing happen.
Keira suddenly sprang from her seat and basically ran to the counter.
“Clara! It’s a personal Quest! A real one! Look!”
The catgirl thrust the piece of paper forward, directly into the human’s face, and the girl skimmed it
over. Well, technically she wasn’t supposed to read it since it was still a personal message, but it would
probably be okay since Keira was showing it to her willingly.
“Oh, so it is! Well, I’m glad it wasn’t some asshole trying to mess with you again.”
“Then, it’s okay if I take this immediately, right?!”
“You sure? I mean, that seems awfully dull…”
“It is my first real personal Quest, and I will do my best to fulfill it!”
“Alright, alright. Sheesh, I almost forgot how you got fired up by even the tiniest things.”
Clara got off her seat and quickly searched through the cabinets behind her and pulled out a thick,
envelope-like brown paper bag, which was impossible to open without ripping it apart. Inside that
unusual container was Keira’s personnel file. It included official records of all her guild-sanctioned
activities, an extremely lifelike picture of her face, Appraisal results, body measurements, current
address and other personal or otherwise confidential information. The receptionist set it down at her
desk behind the counter, took out a blank form from a nearby stack of paper and started filling it out
with startling speed and accuracy. This was essentially an activity log that stated Keira Morgana of the
Hidden Arrow guild had accepted a personal Quest on today’s date.
After noting down the necessary details, Clara placed the newly filled out form and the folded up
personal request on the counter in front of Keira, then pinned the documents down with a crystal-ball-
like Quest Log. Keira placed her hand on top of the familiar magic item and chanted ‘Accept Quest’ to
activate the contract magic. Once that was done, Clara put away the Quest Log, took both documents
and put them on top of Keira’s still-closed file. The receptionist then grabbed one of the stamps on her
desk and applied it to the top-most documents with a soft thud. The pieces of paper didn’t get marked by
ink, but instead glowed softly for a few seconds as copies of both documents’ contents were magically
transferred inside the file.
This whole process was intentionally designed in such a way that the adventurer would not need to
divulge the contents of a personal Quest, but there would still be a record of it. Just in case a legal
dispute, investigation or annual audit required that their file be unsealed. It was extremely streamlined as
well, as the whole thing had taken under a minute from start to finish.
“All set. Here you go, Keira,” stated Clara while handing back the slightly warm personal Quest form.
“Thanks, Clara. You know, it’s always amazing seeing you guys work so fast.”
“Well, even us low-Level Scribes are good at handling paperwork. I’m actually one of the slow ones,”
claimed the receptionist with a shrug. “If it was one of my seniors they’d be at least twice as fast as I
am.”
“Ohhhh! Scribes are unexpectedly cool, huh?”

“Nah, not really. It’s so horribly dull that I don’t know why I even bothered picking this Job up in the
first place.”
“Isn’t it because you wanted to help people however you could?”
“Yeah, something like that… Anyway, is there anything else you need?”
“Nope! Thanks again Clara! I’ll be off!”
Keira went to leave the lobby while smiling and waving goodbye.
“Just make sure you don’t forget to properly report your income, okay?!” shouted Clara. “You don’t
want to be prosecuted for tax evasion, you know!”
Personal Quests were one of the rare occasions where the rewards would be handed to the adventurer
directly by the client, so it wasn’t unheard of for people to lie about that on their paperwork.
“I’ll keep it in mind!”
The catgirl left the lobby and, after enduring some joking remarks from the guards outside, exited the
CC building. Rowana would be at work all morning, so Boxxy had plenty of time to check out the
client’s address.
As it turned out, Elbow Pine Alley wasn’t some dark, dirty alley hidden in the bowels of the city, but
was more of a dead-end street just off a wide boulevard. It was quite removed from the Namhel Brothers
bank that Reggie owned, but the place was still quite conveniently located as far as going to and from it
was concerned. The building itself was a two-story town house built out of brick and mortar rather than
wood, much like the rest of the buildings in the Commercial district. The only extraordinary thing about
it was the oddly colored blue-green smoke that trickled out of the chimney.
After confirming she’d found the right address, Keira knocked on the door and waited. And waited. And
waited.
“Excuse me! Anyone home?!” she shouted after about a minute or so while knocking harder.
This time she heard some rustling and bustling on the other side of the door. There was a loud click or
two as a lock was undone and the wooden door finally swung open.
“Yes?! How can I-”
The woman that opened was an elf, who froze the instant she saw the catgirl. Her face was one Boxxy
had seen before. It belonged to one of the two Doppelgangers that ‘kidnapped’ Keira - the female-
looking one called J. The Mimic’s nose was unable to confirm a scent or lack thereof since she smelled
strongly of herbs, so it decided to play along until it knew for certain if she was the same individual.
“H-hello, ma’am. I’m here about the request you posted to my guild. I’m Keira!”
“Oh. Oh, my! You really came!” replied the other party. “Ah, where are my manners. Jane Willow, at
your service.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Willow!”
“Likewise. And please, Jane will do. Then, does your being here here mean you’ll be assisting with my
research?!”
“Yup!”
“Excellent! Then do come in, please!”
She showed the catgirl inside and locked the front door behind her before guiding her into the house.
“I must say, I heard the rumors, but you look much prettier than I expected!”
“Thank you, Jane. You’re looking quite, uh, charming yourself.”
That was clearly a lie by any stretch of the imagination. That woman’s looks, whether she was real or a
fake, were plain at best. The heavily stained apron, unruly bedhead and heavy bags under her eyes
would make most people on the street give her a wide berth.
“Well, at least you’re polite. Even if not entirely honest.”
And she was obviously well aware of that.
“... Sorry.”
The two of them had gone past what appeared to be some sort of sitting room and were currently
climbing the stairs to the second floor.
“I must say, it is a bit surprising you agreed to this,” admitted Jane.
“Well, I just need something to keep me busy, you know?”
“Oh, I understand completely, my dear! Ah, watch your head now.”
They passed through the slightly low door at the top of the stairs and entered what appeared to be an
alchemical lab. Jars, urns and bowls full of various ingredients lined the shelf on one side of the room,
while a small, black pot - the source of those weird fumes - was bubbling with something over a fire.
Opposite the shelf of ingredients was a large wooden table, that had been populated by bunch of vials
and flasks filled with various colored liquids, as well as a mortar and pestle off to the side. The sole
window on the far wall was so dirty that only a few rays of sunlight managed to break through.
And, almost as expected, all noise from the outside was silenced the instant Jane closed the door behind
her. According to Boxxy’s MLG, this room was enveloped by the same sound-blocking magic as
Reggie’s office. And judging from how Jane’s slightly stiff smile was replaced by a cold scowl, this was
indeed a Doppelganger.
“You’re J, right?” asked Keira without even turning around.
“... !”
“Don’t look so surprised. We’ve already ‘met’ you know. I know Reggie sent you, and you should
already know who I am. Since introductions aren’t necessary-”
The catgirl’s head turned a full 180 degrees like something out of a horror story, yet on her face was the
same toothache-inducing smile she had just moments ago. It was an expression completely at odds with
her cold, monotone voice.
“-then let’s get down to business.”
“... Haaaa,” sighed J. “You’re way more than ‘a handful,’ aren’t you? That old geezer better up my
hazard pay for this… I agree with you though, so let’s get right to it.”
J walked over to her ‘workstation,’ unlocked one of the cabinets underneath with a key and took out
several pieces of paper. She cleared away most of the vials and spread the documents out. One was a
small map of the city with several locations marked, while the others were various reports.
“The man we’re after is one Jones Alexis,” she explained,” a human Wizard and retired adventurer.”
The girl’s head morphed into that of a man in his early 50s, with short, slightly messy hair, scruffy beard
and only one eye - all of them brown in color. His face had a large burn scar on his left side, probably
the same wound that made him lose that eye. Judging from the proportions of the face and head, Boxxy
assumed his build was rather lanky and shorter than average.
“Estimated Level is in the upper 80s,” she continued, “ and he seems to hold some sort of personal
grudge against our kind. He’s also completely convinced we’re very real and has been trying to prove
our existence for about 3 years now. We’ve been careful so as to avoid giving him any leads so far, but
he’s bound to turn something up sooner or later.”
“How come he’s so sure you guys exist?”
“Best as we could gather, someone dear to him had been killed as a direct result of one or more
Doppelgangers’ actions. Based on how he operates, he’s definitely dealt with our kind before.”
“And you guys haven’t been able to get close to him since he’s a Wizard who’s aware of your existence.
He’s extremely suspicious when awake and puts up copious amounts of lightning-based glyphs
whenever he sleeps, right?”
Glyphs were a type of high-Level magic that placed a Spell upon the environment, almost like a
temporary enchantment. The anti-noise barrier in this very room was created by a type of glyph in the
first place. The human in question probably used the technique to place magic traps that repelled
intruders by releasing an electrical charge.
“Y-yes, that’s right,” stammered J out of surprise. She honestly hadn’t expected this ‘monster among
monsters,’ as her boss had described it, to be able to discern the root of their problem so quickly.
However, rather than foresight or deduction, Boxxy was speaking out of insight. Not only did its base
nature as a Mimic mean it had a natural affinity for laying traps, but it had also studied up on Wizards
and Shamans since they were its natural enemies. And if Boxxy were in that human’s place, it would
definitely make plenty of glyphs. Ones powerful enough to seriously injure or outright kill any and all
intruders, regardless of whether they were monsters or men.
“What about those backers of his?” asked Keira matter-of-factly.
“We… haven’t been able to identify them, but they most definitely exist. He keeps receiving monetary
support from somewhere, otherwise his little crusade against us would have ran out of steam long ago.”
“And he hasn’t gone to the government because… ?”
“Unknown. As far as we can tell, he’s overestimated our abilities and believes we’ve infiltrated the
Republic’s cabinet.”
“And you haven’t?”
“... The head is the only one who dabbles in politics among us. At least as far as I’m aware of.”
I see, so he’s not careful or meticulous, just paranoid, concluded Boxxy. I can use that.
More to the point, however, Boxxy was starting to understand Reggie’s conundrum. Just as he’d stated,
an outright murder would be a good immediate solution, but that guy’s backers meant it would probably
come back to bite him in the ass. After all, a Level 80-something Wizard wouldn’t die in the middle of a
safe zone like a city unless he was assassinated. And there would be only one reason for a guy like that
to be targeted.
“Understood. Then are you going to assist me with this?” asked Boxxy.
“Those are my orders, yes.”
“That’s good. I’m going to need your help if my plan is going to work. Oh, and just a tip - you really
should fix up this flimsy Facade. If you and I are going to have regular contact then this won’t do at all.”
“... What? What’s wrong with my Facade?!” snapped J as if she were offended. “I’ve been living in this
house for years and nobody on this street is suspicious of me!”
“Oh really? Then how come your neighbors kept giving me concerned looks while I was standing
outside your front door? One of them even tried to warn me away from ‘that crazy weed lady’ when I
asked for directions. You probably didn’t notice since they just smile and wave at you whenever you
make eye contact. I bet your Doppelganger Job’s been in a rut for a while, right?”
J’s eyes and jaw flew wide open. She was indeed stuck at Level 34 of that Job for the longest time, and
the people around here did indeed act that way around her.
“H-how did you know about-”

“It’s painfully obvious if this is how you approach your public persona.”
Boxxy motioned at the room around them with both arms. The same space that practically screamed
‘This is an alchemy lab!’ to anyone who saw it. Or at least it would, if said ‘anyone’ were completely
ignorant of how Alchemists actually operated. And as someone who had a professional Alchemist for a
girlfriend, Keira was not one of them.
“Why? What’s wrong with it?!”
“All of it.”
“... Huh?”
Boxxy took a deep breath. If it was going to work with this individual, then she needed to know exactly
where she stood.
“To begin with, those ‘ingredients’ lined up on the shelf are unorganized and prone to expiring. You
completely failed to follow proper storage procedures for most of them. I bet many of them have lost
their potency by now, if any of them were real in the first place.”
The Mimic then pointed at the vials lined up on the side.
“Nobody in their right mind keeps alchemical compounds lying around like that. If the potion’s done,
you seal the vial and put it away. If you leave it done half-way like that, you’ve essentially wasted both
time and materials. Besides, they all look like colored water no matter how I look at them.”
Next it gestured at the stupefied Doppelganger in the room.
“Your attire is also unacceptable. You stink of herbs and your clothes are filthy. I’m guessing that’s
intentional, but that only makes your mistake worse. Sanitation is extremely important to the potion
brewing process, you know. That goes double for this dusty room that has no water outlet. Any potion
you try to make in a place like this will get contaminated and turn into useless sludge. Not to mention
that the lighting in here is woefully insufficient for the precise measurements needed in Alchemy.”
Finally, Boxxy raised its palm at the bubbling pot in the corner of the room, as if it didn’t even want to
look at it.
“Don’t even get me started on that. That’s just so ridiculous that I’d have to spend at least an hour if
wanted to list all the problems with it. My point is, this idiotic display of yours is doing you more harm
than good. I know Reggie tells you guys to lay low, but you’re going about it all wrong. You shouldn’t
be pretending to be someone else, you need to become someone else. Like this, see?”
The catgirl’s scowling face instantly melted into a gorgeous smile that practically radiated joy.
“Hi, miss! I’m Keira! Excuse me, but could you tell me the way to the nearest elevator? I’m a bit lost,
and my, uh, roommate would get really mad at me if I’m late again…”
It was a flawless performance that gave J a bizarre, surreal feeling similar to the one she experienced at
the front door a little while ago. The catgirl she met was so bubbly and innocent-looking that she
momentarily doubted whether Reginald was telling the truth about her being a shapeshifter. It wasn’t
just the expressions and words, it went deeper than that. It was as if the very air around the girl suddenly
changed in an instant.
“I love salmon, by the way! If you know a place that sells it fresh, please let me know, okay?”
Barely discernable facial twitches, tiny fluctuations in her voice, subtle movements of the body - all
manner of signals that people involuntarily made and subconsciously read were perfectly mimicked with
a singular purpose. The Mimic that was capable of picking up on the tiniest of details had been steadily
working on incorporating the subtleties of body language into its act over the past two months. It was
already effective to the point where even someone like J, who wasn’t even a person, was unknowingly
picking up on them. Hardly surprising, considering a regular Doppelganger would need a high-quality
MLG in order to consciously perceive and copy such minute cues.
“Huh? Hobbies?” said the catgirl while acting out some sort of conversation. “Well, I love tinkering with
stuff, especially clockwork! The clicky-clacky sounds of gears and springs moving in tandem are quite
charming, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I guess… Wait, what?!”
J was caught completely off guard and ended up casually answering that pointless question as if it was
the most natural thing to do. And, on some deeper level, that terrified her. The gap between what was on
the outside and on the inside was so extreme that it filled her with an odd sense of fear, awe and
wonderment, as if petrified by the majesty of an oncoming hurricane. In her eyes, the Doppelganger
called Boxxy T. Morningwood had spoken truly. It wasn’t pretending to be Keira Morgana - it was Keira
Morgana.
“Alright, you’ve made your point,” she admitted with a defeated sigh. To say she had much to learn
would be an understatement.
“I’ll take your… advice into consideration,” she continued,” but in the meantime - you mentioned a
plan?”
“That’s right,” answered Boxxy after switching off Keira mode. “I’ve been pondering about it for the
last two days, actually. If we can’t take him down ourselves, then we need to make him fall on his own.”
“So… you intend to frame him somehow?”
“No, idiot. I’m not going to put him in a frame. What would be the point of that?!”
“... Framing a person means to incriminate them for some crime they didn’t commit.”
“Oh. Well yeah, something like that. I still have to investigate the target for myself to work out the
details, but it should be enough.”
“I do not believe that sort deception will be effective. Like I said earlier, we have no chance of getting
close to him, both physically and metaphorically. Magic aside, the guy is inherently suspicious of
everything and everyone he encounters. He doesn’t trust anybody, not even the organization that’s
backing him.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken,” stated Boxxy in a confident tone. “If there is one thing that humans will
always trust in, it is themselves. And where there is trust, there will always be betrayal.”
(138) Duality 2
“Power Shot!”
A trigger was pulled. That simple action initiated a basic mechanism that resulted in the near-
instantaneous release of a latch, which freed a taut string from its grip. The horizontal wooden limbs on
either end of that string sprang forward as they recovered from their malformed shape. The string that
had caused this deformity in the first place through its pull was flung forward as well, pressing against
the bottom of a narrow, wooden shaft. The steel-tipped object was propelled along a groove with deadly
force and was airborne before the one that pulled that trigger had a chance at feeling the resulting
vibration through his hands.
The crossbow had launched its bolt without a hitch. The projectile flew straight with considerably more
force behind it than was scientifically possible as a direct result of the Martial Art that had been
activated less than a blink ago. The physics-defying red-glowing bolt wobbled every so slightly as it
flew improbably straight through the battlefield.
It passed over the corpse of a male elf whose once-shining silver armor had been split asunder and
covered by blood - both his own and that of his enemies. The long-handled axe that had caused his
mortal wound was still lodged in his chest, although its owner was nowhere to be seen. However, the
traces of blood and torn skin on the handle suggested that the human in question had met with a similar
fate as the elf that once stood in his way.
The wooden projectile continued its passage through the air, completely unhindered by the grizzly scene
beneath it. Hardly surprising considering it was an inanimate object. It very nearly collided with a flying
shard of jagged ice that was flying in a direction perpendicular to its own. The Spell in question traveled
at a much slower speed relative to the bolt, almost as if one were comparing a run to a drunken crawl.
The faster projectile managed to pull ahead and escape the icicle’s path before a collision occurred,
allowing it to keep flying towards it target.
However, the would be victim was currently locked in close quarters combat. He had been kicked
brutally in the abdomen just as the bolt was launched, and his head had swayed out of the way of that
remote means of death-dealing. The Power-Shot-imbued bolt passed in front of his face without
inflicting a scratch and continued flying unhindered for a dozen more meters before it finally struck
something.
*CLANGGG*
Something white, round, and metal.
Your body has been pierced. HP -107.
Or rather, someone.
“Oi!” cried out Fizzy through gritted teeth.
An arrow impact to the rear was not something she needed while she was struggling with some Monster
Tamer’s pet janther. The much bigger, six-legged predator had its powerful jaws clenched around the
golem’s signature wrench and the two of them were locked in a contest of strength. However, the
smaller and relatively lighter Paladin had been pinned in place as the janther’s massive weight pressed
down on her from above. If her body was made of flesh and blood rather than mithril, then she wouldn’t
have been able to contest it at all. Rather than barely remaining on her feet, she would be nothing more
than a bloody smear on the ground.
“Come on! You know we gotta do this!” echoed a voice inside Fizzy’s head.
It sounded exactly like her own voice, only back from when she was still a filthy meatbag - a gnome.
And she hated that.
“I’ve! Got! This!” she answered while struggling with the massive cat-like monster.
Sensing an opening, the janther’s two left forelegs swiped at the mithril golem. The specially made
metal claws covering its actual ones raised a few sparks as they clashed against Fizzy’s right shoulder
and thigh.
You have suffered a moderate blow. HP -351.
The pair of custom-fit weapons dug deep into her already battered and dented frame. It was left
technically intact, but another hit or two like that and it might just rip her apart. One thing was for sure -
regular steel would have definitely been shredded to ribbons by now.
“Yeah, you clearly have this under control.”
“I could do with less sarcasm!”
“Then why don’t you let. Me. Help?! Do you want Boxxy to see us in this pathetic state?!”
Fizzy’s already straining and furious expression was momentarily overcome with pure, unadulterated
terror. Somewhere buried inside her, she still had a certain fear surrounding that Mimic, although the
nature of it had changed from over the last 2 months or so. She was no longer scared of being beaten,
raped or otherwise abused by it, as she could no longer feel nor care for any of that. No, the thing she
truly feared was that she might disappoint it, that Boxxy might think less of its prized shiny thing. Just
the thought of appearing before that shapeshifter in anything less than prime condition was unthinkable.
Otherwise it just might not want to look at her ever again.
“Parallel One!” she growled.
After chanting those words, her left eye started glowing with a bright, yellow-green light. The same
color that all her Paladin-derived Spells and Skills seemed to exhibit. The change was so subtle that the
janther didn’t notice it and prepared for another swipe. Then again, even if it did, there was no way it
could guess its significance.
“Judgement!”
Her voice rang out against her will, causing a large, half-transparent club made out of pure light to
materialize out of thin air and smash into the janther’s head as if it were doing a golf swing. The sudden
sideways impact knocked it off her, allowing the gnolem some metaphorical breathing room. She rebuilt
her stance, with her permanently-affixed shield in front and the oversized wrench on her right. The
janther draped in blue cloth - a sign of its allegiance to the Empire - had already shaken off the sudden
impact and lurched forward in an attempt to bite her in half.
This time, however, the Champion of Chaos was ready for it. She wonderfully sidestepped its jaws with
a twist of her body and came back around with a full two-handed swing. The nimble predator tried to put
up both of its armored forelegs to block, but an unseen force pressed down on its limbs. As a result, it
was too slow to block that huge blow, and the heavy wrench’s business end made contact with the right
side of the beast’s skull.
*THWACK*
“Grhaaaarh!” it half-roared half-yelled as it reeled from the blow. While it was able to reflexively throw
its head back and avoid some of the impact, it was still left momentarily stunned. Not willing to let up,
Fizzy caught up to it in a single step and activated one of her newly-acquired Martial Arts while
gripping her wrench-turned-mace with both hands.
“Grand Slam! Holy Light!”
The weapon glowed red and swung towards the janther once again in a wide horizontal arc, while the
bright flash of her divine magic enveloped her mid-swing.
*THWACK*
The powerful attack landed full on, striking the beast’s fuzzy head with enough force to both crack its
thick skull and very nearly sending it flying. At the same time, her own dents and scratches immediately
buffed themselves out with a barely audible *Fwump* sound. Even the crossbow bolt stuck in her
backside popped out without any incident as the divine magic healed her ‘flesh.’
“Grand Slam!”
*THWACK*
Without breaking her stride in the slightest, Fizzy had spun around on her heel and attacked the janther
once again.
“Grand Slam!”
*THWACK*
And again.
“Grand Slam! Judgement!”
*THWACK*
The next activation of a Martial Art was followed immediately by a Spell invocation, both of which
closed in on the beast’s heavily tenderized head as if they were a vice. And in the next instant, they
crushed the meatbag monster’s cranium into what could only be described as chunky goop, ending its
life in an instant. Thankfully, the fact that the Judgement Spell - a physical manifestation of a Paladin’s
holy power - had taken on the form of a plucked chicken was not detrimental to its effectiveness.
“See?! Was that so hard?!” said a smug-looking Fizzy.
“Ugh, don’t be so proud of yourself for chanting a Spell or two,” groaned the sour-faced Fizzy. “I did all
the work!”
“Don’t be like that.” she replied to herself. “We all need that a bit of- INCOMING!”
Heeding her own warning, Fizzy turned around and covered herself with her shield as much as possible.
A pure-white mass of cold struck the ground directly next to her. It exploded in a wave of cold and ice,
throwing her several meters to the side. She landed on her back and tried to scramble to her feet, but her
left arm and leg were no longer responding to her commands as they had been encased in ice.
“Fuck!” she cursed before she began chanting. “Cleanse!”
A wave of divine energy washed over her as it attempted to purge all hostile magic from her body. The
ice crystals around her limbs shattered, but she still couldn’t move them. She used her still functioning
right arm to toss her wrench into the air in front of her-
“Frostbolt!”
-just in time to collide with and deflect an incoming enemy Spell.
“Cleanse!”
Holy light filled her again, and she regained most of the mobility in her left arm, although the leg was
still barely moving. She used what mobility she had regained to put up her shield, trying to cover her
head as much as possible.
“Ice Beam!”
“Rebound!”
Two voices rang out as one, and the bright blue beam shot out by the blue-robed Imperial Cryomancer
hit her cursed and strangely sparkling shield. The Spell was deflected by the defensive Martial Art and
was sent flying off harmlessly into the sky above her.
“Shit,” she cursed under her breath. “It would have to be- Cleanse! - a Cryomancer.”
The third attempt fully purified the lingering effects of being struck by ice and she quickly rose to her
feet.
Cryomancers were a pain in the ass for Fizzy. Cold and ice-based magic was, after all, a metal golem’s
Bane - her critical weakness. Not only did she take nearly twice as much damage as normal from such
attacks, but they also caused her mechanical joints to seize up with great ease. Granted, the ability to
restrict movement was the main strong point of ice magic, but it had a much more profound effect on a
monster like Fizzy. It was honestly a huge problem to the point where there was serious concern if her
body would survive the oncoming frigid winter.
In short, fighting the guy that tried to drop a Freezing Comet on her placed her at a serious disadvantage.
Not to mention that her tussle with that janther as well as the general skull-smashing and spine-snapping
she had carried out beforehand had left her MP in a rather dire state.
Thankfully, she had just the thing to address both problems.
A metallic clunk came from within her torso, followed by quiet, rhythmic clacking noises that were
reminiscent of large gears one might find in a clocktower. In the next instant she flew into action by
dashing at full speed to the left, avoiding the incoming Ice Beam completely. Even if it was incredibly
fast, that Spell had no chance of hitting a target that had dodged it before it was even invoked.
Not to be deterred, the Cryomancer kept launching shards of ice at his target while she ran at full speed
to his right, but failed to land any hits. To his great surprise, that monstrous metal golem kept using Holy
Magic on herself as she sprinted at full speed. It was an act that defied common sense, and not just
because of the type of magic. The mind literally did not have the leeway to be doing much of anything
as it was preparing a Spell. One could maybe take a step or two to adjust their position, but something
like mad rush across a littered battlefield while chanting magic was completely out of the question. But
the human would not allow himself to be caught off-guard by something like that. He was this metal
golem’s natural enemy, and she lacked the ability to attack him from a distance. Therefore, all he had to
do was keep his cool and steady his aim.
As she was running circles around her opponent, Fizzy raised a hand towards her weapon and invoked
the Magnetize Skill. The lump of metal encased in ice suddenly sprang to life and flung towards her.
Once the wrench, or rather the ice covering the wrench, was glued to her palm, the golem relocated her
arm so that it was pointing towards her opponent. She stopped ‘pulling’ and instead ‘pushed,’ which sent
the wrench flying towards the Cryomancer’s upper body.
“Crystal Shell!”
The magic user had kept his guard up and immediately responded with one of his Job’s trademark
defensive Spells, which conjured a thin bubble of transparent ice around him. Although it looked
incredibly weak, it had more than enough defensive power to deflect that incoming projectile. And just
as he expected, even though it smashed into his barrier with great force, it wasn’t nearly enough to break
through.
In the next moment, the incendiary grenade attached to the back of said projectile exploded and
enveloped the shell in flames. Non-magical fire could not trump magical ice, however. The Crystal Shell
was able to effortlessly repulse the damaging effects of the rampaging flames, even though the highly-
flammable substance inside that grenade clung to its surface. Those flames died out almost immediately,
but the ones that clung to the ground in front of him were a different matter. The rampaging inferno
burned bright, which combined with the smoke it raised from the damp grass to obscure the
Cryomancer’s field of view.
The human guessed correctly that this was intended as a distraction to allow that little golem to get
close, but he wouldn’t let that lump of scrap have her way so easily. He reached into his side-pouch and
pulled out 5 of his Spell Crystals and activated them. After ‘cooking’ them for a second or two, he
disabled his barrier and threw them haphazardly in the general direction he was expecting his opponent
to be.
In the next instant, his world was dyed white. The flames around him were doused, bitingly frigid winds
whistled past his ears and the air was so filled with ice and snow that the morning sun was no longer
visible. The five localized snowstorms caused by his pre-casted Whiteout Spells had merged into one
gigantic blizzard. Although unlike the actual Blizzard Spell, this one was focused on restraining the
movements of all caught within rather than pelting them with shards of jagged ice.
Your target is pelted by snow and ice. Target HP -316.

You feel a strong chill. HP -17.
And yet it still caused extraordinary damage. As expected, no matter how skilled or powerful a monster
was, overcoming their Bane was no easy thing. Even if that golem could Cleanse herself out of the
magically-induced frostbite like earlier, it wouldn’t be enough. Pretty soon she would be frozen solid
and succumb to the snowstorm’s cold embrace, no matter how much she struggled. Even escape should
not have been an option for her.

As for the human, he was almost completely unphased. His Cryomancer-exclusive Skill called Eye of
the Storm made it so he would feel almost none of the effects of his own Area Effect Spells and Skills.
Granted, that Skill could not help him overcome the terrible visibility, but he felt that wasn’t necessarily
a problem. His target had been caught up in his magic, so all he had to do was chill out while waiting for
his opponent to ‘chill’ out.
Or at least, that’s what he thought at first, but that queer-colored flash of light he spotted out of the
corner of his eye proved otherwise. He sharpened his glare and turned towards it, ready to act the instant
he had confirmation of his enemy. And indeed, barely a second later, was able to spot that troublesome
golem. Honestly speaking though, there was no way he wouldn’t be able to make out the eyesore that
she had become.
Fizzy’s pure-white frame had been dyed by multiple blobs of orange light that seemed to leak out from
inside her frame. Her body had heated up to the point where any snow or ice it made contact with it was
instantly turned into a puff of steam. What remained of her gear and clothes had already been reduced to
ash, and even the wrench in her hand looked like it was about to melt.
However, the clearly unnatural heat was playing havoc on her mithril frame. Bits of her plating were
coming loose, her right eye no longer moved the way she wanted it to and a trail of red-hot liquid was
dribbling out of the corner of her madly grinning mouth. It also did next to nothing to help fight off the
damage the surrounding magic was inflicting on her, as Spells attuned to the power of cold were, after
all, her Bane.
And completely negating the effects of a monster’s Bane was impossible. It was an iron-clad, unwritten
rule of this world. It was the price such creatures paid for possessing bodies that were stronger, faster
and sometimes smarter than the enlightened.
As for the Cryomancer this particular monster was vehemently looking for, he had been momentarily
taken aback despite himself. That obscured, glowing silhouette he spotted looked like a rampaging
demon straight out of his nightmares. It even looked like it had horns, although those were just Fizzy’s
deformed pigtails.
Your target freezes over. Target HP -337.

Thankfully, the update he received in his mind helped him snap back to his senses, and he immediately
took action. He held up his right hand and started preparing a Spell. A 90 centimeter-long icy needle
formed out of thin air and floated above his open palm, although the soft blue glow that enveloped it was
a few notches brighter than usual. The frigid environment he had created meant that all ice-based magic
performed within would receive a significant boost in power. It was one of the Cryomancer’s favorite
combinations and with good reason. He felt confident this attack would be powerful enough to pierce
that golem’s torso. Doing so would severely damage her, or perhaps even instantly kill her if he
managed to nail her core. And, given Fizzy’s softened-up frame, that outcome was more than just
fantasy or wishful thinking.
“Ice Spike!”
He launched the projectile floating above his hand with a sudden throwing motion. It shot through the
snowstorm while leaving behind a blue trail, cutting through the air with frightening speed as it headed
unerringly towards the seemingly unaware orange blob’s center of mass. However, Fizzy’s Champion of
Chaos Skill had seen it coming. She pivoted on her left leg, turned her body around and performed a
backhanded swing with the nigh-indestructible shield on her left hand, right into the path of the
incoming projectile.
“Rebound!”
The Spell was wonderfully bounced back in the direction it came from, and her fine-tuned hearing
detected a delightfully painful scream a few moments later. She wasn’t sure where that special
snowflake was in this infuriating snowstorm, but the moron had willingly revealed himself, just as she
hoped he would. Before she did anything else though, she took a brief moment to top herself off.
“Holy Light!”
Your body freezes over. HP -314.

Her damaged body instantly mended itself. The loose bits snapped back into place, she regained the
function of her right eye and her molten drool disappeared. However, given her body’s current
condition, this was more of a patch job than a fix.
The Engine of Destruction has caused your body to crumble from the inside. HP -194.
The Engine of Destruction has converted the excess heat into magical power. MP +60.
At the very least her latest Metal Golem Skill was doing good work, although the toll it took on her was
steadily growing stronger, despite the copious amounts of snow she was wading through. Well, given the
rather high temperatures that mithril could withstand, it was honestly surprising the environment
restricted the damage as much as it did. But, since her body temperature would continue to rise while the
Skill was active, she had to finish the guy off before she liquefied her insides for good.
Which was why she turned towards the source of that scream from earlier and launched herself forward
with Armored Charge.
“Crystal Shell!”
*SCRUNCH*
The Cryomancer had managed to rebuild his defensive barrier right in the nick of time, as the
smoldering golem slammed into it shield-first as if she were a meteorite. The shock from the impact was
enough to rattle and crack his bubble and cause his very body to feel the recoil. A reaction that did not
help with his right leg’s situation.
“Rggh!”
He stifled a yell through gritted teeth as the vibrations that washed over him agitated the bleeding
wound, making it throb even harder. He had expected that this golem - who somehow or another was
also a Paladin - to somehow be able to defend herself with a Rebound, but the idea that she would be
able to send his own Ice Spike back at him was unprecedented. He had fought quite a few mace-and-
shield wielding Paladins and Warriors before and, while most of them used that anti-magical Martial Art
to defend themselves, not once had something this outrageous happened to him. Yet the frozen,
oversized needle that had pierced and lodged itself in his thigh was undeniable proof that that was
exactly what had happened.
*CRUNCH*
And he wasn’t given any time to think about it either, as the golem from hell slammed her superheated
weapon into the side of his Crystal Shell. He refocused his mind, doing his best to ignore both the pain
in his leg and the thoroughly disturbing wide-eyed smile on his opponent's face. He fortified his
defenses, fixing up the wide cracks in his barrier as the snowstorm raged just outside it. Some part of
him hoped his Whiteouts would finish the job for him, but the way that golem showed zero signs of
stopping already made it crystal clear that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
*CRUNCH*
Fizzy struck the Crystal Shell yet again, but the damage she inflicted on it was steadily being repaired by
the desperate Cryomancer inside. The man searched desperately for a way out of this situation, but he
was already drawing a blank. Potions weren’t going to help as he was already on the brink of potion
poisoning due to the protracted battle. The wound on his leg meant that he could neither run nor use Ice
Slide to make some distance between him and his pursuer. At the very least his MP was in a good state,
so his only hope for the moment was to maintain his defenses and hope his allies would come to his aid
once the Whiteouts dispersed. That or the vague hope that the enraged golem would run out of steam
before he did.
Unfortunately for him, Fizzy had no intention of turning this into a war of attrition. She readjusted the
two-handed grip on her oversized wrench, raised it over her right shoulder and prepared to unleash one
of her new favorite moves.
“Grand Judgement Slam!”
The Cryomancer’s thoughts of survival completely ground to a halt when he witnessed the impossible
up close and personal. Time seemed to slow down as he stared blankly at the full swing coming from his
right and the oversized flounder made of light coming in from his left. A single person combining a
Martial Art with a Spell? How was such a thing even possible? The corners of his mouth twisted into a
self-mocking smirk as he realized his own folly. He had seen the potential for this minutes ago, but his
own naivete had dismissed the reality before his eyes. He picked a fight with a tired, battered metal
golem thinking it would be an easy win, yet in reality he never even stood a chance. He closed his eyes
as his final thoughts drifted to the wife and child he would leave behind.
Sorry, Timmy. It looks like your old man isn’t coming home after all.
Fizzy’s weapon and Spell struck from either side of the Crystal Shell, smashing it to pieces and crushing
the human that had cast it, mangling his body and killing him in an instant.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 33 Metal Golem! STR +3. END +3. AGI +2. FTH
+1.
Proficiency level increased. Parallel Plot is now Level 2. LCK +4. INT +2.
“Heh. Hehe,” chuckled Fizzy. “A fucking flounder! Hahaha! Hehahuhohohahehuhahehoha!

Ohahehehahohuhuhuhahehaha!”
She then broke out into an irregular, high-pitched laugh as what was left of that damnable Cryomancer
slumped to the ground with a wet plop. Her mad, tinny voice cackled ominously through the still-raging
snowstorm while her heated frame continued to vaporize everything the human’s leftover magic threw at
her.
This sort of unrestrained joy was not the behavior of a person who had just taken another’s life. Well,
technically speaking, Fizzy was no longer a person in anything but shape. Although a tiny fragment of
the original Cornie Fizzlesprocket had remained somewhere within her even after she cast aside her
flesh, the monster’s Rank Up into a mithril golem had completely stamped it out. All that was left in that
empty shell she called a head was the twisted, high-functioning psychotic monster. The creature created
by the sole being that, ironically, now mattered more to Fizzy than life itself.
“Huehuehu- I don’t think it was that funny,” she interrupted herself.
Well, that and her newly acquired ‘companion.’
“The guy was fish-slapped to death! In what way is that not funny, you insufferable cunt?!” she snapped
back.
“Hey now, there’s no need for that. Besides, you should probably turn off that Engine now.”
“Oh, right.”
After briefly arguing with herself, Fizzy finally deactivated one of the Skills that made her survival
possible.
Engine of Destruction
Description: Even a body devoid of muscle is capable of pushing itself beyond its limits.
Requirements: Level 30 Metal Golem, Advanced Joints, END 180
Type: Sustained
Cost: 0 MP
Range: Self
Effects: Increases the amount of heat produced through friction of motion by 2,000%.
Recovers MP equal to 25% of the base damage caused by this Skill.
Reduces damage taken from this Skill by 5% per Level of this Skill.
Increases the MP recovered by this Skill by 10% per Level of this Skill.
As an Artificer that has experience with smithing, Fizzy was able to recognize all the side-effects of this
Skill before she picked it up. Superheating her body could be used to stave off that dreadful frostbite,
and transferring a portion of that thermal energy to her weapon through Metallopathy meant it could be
used to essentially augment her physical attacks with fire. The Engine of Destruction allowed all that
while also fulfilling its primary function - restoring the golem’s depleted MP pool.
However, while useful, this Skill was also a blatant double-edged sword that wreaked havoc on her
body. At the very least, it allowed Fizzy to realize the connection between this Skill and Advanced
Joints - its prerequisite. The engine in her chest that had been steadily chugging along until moments ago
would not be able to function properly if it weren’t for her exceptionally sturdy and flexible means of
motion. In fact, it was highly likely the old joints she was reborn with would have been broken and/or
melted under the strain within seconds. Even her current ones would suffer that fate eventually if she
allowed herself to run too hot.
“Holy Light!”
Unlike regular golems, however, Fizzy was also a Paladin. Her ability to heal herself allowed her to
maintain that overclocked state of hers for much longer than normal, although not indefinitely. During
her experiments, she found that the absolute limit she could endure it for was about two, maybe two-
and-a-half minutes. That was, of course, assuming that nobody was attacking her during that time. In
practice she restricted its use to no more than 20 seconds at a time during live combat.
Well, at least until a certain someone showed up.
“Oh, it’s clearing up!” she exclaimed involuntarily.
The waning snowstorm had more or less cooled off both her body and her mind to the point where she
wasn’t in danger of breaking apart. Therefore, she no longer needed that thing messing around with her
body.
“Parallel Zero,” she chanted in a dull monotone, causing the emerald-ish glint in her left eye to fade
away.
“Well, that was rude,” complained the voice in her head. “And after all the help I’ve given you!”
“That was then, this is now,” rebutted Fizzy with her still-hot arms crossed.
“Oh, come on! I deserve more than that!”
“Don’t forget who’s in charge here, yeah? You’re getting awfully cocky even though you’re just a Skill.”
Of course the golem wasn’t just talking to herself, such a thing would make her crazy. Well, crazier. The
origin of the voice in question was not, in fact, the result of her fractured psyche, but was indeed caused
by the effects of a Skill.
Parallel Plot
Description: The voices in one’s head can be surprisingly useful if allowed to take control.
Requirements: Level 35 Paladin, Champion of Chaos, Holy Scripture
Type: Sustained
Cost: 3% of max MP per second
Range: Self
Effects: Allows Parallel thoughts at all times, even when inactive.
Allows Parallels to assist with controlling the body when active.
Amplifies the effects of the Champion of Chaos Skill by 30% for each active Parallel.
Increases the MP cost of this Skill by 100% for each active Parallel beyond the first.
Increases all MP recovery by 5% per active Parallel per Level of this Skill.
Increases the total number of Parallels by 1 at Level 1, 7 and 10 of this Skill.
Having this ‘Parallel’ in her head was an experience she could not accurately describe. It was almost as
if she was being possessed by a slightly different, more optimistic version of herself. The Parallel’s
assistance was a definite boon in combat, as she could freely control Fizzy’s magic, including her Holy
Spells and Magnetize Skill, while the ‘original’ focused on melee combat and Martial Arts. Not only did
that make Fizzy’s survivability go way up, but it also allowed her to keep using Engine of Destruction
for much longer in live combat.
However, this undeniably useful Skill came with some unexpected psychological downsides. The fact
this voice sounded and spoke so much like her original, wimpy, meatbag self really rubbed her the
wrong way. Not to mention that the mere thought of ‘sharing’ her glorious mithril frame with someone
else was irritating in its own way, even if that ‘someone’ was technically herself. Still, even if the two of
them argued to an extent, there were no real clashes of opinions and they could cooperate easily enough
when push came to shove. All things considered though, she was gradually getting used to this voice and
learning to get along with it. It was almost as if she was getting to know another version of herself.
Strictly speaking though, if Fizzy was still a person, then it would only be a matter of time before the
Parallel Plot Skill would drive her insane to the point of mentally crippling her. After all, a Parallel was
born from one’s subconsciousness, and your average run-of-the-mill meatbags had numerous doubts and
worries tucked away in the back of their minds. How do others see them? Why did they act a particular
way? Were their beliefs and morals truly the right ones? What the hell would ‘the right ones’ even
supposed to be? If such things were given an audible voice, then the person’s transformation into a
gibbering, suicidal mess was an inevitability.
But Fizzy? She had done away with such bothersome mental baggage when she abandoned both her
flesh and her reason months ago. Even if she despised the weakling she once was, she unconditionally
loved her current self with her entire being. Everything she did was right and everyone who thought
otherwise (and wasn’t Boxxy) was wrong. The Parallel spawned of such thoroughly selfish and
narcissistic thoughts had no choice but to ultimately agree and cooperate with her.
And the golem was gradually realizing that pushing her ‘other’ self away was not what she wanted to
do. Although hostility towards something that was annoying was understandable, this voice was,
ultimately, also a part of herself. As such, she was steadily starting to like it and would, in time, embrace
it completely. That outcome was an inevitability at this point. Her harsh words were mainly because she
had yet to completely adjust to its presence. And in order to do that, she first had to address a certain
something that had been bothering her for quite a while.
“... You don’t have a name, right?” she asked her other self.
“Now that you mention it… no, I suppose I don’t. I could use yours, but that just feels… wrong. As much
as I am you, I am also me. Therefore, I would much prefer a name I could call my own.”
“My thoughts exactly. Which is why I’ve decided to call you Plus.”
“Oh? Ohhh! That works on so many levels! I shall accept this brilliantly clever name from myself, on
behalf of myself! Way to go, me!”
“Huhuhu, I am pretty smart, aren’t I?”
“Yup. The absolute best!”
“Ahem! Now then, Plus, I need to pay homage to Jordan while I have the chance, so do be quiet.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n!”
Fizzy quickly surveyed the battlefield around her. Honestly speaking, it was more of a skirmish than an
actual battle as both sides had only about 25 to 30 people when it broke out. The dense pinewood forests
of this region had forced the Imperial army to slow to a crawl as they steadily cleared them out and
created a sort of highway they could pass through. The Republic’s initial hit-and-run operations had
proven to be successful in delaying them even further.
That’s when the humans countered by deploying small groups of heavily armed units ahead of the bulk
of the force. These scouting units formed a wide security perimeter, greatly reducing the mobility and
effectiveness of the Republic’s guerrilla units. The elves had, in turn, momentarily given up on hindering
the main force or their supply lines and instead focused on thinning out the enemy numbers by
ambushing as many of those advance troops as possible.
Unfortunately for them, the Empire had already grown familiar with all of their tricks. Not only that, but
their crushing defeat at Fort Yimin had served as a wake up call. Although they were still confirming the
details of what exactly had happened in that hellscape, the Empire’s top brass had ordered the field
commanders to put caution above all else during their advance through Republic territory. As a direct
result, although many ambushes succeeded, an equal number of them failed. And when an ambush was
thwarted, the two sides almost always found themselves locked in a brawl.
Which was exactly how the skirmish that Fizzy was caught up in had started. Normally speaking, the
Empire would have the upper hand when it came to open combat with equal numbers, but Fizzy’s
presence had tipped the scale in the elves’ favor. After all, she had taken down 3 significant threats and
at least 7 soldiers all by herself. At that point it was only a matter of time before her side emerged
victorious, although the humans probably hadn’t realized that quite yet. This was why the her immediate
area was completely free of hostiles, which in turn gave her the precious few moments she needed. The
Paladin went on one knee and began offering a brief yet sincere prayer to Carla, the Goddess of
Variables.
She thanked Her for the upteempth time for her mithril body, which would not have come to her were it
not for Her guiding hand. She thanked Her for her Artificer Job, which allowed her to gain unparalleled
understanding of said glorious frame. She thanked Him for granting her the privilege of being a
champion to such a simple yet infinitely complex deity. She also thanked Him for somehow ending up
with a trio of disparate Jobs that, despite all the preconceptions she might have once had, worked
together in perfect harmony. If anything was a working example of the whole being greater than the sum
of its parts, it was Fizzy. In some ways, she was perhaps the crowning achievement of her own
Artificer’s career.
But most of all, the golem thanked Him for her current lot in life. She was confident, strong, and had
someone who she was precious to. It didn’t matter to her if this outcome had come about as a direct
result of her deity’s influence or whether it was all blind luck. Regardless of which one was the case, or
whether they were even separate notions to begin with, it was crystal clear that if anyone was deserving
of her gratitude and reverence (besides Boxxy and herself), it was Crusty, the God of Instability.
“Cheesecake.”
A special action has been performed. FTH +1. LCK +1.
After ending her prayer by uttering her version of ‘amen,’ Fizzy received a silent confirmation that her
words of thanks had been not only heard, but also appreciated. The fact she had gotten not one, but two
Attribute boosts showed that Tortuga was extremely pleased with her actions, which in turn raised her
own spirits. The golem opened her eyes and stood up, her fully restored and fully naked mithril body
glittering radiantly in the morning sun. She put her shield-bearing side forward, threw her deformed
wrench over her shoulder with her right hand and scanned what remained of the Empire’s forces, some
30 or so meters away from her.
“Now then,” she mumbled to herself, “let’s go find the sorry sack of fuck that dared to shoot me in the
ass.”
“Yes,” agreed Plus, “let’s!”
Cornie
Fizzlesprocket
Metal Golem Arclight

Species STR 399 PER 157 58 31%
(Mithril) Artificer
Sex Female DEX 195 FTH 146 Paladin 36 33%
Metal
Age 22 years AGI 148 LCK 51 33 12%
Golem
Hammers of
Guild END 315
Horkensaft
HP 1974/1974 INT 221

(+3.1/sec)
1105/1105
MP WIS 187
(+1.8/sec)
Skill List
Clockwork Champion Advanced

10 MAX 10 MAX 6 10%
Expertise of Chaos Joints
Explosives
8 28% Toughness 10 MAX Magnetize 4 95%
Handling
Strength of Engine of
Deconstruction 7 53% 10 MAX 2 48%
Faith Destruction
Optics Holy
5 3% 9 21% Metallopathy 6 73%
Expertise Scripture
Divine
Physics 7 34% 7 85% Mentor 3 63%
Wrath
Component Bonecrusher Dagger

9 42% 4 55% 4 6%
Forging War Art Mastery
Shield
Tick Counter 6 91% Parallel Plot 2 5% 9 85%
Mastery
Heavy Holy
Upgrade 5 15% 10 MAX 11 53%
Metal Mastery
Electrical Armored Mace

3 33% 7 46% 12 29%
Expertise Charge Mastery
Holy Other Bonecrusher War Art
Holy Light Parallel Zero Grand Slam
Consecrate Parallel One Shield Wall
Cleanse Heavy Gong
Judgement Rebound
(139) Ambiguity 3
Three people were standing at the foot of a 5 meter-tall stone wall. They were wearing matching gray
uniforms signifying they supported the Republic’s cause even though each was of a different race. The
dwarf who seemed to be in charge had his greasy black hair tied in a ponytail and a well-groomed, short-
haired beard covered the vast majority of his face. His ear was up against the wall and his gray eyes
were closed as he tapped the rock several times with a small mallet.
“Humpf!” he scoffed disapprovingly after finishing his inspection.
“Is something the matter, master Boneshudder?” asked the male elf with lime green hair.
“Yeah something’s the matter!” complained the dwarf. “I’m getting tired of seeing shoddy construction
like this! It pains me to think all that hard work wouldn’t last even a decade before it fell over on its
own.”
The elf scratched his neck nervously while the female, blonde-haired gnome at his side rolled her blue
eyes in exasperation.
“This again, you old fart?!” she raised her voice. “Even I know they did an amazing job considering the
short notice! You should respect other people’s work more, you crotchety geezer!”
“Feh! As if a pipsqueak Artificer like you could understand an Architect’s work!” he snapped back. “Get
a proper Job like the pointy-eared lad, then we’ll talk!”
“The heck did you just say to me, Gramps? Have you been breaking boulders with your head again?!”
“Gentleman and lady, please!” shouted the elf as he stood between them. “We were over this squabbling,
weren’t we? We’re all on the same side here!”
The dwarf and the gnome glared at each other around the slim elf’s waist. Although inappropriate from a
professional standpoint, the friction between them was only a matter of course. Architects and Artificers
almost never saw eye-to-eye on a professional level. Even if their work appeared to be somewhat similar
at first glance, the scale and direction of their respective crafts were completely different.
Architects were responsible for coordinating hordes of laborers as they put together structures of all
shapes and sizes. Shacks, houses, mansions, castles, even sewers and underground mines - all had to be
touched by the hand of a skilled Architect if they hoped to stand the test of time. Or in this particular
case - the test of war.
Artificers on the other hand were more or less on the opposite end of the construction spectrum. They
worked day and night locked in their workshops to create intricate, fragile and/or complex mechanisms.
Unlike brick and mortar that were meant to be as still and sturdy as possible, an Artificer’s gadgets were
fleeting existences not unlike a Meteor Spell - brief, but blindingly brilliant.
Ultimately, this general disagreement between the Artificers and Architects was just another in a long
line of philosophical clashes between Jobs. The vast majority of occupations on this world had one or
two Jobs that could be said to be their anthithesis, and certain clashes of interest would happen over and
over, regardless of the place or time. There were exceptions, of course, but the vast majority of cases
adhered to certain stereotypes.
The most notable example was the relationship between Priests and Necromancers, who were almost
universally mortal enemies. Warriors and Berserkers, on the other hand, scoffed at each other’s methods
of fighting while Bards and Artists argued over whose artistic medium was superior means of self
expression. Even Wizards and Warlocks sometimes butted heads over what constituted as ‘safe’ practice
of magic. Surprisingly enough though, Cryomancers and Pyromancers seemed to get along like a house
on fire.
“... I suppose it can’t be helped if the quality isn’t up to my standards,” admitted the dwarf after a few
moments of silence.
“Your standards are just too damn high, old man,” pointed out the gnome.
“You’re not one to talk, Jess,” said the elf with a smirk. “I hear your guys complaining how you reject
their work all the time.”
“W-well, it can’t be helped. Shoddy Artificer work is the type of thing that gets people killed.”
“It’s the same with Architects you know. I’m sure you’d rather not have your house fall down on you.”
“No… Though if I had to choose, I’d much rather a building collapse on me than be at the receiving end
of a faulty Tree-Trimmer,” she said with a shudder.
“Well, my verdict still stands,” insisted the dwarf while patting the wall. “I’m almost ashamed to have
my name associated with this hack-job!”
“Look, teacher, can we forget about 10 years from now and focus on the next few weeks? The Empire is
almost at our doorstep, after all.”
The dwarf looked up and down the wall, which encompassed the southern half of the city of New
Whitehall. It was the last line of defense that stood at the edge of the Rainy Woodlands, otherwise
known as ‘the eastern front.’ It was the nerve center of the entire region, meaning that if this city fell
then the entire province would follow, which would be a serious blow to the Republic.
The dwarf’s shoulders drooped and he gave a deep sigh.
“Honestly? If those Empire lads do show up-”
“When they show up,” corrected Jess.
“... Right. As I was trying to say, it won’t stand a chance before the Imperial war machine. It’ll slow
them down for maybe 20 minutes, an hour at most if they’re short on siege equipment.”
They were a far cry from the age-old fortifications of Fort Yimin, which could have lasted for days,
maybe even weeks. Well, that sort of thing was precisely why the Empire sent so many of their Ultimate
Skill users to that one place, although that decision had backfired splendidly on them.
“That’s still precious time that my people will have the upper hand for,” noted the elf.
“Perhaps. Though it is a shame. Such a waste of good stone and mortar,” said the old dwarf while
stroking the wall in question. “Though I suppose even achieving this level of stability is more or less a
miracle…”
Even if he spoke harshly out of habit, that was mostly because he was a perfectionist. He hated making
compromises, but he knew deep down it was unavoidable. If anything, he was honestly impressed at the
zeal that those Legionnaires worked with. In all his years as an Architect, Boneshudder had never once
seen so much rock and stone move in such a short amount of time.
The Forest Gate in the center of the city allowed the transfer of large amounts of materials and
manpower across vast distances in a matter of seconds. Even though there was a time and weight limit to
how much could be transported per day, the Republic had also made use of the Skyfall River that ran
east-southeast through the northern part of the city. That massive body of water that had a width of well
over 250 meters served as a secure water route that ran within spitting distance of the capital. Not only
that, but it flowed in all the way from the Cloudburst Mountain, hundreds of kilometers to the north,
which also served as the main source of masonry materials for the Republic.
The old Architect was finally able to understand how come Azurvale’s Stone District had so many high
quality dwarven-built structures even though there wasn’t a quarry for hundreds of kilometers around.
Receiving sturdy stone bricks directly from the quarries at the foot of the tallest mountain in the world
would make any stonemason green with envy. Even if the dwarf had heard of the Ishigar Republic’s
ability to move goods and people before, seeing their supply lines operate at full capacity with his own
eyes was almost terrifying.
And the result was that 3,520 meters’ worth of defensive fortifications had been completed in little over
three weeks. The construction guild that Boneshudder ran had been offered a very lucrative contract if
they were to oversee the project. Granted, he had to read and re-read the contract several times, but he
was glad he took it. Not only was the work well-paid and challenging, but he was able to learn quite a
bit about Republic architecture.
The way those elves layered processed Ironbark in between stone bricks to make their walls more
resistant to impacts was an eye-opening experience, and he eagerly absorbed their technique. It showed
that even an old dog like him could learn a trick or two, although he had to admit that this particular
approach would not be possible without the right materials. He smirked as he recalled hearing about this
ludicrous idea of bark shoring up stone from his disciples in the past. In his arrogance and stubbornness,
he had dismissed the idea as preposterous and attributed such claims to a lack of understanding.
In some ways, Boneshudder thought it was strangely refreshing to be proven wrong for once.
“Yeah, I’ve actually been wondering about that,” said Jess, interrupting his introspective. “How come a
city this big had absolutely no fortifications?”
The gnome had only arrived in New Whitehall a little over a week ago, and had spent nearly every
waking moment working fervently in her workshop alongside 10 more of her colleagues. She was
slightly agoraphobic, so she avoided going outside whenever she could. To say that her knowledge of
the surrounding area was rudimentary would be giving her too much credit.
“Well,” said the elf while scratching his cheek, “apparently there just hasn’t been a need for one until
now.”
“Huh?”
“You know those Rainy Woodlands over there, yeah?” he asked while pointing to his right with his
thumb.
“Well duh, how could I not?”
Indeed, one would find it hard to take a step outside the city without being instantly made aware of the
slightly intimidating pine forest some 150 meters or so from the walls.
“Even a shut in like me knows about it!” she boasted.
“I don’t think that’s something to be proud of,” mumbled the dwarf.
“Ahah,” laughed the elf nervously. “But if you truly knew about it, then you wouldn’t be asking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The entire forest is a white spot.”
“... Wait, what? That place?” she squealed wide-eyed.
“Yep.”
“That massive sea of trees?!”
“Indeed.”
“All of it?!”
“Oh for- Yes! All of it is a white spot!” yelled the pissed-off dwarf. “Now shut your trap you bloody
cow!”
“Unbelievable,” mumbled the gnome while ignoring those harsh words. “I’ve never heard of a white
spot that vast…”
“Well, it’s not really an Artificer’s area of expertise, is it?” offered the elf.
“No… I suppose not…”

A ‘white spot’ referred to an area that was utterly devoid of ambient mana. Such places held no magical
materials, such as alchemical herbs or exotic minerals. It was also the main reason why Hylt trees could
not survive in this place. On the flipside, it also meant its monster population would be practically non-
existent. Indeed, the only truly dangerous things in the Rainy Woodlands were either wild animals, such
as bears and wolves, or the odd band of brigands trying to eke out a living in the wilderness. And neither
of those things were a threat large enough to warrant fortifications.
Even so, this region was still a veritable goldmine of natural resources. The land was fertile, the timber
harvested was of good quality and overwhelming quantity, both game and fish were abundant and there
were even a few coal mines. It was hardly a surprise that the Empire wanted to capture it for themselves
just to fuel their war machine.
“Come on then,” demanded the dwarf. “We still have 2 kilometers of walls to survey!”
“Ah, of course teacher!”
“Guh, more walking,” complained the gnome, which prompted the dwarf smash his fist into the wall
with a heavy thud.
“Why are you even here, girl?!” he asked in an accusatory tone.
“I was told you’ve finished construction of this oversized fence, so I came out to survey where would be
a good spot to lay down a minefield.”
This was the main reason she had to come out personally. It was a vital duty she couldn’t entrust to
‘those bolts-for-brains’ that she arrived with.
“... A what?”
“A minefield. You know, as in land mines?”
“Do I really need to point out how stupid it is to dig a mine underneath the wall?”
The gnome rolled her eyes once more.
“Not that kind of mine, ya old fart. The ones I’m talking about are the traps that me and my colleagues
have been working on. Wonderful little things you know. You bury them just beneath the soil, wait for a
human to step on it, and KABLOOEY! No more humans!”
“Incredible!” exclaimed the elf. “And you say this mechanism can target humans specifically?!”
“Well… no, not exactly. I mean, us gnomes will be fine but, uh… Let’s just say you might want to lose a
couple dozen kilograms before you go for any long walks,” she added with a grin.
“Beh, you pipsqueaks are just as crazy as ever,” said the dwarf dismissively while the elf was seriously
reconsidering his employment options.
The three of them continued bickering back on forth as the lead Architect personally verified the
structural integrity of the wall every 50 meters or so. Some parts were naturally weaker than others, as
inconsistency was one of the major pitfalls of rushed construction jobs like this one. Boneshudder made
sure to note those locations in the small brown notebook he was carrying around. He was looking
forward to showing them to that pompous Legate with an ‘I told you so!’ attitude, but it was also
information that Jess needed to take into consideration when doing her own job. After all, it wouldn’t be
funny if her explosives ended up collapsing a part of the wall.
The gnome, however, wasn’t actually staring at the ground or inspecting the soil. Such things didn’t
matter so long as the dirt could be dug up. Neither mud nor sand would pose to be a problem, as the
gnome was sure her ‘babies’ could remain submerged in swamp water for years and still go off without
a hitch. When preparing a minefield, the location was far more important than the terrain. That was why
she was staring at the deforested plain between the walls and the Rainy Woodlands. After all, she had to
place the 500 or so explosive traps at her disposal in such a way as to maximize casualties while
minimizing collateral damage. It wouldn’t be funny at all if the integrity of the walls was undermined by
the very same devices that were supposed to help protect them.
Granted, her knowledge of warfare was highly theoretical, but then again, so was the idea of using
minefields in armed conflict. After all, it had only been 120 years or so since a certain clan of gnomes
first discovered the Artificer Job, and it was still undergoing development. In fact, the landmines
themselves had been invented just 4 years ago, so their military applications were still largely
unexplored. However, if anyone could be considered an expert in the field of minefields, it would be
Jessiwick Wobblebang.
“... Huh? Did anyone else hear that?” she asked suddenly.
“Hear what?” answered the elf.
“... Nevermind.”
For a moment there Jess had forgotten that her senses were quite a bit sharper than those of the two
blockheads with her. Even if she was well aware of that fact, the faint tune in the wind had momentarily
derailed her thoughts. She strained her ears even more as she stared out towards the edge of the Rainy
Woodlands, trying to locate the source of that disturbance. Several seconds later, she spotted an armed
group of 20 or so people emerge from the treeline. She could just barely make out their uniforms that
identified them as part of the Republic’s armed forces. They were probably some sort of scouting party,
that much was obvious.
What was less obvious, however, was the reason why they were singing in the first place. And as they
jogged closer to the city’s perimeter, her questions only multiplied. For one thing, why did they sound so
damn cheery even though they had clearly seen combat? What was the deal with that purely white
gnome-sized thing that glistened in the afternoon sun with unparalleled radiance?
“Oh do you know the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man?”
What in the world could produce an odd voice like that?
“Do you know the muffin man,

That lives inside my head?”
What the heck was the deal with those lyrics?
“Oh yes we know the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man!
Now we know the muffin man,
That lives inside your head!”
And just why the fuck were those guys singing along?!
The stupefied gnome turned her head to the side, only to realize that both the elf and the dwarf were
completely ignoring the spectacle. Were their heads so filled with rocks that they still didn’t hear that
procession? No, the way the dwarf was shaking his head and muttering something about ‘bloody
gnomes’ was indicative that he was already very familiar with this sight and purposefully ignoring it.
“Uh-uhm,” she spoke up,” what is that?”
“Hmm?”
The dwarf thoroughly ignored her, but the slightly more agreeable elf turned his gaze towards Jess, and
then towards the direction she was pointing in.
“Oh, that must be the Juggernaut’s squad. They keep singing that song every time they enter or leave the
city.”
The blonde, blue-eyed gnome scanned the merry men and women as they steadily approached the
gatehouse further ahead of her.
“... What Juggernaut? I don’t see any-”
“It’s the short white one,” said the elf in response to her dubious reaction.
“You’re shitting me! Surely someone with a name like that should be like, 3 meters tall and half as wide
and have arms the size of tree trunks!”
“Well, I know it’s hard to believe but the Rustblood Juggernaut is none other than her. Or is that an ‘it?’
Hard to tell with golems, you know.”
“A golem?!”
“Oh yeah, a mithril one. Also a Paladin and an Artificer. Way I heard it, she used to be a- Hey! Where
are you going?!”
The hyperactive gnome had sprinted off in the direction of that squad without letting the elf finish his
explanation.
“You can’t just-”

“Leave her be lad,” said the old stonemason, interrupting his disciple’s shouting. “We still have a
contract to fulfill.”
“... Yes, teacher.”
The squad Fizzy had been a part of finally piped down when they approached one of the three large
gatehouses in the newly-established perimeter. Although their uniforms were similar to those of other
legionaries, the three vertical lines on their shoulders marked them as officially belonging to the 3rd
Legion. Their Legate had sent 4,000 of his own forces to shore up the 10,000 strong 2nd Legion and
give them an actual fighting chance against the incoming Imperial troops.
The group’s commanding officer - an Optio - stepped forward and identified himself to the gatekeepers.
The steel portcullis began to slowly rise to allow the returning soldiers entry. Once inside the city, the
squad would rest, resupply, rearm and reinforce before being sent out yet again. That being said, this
particular squad had only seen battle 3 times while they were on this front, although they had emerged
victorious with minimal casualties each time. Such success rates could be attributed to their veteran
nature, but was mostly due to a certain Paladin’s terrifying strength and potent healing magic. To these
men and women, Fizzy wasn’t just some ornament or mascot - she was their guardian angel.
Well, Boxxy wouldn’t be able to feast on them if they were dead.
“Waaaaaaait!”
The sudden high-pitched scream from the side had caused the entire half-platoon to raise their guard and
turn their attention to the right. They relaxed somewhat when they realized that the one approaching was
one of the 500 independent contractors hired to assist with the defensive fortifications. The blonde
haired gnome arrived in front of Fizzy and grasped both of her shoulders. The corners of the golem’s
eyes twitched a bit. How dare a lowly meatbag dare to put its filthy hands on her glorious frame?! It
took some effort, but she still managed to suppress her natural reaction to such insolent behavior.
Because no matter how gratifying it would be to turn that blondie into a red smear, such a thing would
interfere with Boxxy’s instructions to make nice with the Republic.
“Haaa! Haaaa! Haaaa!”
Jess, on the other hand, stared at her feet and panted heavily from what she had just put herself through.
She had gotten a bit over-excited and sprinted all the way here, which was a terrible idea in retrospect.
Sweat dripped from her forehead, her legs were trembling, her head felt dizzy and her throat seemed like
it wanted to throw up. It was basically her body telling her that it wasn’t built for this sort of physical
exertion. She would’ve already collapsed if she wasn’t leaning heavily against Fizzy.
“Another one, huh?” mumbled one of her comrades-in-arms.
“I mean, what’d you expect?” said another with a chuckle. “This sort of thing happens every time Fizzy
goes out in public.”
“Yeah but, you’d think people would be used to her by now.”

“I dunno, man. I see her almost every day and I still can’t stop staring at her sometimes.”
“Mmm, yeah, can’t argue with that.”
“Enough chit-chat!” shouted the officer-in-charge. “Go get your gear checked in for repairs and get
some rest, you’ll be needing it!”
“Yes, sir!” replied the soldiers as they slowly filed through the now-open gatehouse.
“Fizzlesprocket - you just… do what you gotta do. Just make sure you’re there for the debriefing.”
“Yessir,” answered Fizzy with a small salute, prompting her commanding officer to turn around and
walk away from her in an exaggerated ‘I didn’t see anything’ kind of way.
With the rest of her squadmates filing through the gate, Fizzy turned her attention to the gnome who was
still leaning on her. Her blonde head had at some point leaned so low, that it was currently pressing
against the golem’s bare bosom. Well, even if the Paladin was rather partial to going around naked in
public, her current unclothed state wasn’t caused by her exhibitionism. It was just that her tussle with
that Cryomancer yesterday had left her without anything to cover herself.
Yup, absolutely nothing could be done about it until she got back to base.
“Haah, haah, haah, phew…”
However, the sorry sack of meat that was still clinging to her shoulders and fogging up her sparkly
frame with that disgusting breathing was really starting to grind her gears.
“Uhm, can I help you with something?” asked Fizzy with a twitching smile.
Jess, who had somewhat caught her breath, looked up at her with a face that was way too excited for her
own good.
“I want to feel your insides!”
That shameless, full-volume declaration was perhaps not the best way to express her academic interest
in the fascinating construct before her. It caused Fizzy’s squadmates that were still within earshots to
giggle quietly while peeking over their shoulders. As for the golem herself, she smiled sweetly and
raised her loosely clenched fist up to the impertinent meatbag’s forehead. She then flicked her mithril
finger with enough force to send the female gnome tumbling ass-over-tits before coming to rest with her
face in the dirt.
Satisfied with the busybody’s loss of consciousness, Fizzy continued through the open gate while
muttering something about ‘bloody gnomes’ under her breath.
(140) Duplicity 4
“Uuuugh…”
Jess let out a low groan as she slowly woke up. She groggily sat up while her brain was doing its best to
remember where she was and what she was doing there. Her head and neck ached a little, but that was
only natural considering her bed had no pillow.
“... Bed?” she mumbled as she looked around her quarters.
Well, even it was called ‘her quarters,’ this space was just a small room in a random house in the city of
New Whitehall. Although this was technically someone’s home, it had been converted into a women’s
barracks in order to house the Republic’s Legionnaires. The men were, understandably, in another
building. Many other buildings, actually. Pretty much every house, shop, store, restaurant and inn had
been commandeered and converted into some barracks or another. Various commercial facilities - such
as forges, workshops and alchemical laboratories - had been retrofitted for military use.
As for the actual citizens, they had already been evacuated via Forest Gate, along with any and all
refugees from the surrounding towns and villages. There were, of course, those who did not wish to
abandon their homes, but such individuals were relocated by force regardless of their intentions.
Although such actions were perceived as barbaric, cruel or unfair, they were strictly for the best. Having
civilians present in a war zone would only be a burden to the Republic’s Legions and lead to
unnecessary casualties. Well, not unless the elves were willing to use their own people as meat shields
and Spell fodder, but no self-respecting military institution would be that monstrous.
Ultimately, the only people currently present in New Whitehall were either military personnel, skilled
laborers or contractors like Jess. The latter two, being non-combatants, would also be evacuated any day
now.
“... Crap!” exclaimed the gnome. “I gotta find that golem before they ship me off!”
The amount of sunshine coming in through the sole window as well as the clock next to her bed both
suggested it had barely been an hour or so since she had been knocked out. She quickly recalibrated her
Tick Counter Skill, which had gone haywire due to that harsh yet well-deserved blow to the head, got
out of bed and flung her front door open.
*SLAM*
And then immediately slammed it shut and leaned against it. Her breath had become uneven and beads
of cold sweat were forming on her forehead as her overabundant enthusiasm had once again gotten the
better of her. The sheltered gnome had lived underground for most of her life and had momentarily
forgotten how scary the outside world was. She was gradually growing accustomed to living under the
blue sky rather than a pile of rock, stone and metal, but she wasn’t quite ‘there’ yet.
“It’s okay, Jess, gravity won’t let you fall upwards,” she quietly reassured herself. “Gravity won’t let you
go so easily. Heh. Hahahah. That’s right, gravity is your ally. Gravity is your ally. Gravity is your ally.
Gravity is your ally. Gravity is your ally.”
She repeated her mantra over and over as she worked up the nerve to go against her childish,
supersticious and wholly unscientific fear. Even if she recognized it as such, she couldn’t help the way
she felt. It was actually a surprisingly common form of culture shock among those that had been raised
underground, but knowing that only made her feel more ashamed of herself. It felt like she was
conforming to a stereotype, which left a bad taste in her mouth since all her life she had wanted to stand
out from 'the rest.' That was part of the reason she took this job in the first place, as she was sure it
would help overcome her accute case of agoraphobia.
“Alright! Let’s go find that golem!”
After psyching herself up a bit more, she took a breath, opened the door and took a cautious step outside.
She kept walking down the street, allowing her nervousness and anxiety to slowly yet surely weaken. A
few minutes later, her knees were no longer shaking and her breathing had become less forced. Even if
she was still feeling anxious to a certain degree, she refused to show it on her face, lest she disgrace the
Wobblebang name. Granted, her lineage was nothing to brag about, but it was still important to the
person herself.
Jess started asking after the mithril golem she had ‘met’ earlier that afternoon once she got more
accustomed to not having a roof over her head. However, she didn’t have much to go on as her
memories of what happened back there were a blur. The only things she remembered was that the thing
she was chasing after was a mithril golem, as well as the rather unique nickname that elven Architect
told her about. He also said some other things, but Jess had already run off without hearing him out. She
also distinctly remembered leaning on that marvelous construct for a while, just before it made her do
several backflips with a blow to the head. She wasn’t particularly mad about that last bit though. She just
assumed she must’ve set off some kind of self-defense protocol, so it was really her own fault for getting
so touchy-feely with it without the owner’s permission.
Well, all things considered it wasn’t hard to track down the so-called Rustblood Juggernaut. After all,
how many gnome-sized mithril golems could there be in this hick town? Less than 15 minutes later she
found herself standing in front of a smithy on the edge of the 3rd Legion’s base camp. She took a deep
breath and audibly knocked on the door, but there was no answer. However, judging from the noises
coming from within as well as the smoke pouring out of the chimney, someone was definitely doing
something in there.
Whoever that might be, they were probably too absorbed in their work to notice her knock. They
probably wouldn’t appreciate some stranger barging in and interrupting them. Jess herself was adamant
about avoiding any and all distractions during her own work, as it was often a case of life and death. One
crossed wire, one wayward pinch of Firedust, one errant twitch - and KABLOOEY! Admittedly, not all
Artificers shared Jess’s affinity and fascination with blowing shit up, but disturbing an artisan’s
concentration was a universally bad idea, regardless of their Job. Blacksmiths, Enchanters, Alchemists -
they all handled valuable and/or fragile materials at one point or another. Interrupting them during such
projects could cost them days, maybe even weeks of progress, not to mention the cost of-
*BANG*
“Waaah!”
The blonde gnome fell to the ground on reflex before the echo of that sudden explosion had even faded.
After taking a second or two to confirm the origin of the blast was indeed inside the smithy, Jesse leapt
to her feet and opened the door, allowing a stream of pitch-black smoke to escape from it.
“Koff! Koff! Are you okay?!” she shouted while choking a bit.
“Ah? Yeah, I’m fine,” came the casual answer. “Gonna take a lot more than a little lovetap to hurt me.”
The owner of that strangely metallic voice, much like the rest of the room, was covered head-to-toe in
soot. Judging from her shape and size, she was most definitely a female gnome, though not one of Jess’
colleagues. She wasn’t sure whether this stranger was seriously unhurt, but if the person herself said so
then she wasn’t going to argue. Besides, she had more important questions on her mind.
“What the- Koff! Koff! What happened in here?!”
“Oh, nothing much,” answered the stranger while putting her discarded tools back in order. “Just testing
how much Firedust I can mix into the impact gel before it becomes too unstable. Y’know, give it that
extra ‘oomph!’ Seems 35 milligrams of dust per 100 milligrams of gel was pushing it, though.”
“Koff! Koff! You what?! Every idiot knows it’s 20 per 100 at most!”
The mixture in question was a key component when creating explosives that detonated on impact, and
getting the ratio right was of key importance. Too much impact gel and the explosive force would
diminish. Too much Firedust, and it became prone to spontaneous detonation. Creating it was a simple
enough process, but required a steady hand and a sharp eye.
“Nah,” said the charred figure dismissively. “You can get away with 30 easy. Adding more than that gets
tricky though.”
“That’s preposterous!” argues Jess on reflex. “There’s no way it’ll be safe to handle beyond 20!”
“Sure it will. Just gotta subject the gel to a mild electric current before- I’m sorry, but who are you
again?!” asked Fizzy while glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, you’re that pervert from earlier, huh?”
“P-p-pervert?! I am no such thing!”
“Did you or did you not say - and I quote - ‘I want to feel your insides’ to a total stranger?”
“...”
Jess didn’t answer, but merely stared back at her in silence. It wasn’t until that moment that the reality of
her situation finally hit her. Looking into those pure-white eyes made her realize that the one she was
having a spontaneous argument with wasn’t a gnome, but the very thing she came here to find.
And she was having a conversation with it.
“Holy crap!” she screamed with eyes the size of dinner plates. “It’s a sentient golem!”
“Seriously? You realize this NOW?! Unbe-fucken-lievable.”
“It spoke to me! Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!”

“Oh for the love of-”
“Yo Fizzy, what’s all the racket in here?!”
The 2-meter-tall, woman-shaped battering ram called Lola poked her head into the still smoldering
smithy. Ironically, she wasn’t referring to the botched explosion from earlier. The elf had, much like the
rest of the 3rd Legion, already grown accustomed to such disturbances and weren’t worried about
Fizzy’s safety in the slightest. After all, that golem was already infamous for surviving what her
squadmates referred to as ‘The Spicy Meatball Incident’ during the siege at Fort Yimin. The mere
thought that a simple explosion could injure or even faze her was just preposterous.
“We got a screamer,” said Fizzy while gesturing towards the gnome that was currently losing her shit.
“Can you take care of her? I can’t focus on my work like this.”
“Sure thing, Fizzy. Come on, you. Out you go.”
The black-haired elf grabbed the gnome by the scruff of her neck and led her outside the smithy despite
her protests. The pair were given a few knowing looks as Lola nonchalantly carried Jess across the street
and into the house that served as the Warrior’s assigned quarters. Incidentally, all the windows had been
shattered and boarded up as a direct result of Fizzy’s ‘experiments,’ so the inside was rather murky and
dark.
Once Jess had calmed down somewhat, Lola finally stopped treating her like luggage and both of them
took a seat. The elf then started explaining the golem’s circumstances. About how she had been on the
run from the Empire after her parents were killed earlier that year. About how her life was saved by the
God she now serves. About the curse she willingly bore as atonement for past sins. Technically
speaking, even if 90% of the details were omitted, everything the golem had revealed about her
backstory was true. Even the part about her ‘sins’ had a nugget of truth in it, as the former gnome still
felt a certain degree of guilt over her betrayal of Boxxy on that fateful day in her shop.
“I see…” said Jess after hearing the heavily filtered tale.
She had completely failed to consider the fact that Fizzy might not be ‘just a golem.’ That’s why she had
spoken to her as crassly as she did in front of the gate in the first place. Back then, and even until about
30 minutes ago, she seriously wanted to dissect her, take her apart and see how she was put together - all
to sate her own curiosity. She quite literally couldn’t help herself, as this was her first time even hearing
about, let alone meeting an honest-to-goodness mithril golem. In fact, some part of her still wanted to
pry open her chassis, but her moral standards would never allow such a cruel thing.
“I’ve done something incredibly rude, haven’t I?” she asked while looking at her feet, guilt written all
over her face.
Lola crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.
“Well, she won’t hold it against you, so don’t worry about it,” stated the elf. “Her… religious persuasion
and, uh, monster-like disposition make her act out sometimes, but she means well. All you have to do is
keep in mind that somewhere beneath all that heavy metal beats the heart of a living, breathing and
caring person.”
The aspiring Artificer felt the need to make a comment how golems were not alive, did not breathe, and
most definitely did not have hearts.
“Yeah, I will. Thanks.”
Still, even she wasn’t socially inept enough to say something so crass. Instead, she chose to inquire
about something else she was curious about.
“Uhm, could you tell me her name?”
“I already said it was Fizzy, didn’t I?”
“No, not her alias, I mean her actual, given name.”
“... Now look here, Jess,” said Lola in a stern voice, “her name is Fizzy, and that’s who she is. Nothing
more, nothing less.”
“But… I mean…”
Lola scratched her nose, as the gnome in front of her clearly wasn’t willing to let the matter be.
“Look, she doesn’t like others calling her by her actual name, alright? If you want to know that badly,
then ask her yourself. Just don’t blame me for anything that happens.”
“Blame for what?”
The golem in question casually entered the room, the floorboards creaking under her considerable
weight. Unlike her previous two meetings with Jess, however, Fizzy actually had clothes on this time.
Namely a set of brown overalls that hung loosely from one shoulder. The work shirt she wore was
ripped up on the left side to allow her arm to pass through and a pair of belts immediately below and
above her shapely breasts kept the half-destroyed garment in place.
It was an outfit nearly identical to the one she had on when she first became a golem, complete with the
rather obvious lack of underwear. No matter how many variations or combinations she tried since, this
was somehow the only look she truly felt comfortable in. Other than being totally nude, of course.
“Ah! Uhm!”
Jess slid off the chair that was a bit too big for her and put her hands together with a slight bow, almost
as if she was praying.
“Please forgive me for my rude behavior! I didn’t know about your circumstances and I-”
“Easy there, munchkin,” said the golem. “What you did back there? You weren’t the first and you
definitely won’t be the last, so let’s just put all that stuff behind us and get down to business.”
Fizzy sat down cross-legged on the floor with her hands on her knees. Understanding the gesture, Jess
quickly mirrored her example. This was the gnomish equivalent of shaking hands - a gesture of good
faith when meeting someone else for the first time.
“So, who are you anyway?” asked the golem.
“My name is Jessiwick Wobblebang. I’m an Artificer that was hired to assist in the city’s defense.”
“I’m Fizzy. Paladin, Artificer and Golem, currently in service to the 3rd Legion. Pleased to make your
acquaintance.”
With the official introductions out of the way, Fizzy moved onto the meat of the matter.
“So, Jessiwick-”
“Please, call me Jess.”
“Alright then, Jess - why did you approach me in the first place?”
“Uhm… I guess I’m just interested in you. I mean, purely academic, of course! It’s just that something
keeps nagging at me to find out how you’re put together - what makes you tick! I mean, I’ve never even
thought golems like you existed! You’re just way too fascinating!”
“Oh, I totally get you! I mean, there’s no denying that I’m pretty awesome, right?!”
“Oh boy, here we go,” mumbled Lola while resting her face in her palms.
“Even though it’s my own body, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it! Like, take for example the joints
and mechanisms that move my fingers around! I’ve had these bad boys for months and I’m still amazed
at how smoothly and efficiently they operate! It’s downright hypnotizing, I tell you! Why, just last night
I ended up staring at my hands for 3 hours!”
“Well, that aside,” said Jess nervously, “could I ask for your real name?”
The golem’s excited face froze for a second, then slowly deformed into a peeved one. She eyed Jess up
and down and then gave a defeated sigh. If a gnome truly wanted to know something they were curious
about, then they would find it out eventually.
“What the hell, might as well get it over with,” she consented. “I don’t go by it anymore, but my given
name is Cornie Fizzlesprocket.”
“Fizzlesprocket!? As in the Fizzlesprocket clan?!”
Lola was taken aback by Jess’s overreaction, although Fizzy seemed to have more or less expected it.
“Yeah, that Fizzlesprocket,” she confirmed.
“Oh wow! It’s such an honor!”
“I don’t get it, is it really that big a deal?” asked the dumbfounded elf.
“Yeah it is!” insisted Jess. “The Fizzlesprockets were among the first generation of Artificers, and had
been tinkering and building gizmos long before the Job came into existence! And if that wasn’t enough,
they’re also the ones that brought the Arclight Artificer specialization into the world 34 years ago! I
mean, they don’t hold as much political influence as the Castmaster clan, but they’re widely considered
to be at the forefront of Artificers! In fact, Rory Fizzlesprocket was considered to be the most likely
candidate for the first Level 100 Artificer before he left Horkensaft for… the… Empire… Oh.”
A grim realization dawned on Jess. Indeed, the Fizzlesprocket name carried a good amount of weight
within the tinkering community. That’s why even someone like Jess was aware that there was only one
person who carried that distinguished name beyond the borders of her home country. Add to that Lola’s
story and Fizzy’s apparent age and, well, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
“I’m, uh, sorry for your loss.”
“Hmm? What’s this now?”
“Your father, he’s… dead. Isn’t he?”
“Oh. Yeah, he is.”
“You seem… oddly okay with this.”
“It was a long while ago. Besides, my father was a fool. His idiotic views were the reason why our
branch of the clan was disowned by the head house in the first place.”
“They did what?!”
“Oh yeah, we didn’t leave Horkensaft. We were practically forced out of it!”
“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know!”
“Look, I don’t wanna get into politics or dig around the past - both of those are a huge waste of my time
as well as yours. If you wanna talk about something worthwhile, then make it snappy. I have somewhere
to be.”
“Right, yes, of course! Then, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, what is it you were working on back
there?”
“I was preparing a custom set of Boom-tubes for a friend of mine.”
“You mean those explosive arrowheads they’ve had us making for the past week?”
“Probably. Why? Got a problem with ‘em?”
“No, not at all! Just the opposite, actually! The schematics we were provided with were absolutely
beautiful and well-documented! The instructions were so thorough that even the idiots that came with
me had learned to make them in less than a day! Whoever designed those things was a genius!”
As an explosive nut herself, Jess felt particularly exhilarated to be working with something like that.
“Huhuhuhu, well that much is only natural. I am pretty brilliant, after all!”
“C-could it be!? You invented them?!”
“You know it! Well, the idea came from someone else, but I was the one to put it into practice!”
“That’s seriously amazing! As expected of a Fizzle-”
“Will you shut up, Plus?!” shouted Fizzy, causing Jess to swallow her words of praise.
“Yes, I know, but we still have some time right?” she continued while staring at an empty spot to her
left. “Okay, yeah, but how often do I get to meet someone who truly appreciates my creations?!”
Jess looked to Lola, who was giving her a ‘don’t get me started’ look while gently shaking her head.
“Oh! That could work! Let’s go with that then,” said Fizzy as she arrived at some sort of agreement.
“No, you can’t do something like that!”
Well, at least until she resumed arguing with herself.
“Because that would be retarded. And I am not retarded, am I? Yeah, didn’t think so!”
The seemingly unstable golem stood up and went for the door, but suddenly stopped and drooped her
shoulders.
“Oh, alright, fine! But not tonight. We’ll do it sometime tomorrow, okay? Okay.”
The golem looked over her shoulder at the aggressively neutral-faced elf and the hyperactive gnome
who was opening and closing her mouth even though no words came out.
“Hey Lola, you coming with or what?”
“You know it.”
“Jess, what about you?”
“Uhm… I- that is- Where- What- Who-”
“She’s coming, yes,” interrupted the towering elf as she stood from her seat. “And she’s going to be very
quiet and respectful while she’s with us. Right?”
“Yes! Of course!”
After instantly succumbing to Lola’s intimidating tone, Jess rose from the floor and silently followed
after the other two even though she had no idea what was going on. As the trio stepped out of the murky
house, however, the gnome had her breath stolen away by Fizzy. The golem had understandably cleaned
herself of that disgusting black soot, but it wasn’t until she stood in the sunlight that Jess understood just
how thorough she had actually been.
Fizzy wasn’t just clean - she was absolutely spotless. She had completely and thoroughly rid herself of
even the tiniest speck of griminess, leaving behind nothing but lustrous, polished mithril. Her skin was
so smooth, so pure that Jess could see her own reflection staring back at her in blinding detail.
The sunlight that bounced off her frame was so bright that it bathed her surroundings in a warm, gentle
light. Her radiance was so extraordinary that even Lola - who had obviously known her for a while -
couldn’t help but marvel at it. It even made the clean-yet-simple clothes she wore look like a high-class
outfit worth thousands of gold pieces.
Jess eventually realized that what she was doing was extremely rude and turned her eyesight away from
the back of Fizzy’s head. She was, of course, completely unaware of the fact that the golem actually
genuinely enjoyed brazen, awe-filled stares like hers. The ignorant blonde gnome wiped the drool from
the edge of her mouth and looked around as if to get her bearings.
“Are we going towards the central plaza?” she asked Lola.
The vast square in question was roughly 60 by 120 meters and also pretty much the only landmark in the
entire city. One could easily find it at any time due to the repurporsed city hall building, a trio of grain
silos and a stone tower that belonged to some adventurer guild, all of which were built around it. Those
structures were without question the tallest ones in the city and could easily be seen from street level.
“Yeah,” confirmed the elf. “We’re gonna meet up with someone we know.”
“Oh, okay. But, uh, why did you insist that I come along?”
Lola’s stoic face took on a rather uncharacteristically worried face.
“Well, to be honest, Fizzy has been a bit down in the dumps lately, even though she hides it well. I just
thought making a new friend might cheer her up.”
“Really? She seems pretty cheerful already, doesn’t she?”
Indeed, the faint ‘muffin man’ lines coming from the golem in front gave Jess the distinct impression
she was smiling happily even though she couldn’t see her face.
“Well, yeah, but today’s kind of a special day. What about tomorrow? Or the day after? We all need
good companions to keep us grounded, and I doubt anyone can relate to her as well as you could.”
“If you say so…”
“What? You don’t like her or something?”
“Nonono! Nothing like that! I would totally love to get to know her better! Er, as long as she’s okay with
it, of course!”
“I don’t mind, just keep your filthy meatbag fingers to yourself, yeah?” called out Fizzy from in front. “I
really hate stains, you see.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
This was a point that Jess could wholeheartedly agree on. Sullying that impeccable frame with her oily
fingers almost seemed like a crime against nature.
“Oh, wow,” exclaimed Lola in a rather subdued way. “She must like you quite a bit.”
“Wha-? Really?!”
“Most definitely.”
“H-how can you tell?!”
“She’s known you for a whole fifteen minutes before she called you a filthy meatbag. That must be a
record,” claimed the elf with an approving nod.
“... Oh.”
The trio continued walking in relative silence for several more minutes until they reached their
destination. The plaza was still as huge, unroofed and crowded as the day Jess got here. If she was the
same as she was back then, this sort of environment would have her hyperventilating and looking for a
rock to crawl under. This Jessiwick Wobblebang was a different person, however. A little older, a little
wiser, and dealing with so much shit that it made her agoraphobia seem like a pleasant memory.
“See? We made it just in time,” stated Fizzy, probably to herself. “Yeah, I know, I’ll take care of it later.”
Make that definitely to herself.
As to what they were in time for, that was plainly obvious. The large archway of stone and vines in the
middle of the plaza - the very same Forest Gate that all of them had arrived through - was currently
warming up. As usual there was a crowd of people, wagons and guards on one side of it as they waited
for the teleportation circle to activate. Fizzy, Jess and Lola went to stand at the edge of the designated
arrivals’ area just in time for the magic device to begin ripping open a hole in space. Although the
spectacle of a gigantic portal had surprised Jess the first time she saw it, she had already grown used it to
it. She was also silently praying to whatever gods might be listening that nothing weird or bizarre came
out of that portal.
Unfortunately for her, the only deity that might have cared about such a wish was actually quite partial
to shenanigans. And indeed, said shenanigans had occurred mere seconds after the Forest Gate came
online.
*THUM THUM THUM THUM THUM*
A dull thumping noise echoed repeatedly throughout the buzzing plaza as row after row after row of
dwarves exited the portal in perfect step. They were well-disciplined, extremely organized and armed
almost literally to the teeth. Not only that, but each and every one of them wore matching full-plate
armor that was as dark as charcoal, save for the allegiance-marking silver tabards draped over their
chests.
“Independent mercenaries,” stated Lola, as if sensing Jess’s confusion.
“... I’m pretty sure those are my country’s armed forces, miss Lola.”
Indeed, there was not a single citizen of Horkensaft that would not immediately recognize the sounds of
the Obsidian March.
“... Experienced independent mercenaries,” insisted the elf.
“No, no, no, there’s no way- You know what, nevermind.”
There were obviously some political goings on at work here, but Jess knew better than to open that
particular can of worms. Instead, she simply looked on with a mix of awe and nostalgia as exactly 1,200
of her countrymen passed by her in an orderly fashion. She even waved to them as if they were doing a
parade, although none of the men responded to her or the other onlookers who were doing the same.
“Oh? Here she comes!”
As for Fizzy, she wasn’t even registering their existence.
“Here who comes?”
The golem’s genuinely excited voice caused both Jess and Lola’s attentions to shift towards the portal
once more. However, the only thing the gnome saw was the disorderly convoy of carts that had arrived
alongside the dwarves. Compared to that inspiring march, there really didn’t seem to be anything of
interest on that side. In fact, they were so unimportant in her eyes that she barely even realized they were
there until just now.
And yet she easily spotted the person in question. How could she not? It was a head of fiery red hair that
was thoroughly designed to be instantly recognizable, topped by a pair of large, triangular ears. The
young, tanned girl that owned said marvelous crimson mane momentarily stared directly in the gnome’s
direction, after which she broke out into an unrestrained quadruped run. The guards immediately moved
as if to block the suspicious individual, but she just idly leaped over them, rolled on the ground and kept
running with all haste right towards the shiniest of shinies that ever shined.
“Fiiiiiizzzziiiiieeee!”
*CLUNK*
The strange catgirl hug-tackled Fizzy with such speed that it wouldn’t be a surprise at all if she had
injured herself. However, that didn’t seem to be the case as she eagerly embraced the golem with her
whole being. She rubbed her cheek against Fizzy’s, licked her nose, stroked her back and patted her head
- all at the same time. As for the one on the receiving end of such extreme skinship - she was giggling
with delight. An odd reaction that caused a singular thought to drift into Jess’s mind.
… I wonder if she’d let me do that?
(141) Mockery 5
The catgirl kept aggressively cuddling Fizzy for a good three minutes. The Forest Gate had already
closed itself and the dwarven ‘mercenaries’ had long since cleared the plaza by the time she finally let
the radiant golem go. She then greeted Lola with a much shorter and far more platonic hug before she
finally introduced herself to Jess as one Keira Morgana, a scout in service to the 3rd Legion and also
Fizzy’s apprentice. Under normal circumstances, that last bit would’ve thrown the gnome for a loop. An
airhead like that being the disciple of a Fizzlesprocket? It was a preposterous notion, yet hardly the
most surprising thing that had happened to Jess that afternoon.
After introductions were done, Keira and Fizzy went to pick up a load of heavy crates that the catgirl
had ordered on her teacher’s behalf. There were so many of them that they had to borrow a cart in order
to deliver them back to Fizzy’s ‘workshop.’ Granted, the golem could’ve probably handled that weight
all on her own, but the sheer volume of it would have made it hard for her to maintain her balance.
Of course, the catgirl’s antics didn’t cease on the ride back to camp. She kept caressing and rubbing her
face all over Fizzy’s frame in the back of the cart, yet again the golem seemed happy about it rather than
annoyed. Lola, who was sitting at the front, just sort of ignored them and focused her attention on
steering the horse-drawn cart through the winding streets. In fact, if anyone had a problem with Keira’s
behavior, it was the gnome seated next to the elf. She had tagged along mainly because of Fizzy, but that
beastkin’s shameless actions were really ticking her off.
How dared she treat her teacher that way? It was brazen, shameless and extremely envi-
“By the way, Jess?”
“Ack! Uhm, y-yes?”
Being addressed so suddenly by the source of her annoyance caught the gnome a bit off guard and
completely derailed her train of thought. She turned back to her on reflex and found the catgirl’s piercing
yellow eyes staring right into hers.
“You said you were an Artificer too, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a specialty like Fizzy?”
“No, not quite yet. I’m still only Level 43. I’m planning on becoming a Flamespitter Artificer though.”
“Oh, nice! I was thinking of being one myself!”
“Huh? Aren’t you going to become an Arclight like Fizzy? Isn’t that insulting towards your teacher?!”
“Well… I mean, I’m grateful for her guidance but…”
“She’s no good at it,” said Fizzy with a casual tone. “Keira may have a lot of potential, but both
Flamespitter and Automata would be a much better fit for her than Arclight.”
“Oh. Well if this is Fizzy’s verdict, then I guess that’s fine, then!”
“Uhm, I feel a bit out of the loop here,” said Lola while speaking over her shoulder. “What’s the
difference?”
“Arclight Artificers like me use electricity and magnetism to create complex devices with a variety of
uses,” explained Fizzy. “Automata Artificers are mostly about making mechanical dolls called
Automatons. They’re basically advanced golems that may or may not run on magic. As for the
Flamespitters, they’re the best when it comes to handling combustible materials. Rocket propulsion,
flamethrowers, advanced explosives - that sort of thing.”
“Hah! Hahahaha!” laughed Lola. “I see, I see! That last one is indeed a perfect fit for the Merry
Popper!”
“Lola! I told you not to use that embarrassing nickname!” protested Keira.
“Merry Popper?” asked Jess almost involuntarily.
“Yeah, see,” began the elf while ignoring the catgirl’s protests, “this redhead has been exploding things
around her ever since we graduated from the Consortium together. I don’t think a day passed without
something or another being blown to smithereens.”
“You’re exaggerating!” argued Keira.
“Don’t listen to her. I mean, this is the girl who went hunting for game with a row of grenades on her
belt and returned with a stack of mangled and charred boar carcasses.”
“W-well…”
“She was also the only nutjob that could’ve come up with the idea for those exploding arrowheads you
guys were talking about earlier.”
“That’s… um…”
“And she always has this goofy grin on her face whenever she blows something up! If I didn’t know any
better I’d think she was crazier than Fizzy!”
“Hey! Leave me out of this!”
“Are you or are you not the one who showed her how to make those dangerous things in the first place?”
“... Nevermind.”
“My personal favorite incident was just before we were conscripted,” continued Lola. “She was trying to
use one of those flashbangs on a group of monsters, but it bounced off a tree branch and went off right in
her face! And yet she just laughed it off as if going blind for a minute or two was no big deal!”
“Come on Looolaaa! You’re making me sound like a weirdooo!”
The catgirl had grabbed the elf’s shoulders from behind and shook her desperately while Lola had a
good laugh at her expense.
All of a sudden, Jess placed a hand on Keira’s arm. The catgirl turned towards her with a face that was
on the verge of tears, only to be met by a pointlessly determined expression and a thumbs up.
“I totally get you!”
“Y-you do?”
“Of course! Explosions are an Artificer’s romance, after all! The feeling of a shockwave passing through
me, the pleasure of having my bones rattled, the sensation of hot air washing over my skin - they’re
unrivaled!”
“Hmm, I can’t say I agree with you on that, but I can definitely understand it!” claimed Keira. “So then,
what are you working on, exactly?!”
“Me and my team’s main purpose here is to set up a minefield.”
“Oh, landmines?!”
“Y-you know about them?”
“Of course I do! I’m Fizzy’s disciple, after all!”
“Right, of course…”
As expected of a Fizzlesprocket. Even if the former gnome’s family were ‘exiled’ and lived half a
continent away didn’t mean they didn’t get any news coming out of Horkensaft. And if this was the girl
that helped create those elegant Boom-tubes, then her knowing about other explosive devices was hardly
surprising.
“So, have you already laid them out?” she asked with an excited face.
“Not yet. So far I’ve planned to set them in several rows far ahead of the walls, just within range of our
defensive line.”
“... Oh,” said the catgirl with a hint of disappointment.
“What?”
“I mean… I don’t want to question your expert opinion or anything… But are you sure that’ll
accomplish anything?”
“Of course it will. Once people realize their every step could blow them up, they’ll start to hesitate.
Either they will slow their advance or have to brave the minefield - either way it will be a great help to
the defense!”
“Yeah but, you do realize Druids and Shamans are a thing, right?”
“... Huh? How does that matter?”
“Well, you see, Druids can ‘see’ beneath the soil. Not to mention that back in the… in… the… siege…
there… this…”
The catgirl’s expression rapidly grew dark and her voice lowered in volume until she was basically
moving her mouth without making a sound.
“Back in the battle for Fort Yimin,” spoke up Lola on her behalf, “there was this amazing enemy
Shaman. He caused a gigantic earthquake that toppled a whole section of a wall. Granted, he used an
Ultimate Skill to do it, but even run-of-the-mill Shamans can shake the ground to a certain degree.
That’s what you wanted to say, right?”
“... Yeah. Thanks, Lola,” whispered Keira.
“Don’t mention it,” she whispered back.
“My point is,” continued the slightly glum catgirl, “there’s a good chance those guys will detect and then
remotely detonate your minefield with no difficulty. We’ve nailed them with many-a-nasty surprises
already, so they’re bound to be on high alert.”
“Crap. I didn’t consider that at all! Argh, I’m such an idiot! Of course there’d be magic that makes all
my hard work pointless! I can’t even use them as a deterrent! Aaaah I’m fucking ruined!”
“Woah, easy there!” exclaimed Lola while trying to restrain the horse pulling their carriage. “Your
flailing about isn’t going to achieve anything other than upset our ride!”
“But I’ll be ruined! Ruined I say! If I can’t deliver on the contract, I’ll be left penniless! In debt!
Bankrupt! It’ll take years to work it off!”
“What, you’re giving up already?” asked Fizzy with a look of disdain. “Sweet Jonathan, you’re such a
crybaby.”
“What else am I supposed to do! If I can’t hide them in the dirt then they’re useless!”
“So don’t hide them in the dirt.”
“... Huh?”
Jess stopped her bawling and turned towards the catgirl who had said such an idiotically obvious thing.
“There’s plenty of other places that a good landmine can be hidden without being adversely affected by
druidic or shamanistic magic.”
“Yeah? Like where?”
“Under the floorboards of houses,” said Keira in a dull monotone. “Beneath the cobblestone tiles of
streets and alleyways. Rigging them up to drop the enemy into the sewers or collapse a building or two
on top of them would also be good. Could put them inside the wall itself, but that’d probably backfire.”
“I… Yes… There is that, I suppose…” answered the slightly creeped out gnome. “I’ll, uh, think about
it.”
“Aaah, serious-mode Keira came out,” said Lola with a shake of her head.
While the elf genuinely enjoyed the company of that cheerful and open-minded catgirl, she became a
completely different person out in the field. Well, she liked this calculating and rather ruthless part of her
too, but she had to admit the drastic shift in attitude was a bit unnerving at times. At the very least Keira
seemed to be in complete control of her faculties and wasn’t about to start arguing with the muffin man
inside her head like a certain someone.
Even if Fizzy’s split personality thing was supposed to be a Skill, it was still super weird.
“You know what? That’s actually a pretty good idea,” admitted Jess after a few moments of silence.
“That wall is coming down sooner or later, so preparing for that rather than trying to prevent it seems
like the better idea. Well, we’d have to modify the triggers on over 500 devices and I’d have to run this
by the Legate, but it’s definitely doable.”
She then turned towards the catgirl with perhaps the first genuine smile she’d shown her.
“Thanks a lot for the input, Keira. You’re a lifesaver!”
“Nah, it wasn’t that big a deal. Any adventurer would’ve told you that much if you had just asked.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Still, gotta give credit where credit’s due, you know?”
“If you insist. Oh, do you think I can maybe drop by your workshop?! I’d love to see your work!”
“I don’t know…”
“Just for the record,” butted in Fizzy, “Keira could probably put together and dismantle a landmine
while blindfolded.”
“For real?!”
“No! Of course not! Fizzy just has too much pride in her student, hahahahaha!”
“Right, of course! Well, if she thinks so highly of you then I have no reason to refuse.”
“Sure you do,” said Lola. “For one thing, Keira has responsibilities as a Legionnaire and a Decanus.”
“... What’s a Decanus?”
“Even though she doesn’t look like it, this girl’s an officer with the authority to command her own
10-man unit out in the field. Well, you probably can’t tell since you’re not military, but that’s a huge
achievement considering she’s a conscript.”
“Oh, right!” exclaimed Fizzy. “I forgot to speak with the CO about transferring to her unit!”
“Won’t happen,” stated Lola. “I know how you feel, but that guy won’t let you go so easily - you’re far
too valuable. Our best bet to be in the same unit is to have Keira join ours as an XO.”
“Come to think of it we haven’t had one since the last one went AWOL 5 days ago, huh?”
“I dunno, guys,” joined in Keira. “Mister Underwood might have some special plans in mind for me.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t refuse if you asked him nicely. Everyone can tell he has a soft spot for you.”
“C’mon Lola, let’s be real. This isn’t a picnic.”
Jess had been taken aback when the topic shifted military arrangements. She failed to understand much
of the ongoing conversation other than the fact that Keira was actually kind of a big deal, and that the
three of them were planning to go into battle together. However, what really brought her tension down
was the realization that she was an outsider - something she had briefly forgotten about in all the
excitement. Indeed, there was no guarantee that any of them would make it through the week, let alone
the months to come.
That’s why she decided to be proactive for once. She waited quietly until the group were back at camp
and just sort of stuck around after that. Keira had almost immediately gone off to speak with her superior
officer while Lola and Fizzy unloaded the cargo and put it inside the smithy that the golem had
‘appropriated.’ The elf then went to return the cart to its rightful place, leaving Jess alone with the shiny,
gnome-shaped Artificer.
If she was going to say something, it had to be now or never.
“Uhm, Fizzy? Ma’am?”
“What is it, meatbag?” answered the golem without looking back.
She was currently busy verifying the contents of her shipment, so she didn’t give her much attention.
“Do you, um, have any plans for the evening?”
“Yeah. I’ll be putting together a charge pack for my weapon.”
The golem pointed over her shoulder, towards the oversized wrench leaning against the soot-covered
wall.
“... This is your weapon?”
“Yeah.”
Jess slowly approached it with a curious look, inspecting it top-to-bottom. It was… plain and completely
unremarkable aside from the dimensions. That was the only way she could describe it, and exactly what
made it feel so out of place.
“And, uh, how long have you had it?”
“77 days, 6 hours, 41 minutes and… 34 seconds.”
“Is that when you… You know…”
“When I became a golem, yes.”
“And, uh, does it see a lot of… use?”
“Almost on a daily basis.”
“Unbelievable,” she muttered.
“It’s a heavy lump of iron on a stick. It works just fine as a mace.”
“But there’s not even a scratch on it!”
Indeed, the wrench seemed to be in mint condition. Not even heavily-enchanted weapons could go that
long without showing signs of wear and tear, so how come this simple tool was so… pristine.
Fizzy looked over her shoulder at the gawking Jess and a smirk spread on her face.
“Hey, meatbag!” she called out as she stepped up to her and grasped the wrench. “Wanna see something
cool?”
“Er, I- I guess?”
The golem strode over to one of the black anvils in the room. She gripped the wrench with both hands,
lifted it above her head and swung it forward with all her might.
*DONNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnn*
A clear bell-like sound rang out as metal clashed against metal. The golem turned around with a
triumphant smile, showing that not only was the wrench head bent at a weird angle, but that one of the
anvil’s corners had been noticeably dented.
“Oh, wow!” exclaimed Jess.
As an Artificer herself, she was able to grasp the sort of forces that had to come into play for such a
thing to happen. It was the kind of impact that would surely shatter a normal person’s arm from the
recoil.
“It’s too early to be impressed,” stated Fizzy. “I haven’t even started yet!”
Jess looked on expectantly as the gnome focused her attention on her two-handed grip.
“Holy Light,” she chanted, causing a flash of green-ish light to both envelop her and her weapon.
*SKKRRREAK*
The wrench in her hands let out a rather unpleasant sound as it warped back into its previous shape, as if
it was never damaged to begin with. Satisfied with the result, Fizzy set it aside for the moment and
placed both her hands on the anvil. She invoked another Holy Light, which caused the dent in the hunk
of iron to buff itself out with a slight *Fwump* sound.
“How’d you like them apples?” asked the Paladin with a wide grin on her face.
“I... You… Did you just… heal metal?!”
“Yup!”
Typically speaking, healing magic would only affect living beings. Golems were somewhat as an
exception, because while they were not strictly ‘alive,’ as magical constructs that could move under their
own will they were still ‘close enough.’ Inanimate items and objects, however, were right out. There
were, of course, specialized Skills and tools that could repair things with ease, but something like holy
magic mending a wrench was just unthinkable.
“Neat trick, isn’t it?” gloated the golem.
“Trick? Trick?! Do you have any idea how this could revolutionize metallurgy?! What am I saying - of
course you do! But- Why haven’t you gone public with this?!”
“A girl has to have some secrets,” said Fizzy with a playful wink.
“...”
“In all seriousness though, it’s something only I can do. You can’t teach your average golem to have
faith in a God, you know.”
The actual ‘trick’ to it was surprisingly straightforward. Fizzy, as a Paladin, used Holy Light on herself
while simultaneously channelling said magic through the item she was ‘bonded’ with via Metallopathy.
Of course, not being well-versed in the magical principles like a Wizard or Warlock might be, she had
no idea why or how this worked. But it did and she could reproduce the phenomenon at will. Which,
strictly speaking, was all she needed to know.
“Besides,” she continued, “while convenient, this trick still has some limits.”
She looked around and picked up an iron rod that was just lying around on her workbench, then snapped
it in half like it was a twig.
“Holy Light.”
The healing magic enveloped her once more, and while she did transfer it to the metal pieces in her
hands, it did nothing but smooth out the jagged ends where the rod had been broken off.
“So there you have it.”
“Fascinating,” commented Jess. “What if you used it on a damaged mechanism?”
“If all the parts are still attached, then it should get healed.”
“Incredible! Then, couldn’t you in theory open the VBM?!”
“... In theory, yes.”
“Then-!”
“However! I have zero intention of going back to Horkensaft!”
“I… I see…”
“Yeah, me too, Plus. I’ll take care of it the next chance I get.”
After having yet another short conversation with herself, the golem turned her attention towards her
‘visitor.’
“So is there anything else, or can I get started my work?”
“Just one question - who is this Plus you keep talking to?”
It was one of the things that had nagged her for a long while now. While gnomish Artificers were prone
to having certain… eccentricities, that particular behavior was more than a little worrying.
“... Was that out loud?”
“Yeah… you’ve been kind of talking to yourself all afternoon…”
Fizzy shoulders drooped and she hung her head.
“Sorry, still getting used to this whole Parallel thing. Don’t be alarmed though, I’m not crazy. Plus is
very much real.”
“Uhm… okay?”
“... Yeah of course she wouldn’t believe me… Tell you what, why don’t I just introduce you.”
“Y-you don’t have to-”
“Parallel One.”
Fizzy’s left eye suddenly lit up with a bright green light. Her normally strict and scrutinizing expression
became much softer and all around sweeter.
“Hey there!” she said while raising her hand in greeting. “I’m Plus! So good to finally meet you!”
“Uhm, h-hello? I’m-”
“I know who you are, silly! Me and Fizzy share the same head, after all!”
Okay, Jess had to admit the golem definitely wasn’t mentally disturbed, and that this ‘Plus’ was not a
figment of her imagination. Not only were her current words and behavior radically different from
moments ago, but even the voice sounded different. Younger. Livelier. Nicer, even. There was no more
doubt in Jess’s mind that Fizzy did indeed share her body with someone else.
Which, honestly speaking, was a lot more worrying.
“Aw, come on! I’m not that scary!” insisted Plus while puffing up her cheeks.
“Of course you are, idiot,” replied Fizzy. “She’ll think I’m possessed or something if you don’t explain
properly.”
“Oh. Right. Oops.”
“Yeah, ‘oops.’ Anyway, Jess, this is Plus,” said Fizzy while gesturing towards her left side, which was
currently waving excitedly. “She’s a Skill of mine that… drastically increases my multitasking abilities.
She’s a bit of a handful, but she is still me for the most part.”
“Yeah! We’re like sisters!”
The golem’s head nodded vigorously, although only the left side of her mouth seemed to be smiling.
“I see, I think I get it now,” said Jess with a calm smile. “It was rude of me to assume you were hearing
voices that weren’t there.”
“No hard feelings, yeah!”
“Indeed. It’s fine as long as you understand.”
“Yeah, I completely understand,” said the blonde gnome while chuckling to herself. “The crazy one was
me, after all!”
“...”
“Of course! It makes so much sense! I must have hit my head harder than I thought! Well, better go see a
medic about that concussion! Hahahahaha! Ahahaha! Hahaha…”
Jess kept laughing forcibly and loudly as she saw herself out of the smithy. Fizzy and Plus could both
hear her cackling voice drifting away as she made her way out of the 3rd Legion’s camp.
“Poor child,” said the Parallel with sadness in her voice.
“Can’t be helped,” claimed the original with a shrug. “Meatbags are faulty like that. It’s like they were
designed to break apart from the get-go.”
“I suppose,” agreed Plus with a sigh. “But to think she had mental health issues all this time and none of
us noticed…”
“Come to think of it, didn’t I overhear something about ‘electroshock therapy’ back in the capital.”
“Oh! That procedure that supposedly helped people with mental issues, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“But, aren’t the details around it kind of fuzzy?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” declared Fizzy while reaching for her spot-welder. “That’s what experiments are for,
after all!”
(142) Fraud 6
*DADADADADAN*
A series of metallic clangs rang out inside the smithy, after which Fizzy looked over the sheet of heated
bronze in her hands. The rectangular piece of metal had been carefully bent into a rounded half cylinder,
but the Artificer didn’t quite approve of its shape. She put her right hand inside it and held it up. Her left
was curled into a fist with the index knuckle extended and pointed at the sheet of bronze.
*DADADADAN*
She struck the heated metal four times in rapid succession, ever so slightly bending it into the correct
dimensions. Satisfied with her alteration, she dipped the now flawless half-cylinder in the nearby barrel
of water to quench it. As it was cooling off, she reached into her overalls’ pocket with her free hand and
grasped the large mithril nail from within. She then brought out the still-hot piece of bronze and used the
nail to carve a series of grooves on its inner side with impeccable precision.
Such things were, of course, possible only because she was a mithril golem. It was a privilege that not
only allowed her to work with abnormal precision, but also let her skip all those boorish safety
precautions that meatbags had to follow. Coupled with her constitution that allowed her to keep working
non-stop without rest meant that her current project was about to be completed in 6 hours rather than 3
or so days.
After finishing her inscription and cleaning off the metal shavings, she reached for a tiny bottle of
alchemically-prepared blue-tinted liquid. It steadily trickled out of the bottle’s narrow opening drop by
drop as the Artificer expertly filled the newly-carved grooves with it. It reacted with the lingering heat in
the bronze and solidified almost immediately, permanently binding itself to the metal surface. The whole
thing was then dipped into the water barrel once more for a few more minutes before Fizzy took it back
out.
The golem thoroughly inspected her creation once more using both her eyes and her Metallopathy. She
nodded approvingly to herself and then walked over to the contraption on her workbench - a mechanism
so strange that it would look positively alien to most of this world’s residents.
A large crystal tube filled with bright-blue cyan liquid, all manner of strangely-shaped parts from
varying materials and a hodgepodge of wiring, bolts and rods - all encased in a steel box that was about
the size and shape of a thick dictionary or history book. Fizzy set her bronze half-cylinder down next to
it, reached inside the strange box and grasped a pair of disconnected wires - one red and one blue. She
then retrieved her spot-welder - an advanced pen-shaped tool that generated large amounts of heat at the
expense of the user’s MP - and permanently connected that pair of wires to two very specific points of
the newly forged part.
Once that was done, she set the tool aside, lifted the bronze cylinder and carefully lowered it on top of
the exposed crystal tube. She pressed down on it gently until she heard a barely-audible click. The slab
of metal was then secured to the base of the steel box with a bit of welding, after which the open
container was sealed up completely by a thick sheet of steel and yet more welding.
You have created a customized Electric Charge Pack of Masterwork quality.

Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 59 Arclight Artificer! DEX +2. WIS +2. PER +2.
Proficiency level increased. Tick Counter is now Level 7. INT +3. WIS +3.
Proficiency level increased. Electrical Expertise is now Level 4. INT +6. END +2.
Fizzy smiled broadly. Her latest creation was without a doubt the best thing she’d ever made in her
whole career, even though this was only her first attempt at throwing one together. Well, technically
speaking, it was actually her third, but the first two didn’t count since she was still a worthless meatbag
at the time. Either way, this was definitely her greatest work yet.
And she wasn’t actually done with it just yet. The golem placed both her hands on her creation and
grasped as much of its construction as she could through her Metallopathy. Of course, not all of its
components were metal, but she could fill in those blanks from the blueprints and memories inside her
head easily enough.
She then took a deep breath and chanted the fateful word.
“Upgrade!”
The charge pack started vibrating and rattling while Fizzy used her abilities to observe the changes
going on within in. The numerous places that were welded together transformed and melted into each
other. It was as if the various components inside stopped being interconnected parts and became closer
to a single, impossibly whole object.
A few moments later, her creation settled down, and a very welcome notification appeared in her mind.
Your Upgrade was a major success!

Electric Charge Pack durability increased by 5%.
Electric Charge Pack power output increased by 10%.
“Alright!” she cried out.
“Nice one, Fizzy!” echoed Plus inside her head.
Upgrade
Description: It is within an Artificer’s nature to tinker.
Requirements: Level 45 Artificer
Type: Active
Cost: 100 MP
Range: Touch
Effects: Attempts to permanently improve any item of Masterwork or lesser Quality.
This Skill can fail. Success rate depends on the Level of this Skill and the user’s knowledge
regarding the target of this Skill.
This Skill has a 20% chance to permanently reduce the targeted item’s Quality by 1 grade
whenever it fails.
This Skill may not be activated more than once every 24 hours on the same target.
Unlike an enchantment that imbued an object with magic, Upgrade attempted to optimize the item’s
physical properties, drawing out every last bit of their potential. It could also be technically used on
simpler items, like swords or tools, but showed much weaker effects on such things. After all, if
Blacksmiths wanted to roll the dice at a chance to improve their work, then they could just use their
Reforge Skill, which was their equivalent of an Artificer’s Upgrade. Alchemists also had something
along those lines in the Synthesize Skill, although that one was limited only to the Magichem Alchemy
specialization past Level 50.
However, all three of those Skills shared the same downside in that they could fail. When that happened,
they caused some sort of flaw or defect within the item which was sometimes permanent. No matter how
prepared or confidant the artisan felt, there was always a chance that their attempts to push their
creations beyond their initial specifications could end in disaster.
Which was why Fizzy dropped to one knee, clasped her hands together and sent Harold a silent prayer.
The result she had obtained was more or less the best one she could’ve hoped for, so she didn’t hesitate
to show her gratitude to the God of Ḭ̖̞́͝nś҉̸̝̹͓ ҉ͅt̲͘͞a͔̗ ̥͙͉ p̸̪ͅr̲̟̺ ̛o͈̯͚͠b̢̖͍͍͡͝i̦̝̯͢ ͡l̹̲̥ ̸́i̟̰̤ṱ̺ y҉̣ .̥̼͇͡
͚ ͈̫ ͈ ̬ ̙ ͇ ̼̩͇ ͔̝̝ ̰̞̩
̜͉̰ ͎̻ ͈ͅ ̫̰ ͕ ͈
“… Huh, now that was just weird.”
“What’s the matter, Fizzy?”
“There was a weird buzzing in my head when I was wrapping up the prayer.”
“I didn’t hear anything though.”
“Oh, well. It was probably just Gunther being Urkel. Now then, where was I?”
Having fulfilled her religious duties, the pious golem stood up and grabbed the charge pack. She lifted it
up to reveal two belts made out of Bouncewood rubber had been attached to the underside of it. She put
it on as if it were a backpack and pulled the black belts over both her shoulders, forming a large X on her
torso. She then did a few experimental movements and maneuvers, but as expected the pack barely even
budged. It was, after all, molded to perfecty fit her upper back.
“Alright, let’s see how powerful this thing really is!”
“Yeaaah!”
After hyping herself up, the golem reached around and turned a small dial on the side of the device with
a trio of audible clicks. She had gone past the ‘stun’ and ‘shock’ settings and directly to ‘vaporize.’ The
charge pack buzzed loudly as high voltage electricity ran across her frame. Fizzy stared at her fingers in
wonderment, captivated by the bright blue arcs that jumped between them seemingly at random.
This was, of course, as intended. When she had told Jess earlier that she was making a charge pack for
her weapon, she didn’t exactly tell her that involved her impeccable frame as well. The wrench was just
an extra at that point, really.
“Speaking of which…”
Fizzy rushed over to where said tool was resting against the wall and grasped it by the handle. The high-
voltage current enveloped it in an instant as she held up to her face, causing even larger arcs of
electricity to bounce between the two surfaces. She gave it a small swing in the air, which produced a
rather satisfying *vrooom* sound as she lightly struck the wooden floor of the smithy.
*BDZZT*
The spot where iron met floor emitted a small puff of smoke as a large thornvine-like scar was
instantaneously burned into it. Of course, Fizzy’s simple clothes fared no better as the charge pack
mercilessly burned holes through them at random. At the very least the electrified Artificer had worn a
pair of well-insulated boots, otherwise all the power in her pack’s battery would be dispersing through
the wooden floorboards instead of clinging to her body.
She then turned the dial on the side down a notch, setting the output to ‘stun.’ Fizzy had calibrated it in
such a way so that it could be used to seriously injure and incapacitate a soldier that was about Level 30.
She could, of course, just leave it on ‘vaporize,’ but doing so would rapidly drain the battery not to
mention risk damaging the device. There was also the ‘shock’ setting which was intended more for
prodding people or disabling non-combatants, but she had no intention of actually using it and had
merely put it there out of habit.
Smiling broadly, the golem kept shamelessly playing around with her electrified weapon and body.
Much like how that blonde gnome had a fetish for explosions, Fizzy had always been captivated by the
unbridled power and beauty of lightning. She always dreamed of having that sort of power at her
fingertips. And now that she was a golem, she was finally able to make said dream into a reality, albeit a
bit more literal than she first imagined.
As she was idly swinging her wrench through the air, however, Fizzy suddenly sensed a presence. She
turned on reflex while swinging her charged weapon in a wide arc, stopping the electrified wrench mere
millimeters from Keira’s smug face.
“... I really wish you’d stop testing me,” complained the golem while turning off her charge pack and
lowering her weapon.
“Good to see you haven’t grown rusty while I was away,” said the delighted monster.
“Mithril doesn’t rust, you know,” she retorted as she removed her pack. “So, how are things on your
end?”
Earlier that day Boxxy had discreetly informed Fizzy that it would properly catch up with her at a later
time, so she was more or less expecting this visit. Especially since it was past midnight and the vast
majority of the camp was asleep. Of course, it went without saying that both Boxxy and Claws were
keeping an eye out for anyone who may have been eavesdropping. Since no such interlopers were
around, the Mimic abbreviated what it had gone through the past week and relayed it to its shiniest
minion. It mostly focused on matters related to its unexpected Rank Up into a Hylt Creeper
Doppelganger, as well as the meeting and subsequent interactions with Reggie.
All while shamelessly groping the irresistibly shiny and inappropriately happy golem, of course.
“A secret Doppelganger society, huh?” commented Fizzy with a content smile on her face. “Have you
learned how to tell them apart from other people yet?”
“Sort of. I can kind of un-smell them, but it’s tricky.”
The golem that was currently sitting in the wannabe-catgirl’s lap looked up at Boxxy with a somewhat
puzzled look.
“What the heck does ‘un-smell’ mean?!” asked Plus as if giving voice to her thoughts.
Fizzy, however, knew better than to pointlessly question things Boxxy said. Its thought processes were
still quite… bewildering.
“Alright,” she consented. “And are we going to crush them when we get back?”
“We won’t. At least not unless they try something. After all, they can do things I can’t and vice-versa,
and have already shown to be able to deliver.”
“So that deal you mentioned regarding the nosy Wizard - did you take care of him already?”
“Not yet. Cooking that guy will take a long while, so it’ll have to wait until after the war. But I did
manage to convince Reggie to pay up front. I’ll have to finish my side of the bargain if I want those guys
to cooperate, though.”
“Oh! So you’re above Level 50 Warlock now?!”
“Yup.”
It was only natural that there would exist illegal Job trainers selling their services to less-than-reputable
individuals. However, Boxxy was more or less ignorant of the workings of the criminal underground and
completely lacked the connections necessary to take advantage of their services.
“Level 54, to be exact,” it clarified. “Had quite a bit of XP overflow from killing that VIP during the
siege.”
“You mean the one you were ‘saving for later?’ Did you absorb him yet?”
“Yes. Cadaver Absorption actually succeeded on a valuable target for once. However… it got me a
brand new Skill at Level 4.”
“... Why do you seem so displeased by that? I thought that’s what it was supposed to do in the first
place, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it’s supposed to target the dead guy’s most developed Skill, so how come it didn’t go for Ruin
or Domination Mastery? Surely a VIP that old had at least one of them at Level 25, right?”
Fizzy crossed her arms and racked her brains. She had come to understand the functions and effects of
that clearly unfair Skill, but knew next to nothing regarding the specifics.
“What do you mean by ’most-developed’?” she asked. “What’s the exact wording?”
“Highest Proficiency,” answered Boxxy while gently stroking her pigtails.
“And this new Skill was worth 10 Attributes per Level?”
“Yes, it was actually.”
The amount of Attributes awarded by enlightened Jobs and their related Skills followed a certain pattern,
a set of unwritten laws. For starters, all Job Level-Ups provided a total of 6 Attribute points, at least 2 of
which would always be Endurance (END) if it was a combat-oriented profession. Skills of the first tier -
which was to say those acquired prior to Level 25 - granted 4 points upon going up in Level. Second tier
Skills that were available from Level 25 to Level 50 provided 2 more points for a total of 6 Attributes.
The third tier went up to 8, and the fourth and final one gave out 10 every time their proficiency Level
increased. And, although it was not exactly common knowledge, all Ultimate Skills awarded at Level
100 of a Job gave a remarkable total of 50 Attribute points for their first and only Level.
In short, the Ruinous Reach Skill that Boxxy acquired had been of the highest tier. And if the Attribute
count wasn’t indicative of its quality, then the effects most certainly were.
Ruinous Reach
Description: A Warlock’s mastery over unstable energies grant their magic a controversial
amount of stability.
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Increases the range of all Spells by 3% per Level of this Skill.
Increases the range of Ruin Spells by an additional 12% per Level of this Skill.
Finally, a straight up power boost without any downsides or tricky usage. A simple, uncomplicated Skill
that did exactly what it said and didn’t endanger Boxxy’s existence in some way. However, the method
of its acquisition was greatly disturbing, as it seemed to cast doubt on how Boxxy’s most valuable Skill
actually functioned.
“Well then, there you have it,” stated Fizzy with a smile.
“... Huh?”
“... Uhm, you are aware that top-tier Skills take a LOT more Proficiency to Level Up than Masteries,
right?”
“But it’s 25 Levels’ worth! How can that be more than a Skill that should be 10 at most?!”
“Because that’s like… comparing 25 coin pouches to 10 treasure chests. One would have a lot more
shinies in it than the other, see?”
“Oh! So that’s how it was, huh? I see!” exclaimed Keira with an enlightened expression, which turned
into a peeved off one almost immediately. “How come nobody ever told me about that?”
“Because you didn’t ask?”
“... Good point,” consented the Mimic, as for once it was hard to shift the blame for its ignorance onto
other people.
This ‘revelation’ regarding the way a being’s Status operated was yet another one of those things that
everyone knew yet nobody talked about. Boxxy, who was less than a year old and had been in proper
contact with civilization for only about 2 months, understandably hadn’t heard about it before. It simply
hadn’t been an issue until it absorbed that old guy, and it hadn’t had a chance to ask around yet. After all,
that whole event had occurred less than an hour before it was shipped off to New Whitehall.
“How about you? What’ve you been up to?” asked the monster as it resumed licking Fizzy’s exposed
shoulders with the tongues sticking out of Keira’s hands.
“I’m, uh, doing all the things you said, Boxxy. I’m getting closer to the others and while working hard
on my Levels, but… it’s been slow.”
“How slow?”
“... Right now I’m at 59 Artificer, 36 Paladin and 33 Golem,” she answered in a low voice.
Fizzy reflexively braced herself as she admitted her failure. She had been told multiple times to stop
being a weakling, yet no matter how much she tried she could not hope to catch up with Boxxy. She had
been behind in Levels ever since they met, and the gap between their abilities was only widening.
Whether it be her crafting Job, combat Job or monster Job, she was completely unable to match that
shapeshifter’s illogical rate of growth. She hung in there for a while after her transformation since she
fought monsters almost non-stop, but lately that hasn’t been an option. And not just because of the
surrounding white spot of a forest.
Something Boxxy understood full well.
“That’s not too bad,” it commented, much to her surprise.
“S-so you’re not mad at me?” asked the golem with a slightly quivering voice.
“Even I realize certain things can’t be helped. Besides, you’ll get your chance to Level Up big-time
soon.”
“Huh?”
“I was told that, judging by incoming reports, the Empire’s main force will attack the city within the
next 2 to 3 days.”
“They’re that close?!” blurted out Fizzy. “When and how did they manage to advance so much in a
single day?!”
The ones she and her squad had encountered yesterday, or technically speaking the day before yesterday,
were supposed to be at least a week ahead of the main force.
“I don’t know, I just got here. But they’re sending the Sandman over to investigate tonight, so I’ll find
out soon enough.”
“But if they’re that close to the city… then is spatial traffic already been cut off?!”
“Not yet, but it will be before dawn comes.”
Laying out anti-teleportation sigils was standard strategy when defending a key position. Mostly as a
way to prevent any magically-insisted sneak attacks.
“What about the Forest Gate?!” asked Fizzy in a bit a fluster.
“Currently being dismantled. They began shortly after my group passed through it, actually.”
This also was something that was necessary. Not only were the anti-teleportation sigils going to render
the Forest Gate inoperable anyway, but that particular construct was something they could not allow to
fall into the Empire’s hands.
“Then isn’t Jess stranded here?! Her life is going to be in danger if they don’t get her out right now!”
Boxxy eyed the golem up and down, as if what she had just said was heresy.
“And just why would you care about an insignificant thing like that?” it asked with clear suspicion in its
voice while tightening its grip around Fizzy.
The Mimic never fully trusted anyone. It didn’t trust the Republic’s higher-ups, nor did it believe Reggie
would play ball forever. It somewhat relied on the partially brainwashed Ambrosia as well as those
contractually-bound demons, but it always expected they would turn on it sooner or later. Fizzy was no
different, either. Even if she was shiny, even if she was fanatically devoted, even if she had gone as far
as to swear an oath to the deity that seemed to despise ‘cheating’ more than the Goddess of Truth - there
was always a chance she might go against Boxxy.
The main reason for the Mimic’s distrust, other than its nature as a monster, was because the golem was
once a person, no matter how much she seemed to despise it. And people had the bad habit of taking
foolish, illogical actions that went against their self-preservation instincts.
“... She’s… She reminds me a lot of my former self,” admitted Fizzy. “I would therefore like to make
sure she safely makes it out of the city.”
“I see. Well, I suppose it might be good to have a contact in Horkensaft when I eventually visit.”
In some ways it was inevitable that the Mimic would go to the golem’s homeland. It was a necessity if it
wished to progress its Artificer Job beyond Level 50 without relying on Fizzy’s self-destructive
specialization.
“That’s not going to be much use,” claimed the shiny in its lap. “That girl is a nobody. Knowing her
wouldn’t give you or me any leeway in that country.”
“But if she has no value, then why would I waste my time looking after her?”
“Like I said… it’s personal. Besides, it’s not like she has absolutely no value. She did end up reminding
me about something rather important.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
The golem glanced down at the curse-bearing gauntlet permanently affixed to her left hand and stared at
her open palm intently.
“It’s about a certain place,” she explained, “one that has been locked up for centuries. A place in
Horkensaft said to encompass our forefathers’ secrets. The whole country knows about it and where it is,
yet nobody has been able to get inside. And that girl helped me realize that as am I right now-”
As if making up her resolve, Fizzy tightened her fingers into a fist and looked up at Keira’s scrutinizing
eyes with an extremely motivated expression.
“-there’s a non-zero chance I might be the one to finally open the Vault Beneath the Mountain.”
(143) Facade 7
The heavily cloaked figure of the Sandman moved at a dizzying speed through the forest, although it
was far from alone despite appearances. Boxxy had, for the first time in a while, mobilized all of its
familiars. This recon mission on behalf of the Republic’s armed forces was going to be quite dangerous,
so the Mimic brought as much backup as possible. Well, except for Fizzy. Even if that golem had the
enviable ability to simultaneously perform both martial and magical combat, she was not exactly what
one could call subtle.
Then again, the same could be said for Kora, who was currently bulldozing through various obstacles as
she tried to keep pace with her agile and flexible Master. Unlike the shiniest of shinies, the fiend was far
more disposable and abandon-able, so she could serve as a very good distraction should the need arise.
For the moment, however, she had been told to hang back about 400 or so meters behind the Mimic as
she couldn’t help but raise a racket as she traversed the forest’s overgrown and uneven terrain. Granted,
it was still better than the start of this little expedition, as Kora was convinced that it was faster to smash
through any trees in her path rather than go around them.
Boxxy honestly didn’t know which was worse - the fact that this ludicrous idea somehow popped into
her head, or the fact that she somehow turned out to be right.
Either way, she was ordered to stop blatantly flaunting her power in such a way as they travelled through
the forest. At the very least the other two demons seemed to be handling the terrain just fine. Drea was
effortlessly leaping from tree to tree with the grace and agility one would expect from a veteran Stalker
like her. Like a shadow sliding between moonbeams, leaving behind no signs of her passage aside from
rustled leaves and strands of webbing.
However, the one that was undoubtedly having the easiest time traversing the Rainy Woodlands was the
succubus - Xera. She just flew idly over the treetops while her cerulean skin and dark blue hair blended
in naturally with the night sky. Honestly speaking if she, Drea and Boxxy were having an all out race
through the forest, then she would in no way lag behind, despite her relatively pitiful Agility (AGI).
That fiend was another story entirely, though. The low-hanging branches, protruding rocks, soft ground
and annoying bushes were all in her way. Even with her giant stride and athletic body, she had a lot of
difficulty keeping up with the lead trio. If this were flat ground like the Clattering Plains surrounding
Fort Yimin, then she was sure she’d be able to outrun all of them without breaking a sweat. Especially if
it were a long-distance marathon that put even a demon’s unnatural stamina to the test.
That situation, however, was entirely hypothetical. In reality, her ‘quiet’ movement was so slow she
wouldn’t be able to keep up with Boxxy’s pace at all if the Mimic didn’t take a detour every now and
then. After all, the monster had to maintain both its body mass and energy reserves if it wanted to be
ready for anything, so it went after any wild animals in its path. They were sufficiently filling, but their
flavor was ultimately disappointing.
That wasn’t to say that the nocturnal critters Boxxy came across were any less tasty than the ones it had
feasted on before becoming a Doppelganger. It was just that they felt incredibly bland and unappetizing
when compared Ambrosia’s indescribably delicious cooking. The shapeshifter legitimately wondered
whether that dryad was spoiling it a bit too much for its own good if her cuisine was starting to affect its
eating habits. That was a sticking point for the Mimic, as it, like most living beings, instinctively
rejected change.
That wasn’t to say that Boxxy would suddenly stop chasing after fresh prey. Ripping off their meat,
grinding their bones into dust and drinking up every last drop of their blood was pretty much par for the
course for that gluttonous creature. The main issue here was the idea that all these things it knew for a
fact to be acceptably tasty were much less enjoyable ever since it overindulged in Ambrosia’s divine
dishes. In fact, just thinking back on those stuffed human hearts and heavenly nectar-and-eyeball
pudding made drool overflow from its mouth, leaving behind a moist trail of slobber as it traversed the
Rainy Woodlands.
“Master, are you… thinking about that green sack of leaves and moss yet again?” asked Xera in a
jealous tone.
“Yes,” confirmed Boxxy through the telepathic link, much to her dismay.
“O-oh. I see…”
The succubus that was currently gliding through the air had plenty of time for idle thoughts and
observations. And seeing her master unabashedly hunger for someone other than her made the succubus
feel even more threatened by Ambrosia’s existence.
Xera had always felt secure in her position as the tastiest among her Master’s minions as the one and
only Snack, so there was no doubt in her mind that she was the most favored among them. Even if that
walking calamity of a box could never return her twisted affections, that didn’t mean she couldn’t
become her Master’s favorite thing. And while it was true that Boxxy was surrounded by others, none
of them were capable of stealing its attention away from her.
It was undeniable that the Mimic thought of Kora and Drea as tasty in their own ways, but their literal
flavor was quite terrible. Fizzy, on the other hand, had a captivating luster that even Xera had to admit
was splendid and truly deserving her position as her Master’s ornament. But despite her shininess, she
was ultimately an inedible golem. The succubus knew her beloved Master the longest and most
intimately of all living beings, so she knew for a fact that tastiness came before shininess when it came
to Boxxy’s priorities. Therefore, there was no way that Fizzy could truly compete with her.
But that dryad was different. She was a direct threat to the succubus’s position as the tastiest, even if it
was through her dishes rather than her body. If she somehow caused Boxxy to grow tired of Xera’s
flavor, then the shapeshifter would no longer give her what she truly wanted. This worry of hers was
only exasperated further by the fact that she and Boxxy hadn’t shared in a single session of snack time
for 12 days now.
“Haaaaaaaaaaah.”
Realizing the bind she was in, Xera let out a mental sigh that was transmitted to everyone else.
“For fuck sake, cum-for-brains,” shouted Kora. “If you got something to say just fucking say it!
Honestly, that’s why I hate you conniving whores!”
The obviously ticked-off fiend had been feeling quite frustrated herself as of late. Not only had she
gotten very few opportunities to come out and ‘play’ with the succubus’s insides as of late, but even
those few occasions had left her somewhat unsatisfied. The once seemingly insatiable slut seemed far
less… active during the deed these days. Where before she would scream, wail and pretend-resist, these
days Xera just sort of stood there and took Kora’s abuse without playing along in the slightest. She still
derived some pleasure from the act, given how she occasionally let out moans of twisted pleasure, but
was for the most part quite inanimate.
This was unacceptable to the rape-happy fiend. If that cock-sleeve was just going to take her dicking as
if she were a corpse or a toy, then it took a lot of the fun out of it. After all, the whole point of raping
someone was having them struggle, scream and beg as the fiend forced herself on them. One could say
actually getting her rocks off was secondary to the violent act, but it was one that required a partner.
Not a dead fish.
“If… if you’re feeling pent up,” chimed in Drea, “I can always try and give you a t-titjob.”
“You what?!” asked Kora in an incredulous tone.
“It’s just practice! You know… J-just in case…”
“Nuh-uh, not happening!”
Being flatly denied like this injured the Stalker’s pride. Did that meathead even realize how much
courage it took for her to make such an outrageous offer?
“Why not?! My boobs are just the right shape for it and everything!”
“I’m not saying you don’t have a great pair of tits, I’m saying I’m not putting my cock anywhere near
that mouth of yours! You’d probably bite it off the first chance you get!”
“So? You’d grow a new one.”
“That’s not the point! Look, I need a tight, squirming hole to satisfy me, so unless you’re willing to offer
that silky one you got back there-”
“No way! I can’t possibly agree to something embarrassing like that!”
“Oh? Not even if the boss asked?”
“Th-th-the Master? … W-well… M-maybe it could, uhm, I mean, I wouldn’t particularly mind…”
“Ha! Knew it! You’re a slut deep down after all, ain’t ya?”
“N-no such thing!”

“Give it a rest, you two!” mentally shouted Boxxy.
“Yes, Master,” replied Drea and Kora in unison.
The Mimic sighed inwardly. Ever since it had gotten the Soul Link Skill, the telepathic link between
itself and its minions had undergone a change, an evolution of sorts. Where before it could only
converse with each demon individually, right now they could all communicate with each other at the
same time. Initially this seemed like a good thing since it allowed for a more efficient exchange of
information between its minions. However, these ongoing, pointless arguments over who was sticking
their genitals where had been steadily thinning out its patience.
Still, it had to agree with what Arms said initially. The confident, know-it-all Snack had not been acting
like herself at all as of late, which could be a problem further down the line. After all, a succubus
without confidence was like a treasure chest without any actual treasure.
“Snack, tell me why you’ve been acting so strange the past week,” it commanded.
Xera did not want to answer that question. Even if her pride as a demoness had long ago been shattered
and dragged across the mud (along with her face,) her pride as ‘Boxxy’s favorite Snack’ would not let
her admit her feelings of inferiority so easily. Unfortunately for her, keeping quiet about it was no longer
an option as the contract did not allow her to subvert a direct order like that. Therefore, she decided to
take this chance and pour out all of her grievances.
“It is because you no longer wish to feast on me, Master. That red buffoon tries, but my body and soul
will not feel satisfied unless my one and only Master thoroughly abuses and punishes me on a regular
basis. I want- need to be torn limb from limb, completely dominated and absolutely ravaged in every
sense of the word by my Beloved Master, or I’ll just waste away into nothingness!”
“So it was about your perversions after all?”
“Of course, Master! I am your personal hopelessly perverted slut, after all!” she declared proudly.
Although the Mimic might have normally flat-out rejected her blatant advances on the spot, it actually
gave it some thought for once. Even if its minions were bound by contract, it was important to keep
them well-motivated so they would go that extra mile that went beyond their instructions and orders.
Fizzy was a lot like that too, which was why it agreed to her selfish request regarding that tiny woman
named Jess. The shiny golem aside, however, that succubus wasn’t as simple-minded as Arms or Claws.
In some ways it was only natural that she required some… special attention.
“Fine, I’ll add it to my schedule,” it decided.
“R-REALLY?!” shouted Xera into its mind.
“Yes, really. I have been running out of ideas for shapeshifting practice anyway.”
There was quite a way to go before it reached Level 15 of the Shapeshift Skill, and it was necessary in
order to Rank Up beyond Doppelganger. Of course, that also applied to Biomass, but that was a separate
matter.
Besides, it wasn’t like Boxxy was particularly against the idea of sampling Snack’s succulent flesh and
unique flavor every now and then.
“Alright! I’m gonna get completely violated! Who’s gonna get Boxxy’d?! That’s right - this slut! Go
Xera! Go Xera! Go Xera! Go Xera!”
The shameless succubus gleefully cheered herself on while spinning around in the air.
“I can w-w-watch, right Master?” asked Claws timidly.
“I don’t see why not.”
“Yessss!! I mean, uh, I am very grateful for this honor, my Master.”
As expected, pleasing that stalker was much simpler than dealing with Snack. After all, pandering to her
voyeuristic desires required zero effort beyond saying ‘yes’ every now and then. In fact, her drive to
contribute as much as possible while being as little of a burden to Boxxy was quite commendable, truly
befitting a professional with her experience. If only all of Boxxy’s minions were that easy to appease.
“Oh! Then can I- Actually, no, nevermind.”
Kora was going to ask about joining in on the romp, but changed her mind mid-sentence.
“You sure?” inquired Boxxy.
“Yeah. Quite sure.”
“Okay.”
She had almost forgotten that her Master was definitely not the submissive type, and she did not
particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of ass-poundings.
“Oh ho ho ho!” laughed Xera in a haughty voice. “What’s the matter? The big bad cock-on-legs feeling
intimidated? Feeling… scared?!”
“Of course not! I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Come on! I know for sure you appreciate being completely filled every once in awhile!”
“I do not!”
“Reporting that Koralenteprix is clearly lying through her teeth while shaking in her boots,” claimed the
ever-observant Drea.
“Why you little-! Get down here and say it to my face! I’ll show you a thing or two about being filled
up!”
“You’ll have to catch me first, flatfoot!” she answered bitingly.

“I’ll pass on that as well ~♪” chirped Xera. “I have to keep myself, mmmmm ~?, tight and juicy for
Master’s big, hard-”
“Cut the idle chatter,” ordered Boxxy. “Snack - see if you can locate the target site.”
The demonic trio instantly sharpened their focus as they kept forging ahead through the pitch-black
forest. The place they were headed to was the Empire’s staging camp which reportedly sprang up quite
literally overnight. One of the Republic’s guerilla units were able to spot it from a distance and report its
location via Comm-crystal, but the enemy’s tight perimeter had kept them from getting a good look at it.
“I see the enemy camp,” reported Xera, the eye in the sky. “They’re about one and a half kilometers to
our left.”
The monstrous group made a slight turn according to the succubus’s instructions and slowed their pace
somewhat to keep a low profile. Kora had no difficulty keeping up now, but was told to keep a distance
of at least 100 meters between herself and the rest. After all, Boxxy could use Stealth, Drea had the
superior Stalk Skill while Xera could rely on Invisibility and her swift wings to avoid detection. The
fiend, on the other hand, was about as subtle as an angry bull in a house of mirrors.
The Mimic and its minions silently approached the camp until they reached a large clearing. At the
center of said clearing was the base itself, but every pine tree in a radius of about 150 meters from it was
gouged out of the ground so that not even stumps remained. There was a path, to call it more accurately
- a highway through the forest visible on the other end of the clearing. The Empire had not just been
traveling between the trees, but completely gouging them out so as to secure a reliable supply route. It
was a blatant disregard for nature, but not something the forest wouldn’t recover from in a hundred years
or so.
As for the clearing itself, it was quite frankly impassable. The Imperial forces had dozens of patrols
scouring the area. Not only was each of them a dozen strong, but all the troops were illuminating their
immediate area either through Spells or magic items. It was also worth noting that all of them were on
high alert and looked ready to spring into action at any given time, despite the ungodly hour.
No, it was more accurate to say their vigilance was precisely because it was the dead of the night.
As for the camp itself, it was surrounded by numerous ramparts and makeshift walls bound together
from the surrounding timber. Walking on top as well as around said fortifications were numerous
lookouts who were keeping an eye on their comrades. Even though it was out in the open like that,
however, the Imperial base could not be observed from a distance.
Immediately inside the circular wooden perimeter was an enormous magical bubble - the Illusion Barrier
the Republic’s guerilla squad reported about. It was a Wizard Spell, created and maintained by the virtue
of the Synchronous Chanting Skill. That particular Skill was available to most Spell-slinging Jobs and
allowed a large number of them to combine their powers to produce powerful magic beyond what was
normally possible for a single individual. Boxxy also had the chance to pick up this Skill at Level 40 of
its Warlock Job, but passed it over since it mostly worked alone.
As to the effects of said Illusion Barrier, they were much more straightforward than the name would
suggest. People and objects could pass through it without issue, but light and/or sounds that passed
through the magical membrane would be horribly distorted if not completely blocked out. The downside
of this Spell was that it worked both ways, meaning that while Boxxy couldn’t see what was inside it,
those within would have no idea what was going on outside. Which was why the defensive perimeter
was established beyond the bubble rather than within it.
Said perimeter, however, was proving to be a challenge. The human patrols kept a distance of at least 30
meters from the treeline that Boxxy was hiding in, so ambushing them wasn’t going to be easy. Even if
one of the patrols was taken out, the lookouts at the ramparts would spot it without fail and raise the
alarm, followed by a heavily armed response from the 12,000 strong Imperial army inside that Illusion
Barrier. Attempting to sneak between the patrols was extremely risky as well, as the clear view and
plentiful illumination meant that Boxxy could be spotted very easily. After all, Stealth was powerless
against direct line of sight.
“Claws,” it called out, “can you slip inside without alerting anyone?”
If it was the demon with the superior Stalk Skill, then she could probably manage to get past the patrols
and over the wall quite easily.
“... I don’t think so, Master. Those walls are most likely warded with alarm-type magic.”
“They are?”
“The Empire is quite zealous when it comes to their walls, Master. If they went so far as to put up that
Illusion Barrier, then there’s no doubt in my mind they put up Detect Intruder glyphs as well.”
“Right, of course.”
Boxxy was subtly reminded of the city of Erosa, more specifically of the anti-infiltration magic they put
around their walls following the Calamity of Monotal. It was a type of magic that would raise an alarm
the instant anyone - be it an intruder or a guard - went over said walls. Back then, it had subverted them
by using an underground tunnel, but it doubted something that convenient was around this time.
Or was there?
“Alright, I have an idea,” declared Boxxy. “Snack - go straight up and gain as much altitude as you can.
Make extra sure the enemy doesn’t spot you.”
“By your will.”
Xera, who was currently sitting on a high branch, cloaked herself with Invisibility, jumped off her perch,
unfurled her wings and began ascending rapidly in a spiral pattern.
“Claws, you’re with me. Arms - rendezvous at my position.”
“Ron-dey-what?”
“Just come where I am, stupid.”

“Oh! Sure, boss!”
Boxxy and Drea retreated back into the forest and met up with Kora, who was able to easily track them
thanks to the telepathic link. They then proceeded a bit further into the woods, back to a recently vacated
bear den. It wasn’t so much a cave as it was a large hole in the ground, but it would provide sufficient
cover for the upcoming operation.
“Arms, you’re the anchor. You have permission to engage the enemy should they find you, but otherwise
you’re going to stay right here unless I say otherwise.”
“Ugh, guard duty again…” moaned Kora.
Leaving the disgruntled fiend at the entrance, Boxxy went inside the den followed closely by Drea. It
was quite cramped, but still tall enough to let both of them stand up once the Mimic shrank its Sandman
disguise somewhat.
“What now, Mas… ter?”
The spider-demon was taken slightly by surprise when said Master began quickly and efficiently
undoing its disguise. Not only did it stow away the cloak, mask and gauntlets obscuring its figure, but it
even reverted back to its base form - that of a Hylt Creeper variant of the Doppelganger species. It
turned its faceless, elongated head towards the suddenly embarrassed Stalker and stared at her with the
yellow spheres that served as its natural eyes.
“Claws, come here and hug me.”
“... Wut?”
“Come on, tight as you can. That’s an order, not a request.”
“But- But- But- Err! I’m not q-q-q-quite ready for- Kya!”
Despite her weak protests, Drea’s body moved against her will as she walked over to where her Master
was waiting for her. Her clawed, carapace-covered arms wrapped themselves around the creature's
shoulders, putting the two of them quite literally spider-face-to-non-face. The scythe-tipped appendages
on her back closed in from either side in such a way as to pull their bodies even closer together while
making sure they didn’t dig into Boxxy’s back.
“Alright, this is good,” declared the Mimic in a business-like manner.
It also said some other things, but the Stalker could no longer hear its voice, mental or otherwise. Her
current situation was far more intense than anything she had been through before, so her mind almost
immediately went pink and fuzzy. Even if she was an accomplished killer and efficient assassin, she was
still a total rookie when it came to matters of romance. She had, of course, initially thought this weird
attraction she felt towards her Master was merely a side-effect of meeting the star of the Boxxy Show.
However, what was currently going on was making her rapidly reconsider that position.
For one thing, having their (technically) naked bodies rub against each other like this was sending
unexpected shivers of excitement up and down her spine. And, as if that wasn’t enough stimulation for
her, Boxxy had also wrapped its gangly arms around her lower back and pressed its forehead against
hers while whispering something. Obviously, Drea had no idea what it was saying, as the tight embrace
alone was powerful enough to make her non-existent heart explode. In some corner of her fluffy mind,
she managed to offer a brief thanks to Jordan for her summoning contract. After all, there was no way an
inherently shy creature like her could muster the courage to do something this daring otherwise.
Of course, this wasn’t the demon’s first physical contact with her Master. There was that one time when
Boxxy sampled one of her legs to check on her flavor and then immediately spat it out in disgust. Well,
even if she knew it was coming, Drea still felt hurt by its negative reaction at the time. Suffice it to say,
the feeling she was experiencing right now was completely removed from the painful one she felt back
then.
In fact, if asked to put said pleasant emotion into words, the best way she could describe it would simple
be: ‘Tasty.’
“-miliar.”
Just as her head was about to fill up with pink thoughts, her ears managed to catch a somewhat audible
word from Boxxy’s naturally deep voice. Before she could even ponder its meaning, however, she was
overcome by the unmistakable and strangely nostalgic feeling of her surroundings warping and twisting
around her.
Followed immediately by the sensation of falling.
“Huh? Wha-?!”
Having finally torn her attention from Boxxy’s strangely cute face, she glanced at the direction gravity
was pulling them towards. Her compound eyes almost looked like they would pop out of her face as she
realized she and Boxxy were currently at least 2,000 meters in the air and plummeting towards the
ground like a pair of rocks.
“Awawawawa!”
The emotionally overloaded Stalker momentarily panicked and ended up clinging even harder to her
Master without realizing it.
“Claws!”
“Ack! Yes, Master!?”
“You’re to infiltrate the south end of the compound, I’ll go in through the north.”
“C-compound?”
The Stalker glanced at the ground once more and realized that the Empire’s camp was directly beneath
them. The gears in her head instantly clicked together as she realized that Boxxy had used Transfamiliar
to trade places with Xera - the only one in the group who could fly. It also explained why the Mimic had
ordered Drea to embrace it like that. After all, even if it was possible to bring along an additional person
with the Transfamiliar Spell, said passenger might lose a limb or two unless they clung very tightly to
the caster.
“Information gathering is the priority,” continued the Mimic. “Do not engage in combat unless
absolutely necessary.”
Drea felt slightly disappointed when she realized that the whole ordeal was nothing but a means to an
end. She really should have known better, all things considered. Well, it wasn’t all bad. At least she had
something special to think about while fondling her breasts later.
With a firm grasp on her mission and newfound determination, the Stalker both regretfully and hurriedly
disentangled herself from Boxxy. She ejected a large amount of white spider silk from her clawed hands
and expertly weaved it between her back-mounted scythes to form a sturdy, durable membrane. She
spread those appendages out like a pair of wings, allowing her freefall to turn into a graceful glide.
Over on Boxxy’s side, the Mimic had already reverted into a more compact version of the Sandman and
was using its own pair of demonic wings to adjust its downward trajectory. The two monsters gradually
drifted further apart as they approached their respective drop points. Boxxy briefly braced itself as it
passed through the top part of the slightly glowing Illusion Barrier, but didn’t feel even the tiniest bit of
resistance. Well, that was more or less expected, but reading about something and confronting it first-
hand were very different things.
Once inside, however, Boxxy suffered a brief mental blow. The environment inside the oversized barrier
was not at all befitting a military camp at night, but was much closer to a busy market at high noon. For
one thing - it was incredibly bright. Not only were there numerous torches, bonfires and lamps that lit up
every corner of the camp, but the inner wall and ceiling of the Illusion Barrier was reflecting any excess
light back towards the ground. Forget high noon, actually - this scenery was closer to there being 4 suns
in the sky!
To make the strange scene ever stranger, there appeared to be not a single Imperial soldier who was
sleeping, as all of 12,000 of them seemed to be keeping busy with something or another. Some were
sparring, doing drills, checking their equipment and/or other such practical preparations, but more than
half of them were acting as if their standing orders were to ‘party hard.’.
Dancing, drinking, singing, and all around merriment was had all around, and even the dutiful ones took
a swig from a nearby mug or let out a loud cheer every now and then. The vast majority of them weren’t
even geared up and stumbled around in simple tunics and trousers. If a casual observer who didn’t know
any better were to spot this, they would instantly assume these men were celebrating an overwhelming
military victory or something. In fact, their combined voices and laughter were so loud that they seemed
to physically press against the still-gliding Mimic’s underside.
… Oh, shit!
Having finally realized anyone could spot it if they so much as looked up, Boxxy instantly dove
downwards towards a small white tent. It deftly sliced open the canvas with a sword-arm and landed
inside with a heavy thud, right in the middle of three very confused soldiers. The unarmed and
unarmored men, who appeared to have been playing a game of dice, stared blankly at the cloaked
intruder who had appeared seemingly out of thin air. The look of pure bewilderment on their faces lasted
just long enough for the Mimic to lash out and wrap each of their heads in a thick tentacle.
The surprised men proved their training was not entirely for naught as they instinctively grasped for
their swords and tried to slice at the fleshy appendages that were currently suffocating them. And
although they managed to inflict a few wounds on it, it only took a few seconds for their skulls to start
creaking inside the monster’s grip. They managed to let out a few muffled screams of pain, but their
heads caved in and their bodies went limp all the same. Mere moments after the last of them had stopped
struggling, a pair of off duty soldiers barged into the tent to see what the commotion was about.
A decision they regretted for the rest of their lives.
After discretely disposing of all five corpses via its gullet, Boxxy disguised itself as Generic Imperial
Soldier A and left the scene of the quintuple homicide with a spring in its step.
“Infiltration successful,” it reported to its familiars. “Claws, what’s your status?”
“Landed in what appeared to be a pen for Monster Tamers,” came the immediate response. “Had to eat
the squire that spotted me, but I’m otherwise undetected.”
“Very good. Try and find the commanding officer’s tent and scour it or any documents, letters or maps.
I’ll work the crowd and see what I can find out.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Arms, get closer to the camp and standby in case I need a diversion.”
“So… I should get ready to jump out of the bushes and skullfuck me some pansies?”
“... I guess.”
“Neat!”
“What about me, Master?” asked Xera expectantly.
“Start flying back to the city. We don’t have a lot of time to spare so you’re my ticket back to base. Plus,
it’s not good to leave Keira’s bunk empty for too long.”
“Of course, Master. But what about the matter of my lonely pussy?”
“I’ll take care of your urges when I get the chance.”
“Mmmnhmm hmm hmm, I’ll be looking forward to it then! Please don’t make me wait too long, okay
~?? ”
The succubus crawled out of the bear den she was holed up in and once again took flight. Much like on
the way here, she glided gracefully through the night. Unlike the first trip, however, she was in a much
better mood. At one point she even began humming pleasantly to herself due to the anticipation. Not the
best idea considering the covert nature of her Master’s ongoing operation, but realistically speaking she
was in no real danger of anyone on the ground noticing her presence.
Well, not unless a drop or two of her ‘anticipation’ landed on their face.
(144) Not A Chapter Ellc World Map
So here's a crude geo-political map of the continent I've been using as a guideline, courtesy of my
incredible MS Paint skills and some mapping tool that I don't remember. Keep in mind this map was
basically made by 3-month-old Boxxy (Scale? What's that? Is it tasty?) so please don't take it too
literaly. Also, it's quite unfinished, especially the lower right-hand side of it.
Full size here.
In case it isn't obvious, the color coding is as follows:
Triangles = Mountains/Highlands
Water (duh)
Common sea routes
Highways, borders, towns, cities (villages not pictured)
Capital cities
Trees/Forests
Calamity Fallout
Lordrak Empire (Humans)
Ishigar Republic (Elves)
Horkensaft Kingdom (Dwarves and Gnomes)
Here be ?????? (Undetermined, still working out the details)
Here be dragons (+ an Elder Dragon)
Here be zombies (Undead Infestation)
Here be Pearly Dunes (Beastkin)
(145) Ambiguity 8
A group of five Imperial soldiers were seated around a small campfire, sharing stories and drinks as they
focused on unwinding before the big battle. Even if their bodies felt full of energy despite the nearly
non-stop marching and physical labor, the mental exhaustion was another thing entirely. Something their
higher-ups fully understood, which was why they not only allowed this current state of relative
debauchery and all around undisciplined behavior, but practically ordered it. Maintaining the troops’
morale was pivotal if they were going to maximize their chances of taking New Whitehall.
Which was why one of these men was openly sharing a story that involved searching for a missing ring
while heavily drunk on Rotgut.
“So when I finally woke up, I realized that the thing in my house wasn’t an angry bear, but my pissed off
wife!”
The group shared in brief, but hearty round of laughter.
“But yeah, as I was saying,” continued the storyteller while wiping away his tears of joy, “that’s why
you wanna be careful around a married Druid.”
“I always thought Druids would make great mothers, though,” chimed in one of the others. “I mean,
what with their nurturing nature and soothing personalities and whatnot?”
“Oh yeah, great mothers for sure. Probably even better wives… so long as they’re not a feral like mine.”
“... A ‘feral?’ What?”
“That’s them, y’know, Druids what change into beasties rather than waving them pretty lights around,”
explained someone in the group.
“Huh. Well how about that? Didn’t even know Druids could- Wait! So Ed’s wife was a literal bear at the
time?!”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?!” exclaimed Ed. “Well, more of a were-bear thing, but close enough.”
“Ed, I do not envy you.”
“Eh, it’s not all bad. Even if she has a bit of a temper and her sense of humor flew south for the winter…
and pretty much the rest of the year… she’s still the finest woman I know. Really wild in the sack, too!”
“Oy lads!” shouted one of them while getting up and running off somewhere. “We gotta stop that!”
The others followed his finger and saw a wagon loaded up with wooden crates rolling down a small hill.
It was gradually gaining speed as it headed towards a series of large tents that were draped in white-and-
blue stripes as opposed to the solid, off-white canvas that the grunts could use.
The five men, along with pretty much every Imperial soldier in the immediate vicinity, ran out to
intercept the runaway wagon. A dozen or so of them managed to grab it from the sides and push it from
the front, stopping it just a few meters from their upper brass’s quarters.
“Phew, that was close,” commented someone in the crowd.
“Aye, that took a lot more effort than I was expecting!”
“Yeah no wonder,” called out one of the men on the side. “This thing’s so overloaded the brake’s
snapped clean in half!”
He patted the side of the wagon, where the lever-operated mechanism that was meant to keep the wheels
from turning had clearly been broken.
“Those idiots from logistics again? Why I ought to-”
“You ought to what, Private?!” came a commanding yell from the side.
The men almost instinctively formed two lines and stood at attention at that voice. A slightly older
soldier with a large fissure-like scar on his bald head paced in front of them menacingly. He looked over
the stiff troops, the formerly-runaway vehicle, the trio of extra-large tents, then turned his attention back
to the men.
“Not bad, maggots,” he said in a calm but stern voice. “Good to see you’re not completely unaware of
your surroundings. Now get that wagon out of here and find the one responsible for securing it. On the
double!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
While the hard-ass Sergeant was busy organizing a swift and efficient cleanup of the almost-disaster,
Drea was currently rooting through one of the tents that had nearly been flattened by the wagon. Of
course, this was no mere coincidence, as the Stalker was the one to set the whole thing in motion, just so
she could sneak into the secure area.
And ‘secure’ was definitely the way to describe it. The large tents were in the middle of open, well lit
ground and had people watching out for anyone wandering in or out of them. Attempting a direct
approach was too risky, even for the Stalker. Her solution was to discreetly and carefully prepare the
over-burdened wagon, sabotage its breaks and then send it careening down hill while she clung to its
undercarriage. The guards noticed it and sprang into action to stop it, just as she knew they would.
Taking advantage of the commotion and low cloud of dust, the nimble demon sprang into action. She
slipped between the Imperial soldiers’ feet, made a long horizontal cut on the tent’s canvas, ripping apart
both the fabric and any enchantments that may have been placed on it. She then slid through the newly
created opening and sealed the hole behind her with her webbing. And all that took no more than two
seconds.
As for why she targeted these tents in particular, it was simply because it was painfully obvious they
were important. The location, the guards, the size of it, the coloration of its canvas - even that ridiculous
flag pole stuck in front of them all screamed ‘I’m right here! Please come in and kill me!’ to someone
like her. Even after spending a total of 500 years in the physical realm, these humans’ obsession with
pointless pageantry and needless showing off still remained a mystery to her. Didn’t they realize such
things only made it easier for assassins like Drea to locate their target?
Admittedly, unlike mortal professional killers, the Stalker had the luxury of returning to the Beyond no
matter how many times she had been captured and/or killed. And such failures had indeed happened
dozens of times, although the fault for the vast majority of those lay with her previous masters’ lack of
foresight rather than herself. For example, only an idiot would think a Stalker created by a Level 7 brat
would be able to infiltrate a nobleman’s estate and assassinate his entire family. Even if she had a natural
disposition for such things, there wasn’t much she could do with a pathetically weak body like that.
Well, even if assassination wasn’t the main goal of this particular mission, gathering intelligence from
the enemy’s base camp involved much of the same motions. Unfortunately, the objective wasn’t as
simple as ending someone’s life. Indeed, no matter how much she rummaged through the dark tent, she
failed to find anything of value. No documents, no maps, no memos - nothing that could be of use in a
war. There were some personal items and a few letters, but none of them were related to the war effort.
In fact, the only thing worth of note was the suit of armor hung up on a nearby stand. The metal was an
off-white that made her think of mithril, although that wasn’t quite it. What really peaked her interest,
however, was the strange reddish sheen on it.
“Master, I think I’ve found a VIP’s quarters,” she reported. “There is no intel, but there is an enchanted,
custom made suit of almost-mithril armor.”
“Almost-mithril?”
“It’s white, but nowhere near as shiny as Fizzy. I’m no expert, but if memory serves human smiths are
partial to creating alloys rather than working with pure metal.”
“I see, so they diluted the shiny. That’s a shame. What about the enchantments? Can you tell me what
they are.”
“I’ll check right now.”
Typically speaking, there were two ways to verify the properties of magic items. Either through a
Scribe’s appraisal, or by putting them on and taking note of what effects they had on the Status. Well,
Drea was not a Scribe, nor could she equip the gear due to the huge claws poking out of her hands, feet
and back, but she had her own way of doing things. Stalker demons like her could quite literally taste
magic and Drea’s palate was refined enough to let her differentiate between enchantments by flavor
alone.
Which was she was currently slobbering all over that piece of armor as she unabashedly licked it top-to-
bottom.
“All the pieces have been bestowed increased toughness,” she reported. “The chestplate has fire
resistance and Endurance enchantments. Strength and Wisdom on the right gauntlet, Agility and
Intelligence on the left. There’s night vision and MP regeneration on the helmet. The leg plates improve
HP regeneration and provide all-purpose magic resistance. The greaves just reduce stamina
consumption. All of them seem to be highly potent.”
“So it may not be shiny, but it’s definitely tasty, huh? Hmm… Any distinguishing features on it?”
“Quite a few. The helmet, greaves, shoulder pads and gauntlets are adorned with religious decorations
and engravings related to the worship of Teresa.”
Both Kora and Xera felt the urge to make a rude comment or two when they heard the Goddess’s name,
but they couldn’t since it would violate their orders regarding idle chatter. After all, baseless speculation
regarding Teresa’s frigidness were not exactly mission-critical..
“I see,” mused Boxxy. “Definitely not standard-issue Imperial gear, and only a VIP would be able to
afford something ridiculous like that.”
“My thoughts exactly, Master.”
“It’s a crying shame it isn’t shiny, but I suppose it wouldn’t be prudent of me to just leave it behind.
Prepare for transfer.”
Drea relocated herself to a slightly quieter corner of the tent and waited for a few minutes. After
receiving a brief update from Boxxy, she was once again flung through the reality warping rift of the
Transfamiliar Spell, leaving her inside a large and mostly empty wine barrel. She didn’t question how or
why her Master managed to sneak in here without breaking it apart, but she wasn’t about to complain
about a secure hiding spot like this. After about another minute, she was transported back to her
previous spot, which looked pretty much the same, sans the now missing set of armor.
“Looks like I got my tentacles on something valuable after all,” commented Boxxy. “Keep up the good
work, Claws!”
After happily receiving that tiny bit of praise, Drea slit open the tent’s canvas on the opposite from
where she entered in the first place. Now that she was within the secure inner perimeter, she could move
to the neighboring one without any problems, making sure to close up the gaping holes with her
webbing whenever possible. A patch job like that wasn’t going to fool visual inspection for long, but
would be enough to avoid drawing undue attention from fleeting glances.
The second tent seemed more like someone’s private office rather than sleeping quarters, although the
owner was currently out. There was a table with a chair in front of it in lieu of bedding, a total of 7
books strewn about the place and a lit lantern hanging from the canvas overhead.
On top of that simple table was a rolled up parchment, which upon further inspection was revealed to be
a map of the Rainy Woodlands around New Whitehall. It looked subtly different from the one Boxxy
showed its minions during the briefing and had a few areas circled in ink, but was otherwise
unremarkable. There was also a stack of what appeared to be reports regarding the Republic’s activity in
the region, although the dates stamped on them revealed that they were at least 5 days old.
The Stalker contacted Boxxy and reported her findings.
“It’s not much, but it’s something,” answered the Mimic. “Gather the intel and bring it with you, I’ll pick
it up later.”
Drea quickly gathered up all the documents and books she could lay her claws on and bound them
together with some of her sticky webbing. The resulting pure-white pouch was then securely strapped to
her abdomen. One might think covering paper with that stuff would be ill advised as separating the
pieces of paper from one another could damage them, but that wasn’t necessarily the case. Since the
white spider silk Drea released from her hands was manufactured with magic, it would evaporate into
nothingness in about an hour or so anyway. This was a far cry from the lavender-colored Demon Silk
produced by the spinneret between her butt-cheeks, which used the Stalker’s food intake as raw
materials to make permanent spider thread.
After double checking she had taken everything of note from the area, Drea moved onto the third and
final tent of this little enclave. This one, however, was completely different from what she was
expecting. For one thing, it was much better furnished and more lavishly decorated than the other two.
Animal skin rugs covered much of the ground and various ornaments and small sculptures were placed
atop high-quality wooden furniture. The desk, the cupboard, the wardrobe full of fancy clothes and the
honest-to-goodness queen-sized bed made the place look like a high-class residence rather than a hastily
erected tent in the wilderness. Not only that, but the temperature was probably regulated by magic, as
the air in here was noticeably warmer.
The ornaments laid out were also quite intriguing. The nearby desk, for example, had a gilded pen and a
golden ring with a large, square-cut gem resting on it. A jewel-encrusted sword was propped up against
the wardrobe, although Drea got the distinct impression it had never tasted blood and was probably
ceremonial in nature. On the nightstand next to the bed stood a mithril statuette of a half-naked woman
dressed in some type of flowing robe. The Stalker was slightly taken aback by that one, as she was
honestly surprised the figure could stand upright considering how… disproportionately top-heavy it was.
And the likely owner of all this stuff that had no place on a battlefield was the person snoring quietly on
the bed - probably the only human who was currently sleeping in the entire Imperial camp. As if sensing
Drea’s puzzled gaze on his back, the man began shifting under the covers. The Stalker instantly ducked
behind the wardrobe and kept a close eye on him.
Several minutes of staring later, she had been convinced that he hadn’t awoken, but merely turned over
in his sleep. Drea left her hiding spot and silently skittered over to get a close look at his face, as she felt
somehow drawn to it. She loomed over him and nearly squealed in response to just how ridiculously
handsome he actually was. It wasn’t just about the perfectly sculpted facial features. It also wasn’t the
silky black hair and well-groomed goatee. Neither was it about the roguish smile that naturally formed
even when he was asleep.
It was all of that and more, as he practically exuded charm, ruggedness and elegance all at once just by
lying there… breathing. His presence alone was so enthralling, that he could probably sweep any
woman, and perhaps even a man or two, off their feet just by saying ‘Hello.’ Drea, who was also
technically a female, had also been captivated by this man. Without even realizing it, she had already
climbed onto his bed and was looking down at him while on her knees and hands. She lowered her body
and her head, allowing their face to draw closer together in one long, smooth motion. A few agonizing
moments later, they were so close that she could feel his hot breath on her skin. She kept shortening the
nearly non-existent distance between them even further as she unknowingly, unwittingly and unerringly
placed her lips on his.
Her mandibles then dug into the sides of his face and dug deep into his immaculate flesh. The human
woke up and tried to scream, but his lungs had already been pierced by a quartet of scythe-like blades.
What pathetic voice he managed to get out was stifled as it went down the demon’s throat, along with
his entire lower jaw. He struggled in vain for a while longer, until Drea put him out of his misery by
stabbing him through the heart.
The Stalker lifted her head and sat back atop the corpse as she savored the taste of this irresistible meal
she had found for herself. After licking her bloodstained lips and letting out a few tiny moans of
satisfaction, she unhinged her lower jaw and took a huge bite out of his right shoulder, which she
chewed slowly with full cheeks and a smile on her face.
“Claws!” shouted Boxxy, directly into her head. “What did you just do?!”
“Oh hey, Master!” she replied in a jovial tone. “Just ate some guy. No big.”
“Guy?! What guy?!”

“Dunno. He was sleeping here and he looked so incredibly cute that I could help but eat ~♪. Him ~♪. Up
~♪!”
“Wait, you just killed someone who was sleeping?”
“Yup!”
“Inside one of the big tents in the camp?”
“Yup!”
“And he was good looking, with short black hair and beard?”
“Yup!”
“I see… So that’s why I got 5 Levels out of nowhere…”
“... Huh?”
“Nevermind that, what’s the condition of his body?”
“Reporting that it is extremely delicious!”
“That’s not what I meant, idiot!” it roared angrily. “I need to know if he’s still in one piece or not!”
“Ack!”
The demon snapped out of her gluttonous trance and audibly swallowed her mouthful, even though it
wouldn’t impede her telepathic conversation.
“Uhm, w-well, the, uh, half the face is gone. So is his right arm. And shoulder. And liver. Also a third -
no, make that half of his left leg. Oh wow, I didn’t even realize I had taken so many bites out of him
already!”
“... Is the heart still there?”
“S-sort of?”
“What do you mean sort of?!”
“W-well, h-half of it is still in his chest.”
“And the other half?”
“I… may have eaten it.”
In the next moment, Drea could’ve sworn she heard unmistakable sound of an open palm colliding with
a face at high velocity resound within her skull.
“Well, it’s not a big a deal anyway,” said the Mimic with a disappointed tone. “His corpse wasn’t going
to be of much use anyway. Yeah, on second thought, absorbing it could backfire anyway.”
Oddly enough, those words seemed to be directed at itself rather than Drea.
“... Claws?”
“Yes, Master?”
“You’re still eating the body, aren’t you?”
“Y-yeah…”
Technically speaking, although ‘stop eating the guy’ was heavily implied in Boxxy’s words, it was not
directly stated. And since it wasn’t, the gluttonous Stalker saw no reason to stop sampling the delicacy
in front of her eyes.
“... Did you eat the other half of the heart, yet?” asked Boxxy expectantly.
“Of course not, Master. I was saving it for you since it’s your favorite part!”
She also made sure to slobber all over it in order to try out this ‘indirect kiss’ thing she heard about from
Zolmegnara, her demonic sister. Apparently it was kind of a big deal in the Pearly Dunes where her
sibling’s contractor lived, and Dreaheath had to admit the concept definitely sounded exciting.
“Oh, nice! Then you can just eat the rest. Except the head… what’s left of it, at least.”
“Aww… But I wanted to carve the skull into a bowl and slurp out the brain!”
“Too bad. My orders still stand - do not touch, nibble, bite or even lick the head.”
“... I can still eat the neck and spine, though, right?”
“Hmm? Yeah, sure, just make it snappy. The mission’s more or less over so we’ll be leaving after a few
minutes.”
“Yes, Master!”
“So boss, about that distraction,” butted in Kora, “is it still a thing that could happen?”
Inquiring about her role in this operation had allowed the fiend to bypass the ‘idle chatter’ ban that
Boxxy placed on her earlier.
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
“Not even as a ‘farewell gift’ to the Empire? I’m sure that Bonerwood fellow wouldn’t mind if we
thinned out their numbers a bit!”
“Uh, no. There’s no reason to declare our retreat like that, you idiot.”
Even if the shapeshifter’s meddling would be impossible to hide at that stage, it was better that the
humans found out about it later rather than sooner. Besides, tough as she was, Arms could not kill more
than 3 or 4 of those guys if she was all by herself.
“Oh. No, I suppose not,” said the fiend dejectedly. “I mean, both Bug-face and the Slutmeister got to
enjoy themselves during this field trip, so I just thought… y’know… you’d let me smash some skulls
just for the heck of it…”
“Reporting that Koralenteprix is being particularly pathetic right now,” butted in Claws.
“You’ll get plenty of that in a few days, so quit your moaning,” declared Boxxy.
“... Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.”
Meanwhile, the succubus that was on her way back to New Whitehall was currently working on solving
an age old philosophical conundrum. Namely - ‘If a succubus mocks someone behind their back but
nobody is around to hear her, does it make her a bitch?’
Unsurprisingly, the answer she eventually arrived at was a resounding ‘Yes.’
(146) Plausible Deniability 9
Silus Underwood stared out of a window while savoring a cup of hot tea. His office, stationed on the 4th
and final floor of the New Whitehall City Hall building, normally had a superb view over the city’s low
rooftops which contrasted beautifully with the untamed Rainy Woodlands on the horizon. Right now,
however, said view had been obstructed by the morning fog, which made it hard to see anything more
than 20 or so meters away. Even so, the middle-aged elf could just barely make out the silhouette of the
half-dismantled Forest Gate in the center of the adjacent plaza. He took a sip of the teacup in his hands
as he yet again considered just how expensive it would be to replace it after the war.
“Heheheh,” he chuckled dryly.
The fact he was allowed to even consider such a thing was an indication that somewhere along the way
he started believing in the Republic’s ability to face the Empire on equal footing. Of course, this wasn’t
something fleeting like optimism or hope, but the result of the gambit he and his superiors took on those
five ‘little’ dryads. Being able to refocus much of the manpower and resources dedicated to Fort Yimin’s
defense to this region had given them a fighting chance. And, much like the 2nd Legion’s chief analyst
liked to say, chances existed to be taken.
But it wasn’t just the Republic and the Empire that felt the outcome of that siege. The elves’ resounding
victory had consequences that reached beyond their borders, particularly relating to the neighboring
Horkensaft Kingdom. Their royal court had been more or less gripped by indecision regarding the
subject of the ongoing conflict. Some claimed it was in the nation’s best interest to cement their
amicable relations with the Lodrak Empire and distance themselves from the Republic. Others
maintained that a strictly neutral stance was the best course of action, while a third faction demanded
they offer their aid to the elves.
Regardless of their stance, however, each noble house was motivated by the same thing - fear. Fear of
the Imperial war machine that had conquered five sovereign human nations in the southern reaches of
the continent over the last 300 years. Fear that, should the elves fall, the dwarves and gnomes would be
next on their platter. Fear that should they turn their backs on their neighbors, they might suffer some
sort of retribution in the form of a Calamity of their own. Fear that choosing a side and losing out on
lucrative trade deals would cause their own coffers to suffer greatly.
Ultimately, the voice that won out was the pro-Republic faction led by a dwarf bearing the noble name
of Sugrus Steelhead. The fact that the elves had shown the ability to fight back against the Imperial
threat at Fort Yimin had given his cause great weight and helped him convince the king that the time to
take action was now.
However, openly taking a side in a conflict seemingly unrelated to them was not something the nobility
of Horkensaft could afford to do at present. Fear and speculation aside, this was still not their war. As
such, the most they could do was answer the Republic’s pleas for aid by allowing them to ‘hire’ a 1,200
strong contingent of their own forces as ‘independent mercenaries.’ Although it seemed relatively minor,
it was a token of support that the elves were very grateful for. After all, a dwarven phalanx was a
formation so notoriously tough to break through that it was often rightfully compared to a steel curtain.
And if they could hold New Whitehall long enough, then they just might be able to stop the Imperial
advance in its tracks.
*Knock knock knock*
Underwood tore himself away from the window when he heard the rapping on his office’s door. He sat
behind the desk, placed the now empty teacup back in its saucer and prepared himself for his first visitor
of the day.
“Enter,” he called out.
The door opened to reveal an elven woman that bore a dark green military uniform. It was almost
identical to the one Silus was wearing, except for the shoulder patches that were stamped with a ‘II’
rather than a ‘III.’ She looked to be about 23 to 25 years old, had lime green hair and mismatched blue
and green eyes. Her figure, if described in two words, would be ‘unfortunately flat.’ She also suffered
from a condition known as ‘resting bitch face,’ which meant that relaxing her facial muscles made her
look like she was pissed off at something.
“Good morning, Primus Underwood,” she said with a salute.
“Good morning, Primus Underwood,” he repeated.
Cecilia Underwood was an elf born to a completely different branch of the distinguished family that
Silus also belonged to. Even if they bore the same last name, however, these two were total strangers
until the latter was transferred to New Whitehall along with the 3rd Legion. They did not get off on the
best foot, either, as seeing someone much younger share the same military rank as himself had injured
Silus’s pride.
Such pitiful differences were quickly put aside, however, as there was still a war to win. Besides, even if
they were equals in military rank, their duties were much too different to draw any kind of comparison
between their abilities. Where Silus was someone in charge of helping coordinate troop movements and
gathering intelligence, Cecilia was the one currently in charge of analyzing said intelligence and
providing strategic counsel to the Legate of the 2nd Legion.
“To what do I owe this visit?” asked Silus.
“I believe your ‘package’ is here.”
Cecilia motioned towards someone standing in the hallway, and a Legionnaire carrying a large wooden
box entered the room. Following the female officer’s instructions, he carefully placed it on the desk,
saluted and exited the room, closing the door on his way out. The clearly unamused woman remained at
the foot of the desk with her arms crossed.
“Is there a problem, Cecilia?”
“That’s putting it mildly, Silus. When I first heard about the ‘contact’ you made at Fort Yimin, I thought
it was some kind of twisted practical joke. And seeing this ‘delivery’ for myself makes it difficult for me
to think of it as anything but.”
Silus stood from his desk with a sigh and walked around to get a better look at the delivery in question.
“Can’t blame you for your skepticism. I had much the same reaction when he first made contact with
me. Well, at least your first interaction with him was through a box instead of a severed head.”
The woman raised her thin eyebrows and cocked her head meaningfully towards the wooden container
in question.
“... He put someone’s head in there, didn’t he?”
Cecilia nodded and Silus sighed in response.
“Alright, let’s get this over with.”
The elf grabbed the box’s lid and lifted it in one smooth motion. Just as his colleague had implied, there
was indeed a human head in there. Unfortunately, what she neglected to mention was that it had only
half of its face left since the lower jaw seemed to have been torn off, making it a much more grisly
scene. At the very least the Sandman seemed to have had the decency to drain the remaining blood out
of it, although the dead people smell was just as unwelcome. Even so, Silus was not exactly the
squeamish type. As a Rogue in service to the Republic’s Foreign Intelligence Bureau, or FIB for short,
his past duties often involved getting his hands dirty. In fact, one could argue doing so was still very
much in his job description, albeit in a slightly more figurative sense.
However, while this was hardly the first severed head he had seen, something seemed familiar about it.
Even with the lower jaw missing, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d seen this man before, but couldn’t
quite put his finger on it. At least, not until he saw the note glued to the underside of the wooden lid in
his hands.
INVOICE
Sandman Assassinations Inc.

Nowhere yet everywhere within the vicinity of the Rainy Woodlands
Invoice #000006
Att: Primus Silus Underwood, 3rd Republic Legion, New Whitehall City Hall
For services rendered:
• Imperial soldiers (13) - 100 GP

• Sensitive documents (12) - 400 GP
• Charlton family signet ring (1) - 1,200 GP
• VIP night service (1) - 2,500 GP
• Next-day delivery (1) - 300 GP
• Subtotal: 10,500 GP
• Boxing tax: 5%
• Total: 11,025 GP
Payment terms: to be received within 5 days.
We appreciate your custom! I look forward to doing business with you again in due course.
“No…” he muttered as he glanced between the invoice and the black-haired head on his desk. “No. No
no no no! NO! They dragged him into this, didn’t they?!”
“What’s wrong, Silus?” asked Cecilia, prompting the older Underwood to point at the head inside the
box.
“This… This is… I- I thought I was imagining it at first, but…”
“Spit it out already!”
“That’s Charlton in there! The Jonas Charlton!”
“... Who?”
“Oh, you know, nobody important,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “Only the GREATEST BARD OF OUR
GENERATION!”
“Okay? Aaaand I should care about a dead Bard because… ?”

“No, of course you wouldn’t give a damn!” wailed Silus. “You haven’t seen him- haven’t heard him!
The man has an angelic voice that floats such melodious and heavenly tunes, that it makes the Gods
weep. The sun rises from the east just to hear his melodies. We’re talking about a man that could make
thousands of people dance in joy just by banging a pair of rocks together.”
Cecilia took a few discrete steps away from Silus as he raved about the former performer.
“And yet here he is. On my desk. Dead as a doornail.”
He drooped his shoulders and leaned heavily on his desk.
“Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate this war?” he mumbled to someone who wasn’t there.
After sufficiently calming down and finding someone to take care of the late Bard’s remains, the two
Underwoods began sorting through the other contents of the box. Although Charlton’s head was
definitely the most… prominent object, it was hardly the only item in there. There were also a couple of
brown paper packages bound together by string, supposedly the ‘sensitive documents’ mentioned in the
grim invoice. At the bottom of the box was the promised signet ring with which the Bard stamped all his
fan mail.
Boxxy had obviously been rather reluctant to part with that particular piece of jewelry. Not only was it
sufficiently shiny, but also appealed to its rapidly developing collector’s spirit. Unfortunately for the
Mimic, it had severely underestimated the Bard’s popularity, as 1 in 3 people would have probably been
able to identify him even without the ring. The shapeshifter could hardly be blamed for this
miscalculation since it had no idea who this Jonas Charlton fellow was supposed to be or what he looked
like. At least, not until it coaxed the relevant information out of the drunken Imperial soldiers.
Back in Underwood’s office, Cecilia had taken a seat next to Silus and the two of them were currently
sorting through the documents that murder-in-a-box had appropriated. They skimmed over the folded-up
map, outdated Imperial scouting reports and personal correspondences, but learned next to nothing
regarding the humans’ plans for the upcoming battle. They would still provide insight into how much
they knew of the elves’ operations after a more thorough analysis by Cecilia and her assistants, but that
would be the extent of their usefulness. As such, the only truly important piece of intelligence was what
the Sandman had written in his personal report regarding the mission Silus had entrusted the hood-for-
hire last night.
The operation had three key objectives. The first was to infiltrate the enemy stronghold by any means
necessary in order to gather intelligence. The mysterious vigilante-cum-mercenary had obviously
accomplished this judging from the other documents, but the actual means through which he had done
so were omitted from the report. Not that such details mattered to Silus. The Sandman had claimed he
could do it and had delivered on his word, which was all the elf needed to know.
The second objective was to discover the means through which the Empire had mobilized so quickly
and, if possible, eliminate the cause. Apparently, this is where Jonas Charlton’s assassination had
factored in. According to information gathered from interrogating Imperial foot soldiers, the Bard in
question was actually an Ultimate Skill user, which came as a surprise to Silus. The elf didn’t doubt the
talented individual would reach the peak of his craft eventually, but had no idea he had done so already.
All things considered, perhaps even calling him a musical genius would be an insult to his abilities.
As for the Skill itself, it was something called the Song That Never Ends. It was a powerful tune that
gave anyone and everyone within earshot nearly limitless stamina, while also both preventing and curing
hangovers. That secondary effect implied it was an Ultimate intended to be used for celebratory
purposes, but its military applications were plainly obvious. The Skill also supposedly had two
downsides. One - that unlike a certain dwarf’s Tempest of Rage, it provided its beneficial effects to all
targets within the effective range, regardless of allegiance. And Two - the user was exempt from the
effects, and performing it was extremely exhausting. This meant that even a Level 100 Bard could not
perform it for more than 12 to 14 hours a day.
However, that still proved sufficient as it simply meant that the Bard took shifts between playing and
sleeping on the move while the troops marched forward without end. Fortunately for the Republic, it
would appear that Charlton was a relatively recent addition to the Empire’s forces, otherwise they would
have already reached and raided the city before the siege of Fort Yimin had even begun.
Thus, having successfully identified the means through which the Empire’s advance had suddenly sped
up, the Sandman had carried out his mission and ‘eliminated’ the threat. As much as the musical
aficionado in Silus wanted to condemn him for doing what he did, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.
Not only was this for the good of the Republic, but it was his own orders that caused it in the first place.
Logically speaking, the Sandman had done nothing wrong, and if anyone was to blame for the Bard’s
untimely demise, it would be the ones who put him in that camp to begin with.
The third and final objective of the shadowy mercenary’s mission was tied into gathering any and all
information regarding the status and movements of the enemy army, particularly regarding the three
VIPs purportedly attached to it. Well, the previous segment already revealed it was actually four VIPs,
but the Sandman had already corrected that mistake, as it were.
The first among them was already known to Silus as one Bernard Samson. Although far from Level 100,
he was still a significant threat. As Teresa’s chosen Hero of the Hammer, he wielded fearsome divine
power that made him a formidable threat. His signature Skill - Judgement From Above - had the power
to turn his conviction into a weapon, smiting down everyone and anyone who he saw as evil. And
considering how the Empire publicly blamed the Republic for the Cataclysm that destroyed the place
their Hero was born and raised in, the young man completely believed the elves to be the villains. After
all, things like ‘justice’ and ‘evil’ were not concepts, but perspectives. And if the FIB knew anything of
Spymaster Edward Allen, it was that he was not beyond further twisting the Hero’s broken heart just to
turn him into a weapon against the Republic.
And indeed, just as Cecilia had speculated, the young man had received a lot of favor from the Empire.
The Sandman himself seemed to have deduced this much based on Bernard’s much-too-expensive suit
of heavily enchanted armor. At the very least he had deprived the Hero of his little ‘gift’ by disposing of
it. As for the Hero himself, while he was present at the camp last night, the Sandman didn’t even try to
assassinate him since it would put both his life and the operation at unnecessary risk.
After all, the blond, spiky-haired human was wide awake and surrounded by soldiers, unlike a certain
Bard that had been accidentally turned into Stalker food.
The second VIP that the Republic had been expecting was the angelic Monk that had identified herself
as Zone during the siege of Fort Yimin. While not present at the camp last night, the Sandman had at
least managed to confirm she had been re-assigned to this front. He also managed to obtain some news
regarding the third and final VIP that the FIB had caught wind of. It wasn’t much, but it was still a lot
more than what the Republic’s intelligence agency had caught wind of beyond him simply being ‘there.’
According to the report, the VIP in question was a man bearing a uniform that marked him as a member
of the Gilded Hand, just like Zone. His equipment suggested he was a magic user, although the details
regarding his Job or Level were unclear. It was, however, safe to assume he would be a formidable threat
considering he was a member of that ruthless Spymaster’s squad of hand-picked elites.
“What do we know of the Imperial Spymaster’s movements?” asked Silus after he and Cecilia finished
poring over the report.
“Nothing, as per usual. We have no way of knowing that monster’s whereabouts unless he wished us to
know. But, judging from the movements of his colleagues, he seems to have taken an unhealthy interest
in dungeons, regardless of which side of the border they’re on.”
“Dungeons, you say? What could places like that offer to a man like him?”
Cecilia briefly pondered whether she would share her suspicions, but decided it couldn’t hurt.
“... Probably has something to do with Tol-Saroth,” she declared. “Sealed records regarding the sage’s
research had references to a stolen dungeon core he used in his experiments.”
“Huh. Are dungeon cores a thing that can be stolen in the first place?”
“Judging from how at least two of the dungeons on our soil no longer have them, I’d say that’s a yes.”
“What? But what would the Empire want with them anyway?! They only spew monsters, not to mention
that I don’t see how Tol-Saroth is involved in-”
Silus’s words ended abruptly as the gears in his head started churning away at high speed.
“Tol-Saroth… Dungeon cores… Monotal was near a dungeon… The Calamity? Surely the Empire
aren’t trying to weaponize something like that, right?!”
“Of course they are,” shot back Cecilia. “So what if thousands of their countrymen died to it? You think
that’s going to stop those hypocrites from using it against us? Or the rest of the continent, for that
matter?”
“I see… Then, could it be that the whole Monotal incident was their doing?”
“That’s my current hypothesis. That entire region is- was secluded and low profile - not the worst place
to conduct experiments on dungeons. However, I doubt they’d willingly bomb their own people - they’re
not that stupid. An accident or misfire would be the most likely explanation.”
“And of course the Empire would never own up to their own fuck-ups,” added Silus, “so they used the
Hero’s testimony as leverage to paint the Republic as the one responsible for it. After all, nobody would
doubt the words of the one chosen by the bloody Goddess of truth and justice.”
“And bingo-bango, they suddenly have a ‘just cause’ to attack us,” finished Cecilia.
“I must say, this is quite the theory. It makes sense, but is a bit too far fetched.”
“I will admit, it’s out there. Of course, it doesn’t help that we’ve found no hard evidence to either
confirm or deny it. In my personal opinion, however, there is a non-zero chance that this scenario is
frighteningly close to the truth.”
“... A ‘non-zero’ chance, huh?”
“What? Did I say something strange?”
“Kind of. It’s just that, prior to the war’s outbreak, a friend once told me he heard there was a ‘non-zero
chance’ of the Sandman aiding our cause.”
The elven woman closed her mismatched eyes for a few seconds as she sorted through her memory.
“Ah, you would be referring to Milo Faehorn, yes?”
“Indeed. Did you know him?”
“Yes. I did. Professionally and personally. You know, I was the one who told him about that in the first
place, although I wasn’t being entirely serious at the time.”
“That still means you were at least partially serious, no?”
“... I admit, I may have been slightly obsessed with the Sandman at the time. At least with the idea
behind him. A vigilante with a mysterious past working outside the law in order to enforce it. It’s quite
the romantic notion, isn’t it?”
“Heh. I guess you weren’t thrilled to find out he’s just another common killer.”
“No, I really wasn’t it. Although I would hardly call him ‘common.’ Tell me, Silus, what do you think of
him?”
“What, me?”
“Don’t play dumb, Silus. You’re the one that’s had the most opportunity to interact with him. Not to
mention you’re a ‘people person’ to begin with. I’m sure you’ve already profiled him.”
“... I have noticed certain behavioral patterns, yes.”
“And those would be?”
Silus didn’t particularly want to share his professional opinion of the shady mercenary, but he did
technically owe Cecilia since she told him about the Spymaster’s supposed movements and shared her
theories.
“For one thing,” he began, “his primary goal is to make money without antagonizing the government or
the populace. That’s why he offers his services in exchange for coin rather than resorting to thievery or
banditry, and also why he strives for a certain degree of quality in his work.”
“Repeat business is good business, huh?”
“Precisely. Which leads me to the second point - he is a shrewd and intelligent individual. Extremely
resourceful and with a superhuman amount of foresight. It’s like he sees a completely different world
from the one you and I live in.”
“Ugh,” groaned Cecilia. “He’s not one of those people, is he?”
“No, definitely not. He may not be from around here, but I seriously doubt he’s from another world,
mostly because he’s too ruthless. His personal might may be considerable, but judging from what little
I’ve seen, he wields it with both conviction and purpose. He’s not someone who would ever pull his
punches in a fight. A far cry from those weak-willed realm-hoppers.”
“Is he really that strong? I’ve read the reports but I doubt they paint the whole picture.”
“He’s personally taken down over a thousand soldiers and one VIP so far. Actually, make that two VIPs.
That alone should tell you enough.”
“Damn, he’s even giving our own Ultimate users a run for their money.”
“Tell me about it. You have no idea how glad I am he’s on our side,” lamented Silus.
“... Are you certain he’ll remain on our side? Surely the Empire could buy him off if the chance
presented itself.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. He’s a professional, a real stickler when it comes to deals or contracts. That’s
probably how he’s able to keep 3 demonic familiars in line in the first place. Or perhaps because of it?
Either way, I don’t see him breaking off an arrangement he’s already agreed to. Especially the rather
lucrative deals we’ve been giving him.”
“Interesting. Aren’t those the traits commonly associated with the Hero of Death?”
“That was my initial thought as well. His behavior fits in almost perfectly with that long line of master
assassins, but the current heir to the title is staying as far away from this conflict as possible. There’s no
way our Sandman is the current ‘Reaper,’ but he might become one in the future.”
“I like how you just assumed a God can only appoint a single Hero at the time.”
“Come off it, Cecilia. Even you have to admit that a God having multiple Heroes is impossible.”
The lime-haired woman cracked a mischievous smile at that word.
“Not impossible. Improbable. While I do not presume to know or understand the wills of the Nine, the
only thing we know for sure is that only the worthy are chosen as Heroes. Just because they appear
decades or centuries apart doesn’t mean there can’t be more than one ‘worthy’ recipient at a time!”
“Look, your conspiracy theories aside, this is the God of Death we’re talking about. It’s not exactly a
secret that the Hero of Death is chosen by their predecessor, not Mortimer himself. Even if your
outrageous theory is true there’s no way that- Why are we even discussing this?!”
“... My apologies, Silus, I got carried away again. I guess I’m not as disinterested in this Sandman as I
thought.”
“It’s quite alright. I’m also guilty of chasing after patterns that don’t exist, but time isn’t exactly on our
side right now. Even if the Empire’s advance has slowed and the Sandman’s disturbances would have
caused confusion, they’re still within walking distance of our position. We need to keep planning and
preparing for anything that can happen out there.”
“I think we’ve done all that we can, though. The only matter left unsettled is to assist the gnomish
Artificer corps with the placement of their landmines. After that all we can do is sit and watch how the
battle unfolds.”
“See, you say that, and I know you’re right. But at the same time I have this nagging feeling that
something horrible is going to happen out there.”
“Odd. I had you pegged as someone who doesn’t believe in things like hunches and gut feelings.”
“Normally you would be right, but I can’t help myself considering the… religious beliefs of certain
people. You know, I initially disregarded the rumors about followers of the Goddess of Probability being
heralds of incomprehensible bullshit as baseless hearsay and superstition. But looking back on what
transpired at Fort Yimin makes it hard for me to deny that there is some truth to that notion.”
It was somewhat of an unwritten law that, whether by fate, divine guidance, pure coincidence or all of
the above, no major event unfolded without there being a Champion, Disciple or Apostle of Chaos
nearby. Be it violent coups, the discovery of a new Job, unearthing signs of an ancient subterranean
civilization or a quintet of juvenile dryads defending an elven fort - so long as a world-changing event
was taking place, a follower of Kyle would unerringly be there to bear witness to it.
“I mean sure,” continued Silus, “we lucked out with the dryads back then, but that was with just the
Fizzlesprocket girl. You’ll have to forgive me if I can’t help but wonder whether the ground would
suddenly decide to split open and swallow us whole when there are two of that maniac’s flock present.”
The elf shook relaxed in his seat and threw the pleasantly smiling Cecilia a sideways look.
“No offense.”
“None taken. If I let a few stray comments get to me, then there’s no way I would be able to call myself
High Priestess of the Sisterhood of the Receding Waffle.”
“Uh, huh. And do tell, ‘High Priestess,’ just how large is your following?”
If this Sisterhood of the Receding Waffle was anything like Fizzy’s Order of the Gilded Chest, then it
probably consisted only of Cecilia herself.
“Just me and Mister Bosco.”
“And Mister Bosco would be?”
“My stuffed bear.”
“I see, a stuffed bear, huh... I never would’ve guessed. Wait, he’s not a sentient golem is he?”
“No, of course not! There’s no way, right? At least, I don’t think there is… Then again… that would
explain all those missing panties… Perhaps I should investigate this further…”
Silus stared silently up at the ceiling, seriously reconsidering his stance on what constituted as ‘too early
to start drinking.’
(147) Omission 10
*Haaaaa-HOOOOOOOOOOM Haaa-HOOOOM HA-HOOOOOOOM*
The sound of a deep, loud tone resounded through the Rainy Woodlands, followed swiftly by several
more identical notes.
The Echoes of War have filled you with courage. Glory to the Empire!
Increases resistance to mental status effects by 20% for 60 minutes.
Private Cohen Thomson tightened the grip on his spear and clenched the fist on his shield-bearing hand.
“Greater Blessing of the Sun!”
Following the unified chant of several Priests at his back, Thomson felt the familiar warmth of holy
magic filling his body. And judging from the radiant glow that enveloped his entire unit, he was hardly
the only one.
You are now under the effects of Greater Blessing of the Sun. Maximum HP +300. Healing
received increased by 20%.
The effect will last for 60 minutes or until it is overridden by another Blessing.
Thomson cast a gaze up at the noon sky in a moment of bewilderment. How the heck were he and his
colleagues receiving energy from the sun if it was hidden by so many thick clouds? Stranger still, how
come those Priests could borrow power from the Sun God Solus even though they were all supposed to
be Apostles of Justice in service to Teresa? He briefly remembered receiving some sermon regarding
how ‘the sun does not pick favorites’ or something like that, but quickly cleared his mind of such idle
thoughts.
“Company! Forward!”
The Sergeant, an old war dog named Smith, raised both his sword and his voice, and the entire 120-man
unit stepped forward as one, Thomson included. As one of the frontmost row of the formation, he passed
through the forest undergrowth while a column of his comrades followed close behind. With horns
blaring behind him and the Rainy Woodlands rapidly thinning out in front, he and his fellow soldiers
soon started emerging onto a grassy, uneven clearing. For the second time in a few days, Thomson found
himself unusually happy to see an area so utterly devoid of blasted trees.
“Form ranks! Form ranks!”
Following the commanding officer’s instructions, he and his comrades quickly rebuilt their rectangular
formation just outside the cover of the forest. Both to his left and right, the Private could see more and
more Imperial companies emerging from the woods with a steady gait, and he was certain the units
behind his would follow soon. And some 300 or so meters in front of him stood a wall that, by all
means, really shouldn’t have been there. Granted, he was neither an officer nor a strategist, and had
trouble reading maps to boot, but he distinctly remembered talk of how that city didn’t have any
defensive fortifications. That was why the familiar sight of siege equipment was absent during their long
march in the first place.
Leave it to those crafty twigs, to build all that in less than a month, he thought in half-admiration.
Almost makes me regret having to help tear it down.
He then reached up to his forehead and lowered the visor on his helmet.
Almost.
The Sergeant then began doing a little speech in a loud, clear voice, but Thomson didn’t really hear any
of the words. He was sure that guy was being all inspirational and shit, but such gestures did little to
raise his fighting spirit. After all, how could a mere man compare to the divine voice of Jonas Charlton.
He was sure he could charge that little fence and tear it down with his bare hands, if only he had the
chance to hear that indescribable song once more.
Unfortunately, he was one of the few people around who knew such a thing would never happen. After
all, he was among the first to discover the gruesome scene where Charlton was murdered. Some might
argue that since there was no body, that didn’t necessarily mean the man was dead, but the copious
amounts of blood on the ripped up bed said otherwise. The fact that many of his personal effects had
been shamelessly stolen on top of that was simply adding insult to injury.
His superiors immediately issued a gag order on the whole thing, under penalty of dishonorable
discharge. Thomson thought the dishonorable ones were them, but he listened to orders and kept his
mouth shut. There was also the matter of exactly who had killed the genius performer and how. Well, it
was undoubtedly one of those filthy twigs that would murder an artist in cold blood like that, but the
idea that an enemy spy or assassin had infiltrated their ranks was not a pleasant one. Neither was it
something that Thomson would entertain further. He trusted in his squadmates and he trusted in his
commanders, and that’s all there was to it.
That sort of unpleasant business was beyond his pay grade as a simple footman anyway. All that
mattered to him was that a talented Imperial citizen had been gruesomely murdered and that he would
make those blasted twigs pay for doing so. That was all the motivation he needed, and he was itching for
a fight even more because of it.
“-and so it falls to us!” shouted the Sergeant as he was wrapping up his little speech. “We shall show
those cowards what it means to face the might of the Empire!”
“Ooorah!”
“For the glory of the Emperor! All hail!”
“Hail! Hail! Hail!”
Similar ovations coming in from the surrounding units caused the chilly atmosphere to rapidly heat up.
Up in the distance, Thomson could barely make out the enemy forming their own defensive lines atop
that wall, as well as on the gatehouses and turrets placed along it.
*HAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU*
A tense few moments later a war horn much louder than the ones from before washed over the Imperial
soldiers. Unlike those morale-fortifying magic items dubbed Echoes of War, this one was nothing more
than a simple instrument used merely as a signal.
“Advaaaance!” came the command.
“Oorah!” responded the soldiers.
And thus begun their march. For some, it would be their first. For many, it would be their last. But none
of them showed a single sign of hesitation as they strode forward, shoulder to shoulder with their
comrades-in-arms. Their greaves sank into the muddy ground, still wet from yesterday’s downpour as
the nearly pure-white wall gradually became taller. Slowly but surely, the 300 meters between the two
armies grew smaller as the Empire closed in from all sides.
At around the 260 meter mark, when the frontmost row of humans were well and truly separated from
the cover of the forest, the elves atop the wall finally showed signs of movement.
“Porcupine!”
The single word from the commanding officer caused his men to spring into action. Ranks were
tightened and shields were raised as the 80 Warriors and Paladins of Thomson’s vanguard unit assumed
the formation. In the blink of an eye the 10 loose rows became a steel box as their rectangular
greatshields hid them almost completely from view, providing physical cover for themselves as well as
the magical support troops. The numerous spears poking through the gaps in the shields completed the
shape that gave this composition its name.
Being at the very front, Thomson was able to peek through the gaps in the formations and spot
numerous flashes of red light coming from the top of the enemy ramparts. What followed was a sea of
arrows that rose up into the air, threatening to blot out what little sunlight managed to poke through the
clouds.
“Brace!”
The entire unit hunkered down behind their shields, with the magic users taking cover in the gaps
between the heavily armored soldiers. However, the latter did not deploy any defensive magic as the
order to do so had not been issued. As someone who had taken part in taking down a series of smaller
Republic fortifications along the border, the Sergeant knew full well that the incoming projectiles were a
threat. However, they were not dangerous enough to expend MP over. The true battle would begin once
his unit was 30 to 40 meters from the wall, as that was typically when the shorter-ranged but much more
devastating Spells would start being flung by both sides. Therefore, all the Imperials had to do at this
stage was to close the gap while receiving the elves’ ‘hospitality.’
Just as expected, the first volley of steel-tipped projectiles crashed against the porcupine formation
doing little-to-no-damage. Some of the arrows embedded themselves in the metal shields, a few others
broke through some of the gaps, but the majority of them were deflected without issue. Mere seconds
later came the second volley. The third and fourth ones followed soon after as the Republic Legions’
vaunted Scouting corps pelted the Imperial soldiers in a literal hail of arrows.
“Company! Forward!”
Moving as one, Thomson and his fellow soldiers roused from their semi-kneeling position and started
walking forward with a steady, practiced pace without breaking the formation. For the next 200 meters,
their entire world would consist of nothing but the backs of their comrades and the sounds of arrows
banging on the shields overhead. Even if they tried, however, their lateral movement inevitably created
gaps in their defenses, causing more and more arrows to find their way through. Some of those errant
shots found their mark and struck a lightly armored magic user, while others bounced off the vanguards’
steel plating. Healing Spells were thrown about as the unit endured the onslaught. Even if their attacks
appeared to be lackluster to a layman, the enemy Rangers were by no means to be taken lightly as they
turned the advancing porcupine into a pincushion.
Private Thomson, being at the very front of the formation, was extremely aware of that fact. Numerous
pointed dents were visible on the inner side of his shield, which steadily grew heavier. Whether that was
due to all the impacts his left arm had to bear or the combined weight of the arrowheads lodged into it
was impossible to tell at this point. He could not tell how far he’d walked either, as peeking out from
behind his shield was a risk not worth taking.
A lesson the man to his left had learned the hard way, as an arrow had struck him just as he did so. It
flew through an open space that was only a few centimeters wide, pierced his helmet and struck his
forehead. If it wasn’t for the armor lessening the impact, he was sure that shot would’ve bore clean
through his head instead of leaving him with a head wound. The injured man promptly received healing
from the Paladin behind him and kept pushing forward while groaning about the ‘lucky shot.’
But Thomson did not believe it was a lucky shot at all. His skirmishes with those twigs leading up to this
point were very indicative of their skill with the bow and arrow. Indeed, judging by the impacts
transmitted to his shield-bearing arm, the twigs were aiming almost exclusively at the edges of his shield
at around the soldier's’ eye level. The power behind each shot was no joke either, as it would have
definitely shredded the sheet of metal on the Private’s left forearm if it wasn’t magically fortified. The
man therefore kept his head firmly hidden from view, trusting in his Sergeant to lead him to the enemy.
Just then, there was a brief, unnatural pause in the near-constant barrage. The momentary lapse of
incoming projectiles had caused the unit to pick up the pace for several steps before they were stopped
dead in their tracks by the Sergeant.
“Braaaace!”
The unit moved as one, going down to one knee and keeping their heads low. The soldiers at the edges
firmly planted their shields in the soft mud, while those in the middle tightened the ‘ceiling’ as best they
could.
*DODODODODONNN*
A series of explosions rang out all around the Private as the Republic’s newly-developed Boom-tubes
augmented by their Rangers’ Multishot peppered the Imperial forces. Various shock waves rattled his
bones and metal fragments pinged fiercely off his shield and standard-issue plate armor. His comrades
weren’t as lucky, however, as groans and yells of pain rose around him. It was only inevitable that some
of the countless jagged shards would find their way through the cracks in the soldiers’ defences and
embed themselves in their flesh.
“Group heal! Group heal!” commanded the leader as the shock from the intense onslaught let up.
The Priests and Druids in the unit began applying large-scale healing magic as the familiar rain of
considerably less explosive arrows resumed. Thomson shared a few sideways glances with his
comrades, all of whom seemed to want to ask ‘What the hell was that?!’ but none of them dared to speak
up.
“Forward, men! Double time!”
The trained soldiers unrooted themselves from their position and moved towards the enemy at a much
faster pace than before. It was risky as the added bobbing and weaving loosened their formation even
further, but the Sergeant could not afford to have his men pinned so far away from the wall. He didn’t
know what those munitions were and was inwardly relieved he made that judgement call when he
spotted the enemy behaving oddly, as the power behind those weapons was no joke. His shield had
withstood a direct hit from one of those projectiles and was now thoroughly mangled. He had no idea if
the enemy had more of those, nor how many his squad could take before they were ripped to shreds, so
he made the decision to quicken their advance while keeping a trained eye on the enemy.
Surely enough, he noticed another break in the arrow onslaught followed by a volley of unnaturally
thick arrows.
“Brace!”
*DODODODODONNN*
“Hold! Hold! Hold! … Forward!”

After getting the timing down, the Sergeant led his men through a number of stop-and-go motions as
they were pelted with explosives. After a total of five volleys and killing several of his men, the enemy
finally seemed to run out. The elves tried pulling a few feints by pretending to take extra time to reload,
causing the incoming Imperial soldiers to hunker down and stop in their tracks, but it only worked once
or twice. With the Boom-tubes depleted and having nothing but mundane arrows to rely on, it was the
most they could do to keep the enemy on edge. Strictly speaking, they never had much of those things to
begin with. In fact, given the short time frame, limited technical expertise and scarce raw materials, they
only really had enough Boom-tubes for a single full volley. It was only through the frankly unfair
interaction with Multishot that they could afford to spread them out as much as they did.
However, the psychological and physiological effect they had was tremendous. Even if it was
objectively speaking short lived, the innovative assault certainly didn’t feel that way to one Private
Thomson. The man’s arm creaked like it would break, sweat poured from his forehead as if it were a
waterfall and his breaths had grown ragged and uneven. About a quarter of his shield was pretty much
gone, he had an arrow lodged in his shoulder and he had lost count to the number of wounds and healing
spells he had received. It was only 300 meters, right? So how come he felt like he had just run a
marathon through hell itself? Why was he even out here in the first place?! Was he looking for glory?
Was it just because it was his duty? Did such things matter in the slightest?
“Steady men! We’re almost upon them!”
The Sergeant’s loud yet strangely shaken voice snapped him out of his stupor. The same voice he cursed
and dreaded during basic training now seemed like his sole sliver of hope, and he clung to it like a
drowning man to a piece of flotsam. All off a sudden his awareness of the battlefield expanded. He saw
bizarre lights flickering in the distance out of the corner of his eye, and heard the sounds of yelling and
clanging as units elsewhere engaged in mid-ranged magical combat with the enemy.
The lowly Private steeled himself, as his unit was doubtless about to begin the most dangerous part of
the assault.
“Morose and Feeb, get us some legs! Johnson, Johnson and Markberg ready those arias! The rest of you,
get ready to blow bubbles and charge! We move in three! ... Two! … One! … Now!”
Like a well-oiled machine, the unit flew into action. First came up the bubbles - various defensive
barriers to ward off both magical and physical attacks. Then came the Step of Wind, a shamanistic
enchantment that gave a sizable but very temporary burst of speed to everyone around. Immediately
afterwards, the shield-bearers broke the porcupine formation and charged forward in a blind rush that
relied entirely on the Wizards, Priests, Shamans and Druids to provide cover.
The sudden breath of fresh air that stank of war entered Thomson’s nostrils. The unnatural lightness in
his step caused him to push forward despite any exhaustion or mental strain he was going through. He
wasn’t sure how far they were from the wall by now, but judging from the shards of ice, bolts of
lightning and plumes of flames flying at them, they were most definitely closer.
“Incoming topside!”
The Private threw his gaze skyward. A house-sized Meteor - the biggest one he’d ever seen - was
bearing down almost directly on top of him and the rest of his unit. His mind drew a total blank, but his
body reacted the only way it knew how - he crouched down to one knee and attempted to cover himself
with his battered shield. In hindsight, not the best decision, but the only one available to him at the time.
Even if he ran, there was no way he could get out of that thing’s range.
“Mind Hand!”
Suddenly the gigantic meteor was engulfed by a dense purple miasma and instantly changed course. It
did a sharp upward turn and flew high into the air, towards a man draped in an ashen robe with a blue
tabard covering his chest. His hands were stretched forward, as if getting ready to catch the incoming
Spell. However, when he swung them sideways, the mass of molten rock followed their motion. It did a
splendid half-circle around him as he spun around and flung it towards the enemy wall.
“De-spell!”
A wave of anti-magic crashed against the redirected Meteor, causing it to evaporate into sparks and ash.
Thomson and the rest of the foot soldiers were caught up in its effects as they lost all the magical effects
strengthening their bodies. The one who had unleashed said De-spell was a female elven Wizard flying
under her own power. She wore a set light clothes deep red in color that were under a heavy, lavender
coat that had the Republic’s black-on-gray flag proudly stamped onto her back and chest. The pure-
white metallic bracers on her forearms were nearly identical to those of the flying human who was
leering at her.
“Imiryl!” he shouted with a joyful tone. “So good to see you haven’t kicked the bucket yet!”
“Do I know you?” shot back the High Elf Wizard while power gathered in her hands.
“Don’t you worry! I’ll make you remember, bitch!”
“I’m not in the business of paying attention to insects!”
The elf clapped her hands as the human threw his arms out in front as if he were holding an invisible
ball.
“Thunder Lance!”
“Mana Void!”
A blinding bolt of lightning shot out from Imiryl, but was deftly ‘caught’ by her opponent inside a small,
invisible bubble. The bright-purple colored sparks lingered around for a few moments inside that
confined space before they died away into nothingness.
The hooded man then swung his hand in a sweeping motion as if he were slapping someone. Imiryl was
suddenly thrown to the side from a gigantic impact, as if an invisible boulder had crashed into her.
However, whatever the attack was, it did little to actually damage her Mana Shield and merely pushed
her around. Rather than waste time on this peculiar foe, Imiryl decided to fly off and find another
Imperial unit to harass.
“Oy!” shouted the hooded man. “Come back here so I can properly sock you in the cunt! … Huh? Woah
there!”
The flying human suddenly realized the Republic defenders atop the wall were targeting him with
arrows, spells, knives, axes and anything else that could be thrown upwards. He waved his hands in a
few grand circles, causing all the projectiles aimed at him to alter their trajectory and circle around him
as if they were caught in his orbit. He then pointed at the elves atop the walls, as if instructing the
various projectiles flying around him to return to their owners. Which is exactly what they did,
prompting his targets to evade or block them as best they could. Without even caring for the results of
his counter-attack, he looked down at the regrouping Imperial squad that the High Elf had tried
annihilating just now. He gave a heavy sigh as if to say ‘what a pain’ and decided he might as well lend
them a hand.
Literally.
The man called Hook, currently the only holder of the Psionic Job on this continent, raised an open palm
above his head. He then swung it down in a grand arc as he had done earlier. As if mimicking his
gesture, an invisible forcefield shaped like a human hand smashed onto the wall from above. It instantly
killed all the people on top or behind it, flattening dozens of people and breaking nearly every bone in
their bodies. The wall itself shook mightily, but remained almost completely intact. Truly a testament to
dwarven architecture and elven ingenuity. Satisfied with the outcome, Hook flew off into the distance,
hell-bent on settling his score with that snarky bitch. While also fulfilling his mission of keeping her
from running wild, of course.
Thanks to his casual assistance, Thomson and what was left of the unit he belonged to managed to reach
the foot of the 5-meter tall wall before the elves could regroup.
“Morose, Feeb - get me a ramp!” barked the ever-vigilant Sergeant. “The rest of you - don’t just stand
there gawking at the people in the sky and cover them! Let the big boys fight it out among themselves,
we got our own job to do!”
The two Shamans in the unit moved forward, stood about 4 meters opposite each other and began a
synchronous chant while the others quickly established a perimeter around them. The Republic forces
tried to fill the gap in their defenses and put a stop to what the humans were doing, but the Imperial
troops that were catching up with the vanguard unit were doing everything in their power to keep them
pinned down.
“Mudslide!” the two Imperial Shamans shouted in unison.
The wet ground churned and groaned as a large mound of mud rose up in an extremely unnatural
manner. It flowed between them like a miniature tidal wave and crashed against the stone wall. A quick
serving of fire magic courtesy of a few allied Pyromancers quickly dried up and solidified the dirt,
creating a solid ramp that went up to a height of about one and a half meters. It was far too short to allow
anyone to climb over the 5-meter-tall wall, but it was merely a start. The two Shamans would need to
perform this Spell at least 4 to 5 more times before the foot soldiers could rush the wall.
There a sudden loud crash, several meters to the side of them. Thomson, who was currently a part of a
half-crescent shield, chanced a glance towards the sight of the disturbance. Someone clad-head-to-toe in
an elaborately decorated silver-like armor had slammed into the wall with enough force to make a
visible dent in it. He peeled off the stone surface and fell down to the ground, landing onto the mud on
all fours with a heavy thud.
He rose immediately to his feet in one smooth motion while grabbing hold of the large, two-handed
warhammer he’d dropped during his fall. He glanced down at the boot-shaped dent on his chestplate and
then looked up at the winged, black-haired angel staring him down with a cold glare.
“Alright, Jennifer,” he mumbled under his breath. “Hard way it is then!”
The Level 100 Paladin known as Lichter then unfurled his own angelic wings and bolted upwards to
meet his former teammate in single combat. He really should’ve known talking to her was not going to
accomplish anything, though. Hilda had already made it abundantly clear the woman who now called
herself Zone was not only the enemy, but also the one who killed Faehorn. And yet the old Paladin
couldn’t help himself and tried to reach out to her with words rather than force.
It was a mistake he would not make a second time.
The Imperial troops that had seen their second enemy VIP in such a short span of time could do little to
stand in the elven Paladin’s way, so they merely let him go about his business. Besides, the improvised
ramp was about to be finished any moment now, and they had to pour through the opening before the
enemy Druids or Shamans could undermine their foothold. Not to mention things would get really dicey
if that High Elf Wizard decided to pay them another visit and finish the job.
“C’mon men!” shouted a newly arrived troop leader. Judging from the markings on his armor and
helmet, Thomson was able to identify him as a 2nd Lieutenant. “We have our way in! Go! Go! Go! Go!”
Dozens of Imperial soldiers began scaling the dried-up, hard-packed mud and climbed onto the top of
the 3-meter-wide stone wall. They split up left and right, finally engaging the enemy in close quarters
combat as they pushed to take possession of the wall. Private Cohen Thomson, being one of the first
among them, had already managed to impale an enemy soldier on his spear and was currently engaging
yet another silver-armored elven Warrior.
The two crossed spears and traded blow after blow as the battle raged around, below and above them.
Thomson felt like he was gaining the upper hand, when the elf then suddenly received blast of ice to the
side of his face, causing him to stagger. He reflexively raised his kite shield in defense, but the human’s
spear managed to unerringly pierce him through the throat. The Private received a notification signifying
he’d reached Level 39 of his Warrior Job, but he really couldn’t afford to pay attention as he charged
forward towards the next one.
The humans and the elves fought each other fiercely, but the Empire was clearly taking control of the
wall. Seemingly routed, the Republic troops in the area were given the order to fall back, which they did
with great haste. They leaped over the side of the stone wall, landing on the ground below with a small
roll to soften the impact, then running off into the city proper, their boots clattering against the
cobblestone road as they vacated the area.
Thomson and the rest of his comrades followed after them, intending to mow the twigs down for daring
to show their backs in such a shameless manner. However, in their rush the humans failed to account for
the elves’ relatively lighter armor and natural nimbleness, so their own jumps from atop the walls ended
in much harsher and more staggering landings.
Before any of them could truly regain their footing, the Private spotted something bizarre. There, at the
edge of the open area between the walls and the nearby city buildings, was a single wooden fence post.
Nailed to it was a steel box with a lever poking out of it. One of the last few Republic soldiers in the area
then flipped said lever as he ran, causing several sparks to fly out of it.
“Forward men!”
The familiar Sergeant’s voice ran like a bolt through him.
“Circle around and pincer the enemy still on the wall! Watch the buildings and give the twigs no
quarter!”
His momentary hesitation evaporated as he and his fellow soldiers moved forward and spread across the
other side of the wall. He then felt his left foot sink a few centimeters deeper than it should have,
followed by a barely audible click, and the momentary sensation of his body being violently ripped to
shreds.
Your body has been ripped apart by explosive force. HP -542.

You have been pierced by numerous sharp objects. HP -1,264.
Proficiency level increased. Toughness is now Level 10. END +8.
You have died.
(148) Underhandedness 11
“Raaaaargh!”
Humans clashed against dwarves, each side giving a rallying cry of their own. Shield clanged against
shield and spears tangled together as the Imperial troops and dwarven ‘mercenaries’ fought in the
middle of the street. Like two tidal waves of steel trapped in a small canal, they slammed into one
another with all their might, neither willing to back down a single step. The housing on either side of the
road resembled nothing more than smoldering ruins that were still alit with magical fire, despite the
freezing rain pouring down from overhead. The only ground given or taken more less came down to
footing as both sides gradually sunk into the muddy road.
“Bash‘n’bolt!” came out a deep yell.
The dwarven front line suddenly unleashed a unified Shield Bash Martial Art, blowing back the Imperial
troops and breaking their defensive posture despite the height difference. What followed was a small
volley of steel-tipped bolts released from the crossbowmen in the rear. They flew low over the
objectively shorter soldiers’ heads and poised to strike the Imperial troops dead-on.
“Braaace!”
The humans, not willing to suffer any more blasted projectiles, took cover behind their shields, be they
metal or magic in nature. The ones at the back defended successfully while those at the very front were
still off-balance and took a few hits. However, these projectiles lacked a Ranger’s Skills and Attributes
behind them. Even if crossbows were more powerful, the damage these guys inflicted was far less
deadlier than that ungodly hail of arrows and explosions the Imperials had suffered through at the start
of the battle.
“RRRAAARRGH!”
The dwarven phalanx, not willing to let the enemy rebuild their formation, surged forward and once
again clashed against them. At the same time a unit of 30 or so Imperial Wizards flew in dangerously
low over the smoldering and/or collapsed houses and unleashed a rain of Fireballs on top of the dwarves,
cooking many of them in their armor. The flyboys prepared for another salvo to finish them off, but were
then struck by Imiryl’s Triple Chain Lightning as she was passing by. Arcs of purple-tinged electricity
bounced between them, and at least a third of the humans fell to the ground while giving off black
smoke.
However, Imiryl did not stop to confirm the damage, nor did she fly back around to finish the job, as the
man codenamed Hook was vehemently giving her chase. She had expected him to be formidable given
his station as one of the Gilded Hand, but still ended up underestimating him. This was, after all, her
first time facing off against a Psionic.
Any and all Spells she tried to fling at him were either nullified, deflected, redirected or otherwise
completely dodged. She had also attempted to get in close, grab onto him and use a point blank
Paralyzing Shock, but the cocky human had just thrown her back with a flick of his wrist when she got
close. His defensive capabilities were so absurd it made attacking him in one-on-one combat an exercise
in futility.
Which was why rather than stay and fight the one guy, the High Elf had been doing her best to keep him
at a distance while doing fly-bys on the Imperial lines. During their bouts she had discovered the output
of the human’s Force Magic fell significantly the farther away his target was. Sure, he could still knock
her flight path off-course or interrupt her incantations, but the actual damage inflicted was minimal. The
man also seemed to possess potent Domination Magic, but the clarity of mind and magical defenses
possessed by a Level 100 Wizard as well as her aerial prowess allowed her to either avoid or withstand
all of his attempts to mentally dominate her.
But still, Hook did not give up and dogged her relentlessly. One of them had to run out of MP at some
point, and it certainly wasn’t going to be him. And when that snooty bitch finally ran out of steam, he
would be there to-
“Operative Hook!” blared a voice in his head. It was the telepathic link he had set up between himself,
his commanding officer and the other Imperial VIPs.
“What is it?!” he responded without trying to hide his irritation.
“We have sightings of the Tempest of Rage in the eastern side of town! Disengage from your current
target and go put a stop to that monster’s rampage! She’s mowing down our men like they’re weeds!”
Hook really did not like that order. He wanted to make that haughty bitch pay for costing him his left
arm and leg during their confrontation years ago. Just thinking about that day made his magically
restored limbs ache with the phantom pain of having them burnt off his body. He wanted to catch that
cunt and put her through much the same, mostly for his own satisfaction.
“Weeds are notoriously tough survivors, Major,” he replied defiantly. “I’m sure they’ll be fine without-”
“Do it now, you cocky piece of shit!”
Hook disliked that stuck-up officer’s tone of voice quite a bit too. Did he even realize the man he was
talking down to could turn him into a drooling vegetable even from this distance? Well, at the very least
he had the balls to match his rank, and rank was pretty much everything that mattered in the Imperial
army. Besides, as much as Hook was looking forward to making Imiryl scream, keeping his cushy job
and fat paycheck were ultimately more important to him than his grudge towards the elf. At least the
Major was a hundred times better than that slave-driver Edward when it came to bossing people around.
“Yes, sir,” he replied dissapointingly. “Disengaging and acquiring new target.”
Hook made an abrupt 90-degree turn as he broke off his aerial pursuit and headed towards the location
given by his handler. Flying through the open air like that naturally made him a target, as arrows and
Spells launched from the ground flew at him as he passed by. Of course, such disorganized and
spontaneous anti-air measures had no hope of hitting him at his speed. Even if they did, they’d just
bounce off his Force Field. In fact, given how even Imiryl gave up on attacking him, his invisible
barrier was seeing far more work as an umbrella than a form of defense.
It wasn’t all bad, though, since Hook hated getting his threads wet.
As for the ground battle, it had more or less descended into chaos ever since the wall was toppled 4
hours ago. The elves had the advantage when it came to numbers and knowledge of the terrain, but the
Imperial war machine was still going strong. The humans’ superior equipment and tactics regarding
urban combat allowed them to hold their own through ambushes and landmine traps alike as they pushed
into the city. Although air superiority was still being heavily contested by both sides, the Empire seemed
to be slowly taking the lead on the ground as they encircled the city.
Well, aside from the place where the one-woman army called Hilda appeared. That place wasn’t hard to
find, as Hook could practically hear her roaring over the sounds of battle. Having discerned her location,
the Psionic rapidly decreased his altitude towards the scene of a gruesome massacre that had unfolded in
a small alley. The cleaved bodies of what was once an Imperial unit were strewn about, while a lone
dwarven Berserker stood right in the middle of them. The layer of blood, guts and filth covering her
armor and axe was so thick that even this squall seemed unable to wash it all off.
Seeing as how the dwarf seemed to be catching her breath and had not yet noticed him, Hook decided
he’d give her a little greeting.
“Ground Coffin!”
The ground Hilda was standing on suddenly split apart. Two slabs of road rose up and closed in from
either side of her as if they were a bear trap, smashing her between them. Needless to say, if an ordinary
soldier had been hit by that, then nearly every bone in their body would have been broken in an instant.
“Bloody cunting cockfaggots!”
But, this being Hilda, she merely broke out of the ‘coffin’ while cursing her lungs out.
“Alright!” she shouted while looking around. “What suicidal twatface just signed their death warrant,
eh?!”
Her furious, searching gaze instantly locked onto the Psionic floating some 15-odd meters above her.
“Was it ye up there, ye pooftah?!”
Without even waiting for the answer, the already revved-up Berserker grabbed a loose cobblestone from
the ground with one hand and threw it straight at his head as if it were a cannonball. It collided against
his Force Field with enough force to break apart into pebbles, but didn’t even make Hook flinch. A point
that seemed to raise her already raging ire even further.
“C’mere, ye pajama-wearing pansy!” she taunted. “What? Think just cuz yer up in th’ air yer better ‘n
me?! I’ll fuckin’ wreck ye, mate!”
“… Quite. Mind Crush!”
“Graaarghnnn!”
After finally obtaining a suitable target for his prided Domination Magic, Hook wasted little time in
putting it to good use. Hilda dropped her oversized axe and fell to the ground writhing as the the human
directly assaulted on her mind in an attempt to shatter her psyche completely. The strain it put on her
was completely unexpected and unlike anything else she’d experienced. It was as if someone was trying
to rip her brain out of her skull through her ears and nose, pulling on it in every direction.
The dwarf’s extremely volatile nature as a Berserker may have made her a force to be reckoned with on
the battlefield, but that was only at a physical level. It actually worked against her when it came to
mental combat. Indeed, for all her martial might and force of will, she was ultimately nothing more than
a loudmouthed toddler before Hook.
Something the sadistic Psionic had fully anticipated. His earlier irritation and being ordered to give up
on Imiryl disappeared as he reveled in the dwarf’s roars of pain and impotent rage. He really loved easy
wins like this. Honestly, was this really supposed to be a Level 100 adventurer? Was she seriously that
unprepared for things like this?
In the next instant he realized that no, she wasn’t. He broke off his assault on her mind and dodged
rapidly to the side as a Stalker demon tore through the air he occupied a moment ago. Her primary claws
missed her mark, but her back-mounted scythes still managed to rip through the Psionic’s Force Field
and cause it to collapse.
This entire scenario was actually a trap by the Republic specifically set to target Hook. Once his
propensity for Domination Magic was found out, it was only inevitable that Imperial command would
send him after Hilda. The dwarf served as the bait, while the Sandman’s loyal minion would move in for
the kill. The vigilante himself was unwilling to personally confront the enemy, but gave his word he
would intervene if the opportunity presented itself.
In other words, Boxxy really didn’t want to face a powerful enemy unless it was sure of its victory.
And so, after Hilda raised a lot of noise and spread a good amount of death, the target showed himself.
The instant he had his attention focused on the bait, Drea had launched herself towards his position
using a slingshot made from her webbing and attempted to gut him. It was the right move, as the best
and arguably only way to take out a Psionic of Hook’s caliber was to kill the bastard before he even
knew someone was out to get him.
The human was no fool, however, and was able to pick up Drea’s presence through a Skill called
Psychic Radar. It allowed him to sense the presence of any and all sentient beings within its range,
especially those harboring malicious intent towards him. It was not as foolproof as a certain
shapeshifter’s MLG, but it was still a powerful anti-assassination tool. He knew a demon was skulking
about, but the sheer speed and angle she came at him almost caught him off-guard.
‘Almost’ being the operative word.
Having failed in her initial ambush, Drea landed on one of the tiled rooftops and immediately turned
around to stare at her target face-to-face. This sort of direct confrontation with her lunch was really not
to her liking, which she displayed by hissing loudly while clacking her mandibles and claws together in
irritation. Hook immediately swung his favorite Mind Hand down on top of her, but the nimble demon
dodged it by bolting off to the side. As she did, she shot a stream of white webbing from her left claw-
hand, which attached itself to Hook’s right foot.
“Shit, my Force Field!”
Having his fun suddenly interrupted like that made the Psionic lash out at that annoying arachnid instead
of rebuilding his defenses. The light-bodied demon then began rapidly climbing up the web line, clearly
intent on carrying out her orders. Hook would obviously have none of that, and used a stunning Mind
Blast Spell on her. Even if demons like Drea were highly resistant to mental attacks, it didn’t mean they
were completely invulnerable to them. Indeed, the mental jolt he unleashed was powerful enough to stop
the Stalker’s upward advance for a split second, which was all he needed. In the next instant, his Mind
Hand wrapped tightly around the demon, breaking and mangling her nimble limbs in its mystical grip.
Rather than trying to kill her on the spot, Hook instead made a throwing motion with his entire upper
body, catapulting Drea into the distance. It was a one-way express ticket to the middle of the Rainy
Woodlands.
Just then, he felt a tug at his leg. Looking down in a panic, he realized the thick thread that spider-girl
had hit him with was still there, and Hilda had caught the dangling rope with both hands. One could
practically hear the widening, evil grin spreading underneath her helmet.
“Get over here!”
The dwarven Berserker pulled on the thread with all her might. The enormous weight of her armor kept
her feet firmly planted on the ground while the ridiculous strength in her arms overpowered whatever
magic was keeping her opponent afloat. He slammed face-first into the cobblestone road some 6 meters
away from the dwarf, sending mud, water and rocks flying everywhere. The human managed to put up a
smaller, localised version of his Force Field at the last moment. It softened the crash considerably, but
still left him reeling from the impact.
However, rather than pick up her axe and try to close the distance between them, Hilda chose to not give
her opponent a chance to rebuild his focus.
“C’mon, boyo! Time to meet the neighbours!”
She tightened her grip on the rope-like thread and twisted her entire body around as she swung Hook
around sideways, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. Readjusting her grip on the sticky thread, she
twisted around in the opposite direction to fling him into the house on the opposite side of the street.
After being ‘introduced to the neighborhood’ a third time, however, the Stalker’s maximum-strength
webbing finally snapped under all the strain. Finally being freed from his role as Hilda’s ragdoll, Hook
was allowed the precious few seconds he needed to regain his wits and reassess his situation.
His arm was broken, he was bleeding internally and his potions were doubtlessly smashed into dust. To
make matters worse his Psychic Radar detected a number of smaller presences making their way
towards him, accompanied by a particularly gruesome one that was unlike anything else he’d felt before.
Deciding this was enough ‘paycheck earning’ for the moment, Hook chanted a Flight Spell through
gritted teeth. He bolted straight up into the air and soared back toward Imperial lines to recuperate while
he had the chance.
Hilda bent over, leaned heavily on her knees and panted heavily with only the raindrops on her helmet
and the puddles of Imperial blood under her feet for company. She had been fighting literally non-stop
ever since the humans cleared that minefield, so she wasn’t exactly running on a full tank of gas when
that guy showed up. He was also much more powerful than Imiryl had let on, so she felt she would have
definitely bit the big one if the Sandman’s bodyguard hadn’t left her a lifeline like that.
“Heh,” she chuckled to herself in between gasping breaths. “That’s… Huff... two I owe that creepy
bastard!”
“Miss Hilda!”
The dwarf shifted her gaze to the side, her body tensing up reflexively at that strangely squeaky voice.
The intensifying rain coupled with her blurry vision made it hard to make out shapes and colors, so she
wasn’t sure if the two dozen or so fuzzy figures approaching her were allies or enemies. At least, not
until a random lightning strike made it abundantly clear that the one in the lead had a full head of
crimson hair topped by two triangular ears. As they got closer she also realized that the growing white
spot in her vision wasn’t a sign of her unstable condition, but was actually a mithril golem.
“Oh, if it isn’t the Merry Popper!” she said while relaxing her guard. “I forgot you and your trophy wife
were around for a second there!”
“Miss Hilda! This is not the time for that!” complained Keira as she and the rest of her squad gathered
around her. “Are you alright?! Where’s the enemy?!”
“Ran off with his tail between his leg. He got me good, but the tall creep’s pet helped me give as good as
I got. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to lie down for a moment…”
*CLUNK*
Having given the bare-bones explanation, the dwarf fell backwards onto the wet ground as her ruptured
mind could no longer cling to consciousness.
Seeing that unstoppable force called Hilda suddenly keel over like that momentarily stunned everyone,
Keira included. Unlike the soldiers under her command, however, her reaction wasn’t due to shock,
surprise or disbelief, but a sign of the monster-in-their-midst weighing its options.
Finishing off the Berserker in her current state and disposing of the witnesses would be frightfully easy.
The rain would provide plenty of cover, and it wouldn’t be a surprise to blame all their deaths on the
failed ambush. Not to mention that Fizzy would be there to corroborate her story, so there would be no
danger to Boxxy’s Facade.
If the Mimic killed her, it would probably get a good amount of Levels and a chance at absorbing an
absurd amount of Attributes or Skills all at once. At the same time, however, it had a literal human army
to feast on in order to sate its hunger for power. Not to mention that failing this operation would cause
the Sandman’s stock with the Republic to fall tremendously, leading to fewer or less profitable contracts.
Not to mention that having a well-connected Republic VIP as Keira’s ally would prove to be extremely
beneficial in numerous ways.
Having concluded that Hilda had more value alive than dead, Keira suddenly raised her voice.
“Well, don’t just stand there!” she shouted at the others. “Fizzy, Jax and Sparrow - heal her wounds! The
rest of you, give them some cover! You, you, you and you - secure the interior of that house! Mikey and
Sarya - I want eyes on the rooftops. Let me know the instant you spot enemy movement! Once the VIP
is treated we’ll move her inside and consult with command! Syme - check the human corpses for an
officer and see if they have anything of value on them!”
Shouts of ‘Yes, ma’am!’ and ‘Right away, ma’am!’ rose up from the gathered soldiers and conscripts as
they scrambled to complete their assigned orders. Of course, a good number of them had some
reservations about being ordered around by a young girl initially. Even if they knew better than to judge
a book by its cover, it was still hard for them to accept a happy-go-lucky kid like that as their executive
officer. Indeed, many of them believed her to be little more than a mascot, despite Fizzy’s assurances to
the contrary. And as is the nature of things, such doubts and prejudices threatened to cloud their
judgement when their original commanding officer had been suddenly killed in action and Keira had to
assume command.
However, even though a third of the remaining unit now lay dead, not a single man or woman who was
still there had any doubts as to the Decanus’s abilities.
Keira’s sound judgement and thorough understanding of her enemy had seen them through 7 separate
clashes with Imperial units in this battle so far, and successfully routed all of them. It wasn’t like she
was a master strategist, but rather that she wielded the troops at her disposal as if they were extensions
of her own body. She knew the right moment to press the attack, didn’t hesitate to pull her men back to
regroup when the need arose, and did not engage the enemy if there was no chance of victory.
Of course, looking at it objectively, her accomplishments were so negligible and small-scale that they
did nothing to change the course of the battle for New Whitehall. Even if she had gotten her unit wiped
out instantly, it still would have made very little difference in the greater conflict. But that’s not how the
people doing the actual fighting felt. To them, Decanus Keira Morgana’s concise orders, caring
personality and unrelenting covering fire had elevated the young girl from a perceived burden into a
shining beacon.
A guiding light through the unrelenting storm called war.
Which was why not a single one of them batted an eye when she told them their unit would be taking
part in an operation to trap and kill an enemy VIP. Their morale raised even further when they were told
the awe-inspiring, albeit slightly nightmarish Sandman and unstoppable Hilda would be on their side.
Adding Fizzy’s guardian-angel-like presence and Keira’s infallible command made them feel like the
Goddess of Victory was on their side.
The Decanus then promptly called them idiots, reminded them that such a deity didn’t exist, and drove
home the point that pointless bravado would only get them pointlessly killed. Their role was strictly to
provide support and backup. If the enemy was powerful enough to overcome both Hilda and ‘Mr S,’
then there’s no way the rest of them could stand a chance. And watching the brief-yet-intense
confrontation from afar had proven that Keira’s judgement was, as usual, right on the money.
Which led to the suddenly humbled troops taking refuge in a leaky, half-destroyed house as the battle
raged on in other parts of the city. They were huddled around the unconscious but otherwise healed
Hilda while Keira reported their status to Silus Underwood via Comm-cube.
“I see,” he said after hearing all the necessary details. “It’s unfortunate he escaped, but we now have a
better grasp of his abilities. For now, transport the VIP back to camp. Imperial forces seem to be falling
back for the moment, so your way should be-”
The blue-tinged imaged of the elven intelligence officer’s bust suddenly went silent and turned his head
to the side.
“What?!” he yelled in shock to someone out-of-sight. “Since when?! … Shit, they got us!”
He then turned his attention to the catgirl on the line.
“Belay that, Decanus! Your new orders are to take shelter immediately! Go underg͘͝ŕò̸͏u̵ń͘҉d̢͘, fortify your
position and protect the VIP until y̢o̷u̢ ̵̨r̶͜e̸ce͞͏̶i̧v͏e̴ further orders!”
The signal that had suddenly grown strangely fuzzy and static was then abruptly cut off.
“You heard the man!” shouted Keira before any potential unease could set in. “Something big’s coming
and we gotta be ready! Get the VIP into the basement and shore it up with magic! I want-”
“Decanus! Ma’am!”
Before Keira could finish giving out orders, one of the unit’s scouts suddenly ran in from the outside.
“What is it, Mikey? Enemy movement?”
“No, ma’am!” said the human Rogue in a panicked voice. “I spotted something strange, but have no idea
what it is! I think you should take a look at it!”
“I have a bad feeling about this… Alright, I’m going topside to check it out! Syme - you’re in charge
until I get back!”
The catgirl turned around and tossed the Comm-cube to one of the elven soldiers who caught it without
issue.
“On it, ma’am!” he said with a salute as he accompanied the others further into the house towards the
basement.
Keira followed the scout out of the house and the two of them clambered onto the half-destroyed slanted
roof. They carefully crawled over the slippery red tiles and peaked their heads over the roof’s ridge.
“Up there, ma’am! In the northeast!”
Following the rogue’s finger, Keira managed to locate the anomaly in the sky.
Which was blue.
The depressingly gray sky that had been overcast since last night and had been dumping freezing rain on
top of Empire and Republic alike for the for the past hour had a blank spot in it. It was as if someone had
pierced a hole in the heavens themselves, allowing the afternoon sun to shine through and cast a
breathtaking rainbow over the battlefield. As for the clouds themselves, they seemed to be behaving
oddly. Rather than closing in to fill the bizarre gap, they gave the odd impression that they were running
away from it on their own volition.
Keira stood fully as if to get a better view. Her gaze was not locked on the bizarre weather pattern
overhead, but rather on the ground directly underneath it. It was a spot off in the distance, well within
the city and far behind Republic lines. And around that spot, clearly visible through the rain and smoke.
swirled a thick, unnatural red mist.
“Do you know what that is, ma’am?” asked the scout, expectantly.
“No,” lied Keira, “but I don’t like it one bit. Find Sarya, get her to the basement and follow Syme’s lead!
I’m going to keep watch for a while longer!”
“But I can’t just leave you here! If it’s about scouting-”
“Just fucking go, Mikey!” she insisted. “My eyes are better than both of yours and Sarya’s, and you
know it!”
“... Understood, ma’am.”

The human hesitated for a second before saluting her and sliding down the tiled roof.
Keira returned her attention to the swirling red mist that was over a kilometer away. It was something
that Boxxy actually knew about for once. Which was precisely why the Mimic doubted whether
cowering in a basement would be enough to survive the inbound threat. Its devious mind had already
come up with an alternate way to handle it, but the shapeshifter really didn’t want to go through with it.
After all, it was a stupid idea. One that it had entertained several times, but never actually thought to put
it into practice. It was so abysmally terrible and prone to backfiring that its survival would be at serious
stake. It didn’t necessarily need to do it either, as all it had to do to live through this was turn tail and
desert the battle with all due haste.
And yet, it still wanted to do it. Because it was a chance. A chance to let Keira survive the inbound
threat, let the Sandman secure his next Republic-funded paycheck and put those plagiaristic Imperials in
their place, all at the same time.
And chances existed to be taken.
1-800-7355-9687-7685
*Beep ... Beep*
*Click*
“Hello, you have-”
“Carl! It’s Boxxy! Listen, I have an emergency!”
“Wah? Well- what is it?!”
The Mimic took a deep breath as it steeled itself for what was about to transpire.
“I need to make an appointment!”
(149) Subversion 12
The earth shook, the winds blew, the air itself caught fire and the clouds ran away as the sacrifice rose
up into the air while glowing with an intense red light. The human Warlock that had just finished
performing the Offering dashed out of the ritual site with all haste. He broke through the swirling red
mist and collapsed on his knees before Zone - the one who had gotten him so far behind enemy lines in
the first place.
“It’s done!” he shouted. “Get us out of here!”

The female Monk swept the man up in a princess carry, unfurled her wings and departed the scene with
all due haste. They had mere seconds before the guest of honor arrived, after which his legendary temper
would do all the work for them. The summoner’s MP would have only been enough to fuel the demon’s
rampage for about 10 minutes at most, but to those elves on the ground, it would be the longest 10
minutes in their lives.
For with a fiery explosion strong enough to shake the entire city, the Overlord of the Flaming Legion
made his entrance onto the battlefield.
“TREMBLE, MORTALS, AND DESPAIR! FOR NAGNAMOR HAS COME!”
Standing at well over 7 meters tall, with smoldering wings the size of fields, a half-molten demonic skull
for a head and with a glaive large enough to cleave houses in half, the demon formally announced his
arrival. After making sure he had made a sufficiently cool entrance, the Overlord began taking in his
surroundings. He sensed the presence of his summoner, who was retreating through the air with truly
commendable speed, even if it wasn’t his own. Normally Nagnamor’s first order of business would be to
make sure the trifling insect that called him forth from the Beyond was sufficiently squished, but today
was an exception.
He directed his infernal gaze away from that cowardly gnat and scanned over the city’s rooftops. All
around him he felt the presence of Republic soldiers - thousands of mortal souls ripe for the taking. Even
more fodder was situated further south, concentrated around the edge of the city. Those would be the
Imperial troops that planned to dump him on their enemies and indirectly make use of his power while
avoiding his wrath. They clearly saw him as nothing but a mindless brute and clearly underestimated his
intelligence if they thought he wouldn’t catch onto their little scheme. It was an insult any fiend worth
their horns would return by squashing them flat for their insolence.
But none of those were of his immediate concern. Right here, right now, well within his reach was the
one who had made a fool of him not so long ago. The only being to have humiliated him so thoroughly
that the whole event amounted to nothing more than the mighty demon being bullied by someone vastly
inferior in every way possible. The worst part of it was that it had happened because that annoying box
had stumbled onto a completely idiotic loophole entirely by accident. Being bested by blind luck rather
than through wit or might had made the Archfiend unbelievably salty over the whole ordeal.
And now was the time to get some payback.
By using the images he saw through the Boxxy Show broadcast in the beyond and cross-referencing
them with the scant landmarks around the place, he was able to almost instantly determine his mark’s
approximate location.
“MORNINGWOOOOOOOOOOOD!” he bellowed with a voice like rolling thunder. “I’M COMING

FOR YOU, YOU INSUFFERABLE LITTLE BUG!”
Nagnamor broke out into a sprint. Like a mad bull, he crashed through or trampled over the single or
double-story buildings in his way. His bottomless hate and thirst for revenge manifested themselves as
raging black flames that enveloped his entire body as he made a beeline towards Keira’s last known
position. The unwitting Republic soldiers, conscripts and reserves caught in his wake did their best to
get out of the way, but it was a futile effort. His sheer speed combined with the ungodly intensity of his
flames turned wood, stone and people alike into naught but ash and cinders, leaving nothing but a
smoldering black trench in his wake. A number of them had made a reflexive action to fight back,
launching arrows and Spells into the unstoppable demon as he charged by. But, much like the raindrops
falling on their heads, the projectiles evaporated into nothingness before they could even reach him.
Just as he was about to trample over the central plaza and take out the nerve center of Republic
operations in the area, a streak of golden light zoomed straight at Nagnamor’s face. The Overlord felt a
dull impact against the side of his skull, one powerful enough to knock him off-balance and send him
careening into a nearby empty grain silo. His unexpected shift in momentum caused him to trip over his
own cloven feet, and he fell over like a gigantic boulder, landing into a vacated residential block. The
demon immediately rose to his feet while swinging his glaive in a wide circular motion, causing the
massive weapon to release streaks of semi-solid fire that mowed down and burned away everything in
their path. It took but a moment to instantly flatten everything within 30 meters of his location.
“WHO DARES STAND IN THE WAY OF NAGNAMOR’S WARPATH?!”
“It is I, demon!”
Floating several meters in the air stood a man clad head-to-toe in radiant, golden armor. A pair of
majestic, hawk-like wings sprouted from his back, while a halo positively brimming with holy energy
surrounded his head. In his hands was a massive warhammer with an intricately covered shaft and head,
a weapon that shone with a light both beautiful and terrible at the same time.
“My name is Alduin Lichter! Grand Crusader of the Blessed of Nyrie and guardian to the people of the
Republic!”
The elven Paladin had ignored his orders to lay low and safeguard his own skin in order to confront and
contain the rampaging Overlord.
“DIE, INSECT!”
Caring little for trifling mortal titles, Nagnamor swung his massive weapon at Lichter with frightening
speed and accuracy that no mere mortal could have hoped to contest.
“I say thee nay!”
*CLANGGGGG*
And yet the much smaller Paladin caught the demon’s glaive with his own holy warhammer, stopping it
dead in its tracks.
The demon’s flaming eye sockets burned with an even brighter flame as he rebuilt his stance and
reassessed his puny opponent. The holy energy oozing out of the mortal’s equipment in particular gave
the Archdemon pause. He surmised that armor seemed to be what was giving this mortal his
unreasonable strength, and guess rightfully that this power was a terribly temporary arrangement.
Indeed, the ability to stand toe-to-toe with a demonic Overlord was due to Lichter’s Ultimate Skill,
Divine Regalia. It imbued his weapons and armor, raising their performance to that of the ephemeral
Divine-tier equipment and boosting his combat abilities several times over. The price for such power
was that it consumed the Paladin’s accumulated Faith (FTH) while active, and any equipment he wore
would crumble and break from the stress placed upon it once the transformation had subsided.
A clause that, embarrassingly enough, also included his underwear.
“IMPRESSIVE,” yelled the Overlord with a hint of delight in his voice. “I DID NOT EXPECT A
WORTHY CHALLENGER TO SHOW UP, BUT MY BUSINESS IS NOT WITH YOU, HOLY MAN!
STAND ASIDE SO THAT I MIGHT FULFIL MY PURPOSE!”
“I will not!” declared Lichter, his voice booming loud enough to rival the demon’s own. “I will not let
you endanger the lives of my comrades any further! Whatever your dark purpose, you shall not pass!”
“HAH! AHAH! AH HAH HAHAH! AHAHAHAAAAH!”
The High Elf braced himself as the demon laughed menacingly. If the circumstances were different,
Nagnamor would have definitely stayed around and played with him. It wasn’t often he got a worthy
fight out of the physical realm’s denizens, so this sort of thing was almost like a rare treat. However, he
was short on time. With every second he was delayed, that insufferable little box was surely getting
farther and farther away. The demon needed to get this self-righteous elf out of his way, and he knew
just how to do it.
“THEN LET US SEE HOW MUCH YOU TREASURE YOUR COMRADES, FOOL!”
The demon raised his glaive above his head while staring intently at the nearby City Hall building,
causing Lichter to momentarily panic. That large circular slash the demon had made earlier revealed that
the range of his attacks extended far beyond the reach of his weapon, so there was no doubt in the
Paladin’s mind as to what would happen next. The High Elf’s body moved with the same blinding speed
as before, placing himself firmly between the demon and the Republic’s command center. It seemed he
made it in time to block the incoming attack, but there was just one problem.
It was a feint.
Instead of striking at the building full of mortals, Nagnamor’s weapon stuck the ground beneath the
Overlord’s feet as if it were a shovel, digging deep into the dirt and rock. He gripped the long handle
with both hands channeling his power into the ground while the Paladin was flying pointlessly around.
“RIIIIISE…” groaned the demon.
Realizing he’d been tricked, Lichter charged towards the Overlord with a yell.
“RISE!”
The elf swung his hammer at the demon’s face, but was far too late to stop him.
“LEGION RISE!”
The black flames protecting Nagnamor’s body suddenly rose in intensity. The fierce rush of hot air blew
Lichter back, causing him to temporarily lose control of his flight. The earth shook fiercely and
buildings fell over seemingly at random as hundreds of cracks bubbling over with lava appeared all over
the surrounding area. The Paladin could only watch in abject horror as countless soldiers made out of
molten rock and stone began emerging from the flaming abyss. Although they looked like molten
golems, these monsters were actually a species of especially malevolent demons called the ifrit, and
each and every one of them was Nagnamor’s subordinate. And, true to their demonic heritage, they
began indiscriminately attacking everything in sight.
The Flaming Legion existed only to extinguish the life of others.
“You… What have you done!?” shouted Lichter at Nagnamor.
He charged at the Overlord dead on, only to be swatted out of the air by the demon’s backhanded swing.
He was sent flying through a building and crashed into the ground with a cloud of dust. Nagnamor
pulled his weapon out of the ground as he gave the pitiable mortal one last glance. He was sure those
divine armaments kept the gnat out of death’s door, but his subordinates would make sure he was far too
busy fending them off to get in his way again. It was a bit regrettable he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a
proper throw-down with someone worthy, but as stated previously, he had other matters to attend to.
When he turned his gaze southward once again, however, the Overlord saw something clearly out of
place. Much like at his own arrival spot, the clouds in the sky seemed to have been punctured clean
through, and a thick, light-blue mist had gathered directly underneath it.
“NO… NO NO NO NO NO!”
With a tiny flash of light and almost no sound, a white mass of something shot up into the air. Although
from a distance it looked like a geyser throwing up an incalculable volume of snow, Nagnamor knew for
a fact it was something infinitely more dreadful than powdered, frozen water.
It was a deluge of millions upon millions of pure white, ball-like spiders, each no larger than a thumb
and sporting a set of eight, smooth legs. They rose high up into the air and caught an unnatural gust of
icy-cold wind that sent them all flying straight at Nagnamor’s location. They loomed overhead like a
heavy mist, then started converging into a single spot. Their slender arachnid legs and impossibly thin
spider silk wove and intermingled together as they rapidly combined into a singular form.
A form that looked like someone had glued a 7 year old girl’s upper body onto the back of a large
spider’s head, and then supersized the gruesome-yet-alluring combination until it was large enough to be
on Nagnamor’s eye level. Both the arachnid carapace and human-like skin were ivory white and
completely smooth, while the girl’s long, silky hair hung down to her waist and draped over her body
like a loose robe. And while both the girl and the spider halves looked like they had eyes of their own,
all ten of them were tightly shut.
After forming in a matter of seconds, the gigantic construct landed squarely in front of Nagnamor. It
touched down so softly and silently, that one wouldn’t be blamed for thinking it was an illusion or a
cloud.
“Yo, Nagnamor. How ya doin’?”

The girl’s doll-like face cracked a small smile and a youthful, playful voice rang out around her, even
though her alabaster lips remained firmly sealed.
“LIUSOLRA!” bellowed Nagnamor at his fellow demonic Overlord. “WHY ARE YOU OUT HERE?!”
“Uhm, duh?! Because I was, like, called out? That’s just, like, how the rituals work, fam!”
“DID THAT INSUFFERABLE GNAT BRING YOU OUT HERE?!”
“Who the what now?! I’ve no idea who you’re, like, talking about! The one that rang me up was, like,
totally polite and sweet and junk.”
Nagnamor straightened his posture and pointed his weapon threateningly at Liusolra’s head.
“ARE YOU HERE TO GET IN MY WAY?!”
“Like, no way, fam! I just got invited to come out and play around for a bit, knowwhatimsayin?”
The skin on the girl’s arms began to crawl and shift as the Endless Swarm rapidly reconstructed her
hands into a pair of long, crystalline blades.
“And I like to play rough!”
With those indignant words, Liusolra’s avatar swung the scythe at Nagnamor’s neck. The Archfiend
easily deflected the blow with his weapon and immediately counterattacked, cutting the white spider-
girl-thing’s arm clean off. Countless white strands shot out from both ends of the severed arm as it
instantly reattached itself, while the other was already making a stabbing motion with an icy dagger that
appeared out of thin air.
“FUCK OFF, YOU OLD HAG!” demanded Nagnamor as the Stalker’s blade smashed against his armor.
“Make me, loser!” came the indignant reply, accompanied by a barrage of magical ice spikes.
“AT LEAST FIGHT FOR YOURSELF INSTEAD OF USING A PUPPET!” he demanded while using
his flames to ward off the ice.
He then swung his glaive and cut said puppet’s head clean off, but the face merely stuck its tongue out
mockingly at him before the neck reattached itself to the shoulders.
The real Overlord of the Endless Swarm had not shown herself for millennia, nor did she intend to be
seen. Just because she was the oldest and arguably the most powerful of the four demonic Overlords
didn’t necessarily mean she had to make a personal appearance. Nor did it mean she necessarily had to
be all big and flashy like a certain hot-headed loudmouth. In fact, Liusolra’s actual appearance and form
did not differ in the slightest from that of the millions of remote-control clones that currently made up
her avatar. It truly boggled the mind how a frame that small could handle so much power.
As for where said main body was, it was currently tucked away in the darkest, dankest little corner of
the city where nobody would ever find it.
As for why exactly Liusolra was so readily standing up to Nagnamor, it was precisely because Boxxy
had asked nicely. That was really all there was to it. She also didn’t have a habit of instantly eliminating
her summoners since, much like a certain enterprising Mimic, the Stalker Queen understood the value of
‘repeat business.’ In other words, so as long as the summoner treated her respectfully and provided her
with ample entertainment, she wasn’t particularly against sparing him.
And this particular instance was a truly special occasion, as it wasn’t often that she got to taste her
fellow Overlords’ magical energy. To a Stalker, magic aged much like fine wine, so an ancient relic like
Nagnamor was seen as little more than a delectable vintage she wanted to sink her mandibles into.
All 300 million of them.
As the two demons’ battle raged on in the middle of the city, the poor mortals caught in their wake could
do little than weather the storm. They either got swept up in that Archfiend’s glaive-swinging or caught
up in the Stalker Queen’s wide-range ice magic. The Flaming Legion unleashed by Nagnamor was doing
its best to rampage through the Republic’s ranks, while clouds of the Endless Swarm crawled over and
devoured any Imperials they came across. Both sides had given up on fighting against each other by that
point and focused entirely on surviving their respective plights until one or both of those Overlords
finally ran out of juice and departed the mortal realm. There were even cases of soldiers on both sides
teaming up against the demonic hordes, despite being on opposite ends on the conflict that spawned
them.
And amidst all the chaos that surrounded them, atop the flat roof of a particularly tall building, stood the
monster responsible for bringing one half of this demonic clash to the physical realm.
“Oh! He broke out of that glacier so easily!” commented Boxxy.
“Well duh,” said Kora indignantly. “What sort of Overlord would let something like a bit of ice tie him
down?”
“Yeah okay, fair point. It’s just that, it was hard to tell when we first met, but Punchy is a lot stronger
than I ever gave him credit for.”
The Sandman and Kora were currently seated half-a-kilometer away from the spot where the two
Overlords are fighting and enjoying the titanic bout with glee. ‘Who would win in a fight between
Punchy and Frosty?’ had been a question in the back of the Mimic’s mind ever since it left the town of
Bootlick behind, so it was quite interested in the outcome. Its pet fiend, on the other hand, was simply
enjoying the fight for what it was - a clash between powers well beyond her grasp.
“Woah, did he just throw her? What move was that?!” asked Boxxy excitedly.
“That’s called a suplex, boss! It’s really fun to do and- Wait, is he going for a double suplex!?”
“He is! Look at him go! Wait, he still hasn’t let go of her abdomen!”
“Could it be! Oh, baby, a triple!”
“Frosty isn’t giving up though!” pointed out the Mimic. “Look - she’s about to bash him over the head
with that flying ice golem!”
“What a cheeky cunt!”
*SHKRAKOOOM*
“Holy shit! Where did that lightning bolt come from?! It completely broke off uncle Naggy’s horn!”
“That High Elf Wizard’s joined in - see the little spec over there, just in front of that small volcano?”
“Uhn… I think so? Why would she butt into their fight, though?”
“That’s actually a very good question.”
The vast majority of people in the war zone had either gone into hiding or were busy fighting off either
the Flaming Legion or the Endless Swarm. Imiryl did not strike Boxxy as the particularly righteous one
either, which made her interference even more confusing. Following a hunch, the Mimic activated the
Eagle Eye Skill it acquired earlier that day, courtesy of Keira’s Ranger Job reaching Level 35. The
monster’s vision zoomed in somewhat on the Republic VIP, allowing it to just barely confirm its
suspicion.
“Yep, she’s being mind controlled. I see a whole lot of Frosty’s brood all over her neck and head.”
“Ohh! Then what about that flashy yellow guy?”
“Where?”
Zooming out a bit allowed the Mimic to catch sight of Lichter, who had suddenly reappeared and was
streaking towards the two Overlords. However, rather than strike at either of them, he instead used a
fully-powered Exorcism Spell to force the alien’s presence out of Imiryl’s mind. He then caught the
unconscious elven Wizard and flew her off to safety.
“Noooo! Give me back my afternoon snack!”
Liusolra’s screeching voice was loud enough to shatter pretty much every pane of glass in the entire city.
“WHERE ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!”
Nagnamor took advantage of her momentary distraction and drove his armored fist clean through the
fake Stalker Queen’s chest. He then funneled his black flames into her unprotected insides, incinerating
a significant portion of her clones in an instant.
“Oooh, that’s gotta hurt!” said Kora with a nasty smile on her face. “You go, uncle Naggy! Show that
manipulative bitch how WE do things!”
“Uuuuuu… No faaair!” whined Drea through the telepathic link. “I want to watch Lady Liusolra’s fight,
toooo!”
Having her limbs mangled and her body catapulted beyond the city’s borders by that Psionic had left the
Stalker momentarily stranded somewhere the Rainy Woodlands. It was only natural she’d want to see
the throw-down of the century for herself, but she was far too crippled to make it back to the city in time
to catch either of the Overlords. Not only that, but her Master had just expended all of its MP on the
Offering ritual, so it wouldn’t be able to resummon her to its position for quite a while.
“Wait, that’s it! There’s no way this isn’t airing on the Boxxy Show! Master, can you send me back to
the Beyond? You have to do that later anyway, right?”
“Hmm? Oh, sure Claws. Off you go.”
“Thanks, Mas-!”
“Yeaaaaah! Get rekt, you many-legged cunt!” cheered Kora as the battle raged on.
“You know Nagnamor is technically the enemy, right?” pointed out Xera.
“... Huh?”
The succubus was also on that rooftop, although her interest in the two Overlords duking it out was
quickly diminishing. She still looked on with a sort of bemused curiosity since it was an extremely rare
event, but didn’t feel as personally invested as a certain braindead fiend. That wasn’t to say she had no
stake in this, however.
“Nagnamor clearly wants to kill the Master. And since we are but things that belong to the Master, he is
our enemy by proxy.”
“Don’t care! He’s still my kin! Fight on, uncle Naggy!”
“For fuck sake, will you at least keep it down!? It’s not like he can hear our telepathic link in the first
place!”
“Yeesh, what a buzzkill. Boss, can you just screw the bitch already so she mellows out?”
“Oh yeah, I did say I’d motivate her, didn’t I?” remembered Boxxy. And since it was currently taking a
break anyway, it judged now was a good a moment as any.
Several tentacles suddenly sprouted from the Sandman’s back and coiled around the surprised Xera.
With little warning and absolutely zero foreplay, her ass, cunt and throat were all invaded by a tentacle
each, stretching her out to the point where even the succubus’s pliant flesh was in danger of ripping
apart. The appendages that were as thick as arms and covered in random bumps and ridges then began
pistoning in and out of her while numerous smaller ones held her down and grinded her face and
exposed nipples against the coarse surface of the roof. It was a truly barbaric act that was a lot closer to
torture than any form of mating. If the succubus actually had things like a womb or intestines, then those
hypothetical organs would surely have been turned to mush in an instant.
It was a thought that filled Xera with an odd sense of regret, though it certainly didn’t stop her from
loving every single moment of the act. Especially the way Boxxy was taking bites out of her body to
snack on while watching the fight.
“Boss, boss! Here it comes! It’s the Heaven-and-Hell Splitter!”
“Who-the-what-now!?”
Boxxy shifted its attention back to Nagnamor just in time to see the Archfiend unleash the move in
question. It was a massive downward swing of his glaive that split Liusolra’s avatar clean in half,
something he hadn’t been able to accomplish until that moment. The flaming shock wave released from
the weapon continued on to carve a 60-meter lava-spewing fissure through the city while the thick
clouds overhead actually seemed to part. Even if it sounded a bit pretentious and over-the-top, the
Mimic had to agree that ‘Heaven-and-Hell Splitter’ was a truly fitting name. And judging from how it
was taking Liusolra awhile to glue the two halves back together, the power behind it was every bit as
impressive as it looked.
“That attack is way too strong! What’s with that unfair power?!” complained Boxxy. “Come to think of
it though, doesn’t the wind-up motion look strangely familiar… ? Wait, was that the move he tried to use
on me when we first met?!”
The blow in question was the single most terrifying attack the Mimic had ever seen up close and
personal. Even if, at the time, it felt secure in the knowledge that the subverted contract would prevent
any actual harm from befalling it, scary things were still scary. If past Boxxy had taken the attack for
real, then it would have been annihilated so completely that not even a splinter of its chesty frame would
have been left behind. It therefore was only natural that its mind would remember the kind-of-near-
death-but-not-really experience in great detail.
“Oh yeah, probably,” confirmed Kora. “It’s uncle Naggy’s signature move, so he definitely tried to use it
on you back then!”
“That’s a bit too much effort to kill a Level 30-something Mimic, isn’t it?! I’m not saying I expected
Punchy to pull his punches, but even demons have to exercise restraint to a certain degree, right?”
“Restraint? What’s the point in that?” asked Kora with a dumb expression. “Surely if you see a weakling
walking around, then making sure you use 100% of your power to completely flatten and annihilate is
only natural! There’s no kill quite like overkill, y’know?”
“I see…“
The Mimic could argue that needlessly wasting one’s stamina like that would prove to be a fatal
weakness, but then gave up when it remembered who it was talking to. It really should have known that
this ‘overkill’ mentality was yet another in a long list of quirks that could be collectively summed up as
‘just fiend things.’
“Then I guess I should be glad Snack worked out as Punchy’s sacrifice back then.”
In fact, it wasn’t just that one time either. The Mimic of the past would have surely died on multiple
occasions if it didn’t have that particular succubus’s assistance. The more Boxxy thought about it, the
more it realized it owed much of its early success and its ongoing survival to none other than Snack.
“Heh. Still think she’d qualify as a pure maiden?” asked Kora, completely derailing its silent
introspective.
“... Honestly? I have no idea how the hell that ritual even worked in the first place. I mean, just look at
her.”
“Look at what? Holy fuck, when did this happen?!”
The fiend had been so engrossed by what was going out in front that she somehow completely failed to
realize the scene unfolding behind her.
“Damn, boss, you’re really letting her have it!”
Said ‘boss’ did not respond, however, as it was currently burning the sight of Frosty’s headlock on
Punchy into its memory, letting its numerous appendages ravage Xera’s body on autopilot. It was a
bizarre side of Kora’s master that the fiend could never truly get used to, no matter how much she
thought she understood the creature. All that potential for lewdness, perversity and all around carnal
depravity - wasted on a creature with absolutely no sex drive. Even now, despite the Mimic actively
bringing a succubus to orgasm after orgasm, it regarded the act with the same kind of dispassionate
attitude one might show to a bothersome chore like doing the dishes.
A fact that probably helped said ‘dishes’ get off even harder.
Doing her best to ignore the shameless slut as well as her own raging erection, Kora focused her
attention back to the calamitous clash that was steadily destroying the city’s northwestern quarter. The
fight of the century was clearly way more important than some pervert’s exhibition show, so she
continued mentally cheering for her Archfiend uncle with great gusto. And once that epic fight
concluded, she’d probably be told to continue smashing humans into a pulp, much like she had been
doing for the past few hours. She was also given permission to leave one or two of them alive, just so
she could sodomize them to her metaphorical heart’s content. And later tonight she would be giving all
of the ‘freshly motivated’ succubus’s orifices a very thorough inspection.
Not knowing which part of the day’s proceedings to be the most excited about, Kora threw all four of
her arms into the air and gazed up at the stormy sky with actual tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.
“Best! Day! Ever!”
“MNNNNPGHHHHH!”
A sentiment Xera very much agreed with, albeit in not as many words.
(150) Deception 13
A military unit was currently holed up in a small, dark and dank basement. The 22 Legionnaires and 9
conscripted adventurers that made up this unit stood in relative silence, either seated atop old barrels and
crates or leaning against the wall. They were hardly optimal resting positions, but none of those people
were particularly tired, nor were they willing to sit on the underground chamber’s cold and muddy floor.
The only source of light in the room was the magical lamp hanging from the low ceiling, which casted
dark shadows over their joyless faces.
However, their sorry state of mind could not be wholly attributed to the depressing environment. Not
only were they at war, but were technically right in the middle of a battlefield, hiding in a corner like a
bunch of rats. They also had no real choice in the matter, as they had an unconscious VIP in their care, a
commanding officer whose whereabouts were currently unknown and a Comm-crystal that was
currently nothing more than a shiny bauble.
“C’mon, you piece of junk! Work!”
Not that it stopped the elven Warrior called Syme from trying to activate it. As the recently-appointed
second-in-command, he had the responsibility of handling communications with Republic headquarters.
Therefore, the fact he had been completely unable to get through to them and report the unit’s status was
really trying his patience.
“Give it a rest, Syme,” groaned one of his soldiers, a female elven Witch called Kaleera. “I already told
you that’s not going to-”
“Oh, I think it connected!” exclaimed the elven soldier.
One could hardly blame the man for feeling optimistic, as the dimly glowing cube did indeed show a
magical reaction to his repeated attempts at connecting to its paired item.
*Khrkkkhht*
However, said reaction came in the form of a grating white noise, somewhere between a scrawl and a
screech. The magic item also attempted to construct a holographic image of the other party, but the
result was a garbled mess of blue lines and shapes that didn’t even look like a person. This didn’t last
long, as the cube suddenly went completely inert, even going so far as to lose its blue glow and turn a
dull, lifeless gray.
“Oh, shit! Did it just break?!”
Syme gave the thing a few worried taps and was instantly relieved to see it regain its soft, pale blue
glow.
“Will you stop messing with that thing, already!?” shout-whispered Kaleera. “You’re going to break it
for real!”
“Well what else am I supposed to do?!”
“How about you just sit there and wait like the Dec told you to!?”
Indeed, the unit’s standing orders were to hold their position and remain in cover until told otherwise.
However, of the three people who could do so, none of them were available. Primus Underwood
couldn’t be reached, Decanus Morgana had run off to assist the Sandman with some urgent plan and
Hilda was still in a comatose state from her bout with the enemy VIP. And of those three authority
figures, the one that was currently worrying Syme the most was the second one - the ‘Dec’ herself.
“I really shouldn’t have left her alone with that guy,” complained one of the adventurers. “He’s way too
shady!”
“No offense, Mikey, but you’re a conscripted human Rogue,” spat out one of the Legionnaires. “That
doesn’t make you entirely reputable, either!”
“That so? Wait, is that why you put off on healing me when I got caught up in that explosion earlier?!”
“Your bumbling set off one of our own landmines! You’re lucky you got off with just a scratch!”
“A scratch?! My femoral artery was severed! I would’ve bled out on the spot if you put off treating it
any longer than you did! You almost let me die!”
“Maybe I should have!”
“Alright that’s enough, both of you!” shouted Syme.
The two men kept glaring at each other in quiet anger, neither particularly willing to admit fault. This
sort of interpersonal friction was one of the main problems with forcing adventurers and soldiers to work
together. Their differing perspectives inevitably led to small conflicts of opinion that had a bad habit of
exploding into ugly disputes when tensions ran high. It was something the Warrior named Syme
understood very well.
Which was probably why the Decanus had given him the difficult task of keeping this unit from
collapsing from within in her absence.
“So what if Mikey misjudged the explosive radius of a device he’d only been told about?! Him remotely
setting it off was what knocked that enemy Wizard out of the air, wasn’t it?!”
He did this by first shouting at the elven Priest.
“And is it really such a big problem that Holt was too busy keeping the others alive to heal you on the
spot?! Your life is hardly the only one in danger out there!”
His next set of scathing remarks were aimed towards the human Rogue.
“Do you want the Dec to come back and find us pointlessly arguing over things we can’t change?! None
of us are here because we particularly want to, but we’re all in this together!”
Finally, he addressed both of them at once, causing them to cast their gazes downward in shame. It
wasn’t just them, either, as the others in the room distinctly felt the significance of those words.
“... I’m sorry I held a grudge over that, it was my own fault I got blown up,” admitted Mikey in a quiet
voice. “Thanks… for saving me.”
“Don’t mention it. And I’m sorry for calling you a two-timing short-ear behind your back,” replied the
Priest. “You’ve shown you deserve better than that.”
“Thanks, Holt. That means a lot to me.”
“From now on I’ll only say it to your face.”
“Hey!’
A small bout of laughter passed over the 30-odd men and women at Mikey’s expense. With the volatile
situation seemingly disarmed, Syme sat back down on his metal bucket and continued fiddling with the
Comm-crystal.
“It won’t work, Syme,” came Kaleera’s tired voice from the side. “It’s gonna take a lot more than a little
speech to get a signal past a demonic Overlord.”
“Yeah, but - How can we be sure he’s still out there?!”
*Rrrumble*
A distant tremor knocked a small cloud of dust from the wooden boards overhead while also causing the
magical lamp to rattle lightly in its fixture. The Witch shot the Warrior a look that said ‘Need I say
more?’ to which he replied by rolling his eyes in a ‘Okay, fine!’ sort of way and finally stopped messing
with the Comm-crystal.
“How does one stop one of these demonic Overlords anyway?” asked Mikey.
“You don’t,” replied Kaleera. “You run and hide until they run out of juice.”
“Then what in the blazes is the Sandman planning to do? And why did he need the Dec’s help to do it?!”
“No idea.”
“But you’re a Witch! If you don’t know how to stop a fucking demon, then who does?!”
“I don’t know, Mikey! My specialty is conjuration and magical bombardment! I haven’t dabbled in
demonology like that guy, so give me a break!”
“... Sorry. It’s just, I can’t trust that guy at all! Just looking at him gives me the heebie-jeebies!”
“The what-now?” she asked with a raise of an eyebrow.
“Heebie-jeebies. Means he’s creepy, unsettling,” explained Mikey.
“I think that’s the whole point of his getup,” chimed in someone else. “The sunshine and flowers look
really doesn’t fit the whole reclusive demon master thing he has going.”
“That seems rather detrimental though, doesn’t it?”
“Not necessarily. Recognizability is an important aspect of being an adventurer. Or a mercenary, for that
matter. All the top guys have their own signature look, y’know?”
“I guess, but-”
*Rrrumble*
The irrelevant conversation was abruptly interrupted by yet another quake.
“... Syme, are you sure you don’t want me to go out there and find the Dec?”
“You really should give it up, Mikey,” said the Warrior in question. “The Dec’s a lot more capable than
she looks, yeah? If she thought she could handle whatever’s going on out there, then all we have to do is
trust her judgement.”
“Besides, what would you do even if you found her?” asked someone else in a teasing manner.
“I’d get her back down here where it’s safe and sound!”
“What if she doesn’t wanna come back?”
“Then I’d drag her along even if she’s kicking and screaming!”
“No offense, ya two-timing short-ear,” said Holt, “but something tells me you’d just get your eyes
clawed out if you tried that.”
“That’s only if you’re lucky,” claimed someone else. “The Dec pulled a knife on the last guy that tried to
get too grabby with her back at the Fort.”
“Oh, c’mon! That’s just a rumor, right? There’s no way a sweet girl like the her would do something like
that!”
“Uh, huh. Need I remind you how that ‘sweet girl’ took out the enemy Priest outside the old butcher’s
shop?”
The mental image of Keira drilling a hole through an Imperial soldier’s groin with a Power Shot flashed
in the men’s minds. They weren’t going to complain she eliminated the enemy healer, but the fact she
did it with a smirk on her face was more than a little scary. Not to mention that, while noteworthy, it was
hardly her first nutshot, nor was it her last.
“... Okay yeah, fair point,” admitted Mikey. “She’d be much cuter without that bad habit of hers.”
“Three guesses who she picked it up from?”

The men in the group threw Fizzy a sideways glance. The golem that was currently performing basic
maintenance on her charge pack stopped when she felt their gazes and looked up at them with a
confused expression.
“What? … What?! Is there something on my face?”
“The lads are just uneasy how you always seem to go for the dick,” clarified Kaleera.
“Oh. Well it’s hardly my fault you meatbags have a universal, easy-to-reach weak point like that.”
“Gnn…” came a groan from the ground. “Always go… for the cock…”
“See? Hilda gets it,” declared Fizzy triumphantly before returning to her tinkering.
The dwarven Berserker’s delirious sleep-talk was hardly a reliable source of information, however, as
the last time the group heard her voice she was muttering something about ‘those tricksy pink
leprechauns.’ Not that anyone present even knew who or what a ‘leprechaun’ was supposed to be, but
they sincerely doubted it was supposed to be pink. Still, the fact that she showed brain activity was a
sign she’d probably get better.
Though perhaps not necessarily saner.
*Rrrrrumble*
“Why are you so insistent about going after the Dec anyway?” asked someone in the group. “Are you
sweet on her or something?”
“... Might be,” admitted Mikey. “I was just thinking… Wouldn’t mind running off with her somewhere.
Settle down, have some kids, y’know?”
“Hah! Not if I get her first!”
“Really, Barry? Aren’t you already married with two sons?” asked the man sitting next to him.
“So? Who says I can’t have myself more than one wife?!”
“Oh, I don’t know, how about the law. Or society in general? Not to mention common sense and moral
decency.”
“Come off it, Carl! Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought about having those dusky thighs
wrapped around your head!”
“What?! Of course I haven’t! … Well, not until just now, I mean.”
“Yea boiiii! Not too bad a thought, is it?”
“... Not the worst thing ever, no.”

“Gotta admit, I wouldn’t mind that either,” chimed in someone else.
“Gee, I wonder what the Dec will think if she knew you boys were admiring her thighs so much.”
“Way to be a buzzkill, Kaleera.”
*Rrrumble*
“Guys, dusky thighs aside,” said Mikey, “aren’t those tremors getting louder?”
“Come to think of it, they kind of are,” admitted Syme.
“Not louder. Closer.”
Fizzy’s correction caused a heavy silence to descend upon the room, disturbed only by the soft clatter of
the golem packing up her field repair kit and strapping her electric charge pack to her back. A few
moments later, the group heard a muffled, otherworldly roar followed by yet another earth-shaking
impact, gently reminding them that there was a giant murder-happy demon out there.
*Don Don Don*
A loud knock on the basement’s slanted double-doors sent the entire unit on high alert, prompting them
to quickly rise to their feet and prepare their weapons and magic. The exit to the outside was then
opened with an audible creak, allowing some daylight to fall down the steep staircase and brighten up
the dungeon-like atmosphere.
“It’s Keira, stand down!” came an all too familiar voice.
The catgirl in question slowly descended the steps with her arms in the air. Her unit first saw her mud-
stained combat boots, then her gray leather trousers and mithril rapier hanging from her waist, followed
by the lighter gray tunic draped over her chainmail shirt. However, it wasn’t until they saw her tanned
face, yellow eyes and fiery crimson hair that they finally felt relief wash over them. A few exclamations
of ‘Dec!’ and ‘Ma’am!’ rose up from the ranks as they formed around her in a semi-circle.
“Alright, calm down you lot!” she ordered while doing a quick headcount. “Syme - anything happen
while I was absent?”
“No, ma’am!” The elf threw a sideways glance towards Holt and Mikey. “Nothing at all. We’re all
present and accounted for, and the VIP’s still out of it.”
“Any word from headquarters?”
“No, ma’am. Comm-crystal can’t get through to them.”
“Magical interference, ma’am. Likely due to the Overlord’s presence,” added Kaleera.
“... I see. In that case gather your gear and your courage! We’re evacuating this place and seeking shelter
elsewhere!”
“We’re going to ignore the Primus’s orders?”
“Situation’s changed, Holt. Those Overlords have been steadily making their way towards us for the last
5 or so minutes. A mere basement won’t be enough to save us if we get caught up in that fight!”
“Overlords? Plural?!”
“Oh, right, there’s actually two of them out there. Long story short, Mr S returned the Empire’s favor
and called a second one out to distract the first one.”
The dire news washed over the ignorant squad who had no idea what to make of it. To most of them,
something like ‘demonic Overlords’ were things they had only heard about in passing, if at all. Their
inability to determine whether the Sandman’s actions were a good or bad thing was plainly visible on
their faces, prompting Keira to clarify the situation.
“Bottom line is, Mr S’s plan worked, and the two of them are too busy fighting each other to bother with
the likes us.”
Those reassuring words prompted a small round of cheers, which was cut short by yet another earth-
rattling aftershock.
“But we’re not out of it yet!” shouted Keira. “They’re wrecking everything in their path, so we need to
move before they get here and we get caught up in it!”
“Decanus, ma’am?”
“What is it, Mikey?”
“You said they’re headed towards us?”
“Yeah. The big white one is slowly being overpowered by the big scary one, who seems to be making
his way in this general direction.”
“Okay, but why this way specifically?!”
“MORNINGWOOOOOOOOOD!”
A thunderous bellow poured in through the open doors to the basement.
“... I haven’t the slightest idea.”
Fizzy was obviously not buying that bare-faced lie. She had no idea when, why or how Boxxy had
managed to piss off, of all things, a demonic Overlord and still lived to tell the tale, but couldn’t bring it
up within earshot of the others. She momentarily felt envious of those three demons’ telepathic
communication with their master, and she too yearned for an extremely convenient way to talk to her
Goddess’s chosen Hero. Unfortunately for Fizzy, it was a link she’d never be able to have due to her
species, as golems were completely and wholly immune to any and all magic that affected the mind,
regardless of whether its effects were beneficial or detrimental.
Therefore, the most she could do for the moment was keep quiet and just assume that something
typically nonsensical had happened between Boxxy and that mega-demon sometime in the past.
“However,” continued Keira, “this place is most definitely in that thing’s path, so we’re abandoning it,
so get off your asses and move out! Now!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
As if struck by lightning, the troops immediately formed a line and followed their Decanus out of the
basement with Hilda in tow. The dwarf’s adamantite armor, however, had to be left behind. It made her
much heavier than she appeared at first glance, to the point where it took three of the group’s strongest
members to get her into the basement in the first place. They have since had time to strip her, wrap her
in blankets and fasten her to a makeshift stretcher, so the way up those steps was considerably easier
than the way down. A few of them couldn’t help but want to bring her gear along separately, but Keira
ordered them to leave it. Even if it was powerful and expensive equipment, it was just much too
cumbersome to lug it around and would slow them down. Meaning the reason it was left behind was
definitely out of concern for their safety, and not because a greedy monster-in-disguise wanted to come
back for it later and add it to its collection.
Once outside and back into the street, the troops were greeted with an extremely surreal environment. To
begin with, the thick stormclouds overhead now had numerous gaps and clear patches in them. Those
were certainly no natural formations, no matter how one looked at them, but at the very least the rain
had stopped falling.
Looking out over the low rooftops to the north, they could clearly see the two Overlords mentioned by
Keira still going at it. One was a winged, fire-wreathed demon straight out of a nightmare, while the
other was a half-human half-spider thing that was almost too white to look at. A gigantic pillar of ice
suddenly rose from the ground between them, hitting the winged demon in the chin. The proxy uppercut
sent shards of ice and plumes of flames flying out in every direction, knocking the flame-skull-headed
demon down on his ass with a massive crash.
*Rrrrrumble*
“You can do it, uncle! Just hit her right in the pussy!”
The boisterously vulgar female voice coming from one of the nearby rooftops once again sent the troop
on their guard. At least until they realized that it belonged to a certain four-armed, red-skinned demon
that was technically on their side. They had been formally introduced to Kora, Xera and Drea when they
set out on the mission to try and entrap the enemy Psionic, so they already knew she was one of the
Sandman’s familiars.
However, the details regarding her supposed uncle, why she was cheering in the first place or whether
that Overlord actually had a pussy would have to remain a mystery for the moment.
“Excuse me, miss Arms!” yelled Keira.
“Huuuuh?!”
The fiend looked down at the catgirl with a vicious sneer. Her glare alone caused a few of the more
skittish conscripts to audibly swallow their saliva.
“We’re ready to leave, now!”
“Oh, man! And it was just getting really good, too! Fuuuuuuck!”
Kora leapt down to the ground without even trying to hide her disappointment.
“Yo!” she greeted the gathered soldiers with a wave of her left hands. “Boss ordered us to babysit you
lot, so you’d better be grateful!”
“What’s going on here, Dec?” asked Syme. “And what does she mean by ‘us?’”
“Mr S was seriously injured as a result of the summoning ritual and can’t escort us personally,”
explained Keira, “so he lent us two of his familiars for our protection in his stead. However, I would
appreciate it if miss Snack could stop playing games and take this matter seriously.”
“Oh? But I am taking it seriously, honey,” said Kaleera with an arrogant smirk.
“Wait, what am I doing over there?!” asked the other Kaleera in shock.
She was hardly the only one caught unawares, as all the soldiers unwittingly took a few steps away from
the intruder in their midst.
“Huhuhuhu,” giggled the impostor in a smug tone. “You retards didn’t even notice when an extra person
snuck into your group! You mortals are way too easy!”
“Miss Snack, please stop unnerving my men,” said Keira with a tired expression. “They’re on edge
enough as it is!”
“I’ll have you know I’m merely masking my presence in case an enemy finds us, that way I might be
able to catch them by surprise. I’m not using this form just to screw with people, you silly kitty.”
“Uh-huh. But you’re still doing this mostly to fuck with them, aren’t you?”
The succubus didn’t answer with words, but merely stuck her tongue out through her smiling lips in a
teasing manner.
“Look, just- Quit it, okay?! Mr S said you have to listen to everything I say, didn’t he?!”
The disguised demoness’s playful attitude quickly disappeared as the playful face she was wearing
turned sour.
“Okay, fine,” she said in a cold voice.
In the next instant, her facial features started changing while her Republic magic user’s uniform filled
out in all the right spots. She had transformed into a shape that looked more like a human version of her
true self, rather than the green-haired Witch she had copied to pull off her prank. Kaleera was visibly
relieved by that, although she also felt a certain amount of envy. Seeing her flat, almost non-existent
chest swell out to a pair of massive mammaries in a matter of seconds did not help her self-esteem in the
slightest. The men in the group had watched that particular part of the transformation with great interest
as well, albeit for completely different reasons.
“Better?” asked the succubus in her own voice.
“Much,” confirmed Keira with a nod. “Now, let’s get a move on! We need to get out of the range of
those demons’ rampage!”
“Yes, Ma’am!” replied the troops in unison.
As they began making their way through the ruined city, they quickly realized what exactly the Decanus
had meant by getting ‘out of range,’ as the collateral damage caused by those two Overlords was far-
reaching indeed. Ice shards, ripped up trees, half-molten rocks and bits of random buildings were sent
flying in every direction by their calamitous clashes, bombarding an area of almost 200 meters around
them with all manner of debris. Thankfully none of them landed anywhere near the unit as they were
skulking from building to building, but having potentially lethal debris flying overhead was not exactly a
calming factor. Neither was the devious succubus in their midst, but knowing that their Decanus had a
firm grasp on her leash helped ease them somewhat.
Kora’s assistance, on the other hand, was much better received. After all, if a fiend was going to attack
someone, they were far more likely to smash them in the face right away rather than try to gain their
trust only to stab them in the back later. Not to mention that having someone as plainly powerful as her
supporting them was extremely reassuring. Seeing her plough through blocked streets and collapsed
houses made her physical strength abundantly clear, even if she was hardly what one would call ‘subtle.’
She also kept stealing glances at the ongoing Overlord fight in the background, but she was hardly the
only one in the group to do so. Whether it be curiosity, wariness or fear, all of the soldiers and
adventurers couldn’t help but gawk at the spectacular fight every now and then.
A fight that was just about to reach its climax.
“AAAAAAAARGH!” rolled in Nagnamor’s booming scream.
Liusolra had at some point managed to rip off or destroy the skull-adorned cuisses that protected her
opponent’s legs, allowing the arachnid half of her avatar to stick its mandibles deep into his furry thigh.
The upper half, on the other hand, had turned into a sort of amorphous blob that was wrapped around his
arms and weapon, restraining their movements while snuffing out his protective flames.
“Ha-ha!” she laughed mockingly. “I’ve, like, got you now, loser!”
In the next instant, the Archfiend felt much of the magic permeating his body being actively drained by
Liusolra’s fangs. With his strength rapidly fading, Nagnamor could not break out of her hold. Not only
that, but given the rate at which that glutton was practically drinking him up from the inside, it would
not be long before his body gave out and he would be sent back to the Beyond. The match was over, no
matter how one looked at it. All things considered, though, the Archfiend still ended up having a lot of
fun throwing down against a truly worthy opponent. Even if Liusolra only fought by proxy, she was still
a worthy opponent.
“Aaaaaah, that’s the stuff!” she cooed in delight. “You, like, taste so good that I literally cannot even!”
However, there was no way Nagnamor would allow himself to suffer defeat gracefully. All fiends were
sore losers by default, and being an Archfiend and an Overlord on top of that only meant he was the
sorest loser of them all. And the one person- the one thing that he did not want to lose to at any cost was
that insufferable little bug. Therefore, he decided that if he was going to go down, then he would do so
with a bang.
“YOU WANT MY MANA SO BAD?!” he bellowed with a seething rage. “FINE THEN! TAKE IT!
TAKE IT ALLLLL!”
“Wait, what are you-?!”
“LIBERO FACILISIS LIGULA, IN ELEMENTUM PULVINAR MI TINCIDUNT VESTIBULUM!”
Nagnamor suddenly began chanting, his un-words causing the very world to tremble and quake.
Seemingly realizing what was going on, Liusolra redoubled her efforts to finish him off as fast as she
could. She slashed at him with blades of ice and ran him through with icicles the size of towers, but the
Archfiend’s vitality was first-class, even among the demonic Overlords. Even in his wounded and
weakened state, it would be frankly impossible for the Stalker Queen to deplete his life force before
before he finished his incantation.
Even if she was unrivaled among her peers when it came to using magic to bog down and ensnare her
opponents, she lacked the purely offensive capabilities of Nagnamor himself.
“PORTTITOR INTERDUM DICTUM EGET LACUS! ORCI VARIUS NATOQUE PENATIBUS ET

MAGNIS DIS PARTURIENT MONTES, MAURIS URNA SAPIEN ALIQUAM!”
Nagnamor’s black flames spewed out of from around his neck and skull, breaking through Liusolra’s
brood. They rose high into the air, forming an extremely ominous pillar of black fire that seemed to
extend past the clouds.
“NEQUE AT PLACERAT BLANDIT! NAGNAMOR UTRICIA PRAESENTUM!”
“Hey, no fair!” exclaimed Liusolra in a frustrated panic. “I’m not, like, done yet!”
“YEAH, WELL, LIKE, FUCK YOU!” he yelled back in a mocking tone, then uttered the word of power
to finish off his incantation.
“ARMAGEDDON!”
In the next instant, Nagnamor self-destructed, releasing a wave of unimaginable heat that turned his
surroundings into a flat, lifeless landscape. Everything within a hundred meters of the Overlord, Liusolra
included, was vitrified. The surrounding half a kilometer or so became a black desert filled with nothing
but ash. The city beyond that as well as parts of the Rainy Woodlands were all set ablaze by an
unquenchable inferno that threatened to envelop the entire forest. What clouds remained overhead were
now completely gone, allowing the afternoon sun to shine down onto the newly-created wasteland
unabated.
This was the power of Armageddon - one of the Four Great Apocalypse Magics. Much like the Ice Age
unleashed by Liusolra on the town of Bootlick, it was a Spell that only an Overlord could use. It was
their final trump card and also the biggest part of what made them such a huge threat to civilizations
caught in their wake. But even among the Four, Armageddon was the one that boasted the strongest
destructive power. Enough to not only annihilate another Overlord in one hit, but also put an abrupt end
to the battle for New Whitehall. Which, much like the duel between Liusolra and Nagnamor, had ended
without a definite winner. In fact, looking at the heavy losses incurred on both sides as well as the state
of what was left of the city, even calling it a draw would be incredibly optimistic.
On that day, both the Republic and the Empire had lost magnificently.
Clash of Fate has been invoked!

The Hero of the Hammer will now face the Hero of Chaos on the field of battle!
May destiny smile upon the victor!
And yet, that long day was far from being over.
(151) Hypocrisy 14
*RRRRUMBLE*
A patch of ash within the newly-created black desert suddenly began moving and shifting. A large slab
of superheated stone that had survived the Armageddon Spell steadily rose to one side as Kora grunted
with effort to lift it up from underneath.
“Nnnnrryah!”
With a final yell, she threw off the thick, flat rock that was easily 4 times larger than her, allowing the
other survivors to breathe once more. The scalding, ash-filled air was far from lung-friendly, however,
making them choke and cough almost uncontrollably. One of the Druids in the unit somehow managed
to cast a Soothing Rain Spell, causing a small, black cloud to appear almost immediately overhead. The
curative rainwater that poured down from it not only helped restore everyone’s HP, but also purified and
cooled the air to make it more breathable.
“Koff! Koff Koff! Everyone alive?!” yelled Keira while looking around.
“I think we lost the two-timing short-ears!”
“Oy! I’m not dead yet, Holt!”
“Tch, just my luck.”

“Arms, is Mr S alive?” she turned towards the fiend.
“Uh, yeah. The boss is still around.”
“... Do a handstand to prove it!”
“Oh for the love of-”
Kora then did a perfect 10-point handstand using only her frontal pair of arms.
“There, satisfied?”
“Yes, thank you. What about the VIP and wounded?”
“VIP’s safe and sound, Ma’am!”
“Some of the magic users passed out, but they’ll pull through!”
As the reports rapidly came in, it quickly became apparent that everyone was present and accounted for,
even if not entirely fit for duty. Once the group’s immediate concerns regarding their comrades’ well-
being were taken care of, they finally began to take in the devastation around them. The desolate, lifeless
scenery was so silent that even their own uneven breathing sounded unnaturally loud and grating.
Keira rose to her feet and looked towards the middle - the source of all this destruction. The ground in a
large radius around Punchy’s last location had turned to glass. Like a muddled diamond, it glistened and
sparkled in the sunlight, although its impure nature and rough, uneven texture gave it an eerie,
foreboding shine.
Following her example, one by one the men and women rose to their feet and stared mutely at the glass
field.
“That’s…” one of them began speaking in a low voice brimming with disbelief. “Isn’t that where…”
“Yeah,” confirmed Mikey. “If the Dec hadn’t told us to relocate… We’d have been right in the middle of
that.”
It was an undeniable fact that the catgirl’s decision had spared them the absolute worst case scenario.
Even after they moved they’d have been caught up in the blast if the Decanus hadn’t demanded that
everyone seek shelter inside another basement the instant she heard that chanting start. Getting
underground and establishing a bunch of magical barriers in a matter of seconds was no easy task, but
they somehow pulled off. If the call to retreat underground had been any slower, then they would have
definitely not gotten off as easy as they did.
And yet here they were - covered in soot, mentally and physically exhausted, not to mention disoriented
and disheartened, but undeniably and unequivocally alive. It was unclear as to whether what they had
been through over the last 10-to-15 minutes was lucky or unlucky, but given that they were all still
around to debate the point would imply the former. No, thinking about it from start to finish, their
continued survival wasn’t due to something like luck.
It was a damned miracle.
And the one that had brought this miracle about through her own effort and intuition was none other
than Keira Morgana. The catgirl that had saved their lives many times over was looking over the ruined
landscape with a sorrowful expression, as if she were mourning all the lives she couldn’t save. It was a
solemn, beautiful scene worthy of becoming an icon. Heck, they could’ve probably made a religion out
of it.
Of course, what said catgirl was actually mourning was the loss of Hilda’s equipment, but that was
besides the point. It also wasn’t something baseless like intuition that told Boxxy what Nagnamor was
about to do. The Mimic had actually managed to recognize some of the words in the Overlord’s chant,
courtesy of Ambrosia’s ongoing language lessons. So when it heard the Archfiend mention something
about ‘rendering the air aflame’ it immediately ran underground and cut itself off from the outside
world. It was the right decision, as relatively little of Armageddon’s heat seeped into the ground itself.
Whether it was because it literally set the air on fire or due to something else didn’t matter, the important
part was that Boxxy and Keira’s unit managed to survive more or less unscathed.
They were hardly the only ones, however, as hundreds of people began emerging from the ground
around them. This vaguely bowl-shaped black desert coupled with the unbroken sunlight from above
made each and every survivor stand out like a sore thumb, even to the untrained eye. In fact, one of them
was raising a lot of dust as he made a beeline for Keira’s unit, and judging from his armor’s colors he
was in no way an ally. He was no pushover, either, if his running speed was any indication.
“… We have incoming!” shouted Keira. “Look alive people, the war isn’t over quite yet! Syme - how’s
the Comm-crystal?”
The elven Warrior reached for the item in question, but it had broken into three large pieces.
“Busted, ma’am!”
“Damn! Alright, take half the unit and evacuate the VIP and the others who can’t move to safety! Do not
turn back, no matter what! You hear me, Legionnaire?!”
“Loud and clear, ma’am! You heard the Dec, lads! You, you, you, you, you three over there and you lot -
you’re with me! Let’s move, move, move!”
The man quickly picked out a dozen or so troops and began to make his retreat as ordered. Of course
none of them felt right leaving the Decanus behind yet again, but they no longer had room to complain.
If their Goddess of Victory told them to do something, then they just had to go and do it.
“Arms - you’re up at the very front. He seems to be a melee combatant so make sure you body block
him and hold him down!”
“Whatever you say, boss-lady!” replied Kora while banging her fists together.
“The rest of you, wait until Arms has immobilized the target and then blast it with all you got! I don’t
care if you wipe her out too!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“That goes for miss Snack as well! Don’t pull any punches and really pour it on!”
“Huhuhuhu! With great pleasure!” declared Xera with an evil smirk.
“Remember - just because we’re trying to buy time doesn’t mean we’re throwing our lives away! We’re
not just going to stop that sonofabitch, we’re going to annihilate him! We set out an hour ago to ensnare
and kill a VIP, and that’s exactly what we’re gonna do! So steel your guts and tighten your buttholes,
because it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!”
“Oorah!”
The composition of the group that stayed behind to block the incoming threat consisted of 15 beings in
total. One catgirl Ranger, two demonic familiars, one golem Paladin, a human Rogue, two Priests, a
Druid, a Cryomancer, a Witch, three Wizards and two Warriors. They quickly formed ranks to prepare
for the incoming threat. A few of them realized the enemy could just skirt around them and head straight
for the vulnerable VIP, but such thoughts were discarded. The target had not only stayed his course, but
even picked up speed.
“Prepare barrage!” yelled Keira, prompting the unit to begin pre-chanting Spells or ready any ranged
weapons. And several tense seconds later, the enemy entered their effective range.
“Loose!”
“Ice Spike! Fireball! Fire Blast! Wind Cutter! Frostbolt! Shadowbolt!”
A plethora of magic projectiles of various elemental alignments flew out, aimed squarely at the
incoming threat’s path. The man brilliantly sidestepped them all, however, slipping through the gaps
between them with superhuman reflexes. He then leaped through the air in a grand arc, swinging his
two-handed warhammer down right onto Kora.
“Draw!”
Rather than take it head-on, however, the fiend activated a defensive Martial Art. It caused her towering
body to slide backwards across the ashen ground without breaking her stance. With his target no longer
where it was supposed to be, the enemy’s heavy blow struck nothing but blackened ground.
“Straight!”
Activating the second part of the Martial Art, Kora’s body flew forward with the same dizzying speed,
allowing her to deliver a full powered double-right-handed straight punch. One fist connected with the
man’s shoulder plate, while the other was a clean shot to his forehead. The heavy dual blow forced the
man back, causing his feet to drag along the loose ashes for a few meters. His helmet had gotten blown
off by the impact, landing somewhere behind him with a soft thud.
“Well, well, well!” said Kora with a pleasantly surprised tone. “Fancy meeting you here!”
Indeed, the man who had just eaten one of her double-deluxe-knuckle-sandwiches was someone she
already knew. He had a full hair of blond, unreasonably spiky hair. His face showed him to be only
about 17 or 18 years old. His attractive facial features and sky-blue eyes were marred with an expression
that screamed of cold, seething hatred that sent chills down one’s spine. His blue-tinged and well-worn
armor looked to be especially thicker on his left side, especially the shoulder, upper arm and left shin-
guard. In his hands was a pitch-black warhammer with a shimmering blood-red gem embedded in its
head that gave off an ominous feeling.
“I was sure you bit the big one, blondie,” taunted Kora, “but I’m glad your bitch of a goddess cheated
and brought you back! Now I get to skullfuck you personally!”
The human was Bernard Samson, Hero of the Hammer and herald of Teresa, the Goddess of truth and
justice.
“... So it really is you,” muttered Bernard in a low tone, although his expression didn’t change in the
slightest. “I thought I was just seeing things, but looks like the old man was right after all.”
Bernard dashed forward while swinging his ominous weapon in a wide horizontal arc. Kora successfully
blocked it with the armor on both her left forearms-
“Raaaaaargh!”
-yet she buckled over and stumbled backwards with a high-pitched scream of pain.
This caught Boxxy by surprise. The Arms just screamed and doubled over in pain. The demon that
barely even uttered a grunt as she suffered through having limbs torn off, monsters chewing on her face
and being exploded time and time again by virtue of being her master’s test subject. The fiend’s reaction
was not just unusual, but downright unnatural. Indeed, looking at the arms that took the brunt of that
attack, it was immediately evident something strange was going on. Both the flesh and metal on her
forearms had turned into a lifeless, dull brown color and began crumbling and falling away as if they
were clumps of dried-up dirt.
“Is that a Demonbane!?” asked Xera through the telepathic link.
“Yeah! The bitch got himself a Demonbane weapon!” confirmed Kora. “Nnnnngh, a really powerful
one, too! Boss, this is bad!”
‘Bad’ was putting it mildly. Demonbane weapons were, as their name suggested, implements created for
the sole purpose of slaying demonic entities. Not only did they inflict considerable damage to a demon’s
physical form, but some of them even had the power to completely destroy their spiritual side as well.
Needless to say, this was something Boxxy could not allow to continue.
A Warlock or Witch must safeguard the immortal souls of their soulbound familiars at all costs, even if
it meant losing their very lives. Failing to uphold this part of the summoning contract would result in
their mortal souls being confiscated and dragged into the Beyond. Not only would this kill them on the
spot, but they would also be subjected to unimaginable torture through every single second of every
minute of every day for the rest of time.
It was a fate worse than oblivion, and one that the Mimic had no intention of risking. Therefore, it
instantly removed the potential danger to its life from the field.
The spark of life in Kora’s eyes disappeared abruptly, causing her large body to keel over and fall to the
ground like a sack of potatoes, although not before flipping Bernard off with both of her right hands.
“Tch, she ran away,” said the Hero with a hint of disappointment. “No matter, I can feel another one
nearby!”
“Loose!”
The next salvo of ranged attacks bombarded the human, but he evaded the worst of it by circling them
around to his left. Kaleera managed to nail him with her Ebonfire Spell, but the black flames that
enveloped his body were sucked away by his weapon. Xera’s pet Molten Guardian ran out to challenge
him, but the fiery warhound was swatted away in a single blow as if were a harmless shrub.
It would appear that any magic that was even of vaguely demonic origin was useless against the Hero,
which included both the Witch’s prided Ruin Spells as well as the succubus’s fiery minion. The former
was a school of magic said to have originated in the Beyond, while the latter was created through a
demon’s power, so both of them had gotten disrupted by the Demonbane.
“The Pyromancer, huh?”
Feeling the response from his own weapon after taking out Smokey, Bernard immediately set his sights
on the succubus-in-disguise. Sensing that the jig was up, Xera undid her disguise, unfurled her wings
and took to the air, eliminating the chance of being struck by that damnable weapon. She wasn’t sturdy
like Kora, so there was a good chance a good solid hit might wipe her out completely.
However, the Hero would not let her escape so easily.
“Judgement From Above!”
Unleashing the Skill given to him by virtue of being Teresa’s chosen, Bernard caused a column of
blinding white light to fall on top of the succubus. It was a Skill that relied heavily on the user’s
perceptions and preconceptions, as it would only display its full power against those the Hero of the
Hammer had judged to be ‘evil.’ And although the youth’s tortured mind saw all demons as the very
incarnation of evil, he was hardly the only one, as 100 out of 100 people would agree that all demons
were inherently evil creatures.
Therefore, even if the succubus’s soul would be spared, the fact that her physical body had instantly
evaporated without a trace was going to happen regardless of the Hero’s state of mind.
Where the young lad’s twisted worldview came into play, however, was when it came to the elven squad
below the demoness - the ones that had gotten caught up in his divine blast. In some ways, he thought of
the elves and the Republic as a whole as even worse than the demons themselves. The latter may have
been born evil, but the former willingly chose to not only rely on such corrupting influence, but even go
so far as to use them as weapons. Horrible weapons of mass destruction that could wipe out entire cities
in the blink of an eye. It was a crime not only against humanity, but against the world at large. And
Bernard would be judge, jury and executioner to their entire nation.
Just so that nobody would ever have to suffer loss the same way he did.
Which was why, when the dust settled, the elven troop were horrified to see that three of their numbers
had turned into statues made of salt.
“H-Holt?” muttered Mikey in disbelief. “Holt?! Hooolt!”
He cried out in despair, but the elven Priest that had saved his life several times earlier that day had
become one of the victims. He could do little to answer the ‘two-timing short-ears’ other than fall over
and crumble into a man-shaped pile of salt, which is exactly what happened.
“You monster!” bellowed the distraught Rogue. “You’ll pay for that!”
“Mikey, don’t!”
Disregarding or perhaps not even registering Keira’s words, the hot-blooded adventurer rushed forward
to challenge the Hero. Bernard stared him down as he instantly condemned him as a traitorous piece of
garbage and got ready to smash him into a pulp. Before Mikey’s rash actions could get him killed,
however, Keira put an arrow through his foot, pinning him to the ground with excessive force. As the
hapless Rogue howled in pain, anger and sorrow, the catgirl tossed a trio of purple beads at the human.
Being wary of those odd projectiles, Bernard made a few steps back. The alchemically made smoke
bombs cracked open on the ground in front of him, releasing a puff of thick, purple gas that was
probably poisonous in nature.
Using the miasma as cover, one of the Warriors in the group pulled the human’s foot out of the ground
and roughly carried him away from the threat. However, the Hero dashed through the smoke and swung
his weapon towards the elf’s unprotected back. The sudden attack nailed the Warrior in the shoulder,
sending both him and the Rogue tumbling to the side like a pair of ragdolls.
“Quake Strike!”
In the next instant, the Hero slammed his black hammer into the ground, causing a small wave of dust to
travel across towards the elven ranks. The Druid in the group stabbed his staff into the ground and used
a Strengthen Soil Spell in an attempt counter and defuse the incoming Martial Art. Unfortunately, the
clearly unnatural environment refused to yield to his magic, and the Quake Strike reached his feet
unabated.
What followed was a violent explosion of dust, ash and what little dirt was left underneath all that
devastation as the ground itself split open. It didn’t do much in the way of damage, but scattered the
Republic unit and obstructed their eyesight. The Druid had fallen over on his knees and was coughing
violently when he looked up to see Bernard burst through the cloud of dust. The human swung his
warhammer down on top of the elf, who unwittingly closed his eyes, unable to stare death in the face.
However, death would not claim him right that instant, as a white streak of gleaming mithril had run in
between him and his incoming doom at the last possible moment.
*DONNNNNNNNNNNNnnn*
The impact of an Artifact-grade weapon colliding with an Artifact-grade shield rang out with a gong-
like sound. The violent winds kicked up by the sudden turn of events blew away all the ash and dust
lingering in the air to reveal Fizzy had successfully stopped the Hero in his tracks.
“You’re gonna have to try better than that, blinky! Shield Bash!”
The golem put some more strength behind her shield arm and abruptly blew the human away with her
own Martial Art.
“Marcus get off your ass and get Mikey and Yulian patched up!”
“Y-yes, ma’am!” stuttered the shaken-up Druid as he rose to his feet and rushed to aid his allies.
“Poe and Tulus - cover Fizzy! Box him in with your magic and don’t let him run wild! The rest of you
get your heads out of your asses and ready a secondary defensive line!”
Fizzy and Bernard continued to exchange blows. Being Paladins, both fighters had activated their
respective Divine Wrath Skills, which greatly increased their damage output for a short time. The golem
had also added Plus into the mix by activating Parallel One, who was doing her best to disrupt the
human through targeted applications of the Magnetize Skill, coupled by repeated applications of the
offensive Judgement Spell. The charge pack strapped to the golem’s back was humming along, zapping
the Hero with arcs of electricity every time he and Fizzy made contact. His armor protected him from
the worst of it, but it still steadily sapped his HP, regardless of whether he hit or was being hit. Even a
block or a parry resulted in yet more damage being accumulated, while two Wizards and that beastkin
Ranger relentlessly targeted him with Spells and arrows, severely limiting his ability to move around.
And yet the Hero did not fall, nor did he slow down. For even though Judgement From Above could not
be used in rapid succession, the other Skill granted by the Goddess Teresa was something he could whip
out as many times as he pleased.
“Vengeance!”
With his whole body briefly enveloped by a bright glow, Bernard suddenly unleashed a massive golf-
like swing. A Berserker-like technique, Vengeance rose in power directly proportional to the amount of
damage he had taken over the last 10 seconds. And since that accursed golem’s interference had led to
the Hero losing about half of his HP in that time frame, the power behind the Vengeance-enhanced strike
was several times stronger than any of his previous attacks.
*SKACRUNCH*
Fizzy managed to catch it on her shield, but it still proved too much for her. While the cursed armament
remained mostly unscathed, the arm it was attached to crumpled under the ridiculous strain put on it.
The golem was knocked away, flying through the air and crashing into the ash-covered ground with a
heavy thud, kicking up a small cloud of debris. The remains of the Republic unit watched in abject
horror as their guardian angel’s mangled left arm fell several meters away from her. Fizzy herself
seemed to still be functioning, but her body was bent over and dented in a weird and clearly unnatural
way, rendering her unable to even stand up.
In the next instant, there was a loud clang of metal scraping against metal, followed immediately by a
certain message that appeared for everyone within several kilometers of the scene.

The Hero of the Hammer will now face the Hero of Chaos on the field of battle!
Swerving their heads around, the elven troops could do little but stare with mouths agape as Keira stood
before the Hero. She had discarded her shortbow and was pointing her mithril rapier squarely at
Bernard’s throat.
HP and MP have fully recovered.

Skill and Spell cooldowns have been refreshed.
None can interfere in the Clash of Fate until it is resolved.
Having regained his strength, Bernard rapidly rose to his feet with a truly bewildered look on his face,
but assumed a fighting stance out of reflex. His enemy was clearly no elf, nor did she look evil, but if
she stood against him, then he would give her no quarter.
“You favor your left when you dodge,” she said in a cold, deadpan voice.
Not giving anyone a single chance to grasp the sudden development, Keira slashed at the man’s head.
He dodged it by going down and towards his left, just as she had said, only to have the thin blade swerve
at the last moment and slash him across the face. It almost looked like he cut himself on it on purpose.
“Guh!” he grunted, his eyes once again filling with anger. He then swung his prided hammer at the
beastkin’s center of mass.
“Your attacks are strong and fast, but way too direct.”
Saying that, she effortlessly sidestepped his retaliatory strike, ducked under the follow-up backhanded
swing and then leaped over his shoulder-charge with a somersault, landing squarely on top of his
shoulders.
“You’re also pretty terrible at point blank ranges.”
She then leapt off with a backflip, slashing him across the face yet again as she spun around.
“Why you little-!”
His anger steadily rising, he kept lashing out at her, but failed to land a single hit. Like a blade swaying
against the grass, the catgirl’s body seemed to evade his strikes before he even made them.
“Also, your armor is horribly unbalanced and impractical. Not only is it messing up your swings, but
your knees, armpits and elbows are totally exposed. You think you look cool or something? You’re a
joke!”
Her blade unerringly ripped through his right arm’s elbow as if to prove her point. The human yelled out
in pain, stumbling back as blood gushed out of the wound.
“You’re no soldier. I’d call you a mindless brute instead, but that would be insulting to trolls
everywhere.”
She kicked some dust into his eyes and then tripped him up with swift kick to the back of his knee,
causing him to buckle over. She then stabbed him through the shoulder from above and behind. Having
put her entire weight into the blow allowed her to pierce clean through metal and flesh alike in a single,
magnificent thrust.
“AAAAARRGHH!” he screamed in pain. “V-Vengeance!”
Activating the same Skill as before caused him to lash out with the same ferocity that sent Fizzy flying.
It kicked up an impressive volume of dust, but ultimately hit only air since the catgirl had let go of her
weapon and leapt over his head.
“Blindly relying on Status and Skills to get you through your battles… It’s a miracle you lasted this
long! You’d never make it as an adventurer with that foolish attitude!”
With yet another scolding remark, Keira grabbed onto the handle of her blade and violently pulled it out
of Bernard’s shoulder by kicking off his back.
“Gaaaah!”
He swung blindly as he turned around, only to have his opponent find a weak spot in his armor,
puncturing through it and jabbing him in the thigh. Several quick exchanges later, the human was left
kneeling on the ground, bleeding heavily from multiple wounds without being able to so much land a
scratch on his opponent. She had used the knowledge gained from his fight with Fizzy to thoroughly
analyze and then pick apart his amateurish fighting style, demonstrating that he stood no chance against
her. She wasn’t just trying to defeat him - she was humiliating him. She even somehow managed to
goad him into using and missing his trump card, the deadly Judgement From Above Skill. Nobody knew
exactly how she had achieved this feat since they were momentarily blinded by its flashy nature, but the
fact that she was still standing after taking what seemed like a direct hit was something nobody could
deny.
All Bernard could do at that point was to glare defiantly at the catgirl, who was currently walking circles
just outside his range and continuing her verbal onslaught.
“I repeat, you’re neither a soldier nor an adventurer. You barely even qualify as an adult! It really would
be for the best if you apologized to all the Warriors and Paladins of the world for your shameful
performance and went to live on as a Farmer! That way the only thing in danger of suffering your
incompetence would be your cabbages! But you won’t do that. Because underneath that thin veneer of a
Hero lies nothing more than a crying toddler throwing a tantrum over things he can’t change.”
“Shut up! The hell do you know?!”
“Oh, but I know everything,” she said in a low voice. “I know you died at Monotal.”
The man’s eyes suddenly grew to the size of dinner plates. Underwood had given Keira all of the
intelligence they had on the enemy VIP, so it was only natural she knew about that, even if members of
her squad didn’t.
“I know that man Edward told you the Republic was responsible for that Calamity, but guess what? He
lied! And you fell for it! That’s so pathetic I can’t even laugh at you!”
“N-no! That’s not true! Allen’s the one who gave me purpose! He’s- He showed me! Proved to me that-”
“He knows exactly who killed your friends and family, you know.”
“He… What?”
“Ah, but he hasn’t told you, has he? Of course he didn’t. He knew you wouldn’t have become such a
convenient tool for him to use if you had a clear target in mind. That’s why he pinned the blame on the
Republic as a whole! Face it, kiddo - to him you’re just another weapon to aim at his enemies. Just a tool
to be used and discarded.”
“No… No! You’re a lying, conniving t-t-twig-lover! You’re just saying those things to mess with me!”
“Am I? If you truly think my words are false, then why do you waver so? Go on then - deny them! Look
me in the eye and tell me you actually believe in your own cause, you selfish prat!”
“I- You don’t- The Goddess- She, she has-”
“The Gods have nothing to do with this!” countered the clearly irate catgirl. “It’s not their asses that are
on the line down here! It’s not them that had to resort to eating rats and leaves just to survive another
day! It’s not by their hand that this pointless war started! Fuck, if they wanted to they could’ve easily put
an end to all of this in an instant, but they’d much rather sit back and watch us die for their amusement!
Like we’re nothing more than brainless puppets dancing to their tune! None of those worthless pieces of
shit have any place on the battlefield, and you fucking know it!”
The catgirl reined in her blasphemous tirade. It wasn’t intentional, but Boxxy’s true feelings regarding
the whole Hero business had slipped out. Well, neither the Mimic nor Keira could hardly be blamed for
losing their cool, all things considered. Indeed, this whole performance was nothing more than an excuse
for the Mimic to vent its frustrations, for even psychotic murder-boxes needed to blow off some steam
every now and then. Besides, this was the best way it could think of to stick it to that bitch Teresa for
meddling in its life.
“Ultimately, your lack of conviction is not my interest,” continued Keira. “I care not what brought you
here, nor what possessed you to attack me and those in my charge. If you had just turned away instead of
charging at us like the retarded pile of fuck that you are, then it wouldn’t have come to this. But now -
now it’s too late. Your sins are too heavy.”
The catgirl abruptly stopped and faced the utterly perplexed ‘Hero’ in such a way so that only he could
see her face. A cutely smiling face which seemed to contain all the world’s innocence, all dipped in an
extra layer of sweetness as it delivered a message only he could hear.
“Nobody defiles my shinies.”
*SHLUNK*
With those parting words, the bloodied mithril rapier was sheathed into the shaken and confused
human’s eye socket, impaling him through the brain completely until the bloodied tip poked out of the
back of his head. The catgirl then viciously kicked the former Hero in the face, pulling her beautifully
deadly blade out of his skull in a single motion while his body fell over and collapsed onto the black
sand.
Clash of Fate has been resolved!

The Hero of Chaos has defeated the Hero of the Hammer with a flawless victory!
A faint blue mist rose out of Bernard’s corpse, enveloping around Keira and seeping into her very being.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Hero Killer.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Usurper of Justice.
Proficiency level increased. Vengeance is now Level 1.
When Boxxy turned around, however, what greeted it wasn’t the surprised, perplexed or otherwise awe-
filled faces of Keira’s subordinates, nor was the charred wasteland that Punchy left behind anywhere in
sight. Instead, what the creature beheld was an endless, serene sky filled with fluffy white clouds as far
as the eye could see. Indeed even the ground it was standing on seemed to be made out of solidified
mist.
And floating directly above it, was a 20-meter tall woman with flowing gold locks, bright blue eyes and
flawless pink skin. She was draped in a pure white garment halfway between a robe and a dress that left
her back, shoulders and arms exposed while the hem of her skirt just barely reached her knees. She also
wore bracelets, sandals, necklaces, rings, and even a tiara, all seemingly forged out of the purest gold, its
luster matched only by the radiant golden halo floating over her head. Her full, red lips parted as she let
out an authoritative voice that seemed to echo into eternity.
“Greetings, creature,” said Teresa while idly raising a hand into the air, “and goodbye.”
(152) Hypocrisy 15
“Greetings, creature,” said Teresa while idly raising a hand into the air, “and goodbye.”
“Woah! Woh-woh-woh!” yelled Keira while waving her arms around in a panic.
The Goddess looking down at it in every sense of the word raised an eyebrow. Taking it as a prompt to
plead its case, the catgirl smiled sweetly and tilted her head to the side in an adorable fashion.
“You’re a reasonable deity, ma’am. Surely we can work something out!” she offered.
“Humpf! Divine Smite!”
However, the ‘reasonable deity’ merely scoffed at the ‘offer’ and snapped the fingers on her raised arm.
A split second later, a massive deluge of divine energy rained down on the spot Boxxy was standing. At
first glance, the column of white light was extremely reminiscent of the Hero of the Hammer’s signature
Skill - Justice From Above. This particular attack, however, had two key differences. The first was that
it would annihilate the target without any regard for things such as ‘justice’ or ‘evil,’ while the second
pertained to the scale, as the original move was dozens of times larger in scope and strength than the
watered down product Teresa’s Hero had gotten. In short, there would be literally nothing left of the
Mimic’s astral projection, and its unconscious body back in the mortal realm would eventually wither
and die without a soul to call its own.
Teresa sighed deeply as the unnecessarily long downpour of magic kept bombarding the spot the Mimic
used to occupy a few seconds ago. She had such high hopes for Bernard, certain he was finally going to
be ‘the one.’ She had been so obsessed with him, that she even went so far as to risk raising the ire of the
other Gods by resurrecting him the first time around. She had managed to deflect much of the blame
onto that conniving nitwit Hillary for purposefully detonating his dungeon core in the first place, but that
was then, this was now.
Those other loudmouths would surely not let this interference of hers slide as easily, but Teresa honestly
did not care anymore, as her latest chosen one was well and truly gone. She couldn’t even resurrect him
since he was killed in a Clash of Fate. That sacred dueling rite was triggered whenever two Heroes stood
on opposite sides of a conflict, and the victor would absorb part of the divine power bestowed upon the
loser, stripping them of their Hero status in the process.
Of course, the contest did not necessarily have to be violent in nature, as it was possible to duel through
any means by which a clear winner could be determined. A battle of wits, a contest of craftsmanship or
even a foot race around the continent - all of those were examples of past Clashes of Fate that did not
involve murder. Even armed conflict need not necessarily end with a killing, as the loser could merely
be defeated and/or subdued without the use of lethal force.
But, the Clash between Justice and Chaos was not like that. That meddling box did not have a track
record of sparing its enemies, so the outcome was only a matter of course. Teresa knew Bernard would
die and the divine link between him and herself would be severed the instant the Clash of Fate was
announced. However, its strict non-interference policy prevented even her from, well, interfering.
She was thus forced to watch as that hideous, contemptuous creature toyed with and ultimately
murdered her Hero, sending his soul on a one-way trip to Mortimer’s domain. Teresa had shed more
than a few tears, as it was highly unlikely a man of Bernard’s caliber would appear any time soon. She
clearly saw the potential within him to become the greatest Hero of the Hammer that ever lived, but his
journey had been cut short not once, but twice. Both times by a truly despicable monster that could not
even say ‘good morning’ without lying twice.
However, Teresa’s grief and future Hero screening plans would have to wait, because she felt a strange
oddity within her domain. She glanced at the spot where that shapeshifter had been summoned to, and
also the spot that she unleashed a truly fiend-like attack upon it. The semi-solid cloud had since been
dispersed and she saw no sign of the creature itself, but something was definitely there.
Something black, small and circular that was about a meter wide and swirled around itself in an almost
hypnotic fashion.
A few short breaths later, Boxxy was violently ejected from its own Storage. It flew up into the air,
landing roughly on a nearby chunk of cloud. The Hylt Creeper Doppelganger had reverted to its base
form, and was currently busy coughing up thick, dark red blood out of its vertical mouth. Temporarily
hiding within its own pocket dimension like that was what allowed the monster to dodge Bernard’s
Judgement From Above less than a minute ago, so its hunch that it would work even against the
Goddess herself was spot on.
However, misusing the Storage Skill by trying to even temporarily store itself inside it caused the spatial
magic involved to backfire and inflict grievous injuries upon the shapeshifter’s body due to the magical
backlash. Back during the Clash it had only done so for a moment so the backlash was negligible and
easily concealed. It even managed to use the flashy nature of the Hero’s Skill to its benefit, as the bright
light and kicked up ash provided the perfect cover for its antics. The casual observers around the scene
would have likely just assumed that Keira had evaded the Spell using her speed and predictive ability.
But there was a limit to how much it could play around like this, as being forced to hide away inside its
Storage for nearly 5 seconds straight had almost caused it to kill itself from the backlash.
‘Almost’ being the operative word in that statement.
“Heh. Hehehe! Koff koff! Hehehehehe!” it laughed wickedly while sputtering up blood. It then stared
right at the befuddled Goddess’s face and twisted its head into a wide, sideways smile.
“Excuse me, your divine bitchiness!” it taunted. “You missed! Aaaah,

hahahaohohohahahoahehehehohohahaha!”
“Will you just fucking DIE?!”
Outraged beyond reason by that cackling, mocking, downright blasphemous laughter, Teresa swung her
arm down in a dramatic arc, causing a second Divine Smite to fall down upon Boxxy. And yet again, the
Mimic evaded it by slipping inside its own Storage portal. Once back in its pocket dimension, it quickly
reached for one of the Rejuvenation Potions it had in stock and ate it in one bite, glass vial and all.
It then felt its entire body being rapidly ripped to pieces both on the outside and within as the magic
invoked by the Storage Skill vehemently disagreed with the paradox of putting a bag inside itself. The
alchemical fluid coursing through the Mimic’s body then began rapidly stitching up its self-inflicted
wounds while Teresa’s God-tier magic pounded against the still-open entrance. However, the only thing
that passed through a Storage portal was whatever its owner desired. Even a deluge of divine power
could do nothing but pass through it more or less unhindered unless Boxxy wished otherwise.
The shapeshifter endured another 5 seconds of having its body being ripped apart and put back together.
It honestly had no idea what to do from this position, however, as another attack would surely come the
instant it had to leave. Nevertheless, it refused to give up. Boxxy didn’t come this far, been through all
that shit and killed and eaten so many people just to keel over and die because of some butthurt
Goddess.
The Mimic didn’t know if killing or even harming that deity was even possible in principle, let alone
inside her own domain, but it would sure as fuck try. Wherever this space was, it still followed the same
rules and principles as the endless white room Jonathan had invited it to twice before. It knew from
experience it was a place where both magic and Skills were usable. And if Boxxy could use those, then
it would fight back without question. Heck, it might just give Teresa a black eye before it got
annihilated.
Something of a final ‘fuck you’ to the powers that be.
When the opportunity presented itself, Boxxy leapt out of its interdimensional hidey-hole, except this
time it had brought a little something-something out with it. It didn’t know what it was going to do, but
it sure as shit wasn’t going to accomplish anything on its own, which was why it was currently gripping
on the demonic skull-headed staff known as Voidcaller. The instant it secured its footing and before
Teresa could re-arm her divine smiting cannon, it activated the Artifact-grade item’s ability and called
forth one of its familiars.
A 3-meter tall doorway made out of crimson, eerie light appeared out of thin air, allowing the instantly-
summoned Kora to stumble out of it.
“Ugh… Boss? What are- Woah!”
Without waiting for the fiend to get her bearings, the Mimic had wrapped a pair of tentacles around her
waist and flung her directly at Teresa’s face with all its might. In the next instant it ducked back inside
the Storage, as yet a third downpour of annihilation bombarded its position. Flying and spinning wildly
through the air, Kora somehow grasped what exactly she was meant to do. She twisted her body around
in mid-air just in time to deliver a full-forced drop-kick to the distracted bitch’s face.
“ORA!”
More specifically, her nose.
*Snap*
Correction - her broken nose.
“Gaaah!”
Teresa let out a rather unladylike scream at the sudden jolt of pain on her face, causing her to stumble
back and lose the focus on her magic. With the Divine Smite interrupted well ahead of schedule, Boxxy
was able to depart the pocket dimension post-haste. It really didn’t have much choice in the matter,
either, as it would surely not survive another full encore performance.
“That’s enough!”
The Goddess’s rage, however, had finally reached her boiling point. What should have been a simple
execution of an annoying pest had suddenly turned into a farce that was making a fool of both her power
and her authority. Deciding it was time to put an end to this whole thing, Teresa flexed all of her divine
muscles for the first time in a long while, causing countless chains of shining gold to erupt from the
nearby clouds. Boxxy and Kora evaded and struggled best they could, but ended up leashed to a cloud
next to each other all the same, as the magical restraints completely paralyzed their bodies.
“I will not be made a fool of!” declared Teresa.
“I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that, dearie.”
An eloquent male voice, one undoubtedly belonging to the God of Chaos himself, washed over the
Goddess.
“Y-You?! What are you doing there?!”
“Oh you know, just thought I’d drop by and see if you wanted any cookies this fine afternoon- What the
fuck do you think I’m doing here?!”
“If you’ve come to save your precious box and your worthless figment, then you’re far too late!”
“Save?! Oh hoh hoh ho! My, how wrong you are! I’m not here to save anyone! Well, technically I’m not
here at all, but that’s besides the point. And the point is this - the reason I’ve come is to punish a certain
uppity brat for being naughty. Want to take a guess as to who that brat is? I’ll give you a hint - it’s you!”
“Like hell I’ll let you do that! Let’s see you ‘punish’ me when I- When I-! Grrrrrnn-!”
Teresa’s face visibly strained as she attempted and failed to eject the foreign presence within her divine
area.
“No... Why? Why can’t I force you out!?” she bellowed.
“To put it simply, it’s because, you can’t shut the door on me when I have my foot in the doorframe and
you lack the strength to break it.”
Teresa, Boxxy and Kora’s eyesights were drawn as one to the red doorway opened by Voidcaller. The
very portal through which the fiend was allowed to set foot in this divine realm was not only still there,
but it was gradually glowing larger. The space itself around its borders cracked and distorted as the
eldest deity in existence demonstrated that said title was hardly just for show.
“Now then,” he continued in a casual tone. “I would love to show up personally but, seeing as how I
have one of my cute kids already on location, I don’t think that’ll actually be necessary.”
With a terrifying howl and streaks of lime-green light pouring out of it, the lingering summoning portal
suddenly expanded in size, becoming a circle at least 10 meters wide in an instant.
“Haargh! Raaaaaaaagh!” roared Kora as she thrashed against her bindings.
She shook and growled and screamed as her entire being resonated with that scar in Teresa’s reality. Not
understanding what was going, but realizing full well that it could not be allowed to continue, the
Goddess tried to put an end to it by wiping out both of the foreign presences in her domain with one
blow. However, the upteempth bombardment of raw, divine power did not reach either the fiend nor her
master, as it bent unnaturally around both of them, leaving them completely unscathed.
*FTWOOOOM*
A tense few moments later, both Boxxy and Teresa were thrown back by a massive shock wave that
originated from Kora’s body. The monster’s shackles and the Goddess’s Divine Smite were forcefully
dispersed in that same instant, sending the Mimic flying wildly through the air until it landed safely on a
floating red sofa. The clearly out-of-place piece of furniture was by no means random, as a humanoid-
shaped puff of white clouds was sitting on the other end of it.
“Hey, Boxxy. Long time no see,” it said with a nod.
“Wordsworth? Is that you?!”
“In the metaphysical flesh!”
“Metawhatsical? Oh, I see, it’s a type of remote body.”
“Indeed. I could have made a personal appearance, but thanks to you, I don’t have to expend all that
effort. Forcing open a link to the Beyond from the inside like you did really makes this whole ‘invading
a fellow deity’ thing much easier.”
“Okay. But, uh, shouldn’t I be getting out of here?”
“You could, though I would not recommend it. You’d be missing out on quite the show, after all!”
Following Urkel’s hand gesture, Boxxy’s yellow eyes settled upon Kora’s new form, which had gone
through a number of dramatic changes likely brought about by the Goddess of Uncertainty’s direct
influence.
For starters, she was gigantic. The lack of any and all surrounding reference points made it hard to tell
exactly how huge her floating body was, but she was at the very least a whole head taller than the
dumbfounded Teresa. The next set of changes that were immediately apparent related to her outfit, as the
Demonic Armaments that were a manifestation of the fiend’s violent nature had undergone a drastic
transformation.
The armored gauntlets covering her hands were now completely enveloping her forearms in demonic,
red-hued steel. The newly-acquired gauntlets were far more… pointy than her old ones, as evidenced by
the claw-like finger tips, the short, wide spike jutting out from just above the knuckles and the relatively
compact, axe-like blades attached to her elbows. Her boots had also taken on a more lethal theme, as the
knee-high sabatons now sported a triangular armored plate that extended beyond her knees and an
upwards-curved, dagger-like blade extending backwards from each heel. The small gorget that
previously protected her neck had now expanded down to her collarbone, while a plain-looking armored
shoulderpad adorned her left, frontmost shoulder.
As for her clothes, the skin-tight sports-bra-and-hotpants combo had been replaced by what appeared to
be a flowing dress. The only things covering the demoness’s upper body aside from her neck and
shoulder armor were a pair of vertical strips of white cloth that extended from her collarbone down to
the metallic belt on her waist. They did very little to hide or contain her otherwise unbound breasts and
also left her muscular back completely naked. Her lower half was covered by a trio of wide, dangling
cloth tails that extended to just beyond her knees. One hung loosely between her legs at the front, while
the other two were draped over the outer sides and backs of her muscular thighs while also keeping her
tight rump just barely hidden from view.
And the third and final part of the fiend’s sudden transformation was perhaps the most significant, as her
physical form had also been altered. She still had the same voluminous, untamed green hair that draped
over her otherwise exposed back and the predatory look in her matching lime-green eyes. Her telltale
bright red skin and well-defined muscles were also there for the whole world to see, not to mention that
her somewhat pretty face and long, pointed ears that put elves to shame clearly marked her as none other
than the same old Kora. However, the additional metallic horn that parted her hair just above her
forehead, coupled with the third pair of armored arms jutting out from behind her original four limbs
served as undeniable proof she was not the same as she was.
Indeed, quickly checking on its familiar’s Status, Boxxy had made a shocking discovery.
“She’s… Ranked Up?” is asked curiously.
“Yup!” declared Jamal. “Fiends are a bit too fragile a vessel to contain the kind of output I’m subjecting
her to, so I gave her species a little push, as it were. So, congratulations, Boxxy! You are now the proud
(and only) owner of an Archfiend familiar!”
“Neat!”
Needless to say, this was not something Boxxy would complain about.
“Oh, YEAAAAH!”
And judging from the demon’s current behavior, she was absolutely loving it.
“MMmmng!” she groaned in satisfaction while flexing and twisting her newly amped-up body. “This
feels amazeballs! It’s incredible! I feel like I could punch a guy and not only kill him, but also wipe out
his entire race!”
“What- What is the meaning of this?!” asked Teresa, completely befuddled by this sudden development.
“Why, it’s exactly as I said,” answered Gerald’s booming voice. “My lovely assistant here will be
administering your punishment for playing too fast and loose with our rules. So, Koralenteprix, my
dear?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you kindly slap Teresa’s shit for me?”
“... All of it?”
“All of it.”
“I dunno, Chief. That’s a looooot of bullshit.”
The newly reborn archfiend slammed her left fists into her right palms, eliciting a trio of heavy, dull
thuds.
“But I’m sure I can manage!”
No sooner did she utter those words that Kora’s form vanished.
*SMACK*
In the next instant, the demon reappeared in front of the indignant Goddess, her right fists firmly
embedded in the divine woman’s torso. Her body caught up with the massive triple impact a split-second
later and was flung into the distance like a ragdoll. Moving once again with speed too fast even for
Boxxy to follow, Kora reappeared in her flight path and delivered a flying double kick to Teresa’s spine,
sending her flying downwards like a meteor.
The Goddess’s relatively smaller body collided with what seemed to be thin air, creating a spider-web
pattern of cracks through the boundary of her divine area. Indeed, even if it looked infinite, a God’s
living space was anything but. So, having crashed so violently into the floor of her own house, the
illusion of an endless blue sky shattered, leaving behind a smooth, dull gray floor.
“OOOO-RAH!”
Not letting up in the slightest, Kora stomped down on top of Teresa’s waist with enough force to send a
visible ripple through the border of her private pocket of reality, further distorting the heavenly illusion
around it. The fiend jumped off her victim and reached down to grab her by the left ankle. She then
flung the Goddess over her head and slammed her face-down on the ground with an extremely satisfying
thud. Still gripping her ankle, Kora proceeded to throw Teresa about at random, smacking her into the
ground over and over as if she were using a coin-filled sock to massage a dragon’s back.
“BEST! *THUMP* DAY! *THUMP* EVER! *THUMP*”
The extremely elated demon then grabbed onto the Goddess’s two feet with all six of her hands.
“ORA!”
She then slammed her into the ground with enough force to cause the blonde-haired deity to bounce
back up to Kora’s eye level. The demoness then lunged forward and grabbed her newest toy by the neck
with one of her left arms and held her up while seemingly trying to choke the life out of her.
“C’mon, bitch!” she shouted. “I want to hear you scream!”
Teresa, who had remained completely silent ever since the beating started, responded by spitting out a
loose tooth which bounced pointlessly off of Kora’s middle horn. The defiant glare in her eyes said
louder than any words that there was absolutely no way she’d yield with only this much abuse.
“Oh, you’re feisty,” remarked the fiend with a widening grin. “Good! I like feisty!”
Kora then began working her over top to bottom by repeatedly punching her with her five free hands. A
series of dull, machine-gun-like thuds echoed throughout the area, accompanied by the archfiend’s
rolling yells of ‘RARARARARA,’ but with not even a whimper from the Goddess herself.
“You know, I’ve been wondering about something regarding that girl,” said Nimoy in a bemused tone.
“Oh? What’s that?” asked Boxxy, who had reverted to its chest-shaped form in order to make itself more
comfortable.
The two of them were still floating about on Fergus’s sofa, which gave them a superb view of the
Goddess-turned-punching-bag’s ongoing performance.
“Why does she do that ‘ora ora’ thing with her mouth?”
“No idea,” answered Boxxy. “She probably just finds it fun.”
“Ah, right, of course.”
“Say Marco, not for nothing, but can I get going now? I have stuff to do and this is getting kind of
boring.”
“Boring? Really?”
“Well, yeah. As much as Arms tries, the Goddess doesn’t seem to get seriously injured at all.”
Indeed, even though Kora’s fists sent ripples through her flesh while her spiked knuckles filled her full
of holes, Teresa as a whole remained completely unphased.
“Just seems like a waste of effort,” it added.
“I suppose you have a point,” said Charles. “Being both invulnerable and immortal makes it quite
difficult to administer corporal punishment. Well, it still stings like a bitch, but this beating won’t really
teach her a lesson or anything like that.”
“So then why even bother?”
“Because I find it quite cathartic, to be honest. It’s just satisfying watching that cheating cunt get her
comeuppance after all this time. Although, truth be told, even I’m growing a bit bored of this. I suppose
I might as well move onto the meat of the matter. Ahem!”
Jerry cleared his throat as he changed to his ‘outdoors’ voice.
“Oh, Koralenteprix! Sorry to butt in and ruin your fun, but could you be a dear and let me speak with
Teresa for a moment?”
“You got it, Chief!”
The fiend stopped pummeling her sandbag of a target and grabbed her from behind, using her multiple
limbs to firmly restrain Teresa’s arms and hold her in place while Rachel’s sofa floated down to her eye
level.
“Now then. I suppose I should begin administering your punishment for real, eh Teresa?”
“Punishment? Don’t make me laugh you impudent wretch!” she responded defiantly.
“Oh, I assure you, the chance of you laughing anytime soon is very much an absolute zero."
“Humpf! Do your worst, asshat! After that we’ll see how the others feel about you trespassing on my
domain!”
“Tisk, tisk, tisk, Teresa. Did you just assume I bypassed the other gods and came here without getting
their consent first? That’s right - they not only know about my being here, but also support this little…
home visit.”
The Goddess blinked her gigantic blue eyes several times in surprise.
“... What? Those guys turned their backs on me?!”
“Well, duh! Your little stunts have pissed off quite a few of them, you know! To begin with, this little
war you’ve allowed to go on has not earned you any friends. I mean, Nyrie is definitely not a fan of
having her followers slaughtered by the thousands, even though you seem to be fine with it. Lunar’s also
quite miffed you allowed that Hero of yours to flaunt a cursed weapon around like that. Mortimer, on the
other hand, still hasn’t forgiven you for snatching his soul away the first time he died, and even Axel
does not condone this senseless conflict centered around your lie of omission. He’s a surprisingly stand-
up guy despite being a God of War, you know. As for Solus, Zephyra and Goroth, well, they’re
respectively too light-headed, too air-headed and too thick-headed to give a damn about this whole mess,
so they’ve just chosen to abstain from it completely.”
“...”
Teresa could only glare back in mute silence as she realized all of her fellow deities had given up on her.
“Don’t look at me like that. If you want to blame someone for your current predicament, you need only
look into a mirror. It was your selfish desire to create a husband that caused all of this in the first place.”
The Goddess’s eyes went wide and her lip quivered slightly as her secret was suddenly brought to light.
“You-! How did you find out about that?!”
“Puh-lease, sister! You think nobody would notice the last dozen or so Heroes you chose are all hunky,
blond, blue-eyed heartthrobs? There are plenty of just and righteous people out there, and yet you
always seemed to pick men that are just your type. Then you dote on them relentlessly, doing your
darndest to try and keep them safe in the vague hope they’ll Rank Up enough times to stand by your
side. It’s so obvious that you might as well have shouted ‘I’m looking for a man’ from the
mountaintops! I can understand not wanting to bear eternity all by your lonesome. Believe me, I do! But
sharing your divine spark with a mortal just to turn him into your ideal man? The fuck were you
thinking?!”
“Fuck you, you little shit!” she spat back. “It’s my Hero, and I’ll do whatever I want with him.”
“Come on, Teresa!” whined Lorna in exasperation. “You know that’s not how it works! The Hero shapes
the God just as much as the God shapes the Hero! It’s a give-and-take! A two-way partnership, not some
weird mating contract! I mean, it’s not like your choice of Hero this time around was particularly bad or
anything. I’ll admit, the young lad could have had a very promising future ahead of him, but that all
ended when he died the first time around.”
“You were the one who got him killed in the first place!”
“So what? A dungeon core meltdown, a wild dragon, a bandit ambush, a political assassination, a
ravenous venereal disease, old age - something would have gotten to him eventually, this time just
happened to be sooner rather than later! But nooo! You had to go and resurrect the guy! He could’ve just
passed away in peace, but your pathetic attempt to cling to his shattered potential led him down this self-
destructive spiral of hatred!”
Terry took a deep breath to reign in his tangential rant and then spoke with a much more serious tone.
“You knew others were twisting him with lies, and yet you did nothing. You just let the lad believe the
Empire’s cause was just when it was all just a big farce. And for what? Just so he could cope with the
loss of his friends and family?! Don’t underestimate mortals, you insufferable twat!”
“I think you’re the one overestimating them!” she argued back. “Without our guidance, those idiots
would still be beating each other over the head with sticks like a bunch of animals!”
“Oh, so beating each other over the head with a bunch of swords and spells is a lot better is it?!”
“Of course it is! At least there’s purpose behind their actions! My flock were outraged at the destruction
of Monotal! They demanded justice be carried out, and were presented with a convenient target! So what
if some fucking twigs got hurt in the process so long as my people had closure?!”
“... Can you even hear yourself? Is that supposed to be the sort of attitude befitting a deity embodying
the concepts of justice and truth?”
“I am the Goddess of Truth and Justice, so yes! It is!”

“Ugh, it was a rhetorical question, you vapid bitch! Koralenteprix, can you shut her up for a second?”
The archfiend in question silently complied, pressing a hand firmly against the Goddess’s face-hole
while tightening the grip on her throat with another.
“You’ve changed, Teresa,” continued George with a solemn tone. “If you were still that headstrong little
girl from 3,000 years ago, there was no way you’d stand for that farce of a war being carried out in your
name. I mean we’ve all inspired a crusade or two in our time, but this? This just shows how far you’ve
strayed from your path. Appeasing your followers has somehow become more important than upholding
the core values that give meaning to your very existence. That’s why your Heroes always turn up as
failures. That’s why I was able to so easily break into your divine area and subvert your control of it. It’s
also the reason why Koralenteprix here is able to toss you about so easily.”
The cloudy representation of Carla visibly drooped its shoulders and sighed with a puff of smoke.
“Face it, Teresa - you’ve long ago stopped being a Goddess of Truth and Justice. What you’ve become
instead is something that might as well be the opposite of that - a mere two-faced politician. Therefore,
please understand that what’s about to happen next is for your own good.”
“Uhm, Boris? Should I be here for this?”
Boxxy had taken advantage of the suddenly silent atmosphere to ask the question that had been nagging
at it for a while now. Every second it spent up here was a second that its body lay unconscious back in
the physical realm, so the creature understandably wanted to get back to it right away.
“Hmm? Oh, sorry Boxxy. Uh, yeah, it’s probably best if you got going now. However, I will need to
borrow Koralenteprix for this next bit so she will be unavailable for… a few days? Not sure, might take
longer. Listen, I’ll have Carl call you when we’re done, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Also since a certain someone was so rough in bringing you here, well… it will probably take a few
hours for you to wake up. Don’t worry though, your corporeal body isn’t in any immediate danger.”
“Damn, that’s going to be a problem. I’ll deal with it somehow, though. At least I’ll be alive to do so,
huh?!”
“That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”
“Thanks for saving me, by the way. I know you didn’t necessarily have to.”
“Oh, well, you’re very welcome!”
“Also, sorry about calling you a ‘worthless pieces of shit’ during the fight.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. It was all in the heat of the moment. Besides, I am mostly using you for
entertainment purposes, so if anyone has the right to call me that, it’s you! Just, uh, don’t take that as a
free pass to blaspheme all the time, yeah?”
“... But every once in awhile is okay?”
“We all gotta let off steam sometimes, right? The important part is to do so in moderation.”
“Alright, gotcha. I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”
Jugem then turned towards Teresa, his misty hands pointing alternatively towards his apparition and the
Mimic.
“See this?! This is what a Hero-God relationship is supposed to be like! This box - it just fucking gets
me you know! No hand-holding, no unreasonable expectations or obligations - just Heroes hero-ing and
Gods god-ing with a pinch of mutual understanding for good measure! Anyway, thanks again for the
assist, Boxxy. Off you go!”
“Later, Louis.”
*Snap*
The astral projection of the Hero of Chaos disappeared with a remote snap of Otto’s paper towels. The
Goddess of Flabbergasting then turned to face the muffled and struggling Teresa.
“Now then! Time to start your rehabilitation.”
(153) Interlude Happy Thoughts
“Alright, Koralenteprix,” called out Juan. “It’s about time for another detox session, so get our patient
ready, will you?”
“... Sure,” came the dispirited response from the demon in question.
“Well, you don’t seem very cheerful today.”
“Yeah, not for nothing, Chief, but why did you go ahead and give me all this power if all I’m going to do
is be a damn nursemaid?”
Having all this energy and strength at her fingertips and yet being unable to unleash it was way more
frustrating than Kora had initially anticipated. Sure, she had a fun bout of ‘slap-the-bitch’ at the start, but
ever since Boxxy left the tasks that Bellamy had her perform just seemed way too… mundane.
This feeling of disappointment was only made worse by the realization that Kora’s current godlike
power and stature would be very much temporary. Once this whole rehabilitation thing was done, she’d
return back to being a regular familiar, which meant that her strength would rely entirely on her
summoner’s power. Sure, she would still be an Archfiend like her uncle and would therefore be stronger,
faster, tougher and more versatile than before, but it would still be incomparable to her current state.
However, becoming powerful enough to easily surpass Nagnamor without Dick’s assistance would be
more or less impossible. Even getting up to the level of the Overlord was out of the question, as that guy
had millennia at his disposal to grow and develop his might, both physical and intellectual. It would be
many centuries still before Kora herself could reach such heights, if at all.
“Because your charge is a fuck-mothering Goddess,” answered the Goddess of Misfortune. “Trust me on
this, kiddo, even if it feels like a waste, there’s no such thing as ‘being too careful’ when dealing with
the divines. It’s like, how did you yourself so eloquently put it? ‘There’s no kill quite like overkill?’
Think of it like that.”
“Ugh, whatever. I’ll just go get the bitch, shall I?”
“Please do,” said Billy with a nod of his porcupine and a wry smile on his wrist.
Kora got off her massive ass and stood up in the seemingly endless white space that was Elmer’s divine
area. She stretched a bit to limber up her stiff-yet-bursting-with-power body. Being forced to temporarily
live here felt like a privilege at first, but she quickly realized there was nothing to really do but watch the
Boxxy Show alongside Keith. In some ways, it was even duller than being stuck in the Beyond since she
couldn’t socialize with other demons, but she had no choice in the matter. She loved being an Archfiend,
and Henrietta had threatened to demote her down to imp level unless she did exactly as she was told.
After warming up a bit, Kora disappeared with a rush of air as the Goddess of Uncertainty kept sitting
on her sofa, watching her Hero. The titanic Archfiend dashed up, down and all around the divine area
until she located its other temporary resident, grabbed her by the ankle, then dragged her kicking and
screaming back towards where Randall was. Hearing that bitch Teresa wail desperately as she was being
manhandled like a sack of old potatoes was pretty fun for the demon at first, but by now her crying had
simply become pathetic and annoying. Angela had at least given Kora permission to be ‘as rough as
needed’ with the Goddess, which meant it was okay to kick her in the head whenever she felt like it.
Even if this was ‘rehabilitation’ and ‘for her own good,’ Teresa still had to pay for disrespecting her
divine duties. There could be no justice without punishment, after all.
“Here she is, Chief,” reported Kora once she appeared back at her starting position.
“No! No!” pleaded Teresa as she clawed desperately at the perfectly smooth floor. “Isn’t it enough?!
Please, no more! I’m begging you, I can’t take any more of this! I need to hear my followers again! I
need to! Please!”
Step one of Teresa’s rehabilitation plan involved, for lack of a better word, god-napping her and quite
literally imprisoning her within Jerome’s divine area. That way she would be cut off completely from the
stream of prayers, worship and religious offerings that her followers presented her with on a regular
basis. Needless to say, being suddenly cut off like that had caused Teresa to enter a state of withdrawal,
which was what led to her current pitiable behavior. However, this part was absolutely necessary if the
core issue at hand was to be resolved.
“Koralenteprix, is Teresa wearing her robes again?” asked Dexter without even looking back.
“Yup,” confirmed Kora, causing the God of Probability to sigh heavily.

“Well, you know what to do.”
The fiend roughly threw Teresa onto the ground, kicked her lightly to flip her on her back and then
straddled her legs.
“No! Noooooo!”
Ignoring her complaints, the red-skinned demon restrained the flailing deity’s hands with one of her
own, then proceeded to strip her naked with practiced ease. The silky white robe was ripped to shreds
while the golden jewelry, sandals and tiara were roughly taken off and mangled into a big lump, which
was then haphazardly tossed to the side. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Teresa to be left
completely naked, curled up into a fetal position and sobbing uncontrollably.
“I’ll say it again, dearie,” Vanessa yelled without looking away from her screen, “those trappings of
power do not fit your image at all. How can you hope to be a legitimate beacon of truth without being
able to bare yourself fully before others?”
One could argue that ‘baring oneself’ was meant to be taken figuratively rather than literally, but that
was only when it came to simpler, more mortal creatures. As amalgamations of thoughts, wishes and
ideas, the difference between metaphors and reality was paper thin as far as divine beings were
concerned.
“Alright, might as well get started. Koralenteprix, please assume the position.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The fiend picked the sobbing goddess off the ground and dragged her up onto her knees. She forced the
naked Teresa to bend over forward while holding her hands behind her back. Kora then stared hard at
one of her right hands until the Demonic Armament protecting it suddenly split apart and fell off her
skin. Doing so made her hand feel a bit itchy, but it couldn’t be helped since the gauntlet would get in
the way otherwise. Besides, it would ‘grow back’ on its own soon enough, so there were no problems
with exposing her hand like that. Finally, she placed said hand onto the back of the Goddess’s head and
pressed firmly against her flowing gold locks, firmly grasping her skull with her oversized palm.
In the meantime, Terence had gotten his creme brulee off the couch and was calmly climbing up an
invisible spiral staircase. When he got up to the much larger deity’s eye level, he stopped going upwards
and walked horizontally over thin air as he approached her head.
“Really, Chief?” asked the demon, puzzled. “Why not just teleport to the spot like you normally do?”
“Variety is the spice of life, kiddo. If you don’t mix up your routine every now and then you’re bound to
grow so bored of it you’d end up going nuts.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Pablo then stepped off of his imaginary catwalk and onto the back of Kora’s bare hand. He picked out
what seemed like a good spot and sat his sharks down on her rough red skin.
“I’ll be starting now, Teresa.”
“No! Please, don’t!”
His warning caused the Goddess to reflexively struggle, followed by another round of pleading.
Fortunately for her, she was not only removed from the source of her divine power, but also had her
head, shoulders and arms firmly restrained by Kora. The only thing her futile struggling did was cause
her naked breasts to sway gently, which would not disturb the following ritual in any way.
“Sorry about this,” muttered Casey. “You’ll probably thank me later.”
In the next instant, the God of Mishaps channeled his own divine power through Kora’s hand and into
the back of Teresa’s head while repeatedly chanting ‘akuryo taisan.’
“Hack! Urk!”
The Goddess began choking and gagging in response, which soon turned to dry heaving. And then, after
another 20 or 30 seconds, she started throwing up. A viscous black ooze that wriggled unnaturally all on
its own fell out of her mouth in thick globs, forming a messy pile onto the pure white ground.
“Right, that’s enough for now, methinks,” declared Gilbert after Teresa had retched up a total of 13 globs
of supernatural vomit.
He then stood up from Kora’s backhand and briskly walked off of it. Since the detox session was done
for the moment, the fiend threw the pale and extremely weakened Goddess off to the side, well away
from her ‘leavings.’ Lacking the strength to do something as cumbersome as controlling her limbs,
Teresa merely flopped over on her side like a dead fish. If things proceeded as normal, she would get
back up in about five or ten minutes and run off somewhere in a delirium. And then, three hours after
that, she would have stabilized enough for another detox session.
“So what do we have this time?” mused Neal as he stared intently at the haystack-sized pile of godly
vomit. “Hmm, lot of hatred in there. It’s almost completely filled with hatred actually, apart from a bit of
pride and some resentment. Bit of jealousy too.”
While it could be said that a believer’s devotion, piety and respect for a God served as the deity’s ‘food,’
not all mortals had happy-go-lucky sentiments like those towards the Gods. Anger, hatred,
disappointment, sadness, grief, revenge, desperation, loneliness - any and all such negative emotions
also ended up being transmitted to their deities, though they rarely did so on purpose. If allowed to build
up and fester within them, it could lead to the deity in question being ‘poisoned’ by their influence. That
was why Kevin was so adamant about avoiding blaspheme, as expressing disdain towards a God,
especially in public, was one of the main sources of thought-poisoning.
And should the thought-poisoning get out of hand, it would start gradually changing a God and twisting
them away from their original purpose. The corruption would then trickle down to the deity’s most
devout followers and adamant supporters, which would in turn infect the population at large and bounce
all the way back to the God. It was a downward spiral that, if left unattended, could pervert the deity and
the virtues and concepts he or she embodied. And the worst part of that scenario was that the divine
beings themselves would not notice the change until it was too late.
“I really should have seen this coming,” Alberto chastised himself. “That Empire’s propensity for
conflict, bigotry and treachery coupled with her corrupt clergy should have really tipped me off about
her condition sooner.”
Indeed, this thought-poisoning phenomenon was one of the main reasons why Teresa had strayed from
her path and was slowly but surely turning into her polar opposite - a Goddess of Lies and Evil.
“What?” asked Kora with a raised eyebrow. “You mean she wasn’t like that before?”
“Well no, she was always an insufferable, stuck-up bitch, but at least she was genuine and trustworthy. It
wasn’t until about 1,200 years ago that she started skirting the rules and playing favorites with her
Heroes, but our… bumpy relationship kept me from recognizing the signs. Heh, if it wasn’t for Boxxy’s,
uh, ‘people skills’ rubbing off on me, I probably still wouldn’t have realized how far she was gone…”
“Uuugh,” groaned Teresa, as she gradually lifted her upper half off the floor.
She looked about in a drowsy state, her eyes settling on the mass of lumpy black goo on the nearby
floor.
“Th-that… Did that come out of me?!”
“Oh? Now this is promising!” exclaimed Troy. “Finally regained enough of your senses to face your
inner demons?”
*Snap*
The God of Luck snapped his shoes, causing the mass of lumpy black goo to oscillate in response. It
steadily shrunk down as it vibrated, compressing itself until it adopted a vaguely humanoid form a little
over two meters tall, adopting a distinctly feminine shape as it solidified further. A shape with shiny
brown skin, a massive underbite, two rows of beady eyes, a pair of twin axes in her hands and heavy
gladiator-like armor covering both shoulders and arms. Her body was extremely well toned, and her
pitch-black hair was tied up in a wild ponytail, while a single onyx horn jutted out from the left side of
her forehead.
“Well, outer demons now, to be precise,” said Jerome with a wry smile.
Both Kora and Teresa were taken aback by this sudden revelation.
“W-was that thing inside me?!”
“Damn. And here I was hoping to be the first one to get all up in that bitch’s guts, but I guess someone
else beat me to it, huh?”
“I think I misspoke,” interjected Stephen. “What you saw earlier was the concentrated negativity of
mortals, which had attached itself to Teresa’s being. This child was simply born from that.”
As if on cue, the newly created fiend that had been standing upright keeled over and fell on the ground,
her limbs twitching slightly against the white surface.
“... Born?” asked the giant women in unison.
“Yup. What you witnessed just now was the birth of a brand new demonic entity.”
“Hold on a second there, Chief! Are you telling me all of demonkind started out as god-puke?!”
“Of course not, don’t be silly!” replied Johnny in a scolding tone. “Most of you are born from the
residual sinister thoughts of mortals that got caught by the Beyond, well before they could reach and
infect a divine being. Heck, most of those thoughts don’t even come from people, but from monsters. I
mean, the whole point of that place is to serve as a lightning rod for that stuff, a filter if you will.”
“Soooo… What? We just… randomly pop up out of thin air?”
“More or less. You probably don’t want to hear this, but the fact that demons exist at all is something of
an accident. I never intended for consciousness to flourish in that cesspit I created, and yet here you are -
defying all logic and spitting right in the face of my divine design! The mind-boggling fact that all of
you kids even exist is the whole reason why I’m so proud of you, you know!”
“Oh… Uh, thanks, I guess? What about me, though?”
“What about you?”
“I mean, do you know where specifically I came from?”
“Hmmm… I can’t be sure, but if I had to take an educated guess based on your appearance, then you’re
probably the result of the Elven Dominion’s collapse. More specifically the hatred and anger that
subsequent generations of elven slaves felt towards their human masters. And given your womanly
disposition, I’m guessing it was mostly female sex slaves.”
“What, really?”
“Yup, your age fits. Not to mention it would explain those predominantly elfin ears and attractive
features, not to mention why you’re considerably more, uh, intellectually challenged than your average
fiend. I can’t imagine those slavers demanding that their fuck toys be intelligent. Quite the opposite,
actually.“
“Huh. I guess that does make sense. I always wondered how come I got an unexpected boner from
emasculating those slavers while the Boss was looking for a lair.”
“Yeees… quite. Well, I better send this child on her way so she can learn how to demon properly.”
*Snap*
A bright red portal suddenly opened up underneath the newborn demon’s limp body, depositing her into
the Beyond well before she could even gain awareness. Normally he would’ve sent the ‘god-puke’ there
directly, but he felt it was necessary to drive home the point that gods were not as infallible as a certain
someone seemed to think.
“So, Teresa. You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I just… I had no idea… Do the others have to deal with all this as well?”
“Mmm, let’s just say you aren’t the first to have your judgement clouded by thought-poisoning. The
Beyond typically does a good job of keeping you lot from going off the rails, but you’re definitely a
special case. Seems like your default nature just makes you more susceptible to that sort of thing, and
your rash actions only made things worse. I mean, do you understand what sort of repercussions
resurrecting your Hero even had?”
“... It was perceived as a miracle, wasn’t it? I mean, so many people rallied behind him and… and…”
The Goddess paused for a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought.
“I gave a bunch of bad people a very convenient pawn, didn’t I, Norwell?”
“Yup. If it wasn’t for the Hero’s testimony and heavily publicized grief, then this war wouldn’t have
happened, and your condition wouldn’t have gotten even worse. It goes beyond that, though. How many
thousands of people do you think cursed your name while thinking ‘Why him and not my husband?’ or
some such envious notion?”
“I see… It seems I have a lot to think about. Excuse me.”
The Goddess rose to her shaky feet and slowly walked off into the distance. Jimmy nodded his frying
pan approvingly and sat back down on his sofa. Meanwhile, Kora laid her massive self down behind him
so she can get a good view of the screen where the Boxxy Show was playing.
“So, uh, how long until the bitch is healed and I get to get out of here?” she asked after a few minutes.
“Hard to say. Detoxing her is the easy part and should be over with in another two days or so, after
which I can move onto step three.”
“Why not just yank all the demons out of her in one go?”
The real answer to that question was that Romney's ‘detox’ method put a lot of strain on Teresa’s divine
spark - the manifestation of her followers’ combined faith and the equivalent to her soul. And while it
could not be truly destroyed so long as people worshipped her and all she stood for, ripping the
corruption out of it by force could have serious repercussions if handled poorly. Teresa could potentially
go mad, lose her memories, or become a completely different divine being altogether. Worst case
scenario, she might be rendered unable to re-establish the bond with her divine area and be left as a
powerless Fallen God.
“Because there’s a right and a wrong way to go about things.”
However, such an explanation would have probably gone way over Kora’s head, so he simplified it for
her benefit.
“Okay, but do you seriously need me here to do it? You can probably keep her from acting up without
me, right?
“Oh no, your presence here is very much instrumental. You do realize you demons are the only ones
with the power to mess with divine beings on a spiritual level, right? Heck, why do you think
demonkind has things like a hierarchy and a military to begin with? It’s so that you can be used to
directly oppose a God should they become a danger to the world.”
“So we’re god-killers?!”
“Uhm, sure, why not.”
“Nice!”
When faced with Kora’s face full of excitement and expectation, Friedrich just couldn’t bring himself to
correct her misunderstanding. He still thought of demons as his children and grandchildren, so he was
understandably a bit soft on them. A feeling which, for the most part, they returned, as all demons
treated him with the respect and adoration a father deserves.
Which was also why Zeratul found it so difficult to tell them that the God most likely to go rogue and
threaten the world’s existence was none other than himself. And that the only one that could prevent that
from happening was Teresa. For without the influence of the righteous Goddess of Truth and Justice to
keep him honest, Johan’s moral compass would break completely. Once that happened, it was pretty
much a guarantee he’d revert back to his old self, and once again become the Old God of Order.
The being that brought so much ‘order’ to the world that he left it as nothing but a dull, lifeless rock.
So, all things considered, Kyle was quite thankful when his unwitting savior started responding more
positively to the ongoing rehabilitation. By the time phase two of the program was complete, she had
started behaving much more reasonably. She no longer thrashed about wildly and willingly accepted
whatever aid was given to her. The fact she had stopped recreating her garments and was getting used to
going around completely naked proved she had taken the God of Uncertainty’s words to heart. She had
even started blindfolding herself since ‘Justice is blind.’
However, as expected, she faced difficulty completing step three. Letting go of her more questionable
convictions and once again becoming a true Goddess was easier said than done. The detox sessions
helped, but unless she personally rejected that treacherous side of hers and once again embraced Truth
and Justice with her whole being, then she would just end up relapsing within a year.
Therefore, until her own divine area reached out and connected to her while inside Yuri’s place, she
would not be allowed to resume her duties. Progress was steadily being made as Teresa displayed more
and more of the characteristics Nigel remembered from before. On the 8th day of her rehabilitation
crash-course, however, the God of Unforeseen Consequences ran into an obstacle that really rustled his
jimmies.
“Myself-damn it, Teresa!” he yelled. “How many times do I need to say this?! You can’t play favorites
with your Hero like that!”
“Why not?!” insisted the naked, blindfolded Goddess. “I already swore on my own name I would not
coddle them in an overprotective manner!”
She had already managed to prove that she had completely given up on spreading lies, be it by speaking
them or by withholding the truth. Meaning that wasn’t just some boast, but her true, honest intentions.
However-
“That’s not the point! You can’t just pick and choose which parts of the process you want to adhere to!
Heroes need to be chosen based on ability, potential, and strength of character. Looks, gender or race
should not factor into it!”
“And this coming from a spinning eggplant who chose a shapeshifter as their Hero? Don’t think I’ve
forgotten you have a soft spot for their ilk!”
“Look, this and that are completely unrelated.”
“Uh-huh. You do know my bullshit detector still works, right?”
“Oh for the love of H̸̢͜i̴g̕ ͟ ̸̨͘͟g̀҉̵̛s͜͡ ͟ ̡̀ ҉̨b҉̶̧o͟͏s͟ ̨ ̷̢o̧̢n͝͏̸! Look, I chose my Hero by picking a creature that showed
extraordinary potential to bring about change in the world. It’s just that Boxxy coincidentally happens to
be an excellent shapeshifter!”
“Then all Heroes of the Hammer just ‘coincidentally’ happen to be blond, blue-eyed human boys!”
“Uuuugh…”
Taylor leaned back into her sofa cushion with another groan while Teresa stood indignantly opposite
him. Well, she was technically more ‘above’ than ‘in front’ of him, but that was besides the point. The
still super-sized Kora was lazing about nearby, and not only was she completely and utterly bored out of
her skull, but also getting increasingly annoyed at this never-ending quarrel. Holstein had told her to
keep her thick head out of this part of the rehabilitation, but there was only so much endless bitching she
could tolerate.
Therefore, the fiend decided to bypass any sense of good judgement and inject herself into the
conversation with about as much style and finesse as a boulder crashing into a glass pane.
“Uh, Chief?” she called out. “Remind me again why bitch-tits over there is so stuck on pretty boys?”
“I have a name, creature!” complained the Goddess. “You will address me by it or not at all!”
“She has it stuck in her head that she needs a husband,” explained Fargo while marvelously ignoring
‘bitch-tits.’ “And according to her, the best way to find one is through the Hero system.”
“Riiiight,” said Kora with a grimace. “Can’t I just stick it in her pooper instead?”
“Koralenteprix, we’ve been over this. That is not going to help, especially not when she’s in such a
volatile state.”
“Tch. Well, was worth a shot,” said the demon with a shrug.
“... I’m sorry, but what does she mean by ‘stick it in her pooper?’” asked Teresa suddenly.
“She means anal sex, Teresa. What else could she possibly mean?! No, wait, don’t answer that.”
The Goddess craned her neck backwards and crossed her arms in confusion.
“But that doesn’t make any sense. Is she talking about fisting or something?”
“I said don’t answer that!”
“No, you dumb twat!” shouted Kora while standing up. “I’m talking ‘bout m’dick!”
“... What?”
Grunting in frustration, the fiend rose to her feet, lifted up the front tail of her dress and let her fully
erect member flop out of her body, then pointed to it with four of her hands.
“This!”
“Oh my!” exclaimed Teresa, while covering her blushing cheeks with her hands. “I-I-I had no idea! You,
uhm… certainly have an imp- *Gulp* an impressive set there…”
Even if she was blindfolded, that was entirely symbolic, and she could clearly see Kora’s raging lust. It
was only a natural reaction considering the fiend has had to stare at and rub against the Goddess’s naked,
womanly body for a week straight. In fact, she was feeling so blue-balled that she felt she could burst at
any-
“... Wait, what do you mean ‘set?’” muttered the demon in a confused voice.
She then looked down at her genital situation for the first time since her Rank Up.
“Ooooooooh. No wonder I felt a bit weird down there.”
It would appear that her ‘promotion’ to Archfiend had actually given her not one, but two extra horns -
one on her head and another between her legs. Indeed, standing at full mast and lightly pulsing with
pent-up lust was not a solo, but a duet of throbbing penises. The demon gently poked her newly
discovered genitalia with a finger, causing her to shudder a bit.
“Damn, son!” she exclaimed. “Chief! You gotta let me try these puppies out! Please! Let me boink the
bitch! Like for real, I’m begging you here!”
“For the last time!” roared Dilbert. “I will not stand for that sort of-”
“Uhm…”
Teresa’s sudden interruption cut off the God of Randomness before he could go into full-on nagging
mode.
“I, uhm… I’m not supposed to lie anymore so… can I just say that, well... I wouldn’t be, err, entirely
opposed to that…”
“... You’re kidding me,” muttered Nikolay.
“See, Chief? She’s up for it too!”
“No! This is idiotic!”
“I mean, not for nothing Chief, but weren’t you the one that kept saying she just needs to get laid?”
“I was just- Haaaah,” he sighed, then looked back at the fidgeting Goddess. “You’re sure you wanna go
through with this?”
Blushing with an intense red that would even give Kora’s crimson complexion a run for her money,
Teresa responded by nodding twice. Ivan began huffing, puffing, murmuring and even sprinkled his
donuts a few times, but in the end he had to try something, right?
“... If this works I am literally going to lose my shit,” he mumbled to himself. “Fine! Have at it!”
Exactly 11 hours, 42 minutes and 25 seconds later, every Champion, Apostle and Disciple of Chaos in
existence suddenly and simultaneously defecated in their respective undergarments.
(154) Not A Chapter Art Gallery
Since you people seem to want one, here's a gallery of all the ELLC art in chronological order
Cover Art (Boxxy + Valeria) by Nico Show
Boxxy and Xera by Nico Show
Kora by Nico Show
Mister Morningwood sketch by Nico Show
Lich Valeria by Nico Show
Lich Valeria (alt ver.) by Nico Show
Fizzy sketch by Nico Show

Fizzy sketch (bloody version) by Nico Show
Drea sketch by Nico Show
Keira by DanP Show
Archfiend Kora by DanP Show
Ambrosia by DanP Show
Boxxy fanart by winRoot Show
Xera fanart by dmaxcustom Show
Kora fanart by dmaxcustom Show
Keira fanart by dmaxcustom Show
Doppelganger fanart by Pezep Show
ELLC World Map (original, WIP) by the author Show
ELLC World Map (alternate version) by Aapjuh Show
ELLC World Map (Inkarnate version) by Ferthi Show
(155) A Heros Burden 1
The city of New Whitehall had just suffered through hours of protracted battle between the Empire and
the Republic, followed by the titanic clash between two demonic Overlords. Their respective
otherworldly minions wrought havoc on both sides and against each other, further adding to the chaos,
death and destruction. That all ended abruptly when Nagnamor’s Armageddon destroyed himself,
Liusolra, and a significant chunk of the city in an instant, causing the lesser demons to disappear along
with their leaders. When the dust finally settled, a rough estimate placed the survivors on both sides
somewhere between a third and a quarter of their original strength, leaving them essentially annihilated.
Over half of the city was either reduced to ash, in the process of becoming ash, or in ruins.
As if that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, both sides were then made keenly aware of two more
unexpected revelations. The first one was that a Hero of Chaos was not only present at the scene, but
had also directly confronted the Hero of the Hammer in a Clash of Fate. The second was that this
unknown intruder then proceeded to triumphed over the Empire’s rising star in a ‘flawless victory.’
The victorious Hero, however, collapsed immediately after accomplishing that monumental feat. Given
the situation, the surviving nine men and women that witnessed Keira’s duel did the only thing they
could think of - they retreated. They had no idea what sort of attention the flashy showdown between the
catgirl and that human would attract, so they collectively decided to immediately leave the scene and
seek out the remnants of the Republic’s chain of command. They departed the ash-filled desert and
navigated their way through the burning wreckage of the city while carrying the unconscious Decanus,
their fallen comrades’ belongings, as well as the body of the fallen Hero.
That last one didn’t exactly sit well with all of them, of course. However, they had to begrudgingly agree
that simply leaving him in that wasteland was not the right thing to do. Even if he was an enemy, even if
he killed their friends, even if he was the only one they could blame for Keira’s condition, he was still a
Hero. A man chosen by a Goddess was worthy of respect, regardless of any mortal sins or crimes he
may have committed. Even then, numerous religious teachings dictated that such things were absolved
with one’s death, and urged others not to hold grudges towards those no longer of this world.
The living did not have the right to judge the souls of the dead.
Eventually, the mentally and physically exhausted troops managed to reunite with Syme’s group, and
then with what was left of the 2nd and 3rd Republic Legions. Bernard’s body and cursed warhammer
were respectfully handed over to the higher-ups so they could do with them as they saw fit. Hilda and
Keira were quickly taken to a large warehouse that had been converted to a field hospital so that their
conditions could be closely monitored.
And monitoring their Decanus was pretty much the only thing the soldiers and conscripts under her
command could do. The military medics at the scene had declared that her condition appeared to be
stable, but they could not help her in the slightest. Much like the Berserker, the beastkin would have to
be treated with a ‘wait and see’ approach.
That being the case, Keira was then moved to a nearby, relatively undamaged house where she was
given her own private room. Once there, her squad did the only thing they could - they waited, and they
prayed. At first their prayers were said aloud, but as the hours rolled on, they were gradually overcome
by a grim, heavy silence, broken up only by the muffled shouts and noises coming from outside.
“Hnnn…”
And then, after five excruciating hours, she finally showed signs of waking up.
“Dec? Dec! Guys, she’s waking up!” yelled Mikey with a stupid grin on his face.
At the human Rogue’s words, the other 10 people in the room quickly surrounded the catgirl’s bed,
while a dozen or so more started gathering outside the room. They watched with awe and relief as the
beastkin’s yellow eyes fluttered open. Her glazed-over look passed over them, until it focused on a
particular elven Warrior’s face.
“Sy… Syme?” she uttered in a low whisper. “Is that… you?”
“Yes! I’m right here, Dec!” he responded enthusiastically, moving closer to her side.
“I… Nnngh,” she groaned. “Your… your…”
“What? What is it?”
The elf knelt down to her bedside, putting his ear closer to her mouth so he could hear her better.
“Your breath reeks.”
“... Huh?”
“I said your breath stinks,” she repeated, louder this time. “Smells like something crawled inside your
mouth, died, came back to life, farted and then died again.”
Syme and several others could no longer contain their joy and threw themselves at Keira’s upper body,
hugging her from all sides while shouting things like ‘Dec,’ ‘You’re okay!’ and ‘I’m so glad!’ The ones
standing outside wanted to rush in as well, but the room was far too cramped for that, so they would
have to wait for their turn while cheering loudly.
“Aaargh!”
That was until one of them suddenly let out a painful scream, putting an abrupt end to their celebration.
He backed away from the Decanus while clutching his hand, which seemed to be bleeding heavily from
three long cuts. Sensing an ominous aura coming from their commanding officer, the others immediately
left her personal space. A passing glance revealed that the cause for said injury was the catgirl herself, as
evidenced by the bloodied retractable claws on her right hand.
“If one of you tries to grope my boobs again, I swear to whatever God is listening that I will slice the
offending appendage off and then ram it down your throat.”
She spoke with a voice dripping with bloodlust while her sharp, predatory glare caused everyone present
to break out in a cold sweat.
“Are we clear?!”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
“Good. Now then. Syme - where are we?”
“We’re back at base, Ma’am. What’s left of it, anyway.”
“And how long was I out?”
“It’s been about five and a half hours since you lost consciousness. Ma’am.”
“... And the VIP?”
“Safe and sound, though she still hasn’t woken up. Everyone else managed to make it back without
suffering… additional casualties.”
Keira’s eyes and ears drooped visibly when the mention of casualties showed up. No matter how strict or
scary she seemed out in the field, she still cared about the lives of each and every soldier in her charge.
“Thank you, Syme. What about the Empire?”
“They’ve been real quiet ever since the, uh, Overlord situation. I don’t think they have the balls to come
after us, with everything that happened, and our side isn’t exactly willing to go at it either. Especially not
since the whole Clash of Fate thing…”
“Oh… Right, of course. I guess that makes sense…”
An awkward silence descended upon the group until Mikey decided to address the sphinx in the room.
“So… Dec… Ma’am. You were a Hero all this time?”
Keira averted her eyes out of guilt and gripped the edges of the old blankets she was covered with.
“Yeah…”
Initially the human Rogue wanted to question her why she didn’t just challenge Bernard if she was a
Hero herself. If she had done that, then surely Holt and the others would still be alive, right? However,
once he cooled off and talked things over with the rest of the squad, he began to understand that this was
not the case. If she had rushed headfirst into that fight without properly studying her opponent, then the
one being turned into salt would be her. And once she was out of the way, that guy would have
pummeled the rest of them into dust. It wasn’t fair to put the blame for those three’s deaths onto her
shoulders. Sacrifices had to be made for the good of the whole, even if she never intended for them to
die.
Besides, even if those guys had known ahead of time things would turn out that way, they would have
probably accepted their fate with smiles on their faces.
“So… what’s it like?” he asked instead. “Being a Hero, I mean?”
“... Uhm… There’s nothing special about it, really,” she answered nervously.
“But Heroes get those unbeatable divine Skills don’t they?”
“Uh, I don’t know what sort of Skills others get, but being the chosen Hero of Chaos is… It’s a liability.”
“A liability? How do you mean?”
“... Remember when my hair caught fire earlier this morning?”

“You mean when you messed up starting a campfire?”
“I didn’t mess up. It caught fire all on its own.”
“It… did?”
“One of those ‘divine Skills’ you mentioned? It causes random things to happen around me every now
and then. If it isn’t making my head do a torch impersonation, it might instead turn me pink. Or I’d get
teleported 20 meters straight up in the air and break my leg when I land. Maybe I’ll even transform into
a potted plant for 10 seconds for no discernible reason. Sure, sometimes it’s helpful and amplifies my
attacks or replenishes my vitality, but even then I can’t really take advantage of it. Because I have no
control over it whatsoever… I can’t even turn it off! I never know when I might just get struck by
lightning and die on the spot one day! It’s… terrifying!”
The squad fell silent as they could only imagine the mental strain something like that must place on a
person. That wasn’t to say that death couldn’t randomly sneak up on a person anyway, but that Skill
sounded unexpectedly sinister. It was like having someone remind them every minute of every day that
not only could they win the death lottery at any moment, but they had extra tickets to it, too.
“Is… Is that why you haven’t told us, Ma’am?” asked Syme. “Or anyone, for that matter?”
“... No. I mean, if it was just that, then I could deal with it. But… the other Skill is even worse. At least
the most that first one could do is hurt me personally. The other one, though… It causes disasters to
happen around me everywhere I go.”
“Surely you’re exaggerating, Ma’am.”
“Don’t talk to me about exaggerating!” she snapped suddenly. “I mean, just look at my track record! I
finally find myself a new home - a war breaks out. I go to fight in said war - I suddenly have to play
call-girl to some demon-loving stranger that, frankly, scares the crap out of me! Fuck, I had to turn five
innocent dryads into weapons of mass destruction! Do you even realize how ludicrous that sounds?!
How crazy the very idea of that is?!”
“Ma’am, not for nothing, but aren’t those good things?” asked Mikey. “I mean if it wasn’t for-”
“Don’t you fucking say it!” she wailed at him with tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re not the one that
had to lie to innocent children and mislead them into causing a massacre! You’re not the one who has to
worry whether their mere existence might destroy everything they hold dear! You’re not the one who
had this fucking vortex of stupidity, and shit, and-and-and-and mayhem forced upon them by a God who
just wanted to watch someone dance for his fucking entertainment!”
The furious catgirl bit her lip and buried her face in her legs, weeping uncontrollably while the rest of
the unit watched on with heavy hearts.
“It’s not fair!” she shouted in between sobs. “Teresa’s Hero got two fucking instant-kill moves!”
There was not a single thing any of them could say or do as they began to realize the enormous burden
this 16 year old girl had been shouldering all this time.
“And what did I get?! *Hic! Hic! Hic!* A life where I will never, ever find peace, *Hic!* no matter how
hard I *Hic* try!”
Like an overthrowing dam that had burst open, a veritable flood of complaints and resentment gushed
forth, seemingly without end.
“And why me?! *Hic!* Of all people on this fucking planet, why in the shit did that *Hic! Hic!* asshole
have to torture ME?!”
“That’s the question everyone asks when things aren’t going their way.”
A metallic voice from the open doorway suddenly filled the room.
“Why me? Why did this happen? What did I do to deserve this?”
The one-armed Fizzy strode inside while asking those rhetorical questions.
“The answer to all of those is really simple.”
She flicked a golden coin with her thumb. It spun around on the air and landed on the bed with a soft
thud, squarely in front of the curled up beastkin. Keira looked up from her knees and stared at the
bitterly smiling mithril golem with puffy eyes.
“There is no reason. It’s just *Hic!* the luck of the draw,” said the catgirl with a shaky, quiet voice.
“That’s right,” confirmed Fizzy. “However, it’s up to us to figure out what to do with the reality the
flows of chaos have presented us with. We are the ones who decide whether our fortune is good or bad.”
The golem walked up to the side of the bed and smiled radiantly at the much-too-young Hero.
“So, what say you, o Chosen of Chaos? Will you just roll with the punches, or fight back against your
fate?”
“... Neither,” muttered Keira. She then looked up to stare down at the golem with a weak smile as she
tried to put up a tough front.
“I’m gonna make fate my bitch.”
“Haha! There you go!” cheered the Paladin.
*THUD*
“Oooof!”
The catgirl let out a rather uncomely voice at the sudden, much-too-heavy pat on the back. Seemingly
oblivious that she might have injured a sick person, Fizzy just kept on smiling.
“You’re getting the hang of this Hero of Chaos thing already!”

Of course, this whole performance was merely an act, and not a very original one either. Thanks to
Keira’s overly melodramatic outburst, Fizzy was able to easily learn that not only was Boxxy awake, but
also determined the shapeshifter’s intentions. Picking out what seemed to be the right moment, the two
of them then played out this little scene that was a direct adaptation of Fizzy and Boxxy’s first meeting
with the God of Unpredictability himself.
And it seemed to have the desired effect, as the surrounding men and women relaxed significantly when
they saw Keira visibly perk up a bit.
Unfortunately for the Mimic, while its acting skills and Fizzy’s assist may have somehow placated the
ones around them, there was a much bigger issue at hand. Mainly the fact that it never intended to
publicly reveal Keira as the Hero of Chaos. Sure, that unexpected Clash of Fate announcement may have
spilled the beans, but all Boxxy needed to do was eliminate the witnesses and blame their deaths on the
enemy VIP. With nobody to dispute Keira and Fizzy’s story, the two of them could come up with any
number of explanations regarding the identity of said Hero, and Republic officials would have little
choice than to believe them. Not only that, but it would also be able to claim that guy’s Demonbane
hammer and corpse for itself.
But that’s when Her Divine Bitchiness had to interfere and ruin everything. Boxxy wasn’t sure what
Arms and Hugo were going to do to her, but it hoped that it would be something terrible and mentally
scarring. Indeed, considering that the Goddess of Children’s Card Games had demanded that fiend’s
assistance, it wasn’t hard to deduce that Teresa was probably getting railed from behind at that very
moment.
However, fantasies of godly punishment aside, the damage was already done, and the cat was out of the
bag. Something made abundantly clear by the female elf poking her head through the doorframe. The
lime-green hair, mismatched blue-and-green eyes and uniform identical to that of Silus Underwood
made her immediately recognizable as one Primus Cecilia Underwood, no relation.
“All of you - out,” she commanded in a stern voice. “I need to debrief miss Morgana immediately.”
The soldiers acknowledged her orders with a few dispirited yes-ma’ams and filed out of the room. The
Primus and Fizzy flashed each other mutually knowing looks as the golem passed by the officer. Once
everyone was out, she closed the door behind them and walked up to the foot of the bed. She crossed her
arms in front of her nonexistent chest and raised an eyebrow at the slightly unstable catgirl.
“So. Hero of Chaos, huh?”
“Y-yes, Ma’am.”
“How, why and where. Explain.” she demanded.
“The, uhm… after my parents were killed, I *sniffle* had to fend for myself and-”
“Think fast.”
The elf suddenly tossed a small metal ball at the catgirl.

“Woah!”
Keira fumbled about a bit but managed to catch it without issue.
*Clink*
The ball then let out a small metallic sound-
*Bzzzzzzt*
-followed immediately by a rather potent electric current, which was transmitted to the catgirl through
her hands.
“Hargarflurburgurgle!”
Keira let out a series of unflattering noises as a result of the sudden shock coursing through her. After a
second or so of making her shake and spasm while causing her hair to stand on end, the orb ran out of
juice and fell out of her still trembling hands.
“What the fuck was that?!” she screamed in an incredulous tone.
“... Damn. And I was so sure you were the Sandman in disguise.”
“You what?! How does that make any sense?! I mean, look at me! How could I possibly pass for
someone that fucking huge?!”
“You could do it if you were a shapeshifter.”
There were a few brief moments where the only sound heard was that of Keira’s heavy breaths and
gnashing teeth.
“... So did I pass your test?”.
“I, uh… Yes.”
Fizzy’s Shock Ball was loaded with enough juice to easily knock out even the toughest of shapeshifters.
The golem had guaranteed that it wouldn’t kill Keira and would at most leave her at half HP, something
Cecilia had tested on another soldier with similar vitality to what the catgirl had on record. However, she
was warned not to to do anything weird to her suspect while she was still unconscious, as it could
jeopardize her condition. Therefore, she had to wait until Keira had awoken before running this little
test.
And now that she had, she had to begrudgingly accept that the pint-sized-Paladin was right, and that her
ad-hoc theory regarding the Sandman’s identity was wrong.
“I’m, uh, sorry for springing this-”
“Damn right you’re sorry!”

Keira sprang to her feet and tossed the now-inert metal ball straight at the Priestess’s face.
“Hey!”
The elf barely managed to duck under it, causing the object to slam hard against the wooden door, then
fall to the floor with another heavy thud. Taking it as a signal that something had gone wrong, a trio of
fully armed guards burst through the door in the next instant, with several more visible through the door
frame.
“No! Nononono! Stand down! Down, I say!” Cecilia spoke frantically while flailing her hands around.
“I’m fine! We’re fine! Nothing to worry about! Nothing at all! We’re all good, okay? Yeah, all good,
right? Ahah! Ahahaha! Ahahaha… *Ahem* Thank you, Optio. That will be all.”
The guards gave each other a few questioning looks, but decided that if the person herself said she was
okay, then that’s all there was to it. They then promptly left the room and closed the door behind them.
Cecilia then awkwardly turned around to face Keira, who had stood up on top of her bed in the
commotion, shoulders still shaking with fury. The beastkin didn’t seem to care or even realize that she
was in her undergarments, either.
“Uhm, miss Morgana, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to assault your s-s-superior officer in the
future…”
“Fuck you,” came the cold, angry response.
“... Okay, I earned that. Once again, I am truly sorry for putting you through all that so suddenly. It was
not my intention to hurt you - just to be sure we didn’t have a monster in my midst.”
“I don’t care!” growled the catgirl. “I’ve enough shit to deal with as it is! Prosecute me, boil me, I don’t
care which, but either leave right now or - I swear to Bob - I will make you, you crazy cunt-waffle!”
Clearly not used to such a violent confrontation, Cecilia had no idea what to do. Unlike Silus, she lacked
the people skills to properly control and calm down an upset adventurer. She was an analyst first, a
Priest second and an amateur sculptor third, none of which were suited to this type of situation.
“Th-then I will leave,” she consented. “I’ve clearly overstepped my boundaries. Please don’t think too
badly of me. Whether you like it or not, you will probably be seeing more of me in the future.”
“As if! Why would I ever have to-?!”
Keira ended her biting remarks abruptly and blinked a few seconds in surprise.
“Where’s mister Underwood? Shouldn’t he be here for this?”
“Silus, he… We were evacuating headquarters when those demons sent a stray ice fragment flying
towards us. He saw it coming. I didn’t. He pushed me out of the way and… he… didn’t make it.”
“...”
Hearing the sad news, the catgirl sat back down on her bed and once again hugged her knees.
“I’m sorry,” offered Cecilia.
“... Have I mentioned how much I hate this fucking war?”
“Funny. I was thinking the same thing. Excuse me.”
The elf wiped a few tears out of the corners of her eyes and promptly made her way out.
“Could you call Fizzy up for me, please? I don’t think I should be alone.”
Cecilia instantly wanted to make a comment about how she should be the one to comfort Keira. After
all, who better to console the Hero of Chaos than a Priestess who was an Apostle of Chaos? However,
even she wasn’t dense enough to realize that she was probably the last person Keira wanted to speak
with right now. What the beastkin needed was not spiritual guidance, but a friend’s shoulder to cry on.
And right now, in that room, there was no Hero of Chaos. Just a distraught girl at her wit’s end.
“Of course. I’ll be sure to let her know.”
The young miss Underwood left the room with a heavy step, ordering the soldiers still waiting outside to
disperse. About half a minute later, Fizzy entered the room, closed the door, walked up to the bed and sat
next to Keira, her abnormal weight causing the old bed to creak ominously. Boxxy did one more scan of
the room and its immediate surroundings using its Mana Locator Gland and confirmed there were no
eavesdroppers around.
“It’s clear,” it said in a calm monotone. “Good work earlier.”
The golem smiled happily after being praised.
“Thanks.”
“How’s your arm?”
Her smile disappeared as she looked down at the torn-up remains of her left shoulder.
“It’s a lost cause. I picked up as many pieces of it as I could find, but repairing it is impossible.”
“What about the shield gauntlet?”
“Perfectly intact. Not a scratch on it, actually.”
It was about what one would expect from a magic item of Artifact quality. Treasures like those had the
rather ominous habit of outliving their users.
“Oh. That’s something I guess.”

“Yeah.”
“Good to see you didn’t turn back.”
“... Yeah.”
Fizzy had always been secretly afraid that being separated from the source of her curse would once
again trap her in that uselessly fleshy body. It was a concern that nagged at her in the back of her mind,
so she was quite relieved to find out it was nothing to worry about.
“So… What can we do to fix up your arm?”
Needless to say, Boxxy wanted its prized shiny restored to mint condition ASAP. Probably even more
than the golem herself did.
“I need to make a new one from scratch and attach it. The problem is I lack the tools, materials, and
expertise to do it, and I won’t find any of those around here. Or in Azurvale. Or anywhere outside of
Horkensaft’s state-of-the-art golem foundries, for that matter.”
“Damn. Guess we’ll need to visit that place sooner than expected.”
“Yeah… By the way, how’d you pass the shock test?”
Keira raised her arm and showed the back of her hand to Fizzy. The catgirl’s tanned skin peeled off all
on its own to reveal a black, rubbery substance directly underneath.
“I grew a layer of Bouncewood underneath my skin.”
The Mimic MLG hidden inside the monster’s body was able to easily detect the spherical device inside
Cecilia’s pocket, so it had prepared accordingly. Boxxy had come up with this particular transformation
in order to shield itself from its elemental weakness, but it wasn’t something that it could perform
instantly. It would probably reach that point with practice, but for the moment it still needed a few
seconds to completely insulate itself.
“Woah, that’s brilliant!” shout-whispered Fizzy in astonishment. “I never would’ve thought of that!
Does that mean you’re immune to electricity now?!”
“Not immune, highly resistant,” it corrected her. “This layer absorbs only about two thirds of the
damage, and electric shocks still hurt like hell, but at least it keeps me from losing control of my body.”
It was a bit regrettable that it would still take damage from lightning-based Spells and electricity-
discharging devices, but it couldn‘t be helped. After all, a monster completely overcoming its Bane was
impossible, even for this particular box-shaped nexus of absurdity. Even doing this much was already a
monumental achievement in and of itself, as evidenced by how easily it passed that ‘surprise’ trial
earlier.
However, it still had one small gripe about it.

“You knew she’d use that thing on me, right?”
“Oh yeah,” confirmed Fizzy. “She straight up told me what she wanted to do, otherwise I couldn’t have
configured it correctly.”
“Wasn’t your ‘configuration’ a bit much, though? You didn’t hold back at all!”
“Couldn’t be helped. If I went easy on you, she would have probably connected the dots anyway.”
“Okay, fair enough. But how did you know I could bear something of that magnitude?”
Boxxy’s ability to grow a subdermal layer Bouncewood was something that Fizzy shouldn’t have been
aware of. Indeed, the golem herself admitted she hadn’t even considered that possibility until just
moments ago.
“I didn’t,” admitted Fizzy with a goofy smile. “I just had faith in you.”
Boxxy woke up the next morning in a foul mood. It wasn’t until after it had finished reprimanding Fizzy
over matters of ‘acceptable risk’ last night that it realized it was left feeling quite exhausted, probably a
side-effect of that whole astral projection business. It was already well after dark by that point, so it
decided to get some actual sleep and recover its strength.
It was by no means a restful sleep, however, as it woke up several times throughout the night. That
Underwood woman’s sudden anti-shapeshifter test made it impossible for the shapeshifter to let its guard
down, so it awoke every time it sensed a disturbance in its MLG range. The disturbances in question
turned out to be nothing more than Legion guard patrols passing a bit too-close to the house, but that
was it.
As such, the Mimic did not get nearly as much sleep as it needed. Unfortunately, it had a Facade to
maintain and it had already been 3 hours since Keira’s usual wake-up time. Therefore it somewhat
begrudgingly got up, got dressed in a heavy military-style coat, made its way out of the room, went
down the stairs and left the house.
It would appear that yesterday’s predominantly cloudy weather had returned with a vengeance. The
depressingly gray sky was looking like it might unleash an ocean’s worth of rain at any given moment,
but it wasn’t doing so right now. Which was good, because Boxxy didn’t like the rain. Having so many
droplets of water pass through its magical perception field was, for lack of a better term, too noisy for its
liking. Not to mention that the thunder and lightning that typically accompanied such weather was not
exactly pleasant.
Scary things were still scary, regardless of whether it had the means to defend itself against them.
As Keira walked down the slightly foggy streets, however, she started drawing the attention of people
around her. This wasn’t something particularly new in and of itself since Keira’s appearance was
designed to stand out in the first place, but the nature of said attention was unexpected.
“Looking good, Ma’am!”
“Great work out there!”
“Don’t let the muffin man get ya! Hah-hahaha!”
“You go, girl!”
“Way to show those Imperials how it’s done!”
“Can you sign my shield?!”
“Hang in there, shorty!”
“Mor-gah-nah! Mor-gah-nah! Mor-gah-nah!”
Rather than passing looks of mild curiosity, Keira was instead greeted by cheers and well-wishes. Total
strangers were congratulating her on her victory, asking to shake her hand or saluting her with utmost
respect and adoration. There were, of course, those who seemed unable to work up the nerve to approach
the catgirl and stuck to cheering and/or waving at her from a distance, but they were in the minority.
By this point it was painfully obvious that Keira’s identity as a Hero had already spread among the rank
and file. Whether this was because someone in her unit spilled the beans or due to the higher-ups
spreading the news on purpose was unclear, nor did it matter at that point. The problem was that those
people almost seemed too happy to see her. It was a given that Heroes would be popular and draw a
crowd, but this was a bit too much too soon, wasn’t it? There was clearly something else going on, but
Keira had been left out of the loop since she overslept. To make matters worse, being swarmed by all
those ‘fans’ made it difficult for the flabbergasted catgirl to get any answers.
Just as she was wondering how to deal with all of this, Keira suddenly locked eyes with a familiar face
in the crowd. A female elf about 20 years of age, with long green hair tied up in a stylish ponytail,
piercing emerald eyes and fair skin as white as snow. She was a splendid Ranger in her own right and
one of Keira’s former classmates - one of the last class of adventurers to receive Milo Faehorn’s
teachings.
“Oh! Liaaaa!” exclaimed the catgirl with an excited wave of her hand.
“Eeep!”
The elf in question let out a small squeal as countless eyes suddenly settled on her. Not knowing how to
react, she stiffly about-faced and started walking away at a brisk pace.
“Hey! Lia! Wait up! It’s me - Keira!”
However, rather than turn around and greet her properly, the young woman quickened her pace.
The catgirl’s pleasantly smiling face turned to one of bewilderment, replaced immediately by an
annoyed, toothy scowl. She dropped down on all fours and raised her hips up slightly with her glare
locked onto the retreating elf’s head. That sudden action caused the soldiers directly in front of her to
immediately clear the way, while the others were gripped by a sudden silence.
Noticing the change in atmosphere, Lia glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Keira assume her
signature ‘take-off’ position.
“I said wait for me, damn it!”
Upon uttering those words, the catgirl sprang forward like an arrow launched from a bow, both her
hands and feet digging out small holes in the cold moist dirt underneath as she dashed madly at Lia.
“Waaaaaah!”
The elf let off a shriek and started running away with all her might. She sprinted haphazardly through
the crowd with tears forming on the corner of her eyes. Displaying the agility and speed befitting of a
mid-Level Ranger, she was able to run around obstacles, people and corners with ease while maintaining
her dangerous speed. A quick glance over her shoulders revealed that Keira was very much on her trail
and was steadily catching up. Startled out of her wits, Lia turned around a corner, went into a ruined
house, hopped up to the half-collapsed roof and leapt towards another building across the alley. She
landed on the mostly intact, flat roof with a single roll and kept running towards the opposite edge-
“Got you!”
-only to have the catgirl suddenly leap up in front of her.
“Ack!”
Lia let out a weird noise as she failed to kill her momentum and collided with Keira. The beastkin
wrapped her arms and legs around the elf, knocking her off her feet and pinning her against the roof’s
hard flat surface. The two of them panted lightly as Keira held the lightly struggling Lia down by her
shoulders while straddling her stomach.
“Why did you run?!” asked the catgirl in-between gasps.
“You yelled at me and then started chasing me! What was I supposed to do?!”
“You could’ve greeted me instead of ignoring me!”
“And how was I supposed to do that?! You’re a Hero!”
“So?! I’m also your friend, aren’t I?!”
“Well- Yes! I mean, no! I mean- It’s not- You’re a Hero!”
A few silent moments passed as the two ladies stared into each other’s eyes.
“... I’m glad you’re alive,” muttered Keira, then lowered herself down on top of Lia.
The elf was momentarily flustered as some rather impure thoughts flashed through her head. Just the
fact that she was aware of Keira’s sexuality somehow made her believe she was about to have her first
kiss stolen from her by force. Such absurd thoughts were immediately put to rest, however, when the
catgirl in question merely wrapped her arms around the elf’s neck and pressed her face into her shoulder.
“I’m so glad you’re alive!” she repeated in a muffled voice that sounded like she was on the verge of
tears.
After finally calming down enough to realize how silly she had been, Lia placed a hand on Keira’s
crimson head while a soft smile naturally floated onto her face.
“I’m happy to see you too,” she said in a quiet voice.
The catgirl took a minute or two to calm down enough to release Lia from the rather inappropriate
embrace. After both of them sufficiently cooled off, they silently agreed to remain on that roof for a
while longer and sat cross legged next to each other.
“Why’d you try to ignore me like that?” asked Keira with a pout. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you since
Fort Yimin, yet you tried to walk away like I wasn’t there!”
“Look, I’m really sorry about that,” she apologized. “I just- I’m not very good with crowds so I freaked
out when you put me on the spot like that.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I wasn’t sure what was going on either so I called out to you without thinking…”
“What, you weren’t sure what to do? I thought you basically lived for that sort of attention!”
“I do not!”
“Uh-huh. So the reason you’re so damn flashy and do every little thing with flair isn’t because you want
others to notice you?”
“Of course not! … Okay, maybe I like to show off every now and then, but who doesn’t? It’s not like I
want people to stare at me all the time, you know!”
“Hehehehe, I know, I know. I’m just teasing you a little. I was honestly surprised to see you so flustered
back there, usually you’re pretty good with people.”
“One or two at a time, maybe, but they all came at me so suddenly! I mean, seriously, what was that
about?!”
“Mmm, you can’t really blame them for wanting to cheer on their resident Hero, right? Thanks for
telling me about that, by the way,” she added with an accusatory tone and a wry grin.
“Well, technically you never asked. Besides, being a Hero of Chaos is hardly anything to brag about.”
“You never wanted the title, right?”
Keira went wide-eyed at that statement
“How did you know about that?”
“I dropped by to check on you a few times while you were knocked out,” said Lia with a sad smile. “I
rushed right over when I heard you’d woken up and ended up overhearing your complaints about the
whole Hero of Chaos thing.”
“You were spying on me?!”
“No, I said overheard you. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you, and neither did the 30 or so people
gathered around your house. You’re really loud when you’re upset, you know.”
“... Oh. I, uh, wasn’t aware of that.”
It would seem that the main culprit behind confirming the identity of the Hero of Chaos was none other
than Keira herself. Boxxy had apparently been a bit too vocal with its anti-Gargamel protests and its
little improvised act had turned out to be significantly more public than initially anticipated. Well, the
information was bound to spread anyway, but at least it knew where and how the rumor started.
“I gotta say though,” continued Lia, “you got quite the mouth on you. You’re honestly the last person I
expected to scream things like ‘crazy cunt-waffle’ off of the top of their lungs.”
“Th-that was entirely her own fault!” declared Keira with a rapidly reddening face. “She thought I was
the Sandman in disguise!”
“She what?! How does that make any sense?! I mean - look at you!”
“That’s what I said, too! But apparently she thought I was a shapeshifter and electrocuted me! While I
was still in bed!”
“Oh, wow!” exclaimed Lia with eyes wide. “Okay, I take it back. ‘Crazy cunt-waffle’ might have been
too good for her! Who does that to a person?! Especially to the girl who stopped the war!”
“I know, right?! … Wait, what?”
“Hmm?”
“What do you mean ‘stopped the war?!’”
“Oh, you, uh, didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“An Imperial envoy dropped by just before dawn to officially surrender. Talks are still ongoing but it
seems they’ve completely lost the will to fight us ever since you won against their Hero.”
“... Huh?”
“Don’t look so surprised, Keira! When you defeated that guy, you didn’t just eliminate a VIP - you
crushed a symbol that represented everything the Empire stood for!”
“I see… I didn’t really think about it that way.”
It made a certain amount of sense, now that Boxxy thought about it. If that guy was a poster boy for the
Empire’s ‘righteousness’ in this war, then having him fall was bound to cause some severe backlash
regarding troop morale. Especially considering the destruction wrought by Punchy’s flashy magic show
mere minutes before that. And if this news about the enemy surrendering was already widespread, then
it was no wonder all those soldiers were cheering for Keira so vehemently.
“What was it like?” asked Lia. “Fighting a Hero, I mean?”
“… Honestly? It was terrifying. He had those scary Skills that would’ve taken me out in one blow if he
hit me with them. It was also a bit sad. The guy was a broken mess, a shell of a man. I know it sounds
crazy, but I could swear I felt the rage and pain in his heart, see it in his eyes. Ending him almost felt like
a mercy.”
“I had no idea… I just assumed- I mean, I never would’ve thought that’s what he was like. Makes me
feel sorry for him, really…”
“Well, don’t. Hero or not, he was still the one that came straight at us with the intent to kill. He left me
and my subordinates with no choice but to fight back, which is exactly what we did. I know it sounds
mean, but he got what was coming to him. I just can’t bring myself to care about a jerk like that,
regardless of what he’s been through.”
The catgirl hugged her legs and buried her face in her knees.
“Besides. He’s not the only Hero that has had to suffer…”
The suddenly heavy atmosphere caused the conversation to grind to a halt, as Lia was once again keenly
reminded of her friend’s difficult past, and could only imagine the hardships she hadn’t shared.
However, even though Keira spoke with a solemn face and tone, the monster inside was still licking its
lips at the spoils of that particular conquest.
Hero Killer
Description: One who has felled a chosen of the Gods.
Requirements: Directly contribute to a Hero’s death.
Effects: N/A
The Hero Killer Perk wasn’t part of that quiet celebration, though. It seemed like nothing more but a
mark on one’s status, a sort of proof that the individual helped murder a Hero. Whether it would be
interpreted as a badge of honor or the mark of a villain depended entirely on one’s perspective. Keira
wasn’t the only one who had gotten this, either, as Fizzy revealed that everyone at the scene had also
been awarded with it, herself included. Practically speaking, however, the fact this Perk had no effects
whatsoever was more than a little annoying. It might turn out to have hidden side-effects such as the
Butcher of Humanity Perk later on, but for the moment Boxxy had officially declared it an un-tasty
waste of space.
Something that could not be said of the other Perk it acquired yesterday.
Usurper of Justice
Description: A Hero who has proven themselves superior to their peer and has claimed
their divine power as their own.
Requirements: Defeat the Hero of the Hammer in a Clash of Fate.
Effects: Grants the Vengeance Skill.
Vengeance
Description: Those who dare lay their hands on the champion of justice shall feel the fury
of the Goddess herself.
Type: Active
Cost: 5% of max MP
Range: Self
Effects: Imbues the next non-Martial Art melee attack with divine power.
Increases the damage dealt by this Skill by 10% for every 5% of maximum HP lost over the
last 10 seconds.
Damage dealt by this Skill bypasses 50% of enemy defenses.
This Skill may not be activated more than once every 10 seconds.
As expected, Vengeance was a broken and completely unfair Skill. Even with the limitations on its
usage, it allowed the user to turn things around in a single move. To put it another way, it was like
having a ‘get out of stupid free’ card. If that Hero had been relying on this Skill as a crutch to get him
through hard fights, then it was no wonder why his basic abilities were so poor. This was exactly the
kind of flaw that Faehorn repeatedly warned all his students about, and it was one of said students that
took advantage of it in a fight. The fact that those teachings, which were meant to help people survive
monster encounters, were used by a monster to more effectively murder its prey made the irony of the
situation almost too delicious.
However, Boxxy had gotten something far more valuable than a potent Skill from that encounter - it had
acquired knowledge. Namely the confirmation that other Heroes were also granted three Skills by their
patron deity - a major one, a minor one and a common one. That, and that apparently it was possible to
steal one of those Skills for itself. Granted, these conclusions were based on a very limited sample size,
but the Mimic felt confident it’s Three-Skill-Theory held merit.
The ‘major’ Skills were abilities that would become the defining characteristics of the Hero in question.
Bernard’s Justice From Above, for example, was the ultimate weapon against evil, while Boxxy’s own
Agent of Chaos could vastly derail the fate of others. And it was honestly quite difficult to tell which
one was more powerful. While the former was unquestionably more useful in combat and was a very
obvious demonstration of the Goddess’s power, the latter had the potential to topple entire nations from
within. The two Skills were quite honestly incomparable, but the overall impact they had on the world
was unquestionably significant.
The ‘minor’ tier Skills would then be likes of Chaotic Disposition and Vengeance. Ones that were still
aligned with the patron deity’s values, but were far less powerful than the ‘major’ ones. The differences
between the two tiers was made all the more apparent due to the fact that the Usurper of Justice Perk
only awarded Boxxy with the Vengeance Skill. It just made sense in its own way. After all, stolen divine
power or not, it would only be natural that only the true Hero of the Hammer would be able to wield an
iconic move like Judgment From Above.
Besides, even if the Mimic had gained said Skill, it doubted whether it could actually make use of it.
According to the Republic’s Foreign Intelligence Bureau, it was supposedly a Skill that would vary
greatly in power depending on the user’s own perceptions of what was ‘just’ and what was ‘evil.’
However, an amoral monster like Boxxy would not be able to do much with a biased Skill like that,
because it did not see the world in terms of justice or evil. That wasn’t to say it didn’t understand the
concepts, but rather that it ignored them on purpose.
After all, from the Mimic’s point of view, everything in this world could be categorized as either ‘tasty’
or ‘not tasty,’ and bothersome things like morals definitely belonged in the latter category.
As for the third and final Skill available to Heroes, it was definitely Essence Concealment. While
knowledge of its effects was not exactly common knowledge among the populace, it wasn’t particularly
obscure either. It was without question the most well-known Hero Skill out there, which more or less
confirmed it was something shared by all Heroes.
The problem now was that Keira would most assuredly be asked to undergo another Full Appraisal
while revealing her real Status. The examiners would probably be expecting her to be hiding something
more than just her Hero-related Skills and Perks, as the catgirl had more than once displayed abilities
beyond what Essence Concealment claimed.
There was no way Boxxy would truly show all of its mind-boggling Jobs and Skills, but it had to give
them something. Perhaps showing off the true extent of its General Skills would be a good start? Keira
would also need a good explanation as to how, why and when she managed to train those Masteries up
so high, but the Mimic was confident in its ability to bullshit others. It just needed the right story to-
“... How long?”
Lia’s sudden question drew the shapeshifter out of its diabolical ruminations.
“Sorry?”
“How long have you been a Hero?” reiterated the elf.
Thinking this a good opportunity to weave a convincing story, Boxxy decided it would oblige her.
“... About a year now, I guess.”
“And… is it really as horrible as you say?”

“… Imagine yourself starving, penniless and homeless. You’re holed up in an uncaring city, forced to
feast on rats and other vermin just to live another day. Then, in a moment of weakness, you try to steal
some fruit from an elderly street vendor. He catches you and scolds you for it, but doesn’t get mad and
doesn’t beat you for what you’ve done. Instead, he takes pity on you and offers you a bag of old,
misshapen fruit he was going to throw away anyway. You greedily snatch the bag out of his hands and
instantly start eating a weirdly elongated apple. It’s so incredibly delicious that tears start streaming out
of your face. The kindly man smiles widely when he sees you and reaches out to pat you on the head.”
Keira took a brief pause and hugged her knees even tighter against her body.
“But you’re not used to receiving kindness from strangers. You unthinkingly lash out like a beast
protecting its bounty from an intruder, and slash at that wrinkled hand with your only weapon - your
claws. By the time you realize what you’ve done, he’s already doubled over in pain and bleeding
everywhere, and you have no idea what to do. So you panic. You run. You hide. You cry. You’re so busy
calling yourself a monster that you pay no attention to the words in your head, informing you that your
actions have altered the flows of chaos.”
“Is… Is that from one of the divine Skills you were given?”
“It wasn’t given,” growled the catgirl. “It was forced on me.”
“S-sorry…”
“But yes. That was the first time I had seen the Agent of Chaos Skill activate.”
Keira lowered her gaze towards the ground and continued her ‘hypothetical’ scenario.
“You hide yourself away out of shame, eating the bittersweet fruits you were given out of kindness, yet
paid for with violence. Eventually you run out and start to grow hungry once again, but your guilt keeps
you from coming near that market again. One morning, you suddenly get notified that the flows of chaos
have returned to normal. Not knowing what that means, you suddenly remember the strange message
from a few days ago. Realizing it can’t be coincidence, you somehow work up the courage to visit that
kindly old fruit vendor once again. You want to see if he’s alright. You want to apologize and make
amends for your actions. But when you reach the market, you realize neither the man nor his stall are
there. So you ask around the neighboring stores and shops.”
The catgirl looked up from her knees and stared Lia directly in the eye.
“Finally, you find out the kindly old vendor had contracted Paralyzing Rotflesh because a filthy street
urchin had scratched his hands up three days ago. You then learn that he died in writhing agony earlier
that very morning. You then spend the next year or so alone, unwilling to let anyone get too close to you
for fear that your very presence might hurt them. But it doesn’t help. The Skill keeps activating
regardless of your intentions or actions. And yet you stubbornly refuse to form any meaningful bonds
with another person.”
Keira turned her gaze towards the ground once more, but this time she had a nostalgic smile on her face.
“At least until you meet the most wonderful, most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on. A girl
with radiant, silver hair and a laugh that somehow makes you forget all of your sorrows. Someone so
incredibly warm and kind that she opens up both her heart and her home to you and invites you inside
both of them. And you don’t resist - you oblige her, despite yourself. You let her remind you what it’s
like to be loved, what it’s like to live. And you repay all that she’s done for you by selfishly clinging to
her in return, knowing full well your smallest action might one day lead to her demise.”
Keira finished her story by wiping away the corners of her eyes.
“I… I’m so sorry… I had no idea…”
The elf was made very aware of just how taxing, how mentally scarring something like that must have
been. To be honest, the fact that this poor girl still managed to smile and laugh despite all she had been
through was nothing short of a miracle. Sure, she definitely had a few screws loose, but that was hardly
a reason to turn one’s back on her.
“Will you be okay, Keira?”
“I’ll be fine. *Sniffle* You don’t need to trouble yourself too much over that stuff. I’ve… I’ve learned to
deal with it. For the- *Sniffle* For the most part.”
“I see. Want another hug, anyway?”
“... Please.”
Keira leaned hard against Lia, who threw her arm over the girl’s trembling shoulder and firmly rubbed
her upper arm, trying to comfort her as best she could. But surely she could do more, right? This tortured
soul just poured out her heart and soul, so there was no way she could just sit there and listen. No,
perhaps having someone around to listen and share in her burden was precisely what Keira needed.
“So… what determines whether this Agent of Chaos thing kicks in?
“No idea. It just happens from time to time. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, and I have no idea
what’ll happen when it comes. That’s what scares me so much.”
“Is the outcome always a bad thing?”
“... Not necessarily. There was this one boy who gave me his last gold coin when he saw me begging on
a street corner. Long story short, he, uh, ended up finding a buried gem and used the money from
pawning it off to buy medicine for his sick father.”
“Hmm, it really does work in mysterious ways, huh?”
Just then, a rather worrying thought crossed through her mind. The type of thought that was probably the
reason why Keira was so hesitant to reveal her divine ‘gifts.’
“And, uh, you haven’t ‘altered my flows of chaos’ or whatever, right?”
The beastkin stiffened a bit for a moment, but she seemed to have expected that question and relaxed
immediately afterwards.
“No. Not yet, at least.”
“You will let me know when the time comes, won’t you?”
“… I will if you insist, but I don’t see what good that will do.”
“Are you kidding me? Shit happens all the time anyway, right? At least with you I’d know in advance if
a potential disaster was about to come, which means I could make preparations and take precautions!
Heck, I might even be able to prevent it from happening altogether!”
That wasn’t actually something the Mimic had considered. Even if Churchill’s Skill caused things to get
out of hand at a rapid pace, that didn’t mean it couldn’t at least try to steer it towards a favorable
outcome. The unpredictable nature of the Skill was sure to make this difficult, but it was certainly worth
a shot. After all, that guy kept insisting Boxxy’s free will and unpredictability were the main reasons it
made it into the Hero of Chaos in the first place.
Then again, it was possible that trying to prevent some imagined disaster might just invite a bigger
catastrophe. Still, it was something worth considering.
“Yeah… Thanks, Lia. For being here for me.”
“It’s alright. What are friends for, right? Besides, I still owe you one for what happened back at the
Fort!”
“Can you, uh, please not mention that?”
“... Right, my bad. What about Rowana, though?”
“It hasn’t triggered around her, either.”
“Not that! I mean, does she know? About your, uh, heroic disposition?”
“... No. Guess I’ll need to tell her. Think she’ll be mad when she find out I kept it from her?”
“Oh, most definitely, and you can be sure she won’t be the only one. But she’ll forgive you. I mean the
whole reason you didn’t tell her was because she’d just worry about it pointlessly, right?”
“Maybe? Maybe I was just afraid she’d throw me away if she knew the two of us would never be able to
live a peaceful life.”
“I’m sure you two will manage. After all, that girl has a very dependable special someone to protect her!
Isn’t looking out for her the whole reason you’re out here to begin with?!”
“You got that right! I won’t let anything bad happen to Rowie! If I can stop a war, then I can teach that
divine bastard a thing or two about messing with Keira Morgana!”
“That’s the spirit! Just because you’ll have a more exciting life than others doesn’t meant the world will
come to an end!”
“…”
“… It won’t, right?”
“…”
“Keira?! Please tell me you’re not going to bring about the end of the world!”
However, no matter how much Lia shook her friend or how insistently she asked, she did not get an
answer.
Because neither Boxxy, Keira nor Juan could say with absolute certainty that a non-zero chance of that
happening didn’t exist.
Over the next 7 days, Boxxy steadily found out that exposing Keira as a Hero of Chaos was
unexpectedly tasty, especially where its Doppelganger Job was concerned. Reggie had claimed that adult
Doppelgangers progressed their racial Job many times slower than juveniles, and he wasn’t kidding.
Boxxy’s own Job had basically gained nothing ever since its Rank Up, suggesting it would take years or
even decades before it attained Level 50 and was allowed to Rank Up yet again.
That was until the Clash of Fate revealed Keira’s Hero status and massively increased her popularity,
despite what the Mimic had expected. Those hand-picked by the Gods were treated with respect pretty
much by default, but the catgirl’s religious alignment felt like it would cause people to be more
suspicious of her. Surely a ‘Hero of Chaos’ sounded like someone that spread havoc and could switch
sides at any given time, right? Boxxy surely wouldn’t trust a person whose entire existence hinged on
unpredictability and luck. Well, it wouldn’t trust anyone regardless of who or what they were, but it had
convinced itself the populace would feel the same way towards the chosen of King Dedede.
As it turned out, however, Boxxy had been sorely mistaken. It had not only overestimated the
intelligence of the average person, but also underestimated how powerful the Hero of Chaos’s
‘introduction’ had turned out to be. Which meant that Keira wasn’t treated with something mild like
respect nor suspicion - she was adored. People were already calling her things like ‘the Goddess of
Victory’ and ‘the true Hero of Justice.’
This behavior was due in no small part to Fizzy’s hard work over the course of the war, as she had
considerably softened people up to the existence of the Goddess of Dice Rolls. Thanks to her diligence
in helping maintain and support Boxxy’s Facade, she had inadvertently made people believe that luck
would be their ally so long as a follower of Florence was on their side. That was, of course, not how any
of that worked, but neither the Mimic nor the golem were willing to correct their misunderstanding.
Even that Underwood woman allowed them to believe what they wanted, as she was enjoying the bout
of positive attention her religious faith was getting for once.
The one savoring the overall situation the most was unquestionably Boxxy. For starters, the suddenly
stubborn Doppelganger Job had more or less exploded from all the XP it was raking in, reaching up to
Level 28 in just a week. Not only that, but with Chaotic Disposition made more or less public, it no
longer had to worry about hiding its side-effects. Some people were even cheering it on to ‘do another
one,’ but those people could honestly go fuck themselves. What sort of idiot would purposefully be
trying to trigger a random potentially harmful event? Not Keira, that much was for sure.
It wasn’t like she’d get much of an opportunity to trigger it anyway. It only flared up whenever she used
her MP, and there wasn’t a particular need to perform Ranger or Blade Dancer Skills and Martial Arts.
The Empire’s commanding officer, one General Hans Ferguson, along with 4 of his most senior officers
had willingly surrendered themselves into Republic custody on two conditions. One - that the elves
allow the remnants of the Imperial army to return to their homes unhindered, and two - that they be
allowed to bring humanity’s deceased Hero with them.
And since Republic officials had agreed to their terms, it meant that neither Keira nor any of the other
Legionnaires had a reason to fight. However, the war was still not officially over. As such, the remaining
troops were ordered to garrison the part of the city that lay on the northern banks of the Skyfall River
that ran through it. Being on the opposite end of the front lines and far-removed from the site of Liusolra
and Nagnamor’s historic battle meant that this section of the city had survived the events of the aptly
named Armageddon Day completely unscathed. As such, the soldiers and adventurers that made up the
Republic’s armed forces in the area had intact roofs over their head, while the atmosphere was more or
less that of a small town in the middle of a festival. After all, without any Empire on the horizon and
with essentially zero monsters around, the only thing they could spend their time on was frivolity.
Which wasn’t to say the Republic was all laughs and smiles. Everyone that had survived Armageddon
Day had also lost comrades, friends, even lovers. Once the initial rush of having obtained the bittersweet
victory passed, everyone started feeling the weight of the lives lost. What followed were 3 solid days of
mourning and burial field rites on both sides. Both the Imperial army and Republic Legions used this
time to gather their fallen and give them a proper send-off. Those who died violently, especially during
wartime, were prone to coming back as the vengeful undead and spread Blight throughout the area,
which was something no living thing wanted to happen.
As such, even though there were a few incidents as the opposing sides bumped into each other while
scouring the city for their fallen comrades, none of them turned violent. Angry glares, harsh words and
rude gestures were exchanged, but that was the extent of it, as both sides had to honor the terms of the
Empire’s surrender. Reckless morons who ignored official wartime agreements like that ran the risk of
finding themselves on the God of War’s shit-list, which was not something any soldier in their right
mind would want.
Indeed, even though he presided over something as violent as armed conflict, Axel was an extremely
virtuous deity. While it was true that anything went in a fight, the same could not be said regarding the
aftermath. Axel expected both victors and losers to abide by the outcome of a confrontation on the field
of honor, regardless of whether it was a one-on-one duel, a battle of epic proportions, or a drawn-out
military campaign. Warfare was a hallowed, sacred art and, in some ways, the ultimate form of contest.
As such, any who would dare dishonor the lives lost and blood shed with their rash actions would be met
with misfortune the next time they engaged in battle. This condemnation would not be limited to
individuals, either, and could envelop entire armies and nations.
Axel’s honorable approach to warfare was precisely the reason why he was displeased when Fiona
showed him that the Empire had attacked the Republic with a manufactured casus belli. If humanity’s
leaders had straight up declared war because they were greedy for conquest, then that would’ve been
fine. But no, they had to go and hide their intentions and use a tragedy which had occurred more or less
by accident to justify their actions to other nations.
This realization completely ruined his enjoyment of the ongoing large-scale conflict, which was a crying
shame considering all those unorthodox strategies the elves were using. He was so mad that he ended up
denouncing Teresa for allowing such a thing to happen in the first place, but was glad to hear her
rehabilitation was progressing more or less smoothly. He never liked that weasel Morelag, but he had to
admit seeing the Goddess of Misdirection taking the matter seriously was strangely reassuring.
As for Teresa’s followers, they had steadily begun to realize something odd was going on with their
Goddess. They could still use their holy magic and divine gifts unhindered, but they had a different sort
of feeling to them. Healing Spells that once filled people with a vague sense of warmth, security and
confidence, now instead felt cold and distant. Prayers and offerings, on the other hand, gave off the
distinct impression that they had fallen on deaf ears. It was as if none of Teresa’s followers could feel the
presence of their Goddess.
This hardly came as a surprise, however. The link between a deity and their chosen Hero was one of the
most sacred bonds known to man, so it wasn’t hard to imagine Teresa’s mourning over Bernard’s loss
was affecting her followers. At least, that’s what the clergy told themselves and others to address the
general sense of unease that had gripped Teresa’s faithful over the last week.
But, as the days went by, the Paladins, Priests and Monks only became more and more restless, even to
the point of them questioning their own faith and wondering if the Goddess had turned her back on
them. If this carried on for much longer, it would cause turmoil to easily spread throughout the Empire.
Which, given the volatile political situation, could easily get out of hand and grow into full blown riots
and in-fighting.
It wasn’t just them that were feeling it, either. The scant followers of Teresa amidst the Republic’s
adventurer conscripts had also noticed their Goddess’s sudden silence, so their higher-ups were well
aware of it as well. Since killing the Hero of the Hammer and potentially setting this whole thing into
motion was something they claimed responsibility for, they were naturally worried about armed
retaliation from Imperial deserters or other rogue elements. Revenge was a powerful motivator, and the
Republic would not take this possibility lightly. Which was one of the main reasons why the forces
stationed at New Whitehall were still present, even though the enemy forces had withdrawn days ago
with no signs of suspicious movement.
There was also one other unresolved matter regarding the events of Armageddon Day. Specifically the
involvement of the elusive Sandman. The testimony of Keira and her unit made it abundantly clear that
the vigilante’s familiars were still bound by their contracts after the big-bada-boom, meaning their
master had most definitely survived. And the Republic had some very damning accusations to throw at
him concerning the unsanctioned summoning of a second Overlord.
However, with Silus Underwood’s unexpected demise and subsequent destruction of the Sandman’s
Comm-cube, the Republic had lost the ability to contact him directly. They had heard nothing of the man
since, which did not exactly paint him in a positive light. At least, that was the situation until last night,
when the succubus belonging to the Sandman had made an appearance at the Republic’s newly-
established perimeter. Using her as a proxy, the shady Warlock had agreed to meet with them the
following day at noon, although he insisted the meeting take place on neutral ground.
Which was why a detachment consisting of a grand total of 5 people had set out from base camp and
were currently making their way through the ruined city.
In charge of this little procession was the 2nd Legion’s Legate - a blue-haired, clean-shaven elf with a
distinct air of ‘no nonsense’ about him. His name was Sarberos Ethan, and he had already made it
abundantly clear he did not appreciate the Sandman’s unpredictable behavior and unorthodox methods.
Immediately behind him was Cecilia Underwood, his chief analyst and strategic advisor. Flanking either
side of the pair were two VIPs - the Paladin Lichter and the freshly awoken Berserker Hilda - who were
to serve as protection should the Sandman try anything funny.
And the last person of this delegation, skulking about way out in front of them, was none other than
Keira Morgana. Her reputation as ‘the Sandman’s call-girl’ was not exactly a secret by that point, so her
presence seemed like the most natural thing in the world. As for her role in all of this, it was two-fold.
Firstly, as the clearly most capable scout in the Legion, she was to keep an eye out for any ambushes,
traps or suspicious activity. And secondly, as pretty much the only person the Sandman had shown
genuine trust to, she was there to serve as a mediating factor and keep the Warlock from making any
rash actions.
The group steadily progressed through the ruins of the city, the scenery around them gradually becoming
more and more depressing. Collapsed buildings steadily gave way to houses reduced to cinders, and then
finally to a black desert filled with naught but ash. They did not stop there, but kept walking forward,
towards the field of glass left behind at the epicenter of the Armageddon Spell.
That would be the ‘neutral ground’ that the Sandman had demanded they meet upon. Legate Ethan had
to agree that this flattened, vaguely bowl-shaped piece of no-man’s land was as close to that definition as
possible. It gave a clear, unobstructed view for hundreds of miles, making it virtually impossible for one
party to ambush the other. Not even ground-based traps would be effective, as any disturbances in the
solid glass floor would be easily noticeable, even without Keira’s sharp eyesight. The significance of
this place was also quite important, considering the reason the elven leader was out here to begin with.
And as they approached the meeting point, they clearly began to make out the shape of the Sandman’s
hulking figure. As expected, he was covered by a thick gray hooded cloak, and his face was wrapped
with a dark blue cloth that concealed all of his features save for those signature yellow eyes. A pair of
thick gloves covered his hands, while a set of heavy combat boots poked out from underneath his long
cloak. He was waiting for them while leaning forward as he sat perfectly still, seemingly lost in thought
with his elbows on his knees, his fists under his chin, his cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze, and his
gaze firmly locked somewhere on the horizon to the party’s left. Overall, he gave off the melancholic
impression of a lonely king sitting atop a throne of corpses.
However, while an apt metaphor, ‘a throne of corpses’ was very different from the mysterious Warlock’s
actual seat. As the Legate and his escorts got closer, they were surprised to see that the large man was
currently using his pet succubus as a chair. She was down on her hands and knees, her limbs trembling
dangerously as they desperately held up the Sandman’s considerable body weight upon her back. What
was even more surprising, however, was the fact that she was actually enjoying this rough treatment, if
her indecently smiling face, light moans of pleasure and clear liquid streaming down her inner thighs
were any indication. The image of the haughty and smug demoness that shamelessly made demands of
the Legate just last night was instantly shattered. Well, the shameless part was still there, although it was
showing itself in a much more perverted fashion than one expected.
Whether this performance was genuine or just part of some bizarre act didn’t matter. Either way, it only
served to raise the Legate’s ire and make the rest of the delegation feel uncomfortable. Aside from
Hilda, who was smiling under her helmet at the absurdity of it all. She had to hand it to this Sandman
bloke - he definitely knew how to make a lasting impression.
Either way, the delegation slowly but surely closed the distance between them and the shrouded figure
who stood perfectly still, aside from the ever-so-slight bobbing and weaving of his indecent chair. They
approached silently until they were several meters from the Warlock, at which point he tore his gaze
away from the horizon and slowly turned his face to regard the approaching party.
“Legate Sarberos Ethan, I presume?” he asked while staring intently at the blue-haired elf.
Taking his grainy voice as an indication that this was far enough, the Republic delegation stopped in
their tracks.
“That is correct, mister Sandman,” responded the officer. “If that is indeed your real name.”
“No such luck I’m afraid.”
The Warlock rose to his feet while keeping his hands clearly visible, allowing his chair to collapse into a
sweaty, panting heap. Something seemed a bit out of place, as every movement of his was not only
unnaturally stiff, but also seemed to elicit a light rattling noise from his person.
“It is good to see you are unharmed, miss Morgana,” he said with a light bow of his head.
“Y-yes!” replied the flustered catgirl. “You, uhm, you too, Mr S!”
“I am also familiar with Lady Hilda and Lord Lichter,” continued the Warlock, “but I do not recognize
the dazzling-eyed creature behind you, Legate Ethan.”
“… Huh? Ack! Uhm! Errr!”
Being suddenly called out, Cecilia was broken out of her silent reverie and failed to produce any
meaningful words.
“This ‘creature,’” butted in the Legate, “is Primus Underwood.”
“Really now? … I was not aware the Republic had access to gender-swapping technology.”
“We do not!” responded the female elf. “Silus- I mean, the other Primus Underwood was… killed in
action.”
“Ah. I see. That is most… unfortunate. And are you supposed to be his replacement, little miss Knock-
off?!”
“Now see here, you vagabond!” spoke up Lichter in a clearly hostile tone. “She’s one of the most gifted
individuals I have ever met, and you will treat her with the respect she deserves!”
“Respect has to be earned!” he snapped back, causing both Hilda and Lichter to raise their guard.
“Easy there, big boy!” growled the Berserker. “No sudden moves, yeah?”
“Mr S!” shouted Keira in a panic. “Please calm down! There’s surely no need to antagonize anyone,
yes? Besides, miss Underwood really is brilliant! Even if she is a bit of a cunt-waffle.”
“Hey!”
“… Yes, of course,” consented Mr S. “I apologize for raising my tone. It was unbecoming. The news of
Underwood’s death caught me a bit off guard. He was a very understanding individual.”
“Right. Well. Now that introductions are out of the way, shall we get to the matter at hand?”
“Indeed, Legate Ethan. Please, do tell me why you refuse to pay me what I am due.”
The Sandman had not yet received his compensation for the night when he snuck into the enemy camp
and eliminated that Bard. Something Xera had mentioned on his behalf multiple times the night before.
“If you want the answer to that, you need only look around you. All this devastation, all this death - it
rests squarely on your shoulders, does it not?”
“Ahhh… I see. So it was that after all. You’re looking for someone to blame. Someone to take the fall
for the actions of a pair of unbound demons. Tell me - are you seriously this stupid?”
“Don’t act like you’re innocent! You knew full well something like this was going to happen once you
unleashed that walking calamity onto my battlefield!”
“You are mistaken about something, Sir Legate. This ceased to be ‘your battlefield’ once Nagnamor
made his appearance. At that point, it became his playpen. All I did was give him a playmate to focus
on.”
“A playmate? Really?! That’s your excuse?!”
“Of course. The best way to defeat an Overlord is to tucker them out so they go nap-nap.”
“Do you think this a joke, you godless heathen?!” shouted Lichter, no longer able to contain his rage.
“Lichter,” said the Legate in a failed attempt to shut him up.

“How many have died because of the terrible forces you unleashed?!”
“Lichter!”
“If it wasn’t for your damnable spiders, then Milady Imiryl-!”
“Lichter! That’s enough!”
“…”
The elven Paladin clammed up, although the fire burning in his light gray eyes showed he was not
nearly done.
“My associate spoke out of turn, but what he says is true. We’ve suffered horrible casualties as a result
of the two Overlords’ catastrophic battle - a battle you helped bring about. In fact, according to the
reports, he seemed determined on chasing down some unknown ‘Morningwood’ fellow! If your
damnable ice queen wasn’t in the way, then he wouldn’t have caused all this devastation!”
The Legate paused his accusatory speech to gesture at the surrounding field of ash with both hands.
However, the Sandman merely shook his head in response and spoke in a condescending, almost pitying
tone.
“The words of a fragile intellect that cannot comprehend demonic intent. What do you think would’ve
happened once Nagnamor reached his target? Peacefully return to the Beyond? Armageddon would’ve
come regardless of whether Liusolra was there or not. All I did was try to contain the prelude, as it
were.”
“Your words won’t fool me!” insisted Ethan. “You arranged it so that we’d suffer the maximum amount
of casualties! That way you’d be able to not only increase demand, but also hike your goddamned price
up! Just to bleed my coffers dry!”
“... So if I understand this correctly, you’re accusing me of purposefully riling up a demonic Overlord
with the goal of profiteering from the resulting strife?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”
“Indeed? But are you sure you should be pointing the finger at me without looking to your own
associates? Isn’t that right, holy man?”
“What are you implying, villain?!” snapped Lichter.
“Oh. ‘Villain’ am I? From where I was standing, it seemed like if you didn’t stand in Nagnamor’s way,
then he wouldn’t have unleashed the Flaming Legion upon your own ‘Flammable’ Legions. If he was
truly intent on pursuing a single target, then didn’t your interference cause just as much destruction as
mine?”
“That- That’s different! I was only trying to stop him from trampling over my comrades! I couldn’t have
known he would unleash hell upon us!”
“And therein lies the difference between you and me. You had no idea what you were doing. I did.”
“So you admit it?!” barked Ethan. “You unleashed Liusolra on us on purpose!”
“Yes. Fine. I admit it. I take full responsibility for Liusolra’s actions on that day. Which naturally
includes all the credit as well.”
“Credit?!”
“Of course. If it wasn’t for my interference, then the Empire wouldn’t have suffered as many casualties
as they did. Not to mention that the stage for that Clash of Fate wouldn’t have happened. I’m sure this
Hero of Chaos did their best, but I think we can all agree that the Empire would not have surrendered if
not for me.”
“He has a point, sir,” spoke up Cecilia. “The whole reason the Hero of the Hammer attacked Decanus
Morgana’s squad was because he had some sort of grudge against the Sandman’s familiars. If it wasn’t
for that and the Empire’s reduced fighting strength, then-”
“Your input is appreciated, Primus!” snapped Ethan as if to cut her off, then turned his attention back to
the Warlock. “As for you - who the hell do you think you are?! Whose men do you think fought and died
out there?! Mine! If you hadn’t gotten in my way, then my tactics and strategies would’ve surely won
the day!”
“Sir, with all due respect-”
“I said shut it, Underwood! This victory belongs to me! Not some demon-loving freak!”
There was a brief moment of silence as the Legate’s harsh words echoed slightly in the distance.
“Legate Ethan,” spoke the Sandman softly. “Could it be you feel threatened by me?”
“No such thing! You’re just a criminal! A conniving, two-timing mercenary who’ll get what’s coming to
him!”
“Oh, so you’ll pay me after all? Marvelous!”
“Why you-! That’s it! Hilda! Lichter! Arrest this criminal!”
“No!” screamed Keira, interposing herself between the two VIPs and the Sandman.
“Out of the way, Decanus!” growled Lichter in a threatening tone.
“I refuse! Mr S hasn’t done anything bad! He’s done nothing but try to help us ever since the Empire
attacked us! Does that account for nothing?!”
“I said move!” shouted the Paladin, more forcibly this time.
“Mister Lichter, please listen to reason!”

“I’ll listen to reason when he pays for what his carelessness did to Imiryl!”
“Is Lady Imiryl not feeling well, perchance?” chimed in the Warlock.
“Don’t ‘perchance’ me, you fiend!” roared Lichter. “She’s been bedridden ever since that accursed
demon took control of her mind! We have a dozen healers attending to her day and night, but her vitals
keep slipping! And it’s all your fault!”
“Is she sweating profusely while fading in and out of consciousness? Perhaps murmuring of a white,
snowy field?”
“… She is.”
“Don’t listen to his drivel!”
“Do you know of her affliction?!” asked Lichter, completely ignoring the Legate’s protests.
“She has been poisoned by Liusolra,” declared the masked Warlock. “It is a stubborn, lethal affliction
closer to a curse than a toxin, but it is not incurable.”
“How? How do I save her?! Tell me!”
“He’s just telling you what you want to hear!”
“But, sir-!” protested Lichter.
“Hilda, talk some sense into him!”
“Nuh-uh. Ye’re on yer own, mate,” replied the dwarf with a shake of her head. “None of what ye say sits
right with me.”
“You insubordinate little-!”
*Donnnn*
“Urk!”
“Miss Hilda! Did you really have to knock him out?!”
“Relax, kitten. He’ll be fine.”
“But you just assaulted a superior officer! With an uppercut!”
“Did I do thaaaat?”
“I believe the Legate tripped and fell over,” declared Cecilia with a crooked smile on her face.
“See?” said the dwarf with a light shrug. “Tripped and fell over.”
“…”
Keira’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out.
“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” continued the Sandman, “you only need to bind your
comrade’s hands and feet with the mana-draining shackles typically reserved for prisoners. They will
drain the harmful magical energy out of her and she should recover in several days.”
“… You’re certain of this?” asked Lichter, his anger slowly fading.
“Quite certain, yes.”
“How can I know I can trust you?” he questioned. “Nobody in the entire camp could figure out what’s
wrong with her, so how come you have an answer ready?!”
“Is anyone in your ‘entire camp’ in possession of a Level 9 Demonology Skill?”
“I… I don’t know… I don’t think so…”
The Paladin looked weakly to his comrades, as if silently asking for confirmation.
“Uhm, no, we don’t have anyone like that,” called out Cecilia. “We have 14 Warlocks with the
Demonology Skill, but none of them have it up that high.”
The Sandman’s yellow eyes seemed to momentarily pierce through her, causing her to shrink back on
reflex. The reason she knew that in the first place was because she had been looking for anyone within
the ranks that might have been the Sandman’s real identity. Something the masked figure seemed to
have caught up on, although he did not comment on it.
“Okay, but how do I know this ‘treatment’ won’t make her condition worse?!” continued the worried
Paladin.
“Because, my good Lord Lichter-”
The Sandman lifted the hem of his cloak, showing that his large ankles had been bound by a pair of
familiar-looking shackles. The heavy chain between them was undoubtedly the source of that odd
rattling noise he makes whenever he moves about.
“-your fair lady is not the only one to still suffer from the Stalker Queen’s affections.”
He let go of his cloak, allowing it to fall over his feet and conceal his bindings from view once again.
“… Mr S?” spoke up Keira. “Is that why you’ve been quiet all this time?”
“Indeed.”
“But why did you agree to come here de-powered and empty handed? What if we’d listened to the
Legate’s orders and tried to capture you here and now?!”
“Then I’d have no way of escape. Especially not with two big-shots gunning for me.”
“Then… Why…? Why put yourself at risk like that?!”
“Because, young Keira, sometimes profit demands a leap of faith.”
“Hah! Hahaha!” chuckled Hilda. “Ye got balls, big guy! I’ll give ye that!”
Lichter glared silently at the still-standing, much taller Warlock and took a few steps closer before
speaking to him in a low voice.
“If I find out you lied to me-”
“Oh, I am quite sure I would not survive your wrath. Please rest assured, I wouldn’t dare risk the ire of
someone strong enough to stop a Demonic Overlord in their tracks.”
“…”
The Paladin glared at him for a few short seconds before unfurling his wings and lifting off. He was
likely headed back to camp to attend to Imiryl’s treatment.
“Weeell, I s’pose we’re all done here, aye?” said Hilda while picking up the unconscious Legate. “Don’t
worry about ‘im. We’ll make sure everyone knows he’s talking out his arse about this whole Overlord
thing. Kinda sucks I missed it though. I’m sure it was an amazing throw-down!”
“Yeah…” sighed Keira. “Thanks for standing up to him, miss Hilda.”
“Bah, ain’t no big deal! I kinda owe the big guy one or two anyways.”
“Before we leave, can I ask the Sandman one last question?”
“Of course, miss Underwood,” responded the hooded figure. “Asking is free.”
“How did you know the Overlords would focus on each other rather than on our troops?”
Unbound demons were widely known to be uncooperative and volatile by their nature. The Four
Demonic Overlords in particular were infamous among the Spell-slinging community as being the worst
of the worst. And yet the Sandman had not only called one of them out and lived to tell the tale, but
somehow aimed her at his target. Cecilia did not believe this to be mere luck or coincidence either, as
she trusted in Silus’s personal assessment of the Warlock’s character.
The late intelligence officer painted him as a careful and meticulous individual who never acted without
considerable forethought. Indeed, after meeting with him in person, she was left with the distinct
impression that his every action taken or word spoken - however small - served a purpose. Therefore, he
definitely must have had a method to control the otherwise uncontrollable Overlord, or he wouldn’t have
taken the risk of summoning her in the first place.
“Why, that’s elementary my dear Underwood,” he declared. “Demons have things they like and things
they hate, much like people. And so long as they hold interest in something, they can be… encouraged
to behave a certain way.”
At those words, he craned his neck towards the succubus behind him. This whole time, the demoness
had been silently lying on her back with her hands under her head, almost as if she was sunbathing.
Upon feeling her master’s gaze, however, she eagerly flipped over, lifted her torso up on all fours and
crawled over to stand behind the Sandman, ready to resume her duties as his seat.
“People and demons alike have buttons and triggers. Small quirks that, when triggered in the right order
and with the right timing, forces them to respond in a certain way. In other words, the easiest way to
make anyone dance to your tune, from the vainest of Legates to the most selfish of monsters-”
The large man bent his knees and put his entire body weight on the masochist’s back, causing her to
squeal and shiver in delight.
“-is to learn the correct sequence to set them off.”
Xera was currently enjoying a brand new sensation. It really was quite refreshing, being able to
experience so many new things so often, especially in such a short amount of time. A trend that started
what felt like a lifetime ago, when she was first bonded to the most unlikely of Masters - a mimic. A
moronic box of unparalleled stubbornness rivaled only by its blind desire for things of either the ‘tasty’
or ‘shiny’ persuasions, sometimes both. It spent the entire first night of its contract ripping her limb from
limb. It subjected her to both the excruciatingly maddening pain of being eaten alive, combined with the
humiliation of being treated as a disposable thing with no real value beyond her flavor.
And that horrible villain has since went on to cause calamity after calamity, one disaster after the next.
All while lying, cheating and deceiving hundreds of people, using them as it saw fit in its selfish pursuit
of satisfying its desires. A pursuit which, according to the rumors she heard from her sisters, somehow
led to her Master giving the Goddess of Truth and Justice herself a bloody nose.
Honestly, could she have asked for a more perfect Master?
As a demon born of unrequited desire, jealousy and envy, Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila absolutely adored
that devious bastard of a box. Not only did it unlock her capacity to derive pleasure from the most
horrible of pain, but it also greatly tickled her wicked, devious side. Conspiracies, fraud and deception
were things all succubi loved to partake in, and Boxxy T. Morningwood’s prized Snack was no different.
That was why she sometimes found herself struggling to contain her squeals of glee at the web of lies,
false bonds and potential for terrible betrayal that she and her beloved Master had forged together.
Indeed, as insane as it sounded, ‘beloved’ was exactly the way she felt towards her Master. Finally, a
mortal that not only let her spread her wings, both figuratively and literally, but also completely
understood and even encouraged her dastardly designs. Even though she realized this whole ‘love’ thing
might just be some delusion brought on by her broken psyche, she could not deny the sense of
fulfillment she felt whenever she was near her Master. She had also been able to reconfirm said emotion
when her soul link to this wonderfully criminal creature was severed by force roughly half a year ago.
Even now she could recall that dreadful sense of longing and crushing loneliness she felt at the time. Not
to mention the enormous relief and joy that washed over her when the summoning contract was
reestablished. And yet, said Master had continued to treat her dispassionately, not showing or even
hinting at being capable of returning her affections.
But that too, was fine. The more Boxxy mistreated her, the more it shunned her advances and clearly
stated it had no intention of regarding her as anything more than ‘a thing,’ the happier she got. Because
while her twisted mind turned gut-wrenching torture into sexual pleasure, her demonic soul resonated
with the perpetual cold shoulder she was getting. The more she was denied emotional fulfillment, the
more her affections grew. With each time her face, dignity and feelings were violently dragged through
the mud, she steadily realized what she truly wanted out of life.
What Xera yearned for wasn’t to stand at Boxxy’s side. That wasn’t her place. No, her solemn wish was
to forever be under its heel, in every sense of the phrase. And this new play that her Master had put on
for her was exquisite. Being forced to serve as the Mimic’s furniture, out in the cold wind, in the middle
of a depressingly desolate field of hard glass that dug into her knees and palms. The sheer weight of the
creature on her back threatening to snap her in half. And when that happened, she would be mercilessly
devoured and-
“We’re clear of the scene. Clean it up.”
Boxxy’s sudden telepathic communication instantly shattered the perverted demon’s fantasies. She
didn’t particularly enjoy having her fun ruined, but it couldn’t be helped.
“… Yes, Master.”
Mostly because of the demonic contract, though. Otherwise she would’ve probably kept doing what she
wanted, knowing full well it would displease her Master. Which would eventually earn her the
punishment she oh so rightly deserved. However, Xera’s twisted fantasies would have to wait, as her
Master’s orders could not be denied. If she was still the original Xera, she would’ve probably looked for
some way to exploit the open ended instructions to ‘clean it up,’ but that traitorous temptress was long
gone.
The succubus slid her body out from under the stiff figure of the ‘Sandman’ resting upon her back,
which fell to the jagged ground with a loud clatter. It did so without changing its pose or posture, as if its
joints had been locked in place. The demoness stretched sensually for nobody’s benefit and then
promptly unleashed her Pyroclasm magic on the cloaked body on the ground. The clothed wooden
dummy wonderfully caught fire, the magical flames near-instantaneously turning it into just another pile
of ash.
The concept behind the Sandman puppet was something Boxxy had been experimenting with ever since
it Ranked Up into a Hylt Creeper. It involved finding a suitably thick tree stump with limb-like branches
in the right places and sticking a pair of fake glass eyes in the head bit. Afterwards it was a matter of
using the short-ranged plant-controlling Phytokinesis Skill to move its limbs around and use a cheap,
basic Comm-crystal lodged in the doll’s jaw to simulate speech.
That last one, however, wasn’t just because the greedy Mimic didn’t want to shell out for a military-
grade Comm-crystal, but due to the fact that the shittier model was actually more useful. It was only
about a quarter of the size of its ‘big brothers,’ which meant it could easily be hidden without distorting
the Sandman’s face. More important than that was the fact that it only transmitted audio. Or rather, it
was the lack of visual communication that was important, otherwise there would have been a blue-tinged
ghostly representation of Keira poking out of the Sandman’s skull.
For the monster posing as the catgirl was indeed the one holding the other end of that line. It had created
a tiny ‘room’ within its chest cavity, which was lined with sponge-like fleshy growths to muffle noises
coming from within. Inside that mostly soundproof space rested the other Comm-cube, accompanied by
an internal mouth which was tuned to sound like the Sandman. The voice was then transmitted through
the magic items, giving off the impression that it was coming from the puppet’s face rather than from
within the catgirl’s bosom.
However, even though Boxxy managed to achieve the desired form and function, the Sandman replica
was far from perfect.
To begin with, the voice was a potential problem, as all Comm-cubes distorted the sounds they
transmitted. This problem was lessened somewhat by the near-point-blank distance between Keira and
the Sandman, but was not completely eliminated. The possibility of the faux-catgirl’s ‘inner voice’
leaking out was also a big concern, which was why the Mimic did everything possible to keep the
vigilante’s speech as quiet and calm as possible. Thankfully, none of the people present had ever spoken
to the elusive Sandman through Comm-cube, let alone directly, so any discrepancies with the past would
have been non-consequential.
In some ways, it was a good thing Primus Silus Underwood was not there, as he would have surely
noticed the discrepancies not only in the Sandman’s voice, but in his movements as well.
While it was possible to move it with Phytokinesis, dead wood was far less flexible than living wood,
which made the doll’s movements quite stiff and unnatural. Minute manipulations such as maintaining
balance or eye contact were especially tricky, which was one of the main reasons why the Sandman was
remarkably inanimate during that whole exchange. There was also the fact that the wooden body did not
sway or breathe, and remotely acting out such small movements was beyond Boxxy’s current abilities.
If it wasn’t for the Facade’s baggy, form-concealing clothing coupled with the ‘poisoned by Liusolra’
excuse, then it would’ve been plainly obvious that doll was not a person. Not only that, but the metal
shackles rattling and Snack’s perverted panting and moaning helped mask the ever-so-slight creaking of
the doll’s movements.
That wasn’t to say that the details surrounding the Overlord’s lingering toxins were fabricated, however.
The shapeshifting Warlock was, for once, being quite truthful when it informed Lichter of Imiryl’s
condition and how to treat it. It was something Keira had noticed days ago and had merely been waiting
for a good opportunity to cash in on it. It was a bit regrettable said information was traded for goodwill
rather than shiny things, but some sacrifices had to be made in order to secure larger profit.
There was also the matter of whether the High Elf Wizard would make a full recovery or not. After all, it
would be naive to think that having an Overlord’s highly potent demonic poison coursing through one’s
body for a full week wouldn’t cause any complications. Not that such concerns fell within the purview
of Boxxy’s list of things it gave a fuck about. If anything, the monster was secretly hoping Imiryl would
be left magically crippled or something like that since it would mean one less potential threat to its
future survival.
On the flip side, her making a full recovery would go a long way towards placating that Lichter guy.
Boxxy had been right in following Punchy’s example when dealing with the angelic elf. Once it
confirmed he was the type of honest person who would go to any length to protect and defend his
friends, it needed only take advantage of that weakness. As Keira, it knew the true source behind his
anger, so it was fully prepared to soothe it and turn it to its benefit.
Hilda was another beast altogether. While that Berserker was more or less unpredictable, it was obvious
she also put a lot of stock in her allies, albeit in a different fashion from her long-time teammate. Where
Lichter was more of a shield, she was more akin to a guillotine. A battle-junkie with a ‘Mess with my
friends and I will feed you your own heart!’ mentality. If anyone was going to shut that laughable Legate
up, it would definitely be her.
Honestly, why couldn’t that blue-head be more competent like his counterpart in the 3rd Legion?
As for Cecilia Underwood, she had demonstrated an almost unhealthy obsession with the Sandman. She
seemed enraptured with the romantic idea of a tall, dark and mysterious vigilante working outside the
law. Especially the ‘mysterious’ part, which fed into her tendency to spot patterns. However, that side of
her clashed with her somewhat naive view of the world, meaning she often saw things that weren’t there,
leading her to spouting some rather… questionable nonsense.
All things said and done, when Legate Ethan came out to try and put the blame for Armageddon Day on
the Sandman, he actually had no allies with him. All Boxxy had to do was subtly appeal to Cecilia,
Hilda and Lichter’s personalities and it would come out on top. Still, as prepared as it felt, there was far
too much improvisation and ad-libbing performed out there. It very nearly lost control of the situation
because that Paladin had let his emotions get the better of him, but was somehow able to avoid a
physical confrontation. It went without saying that, should the situation have escalated that far, the
Sandman being a literal puppet would have been instantly exposed.
Well, even if that worst-case scenario happened it wouldn’t have been a catastrophic failure. The masked
vigilante could always claim he was in the right to be suspicious, which was why he avoided going there
in person. From then on it was still possible to salvage his contract with the Republic, but it wouldn’t
have been easy. Keira’s Facade, on the other hand, would be left completely intact and largely
unaffected. Which was why Boxxy had to assume the catgirl’s guise and delegate the potentially lethal
part to a wooden dummy instead. Snack was there mostly to make it plainly obvious that the thing
sitting on her back was indeed her Master.
Ultimately, the overall result of Operation: Just Give Me My Damn Money was nothing short of a
resounding success. When the Legate regained consciousness he found himself pressured not only by
Cecilia Underwood, his strategic advisor, but also two VIPs in the form of Keira and Hilda. He looked to
Lichter for support, but the Paladin more or less ignored him. While the ‘holy man’ still disapproved of
the Sandman’s questionable actions on principle, he had to begrudgingly agree they were necessary
given the dire situation. It also helped that he had calmed down significantly once Imiryl’s tainted
reserves of MP had been drained by the anti-magic restraints, allowing her condition to more or less
stabilize.
As such, whether he liked it or not, Ethan had been forced to honor the agreement made between Silus
Underwood and the masked mercenary over a week ago. The late intelligence officer had shown some
remarkable foresight and had already made the necessary arrangements even before Boxxy had sent him
the invoice. As such, the Sandman had received his payment the very next day, personally delivered by
the Hero of Chaos herself as a token of goodwill. His new official point of contact had been established
as Cecilia Underwood, although she was clearly not as suited to the job as her predecessor and would
likely be a very temporary liaison.
And her being relieved of that duty would probably happen sooner rather than later, if the events of the
next day were any indication.
“So, what do you think?” asked Cecilia in an excited manner. “It’s possible, isn’t it?!”
“I will say, miss Underwood, you make a convincing case,” admitted Keira.
“I dunno, still sounds a bit loopy to me,” skeptically said Fizzy.
The elf had invited the catgirl and the golem into her office in order to present another of her wild
theories. Normally the other two would have rejected her immediately, but as servants to the God of
Misfortune, neither of them could claim the subject matter was unrelated to them and went along with it.
Cecilia had spent the last 30 minutes or so presenting all her relevant research and explaining her
findings, demonstrating she had been considerably thorough in investigating this particular matter.
“Wouldn’t a God having more than one Hero seriously devalue the point of picking one in the first
place?” questioned Fizzy.
“Devalue? What do you mean?” asked the elf with a raised eyebrow.
“A Hero is supposed to represent the God in the physical realm,” explained Fizzy. “Less like a
messenger or a spokesperson, but more of an icon and a symbol. That’s why they all act in a certain way
to begin with. The Hero of the Sword is always a capable fighter with a strong sense of honor who aims
to become the strongest, and is thus in tune with his patron, the God of War Axel. The Hero of the Wind,
on the other hand, is always a traveler and explorer as one would expect from the chosen of Zephyra, the
Goddess of Rain.”
“Yes, that is most definitely what the history books tell us, but I don’t see how that would devalue the
significance of the God’s Hero. Surely having more capable people around to spread the deity’s
influence would be good for them, right?”
“I disagree. If a Hero serves as an example or a beacon, then wouldn’t having two or more of them
around be confusing? I mean if you had two Legates and they gave you conflicting orders, how would
you know which one to follow?”
“Hmm…”
Cecilia leaned back in her chair and lowered her eyes in thought. She took a long, drawn out sip of her
hot tea, then set the half-full teacup back on the circular table she and the others were seated at.
“You have a point,” she consented. “It’s true that even if Heroes are predisposed to act a certain way,
they are all their own people with their own beliefs. I did not consider that angle.”
“Uhm, miss Underwood?”
“Yes, oh Hero of Chaos?! Anything I may assist you with?!”
The elf’s overly-enthusiastic response and positively sparkling eyes made Keira shrink back a bit with a
strained smile.
“The, err, what about my predecessors? The ones McGregor chose before me?”
That question seemed to instantly subdue Cecilia’s unwarranted excitement, causing her to splay out her
upper body upon the table in a rather unbecoming manner.
“I have noooo ideeeaaa!” she groaned. “There are no records, no rumors, no legends - nothing! Much
like the rest of my faith, anything regarding those chosen by the Lord of Luck seems to be shrouded in
mystery. I had honestly started to think there was no such thing as a Hero of Chaos until you revealed
yourself.”
“I see… How did miss Underwood become a Priestess, though?”
“The same way Fizzy became a Paladin I imagine,” she said without lifting her face off the tablecloth.
“Uh, no. I can state with absolute certainty you did not have the same experience as me.”
“Hmm? You mean you didn’t get the Job from being bitten by a pink ladybug as a child?”
“… What?” blurted out the other two.
“What?” echoed Cecilia.
There were many things to question about that statement. However, what most surprised the two girls
wasn’t the fact that pink ladybugs were apparently a thing, or that ladybugs could even bite a person.
“You mean you didn’t choose to be an Apostle of Chaos?” asked Fizzy, wide-eyed.
“Nope. I don’t believe I was specifically chosen to be one, either. I mean that could’ve happened to
anyone. When it happened to me, me and my parents naturally freaked out about it. We couldn’t afford a
Job Removal, so instead I chose to make the best of it. And the more I matured as both a person and a
Priestess, the more I came to appreciate and embrace the principles of controlled chaos and the teachings
of Murgleklurkerplick. Oh wow, that was a good one! Must be my lucky day!”
The Priestess chuckled lightly at the silly name she just uttered while the golem pondered her words.
“I guess we are similar in that regard, at least,” admitted Fizzy.
“I know, right?” said the elf as she lifted herself off the table and laid back in her seat once again. “I
wouldn’t be surprised if every last member of our faith has a story like that. What about you? How did
you get your Job?”
The golem reached across her chest and gently stroked the spot where her left arm had been ripped off.
“I’d… rather not say.”
“Right, of course. Sorry for asking that,” apologized Cecilia. “It was bad of me to expect everyone
would have a pleasant memory like mine.”
“Well, even if it wasn’t exactly pleasant, I’m glad it happened. Becoming a Paladin of Jubilee not only
saved my life, but also gave it purpose. Heh, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. And then a week
ago I found out my friend and Artificer disciple was his chosen Hero all along!”
The official story was that neither Keira nor Fizzy knew each other until the latter was asked to help out
in a joint exercise with a bunch of apprentice adventurers from different guilds. The two then became
fast friends, although the catgirl continued to conceal her Hero status from the golem, even after learning
about her religious beliefs.
“I know! I’m so jealous!” said the elf with a pout. “And I greeted her by electrocuting her! I feel so
ashamed for doing such a mean thing to her of all people!”
“If you truly feel sorry, then you should repent for your sins by running a few laps around the camp
naked,” suggested Keira with a wry smile.
“Really?! Alright! If that’s what it takes, then-!”
“I was joking! I was just kidding, okay!? I didn’t mean it, so please stop stripping!”
“… Maybe I should strip too?”
“Fizzy! Now’s not the time for that!”
After calming down sufficiently amidst a sea of embarrassment, the two flesh-and-blood girls were left
with red faces while the golem was displeased she didn’t get to show off her shiny frame.
“Ahem!”
Cecilia cleared her throat as if to dispel the awkward atmosphere.
“I may have overreacted back there, but please understand you’re officially recognized as a Hero now.
You need to be more mindful of your words or things like that might happen again.”
“Duly noted,” responded the catgirl with a tired expression. “I just wish people would go back to
treating me like regular old Keira. Just another girl doing her best, you know?”
“Too late for that,” pointed out Fizzy. “They’ll probably calm down with time, though.”
“I know, but it’s still a major pain in my ass.”
“Well, derriere discomfort aside,” said Cecilia with a small cough, “standing out is also part of being a
Hero. You’ll get used to it eventually. Besides, popularity has its upsides, too. Or so I’m told.”
“I guess,” consented Keira. “I just wish that… Actually, this is a good chance. I had been meaning to
speak with you two about something that’s been bothering me.”
“Oh?! Would you be willing to share your thoughts with me?” asked Cecilia full of expectation.
“You know you can talk to me about anything!” proudly declared Fizzy.
“Well, when I was knocked out - after the Clash, I mean - I had a sort of vision or dream or something.
Or maybe it was actually real? Either way, in it, I spoke with Hubert and-”
“PFFFFT!”
“Hey! Watch it, meatbag!”
Cecilia spit out her mouthful of tea out of shock, spraying Fizzy with it in the process.
“You met with the Goddess of Randomness?! Personally?!”
Boxxy was instantly regretting this decision.
“I don’t know!” insisted Keira. “I just spoke with him, okay?! It may or may not have been him! Could
just have been a delusion or hallucination! I barely remember even half of it!”
“… Yes, of course. Sorry,” apologized the elf. “My curiosity got the better of me. Again. Please, do
continue.”
“Ahem! Right! So, like I was saying, I don’t remember much, but I do recall one particular phrase. ‘The
Hero shapes the God just as much as the God shapes the Hero.’ Something about that scares me.”
Charlie had offered those words to Teresa and they had been nagging at the back of Boxxy’s mind ever
since, as they had some worrying implications. If there was one thing at the top of the Mimic’s hate list,
it was the idea that someone or something was influencing its actions. A notion it had despised ever
since breaking free of the dungeon during what was essentially its infancy. That wasn’t to say it was
against such subtle manipulation on principle, especially given how useful Ambrosia was turning out to
be. It just didn’t want to personally be subjected to it ever again.
“Oh, I think I can help you with this one,” said Fizzy. “According to my Holy Scriptures Skill, one of
the reasons Gods choose Heroes is so they can better understand the plights of us mortals. You’re
basically Gilligan’s main connection to the physical realm, so he’s using you to better comprehend his
followers’ wants and needs.”
“So that’s what ‘The Hero shapes the God’ means?” asked Keira.
“I think it’s pretty likely,” stated the golem.
The knowing looks they shared, however, silently confirmed that neither of them believed this was
actually the case. While it may have held true for other deities and was likely a part of Rasputin’s
intentions too, but his main goal in choosing Boxxy was definitely due to its entertainment value. That
was okay, though, as it demanded zero additional effort on the Mimic’s part and it got to enjoy the
benefits that came with the job. Besides, both monsters knew that it was the second part of that
statement that truly bothered the shapeshifter.
“And I think ‘the God shapes the Hero’ is referring to the way the world reacts to the Hero’s presence,”
offered Cecilia. “I mean, I won’t presume to know your past or understand your suffering, but your life
is in a pretty decent spot at the moment, right miss Morgana?”
“It is?”
“Of course! You’re practically a war hero, you have the support and trust of many people and even have
a lover waiting for you back home!”
Keira’s eyes went as wide as saucer plates.
“You know about Rowana?!”
“… Oops.”
“How?!”
“From Silus’s notes. I, uh, inherited them.”
“But I never told him about her, either!”
“He, uh, ran a background check on you at some point. A very… thorough one.”
“…”
“I know you’re upset, but the FIB has to do questionable things every now and then. Even if it’s
unethical, amoral or even heretical, it’s our duty to sully our hands for the sake of our country. Which
may or may not involve rooting through a teenage girl’s personal mail correspondences without her
knowledge or consent!”
“Miss Underwood. You’re not really helping right now.”
“… Sorry.”
“I think what crazy-eyes was trying to say,” spoke up Fizzy, “was that you wouldn’t be the person you
are today if you weren’t a Hero.”
“… No. I suppose not. I guess if it wasn’t for Jamal’s influence, I’d still be a starving beggar without a
place to call home. For better or for worse, I am who I am because of that guy.”
That admission was no mere act, but the shapeshifter’s honest feelings on the matter. Sure, it had its ups
and downs, but its current life was undeniably tastier than the lowly murderhobo existence it led prior to
becoming the Hero of Chaos.
“Yes, exactly!” declared Cecilia. “You can’t expect to be granted divine gifts and then not have them
influence your life in some way!”
“I see. I guess I was just overthinking things, huh?”
“No, no, it’s quite natural, miss Morgana. We all get bogged down by questions of faith every now and
then!”
“Faith, huh…?” mused the catgirl as she looked down at her own distorted reflection in her cup of tea.
This was a new sensation for Boxxy. Having someone else help alleviate its worries was unexpectedly
tasty. There was always that nagging little doubt that all of this was just conjecture and guesswork, but it
did make it feel a bit better. Besides, even if Grimwald was somehow subconsciously nudging it to act in
one way or another, then there was frankly nothing that the Mimic could do about it. Well, aside from re-
acquiring Taboo and invalidating the Hero title, but that was eating the cart before the horse.
*DUM DUM DUM*
There was a sudden banging on the door-
“Primus! Ma’am!”
-followed by an agitated scream from the other side.
“Yes?!” called out Cecilia.
The door swung open to reveal a pooped-out guard who had obviously run all the way here. He was so
flustered that he nearly forgot to salute when he let himself in.
“Ah, forgive me, ma’am! I didn’t know you had company, but this is huge!”
“What is it? Report immediately!”
“Yes, ma’am! A couple of minutes ago, we got word that-”
*TTPTPTPPTBFBBUBPTFPBUBTFFFFPPSHSHPFT*
A harsh, disgusting sound suddenly filled the room, completely cutting off the man’s words. Cecilia’s
face rapidly reddened and her eyes started watering up as it carried on for a few seconds, although
whether that latter bit was out of shame or due to the rancid smell was unknown.
“…”
The ensuing silence was deafening.
“I… Uh… Shall I come back in a few minutes, ma’am?” asked the soldier.
“Please do,” said Cecilia with a tiny, high-pitched voice.
The Legionnaire respectfully closed the door, doing his best not to humiliate his commanding officer
any further. Given how embarrassed she felt, however, that was unlikely to be an issue. It took her a full
30 seconds before she could even look Keira in the eye, only to realize the catgirl was just as upset as
she was. Not only were her dusky cheeks several shades darker, but she actively avoided all eye contact.
Also, was it just her imagination, or was the beastkin sitting a tiny bit taller than a few minutes ago?
“Did… Uhm, you t-too?” squeaked out the fidgeting catgirl.
Cecilia didn’t respond with words, but just slightly nodded her head. Even that extremely minor act of
admission made her want to die from embarrassment.
“Uhm, what just happened?” uttered Fizzy with a puzzled look. “Did you two seriously just-?”
“Nevermind that! We need to change!”
“Alright, alright, settle down Keira! I’ll go get some clean clothes for you, okay?”
“Please… and thanks. And please don’t spread this around!”
“No it’s okay, I understand completely,” said Fizzy with a dismissive wave of her only hand. “Accidents
happen, right? Meatbags just can’t seem to contain their own-”
*CLUNK*
As the golem was about to stand from her seat, however, she heard the noise of something distinctly
metal falling on the wooden floorboards. She was then immediately made aware of a strange itching
sensation around her metallic buttocks. Standing up in disbelief, she was shocked to see several handfuls
of rusty bolts, nuts, screws and nails pour out from inside her baggy work pants, spilling out onto the
floor from around her ankles.
“…”
Unsure of what to do, none of the ladies could utter a single peep. Thankfully, the culprit responsible for
this disturbance revealed himself seconds later.
Whoopsie! I’m terribly sorry, everyone! This whole thing was entirely my bad and
completely unintended! This is all on me and has nothing to do with you! I hope the FTH
gained from this communication will serve as suitable compensation. I will also make sure
to fix the collective mess post-haste.
Again, I apologize for the incontinence. Also the, uh, inconvenience.
You have received a divine revelation from the Goddess of Uncertainty. FTH +10.
“… So uh,” spoke up Fizzy, “looks like Juliet isn’t feeling well?”
“I, uhm, I suppose so?” muttered Cecilia.
“… What do you think he meant by ‘fixing’ it?” asked Keira.
In the next instant, a very specific subset of the world’s population found out that, contrary to common
sense, poop could indeed travel both ways.
Following the rather inexplicable series of anal explosions and subsequent… implosions… Cecilia,
Keira and Fizzy made an iron-clad pact to never again speak of what had transpired. At the very least
Kiki’s ‘fix’ for the situation seemed to have also gotten rid of all signs it had ever happened, including
the smell or any stains. Which was probably a good thing, but the experience was just way too
harrowing for anyone to openly admit it.
Once they had settled down they invited the guard waiting outside the room back in. The man seemed a
bit puzzled at how quickly the disturbance had been resolved, but decided it was best to pretend he saw
nothing. He really didn’t want to have any of the Chaotic Trio on his ass, so instead of acknowledging
the event he respectfully handed the Primus the message he was told to deliver.
Cecilia read the official document once. Then twice. Then rubbed her eyes and read it a third time. Her
hands and fingers started trembling nervously as if they were holding a piece of history itself.
“Th… this…” she muttered. “Is this for real?!”
“Yes, ma’am!” confirmed the messenger. “As you can see it is by no means an isolated incident, either!”
“Unbelievable… Does the Legate know about this?!”
“He’s the one who sent me to get you, ma’am! You are to report to him at your earliest convenience!”
“Understood! Wait, what about Kei- Decanus Morgana?”

The guard glanced at the dumbstruck Keira, then shook his head.
“I haven’t been told anything regarding the Hero of Chaos, ma’am.”
“Right. Okay. Thank you. Err- go inform the Legate I will be over to see him within 5 minutes.”
“Right away, ma’am!”
With a final salute, the soldier left to deliver the message while the data analyst started rummaging
around her office while murmuring under her breath.
“… no precedent… geopolitical ramifications… civil war… can’t be right… no evidence… or

perhaps… new projections…”
“Miss Underwood? What’s going on?”
However, Keira’s understandable question completely fell on deaf ears as the elf’s mind was already
churning away at full speed along with her hands. She gathered up her ledgers, notebooks, maps, pens,
manifestos and even her Day Of Petals wishlist, then stormed out of the room, leaving the other two in a
very confused state. Though perhaps not for the reasons that one might assume.
“I have to ask,” spoke up Fizzy, breaking the awkward silence, “did you really, y’know… soil yourself?”
“No, of course not. I was just playing along with you two.”
“… But why, though?”
“I… read somewhere that sharing embarrassing moments with someone was a good way to get close to
them.”
“That’s going a bit too far, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I’m slightly regretting that decision now. At least I used a substitute substance rather than the real
thing.”
“Can you even- No, I don’t think I want to know,” declared the golem with a frown on her face.
“What about you? Where did all that rusty iron even come from? … And where did it… go?”
“Beats me.”
Silence descended upon the room yet again as the two of them stared blankly at the door.
“I say we chalk this up to Dave being Robert and forget all about it,” suggested Fizzy.
“Agreed,” declared Boxxy with a nod.
“So, any idea what that message was all about?”

“No. But I’m about to find out.”
The Mimic whipped out a slightly crumpled piece of paper from its pocket. In all the confusion, it had
managed to successfully steal it from Cecilia without the elf noticing. Secretly working on its
Pickpocket Skill was really starting to pay off, as it doubted it would’ve been able to pull that off so
smoothly otherwise. The monster’s MLG was more or less incapable of reading ink on paper, so it was
necessary to look at it directly with its eyes. That gullible elf would probably realize the sensitive
document was missing at some point, but Boxxy just had to leave it behind in her office somewhere and
she would assume she accidentally left it behind.
So without further ado, it straightened out the piece of paper and started reading it. The more it read,
however, the more agitated it became. Because as it would appear, Juliet wasn’t the only deity who was
having a busy day.
A Monk who is a Disciple of Justice claimed to have received a divine revelation from
Teresa. As of time of writing, 8 other Legionnaires from disparate units and companies
have independently reported the same exact message to their superior officers. The
revelation in question is as follows:
Faithful of Teresa! A great injustice has been revealed to me!
Following my Hero’s untimely demise, I have spent considerable time in self-reflection and
communion with my fellow Gods, and have since come to realize the truth of the Calamity
of Monotal! The one responsible for that heinous act was no terrorist, spy or saboteur, but
a devious monster that acted independently while motivated by malice, spite and greed.
And while this truth should have been known to humanity’s leaders, some among them have
chosen to obfuscate and pervert it to suit their own corrupt designs!
On the authority of Teresa, Goddess of Truth and Justice, I hereby demand an immediate
cessation of hostilities between the people of the Lodrak Empire and the Ishigar Republic,
and call for an Inquisition upon the Lodrak Empire’s Royal Court!
“Shit!” cursed Keira, a bit louder than intended. “This sucks!”
“What? Let me see!”
Boxxy handed the document to Fizzy while it contemplated the amount of headaches this was going to
lead to. Not being able to profiteer from the war as the Sandman was one thing, but now that the humans
knew a monster caused the Calamity, they were bound to start looking for it. Worse still, if the Republic
and Empire formed some sort of joint investigation and pooled their resources and knowledge, then they
stood a very real chance at tracking down the Mimic. Especially since Punchy was kind enough to shout
out its name during the events of Armageddon Day.
“What are you talking about?” asked Fizzy in a surprised manner. “This is great news, isn’t it?!”
“… What do you mean?”
“Oh, right, you probably don’t know what an Inquisition is.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Basically it means those heathens belonging to Teresa’s Church of the Hammer will be taking a very
hard look at the Empire’s leadership. They’re going to question, investigate and prosecute the shit out of
all of those noble bastards!”
“What, just like that?”
“Hello?! It’s the Goddess of Truth and Justice we’re talking about! If she’s going out of her way to
reveal something like this, then of course the populace is going to eat it up! This is going to make huge
waves in the Imperial capital! Tsunamis, even!”
“What’s a tsunami? Is it tasty?”
“That’s not the important part here!”
“No, no, I get what you’re saying, but I still fail to see how that’s a good thing. What do I care if some
religious fanatics go after their political leaders? I mean I could maybe turn a profit, but-”
“Don’t you see?!” interrupted Fizzy with a manic grin. “They’ll be going after the asshole that
imprisoned us, too!”
A light bulb suddenly went off in Boxxy’s mind. Spymaster Edward Allen - arguably the biggest threat
to the Mimic’s ongoing existence - was very much so a member of the Lodrak Empire’s Royal Court.
More than that - he was probably the person Teresa was unknowingly referring to in her message. That
man had clearly identified Boxxy as the culprit, and yet the Empire declared war on the Republic instead
of organizing some sort of wide-scale monster hunt.
Actually, the revelation itself said very little of the culprit itself, didn’t it? Boxxy’s name, description,
abilities and secret identity were all very well known to Teresa, yet she didn’t reveal anything. Was it
because Volair had influenced her somehow? Or maybe she cared a lot more about cleaning up her own
house rather than chasing after Boxxy for revenge? Either way, one thing was plainly obvious - Edward
would likely find his own people turning on him, perhaps even at that very moment.
And the one who brought this about was none other than Boxxy.
“Fizzyyy!”
The catgirl suddenly tackle-hugged the smaller golem. Her widely smiling face, her upturned eyes and
unceasing giggling all told a tale of boundless joy. A story of happiness and jubilation that was so
incredibly delicious that she began drooling uncontrollably. Fizzy was also laughing without restraint,
cheering loudly as she imagined the bastard that wanted to wrongfully imprison her for something she
didn’t do getting his just deserts.
Revenge, as it would appear, was a dish best served remotely.
*SLAM*
“Guys!” shouted Cecilia as she burst through the door. “I totally forgot, but… did you… see…
where…”
Her words trailed off as she beheld the sight of Keira and Fizzy aggressively cuddling on the floor while
both of them were in a disheveled state. Having been caught in the act of celebrating a bit too
enthusiastically, the two girls stared up at her with looks that seemed to say ‘Oh right, she existed.’ The
catgirl having the golem’s fingers in her mouth as well as the very obvious traces of saliva over that
mithril frame did not exactly help diffuse the situation.
“I’ll, uhm… Nev- Nevermind…”
The elf slowly closed the door with a beet-red face. It was plainly obvious she was misunderstanding the
situation, but Boxxy didn’t particularly care. It just continued to shamelessly rub itself all over Fizzy’s
frame as it worshipped her shininess, while the golem herself savored the very personal attention she
was getting. So what if some nosy elf saw them? They’d clear up the misunderstanding eventually.
Besides, right now was the time for celebration, and this Mimic would not let a single second of it go to
waste.
And indeed, celebration was the operative word for Keira Morgana from that day onward.
News of the Goddess’s decree swept across both warring nations literally overnight, spreading confusion
among the Empire’s populace in particular. They didn’t know whether to be overjoyed their Goddess
had spoken to them, outraged that the Emperor might have deceived the whole nation, saddened at the
loss of humanity’s Hero or frightened at the prospect of the first Inquisition in over 200 years. Some felt
gleeful that ‘those rich pigs’ would be getting what was coming to them, while others felt a deep shame
for so readily putting the blame on the elves.
Not all of the citizens were conflicted or riled up, however. About a third the Empire’s population
simply went about their daily lives, responding to the monumental news with nothing more than a shake
of their heads or a disappointed sigh. To many of the common man, this whole war business was far too
removed from their reality. Lying politicians, manufactured justifications, massive bloodbaths, millions
of GP wasted on a pointless campaign, subversion of the Goddess’s faithful - they couldn’t care less
about any of that. The pauper begging on the street corner, the sneak-thief stalking the slums and the
villager worried to death about his sick cattle all had their own worries. Procuring clothing, food and
shelter was far more important than borders or religion.
Naturally, the same couldn’t be said about the ones at the center of all this. The human nobles
immediately began the finger-wagging and ass-covering they were known for, trying their damnedest to
not get swept up in the Inquisition that was already gathering at their door. Even the Church of the
Hammer was not spared by the political upheaval, as accusations of scandals, schemes and corruption
were thrown about like hot potatoes. Even the Emperor himself was feeling the pressure. Though he
didn’t know that the information he was given was not entirely accurate, his past eagerness to go to war
with ‘those filthy twigs’ was working very much against him.
As for the one he was planning to blame for the whole thing, and indeed the main guilty party in this
nation-spanning ruse, he was already making his own preparations.
Over on the Republic’s side, things among the populace were more or less the same as the Empire, albeit
with far less of the ruling class imploding in on themselves. After the confusion settled past the first few
days, the predominantly elven population began to feel relief that they had been vindicated. For
centuries they’ve carried the stigma of saboteurs and terrorists, which was not helped by certain
extremist factions clinging to glory long dead. And their government made sure to capitalize on the
monumental event in every way possible.
Which was why, five days after Teresa’s intervention, a plaza in Azurvale surrounding one particular
Forest Gate was positively bursting with people. There was an undeniable atmosphere of tension and
anticipation in the air, as evidenced by the buzzing of the crowd. Dozens of thousands had gathered,
many of them coming in from not only the surrounding towns and villages, but from all over the
country. They had not only covered the ground, but also occupied the houses, platforms and branches of
the nearby Hylt tree.
Their commotion died down significantly when the Forest Gate suddenly flickered to life. It glowed and
it hummed and rattled, then threw open a portal that connected it with its newly-reconstructed twin at the
center of New Whitehall. There was a tense moment while the spatial distortion stabilized, followed by
wild cheers as the first row of victorious Legionaries stepped through it.
Clad in their traditional silver-colored armor, the returning adventurers and soldiers marched through
side by side as the crowd’s ovations fell upon them. Some of them waved back to the crowd while others
struggled to maintain an air of dignity and pride, but all of them saluted towards the large podium on
their left. Upon that stage were various high-ranking military personnel, including the 1st and 3rd
Legion’s Legates and their chief advisors, who saluted them back in turn. Among them was also their
commander-in-chief and the one holding the highest office of the Republic.
A man known as Exarch Varas Lumys.
He was a wizened elf with short, slicked back hair that was a shade of green dark enough to be mistaken
for black. His milky eyes silently regarded the victorious troops while he beamed a smile at them. It was
perhaps the first genuine smile he’d shown in months, as the reality of the situation didn’t quite hit him
until this victory parade started. It was hardly a premature celebration, either, as an Imperial delegation
atop a snowy white gryphon had arrived just yesterday to negotiate the terms of a peace treaty.
Even if there were those in the Empire who wished to keep the war going, they quickly found
themselves silenced as their subordinates and serfs rose up as one. They were fools to think they could
just do as they pleased without the support of the people, and were very much a minority. And should
they try to suppress dissension among the populace by force, they would only invite the rapidly growing
Inquisition to come in and put them to justice.
For the Inquisition was not a movement headed by some noble or big-shot clergyman. There were no
soldiers, bishops or cardinals to be found. Its members consisted of low-ranking faithful of Teresa, as
well as many adventurers, both active and retired, who did not appreciate having their patriotism and
faith taken advantage of. And if Imperial tradition was being upheld, all of them would be sworn to
carry out their Goddess’s will, or suffer the stigma of Taboo and be judged by their peers in turn.
The Exarch had always respected the idea of the Inquisition. An organization formed of the people, by
the people and for the people, united in their common goal to purify their nation from corrupting
influences. As someone who wholeheartedly believed in the democratic process, it honestly warmed his
heart to see those misguided citizens taking matters into their own hands. The news that the elves were
entirely unaffiliated with that Calamity would also go to great lengths to alleviate the worries of their
dwarven and gnomish neighbours to the east. It paved the way towards a lasting alliance between the
Horkensaft Kingdom and the Ishigar Republic, who would stand unified in their opposition of the
militaristic Empire.
Lumys shook his head to chase away thoughts of politics and diplomacy. Today was a day to boost the
spirits of his citizens and show to them that their government was there to protect their best interests. A
time to honor the fallen and celebrate the living. That was the whole point of this parade to begin with,
so allowing himself to get distracted with his inner thoughts was rude to the men and women who fought
on behalf of people like him, who could do nothing but sit back and watch. And luckily for him, he had
returned his gaze and attention towards the proud procession just in time for the main event.
Just in time to witness the entrance of the rising star that brought about the current situation through her
own will and determination.
Standing at about 160 centimeters tall, with fiery crimson hair, a goofy childish smile on her tanned face
and waving excitedly with both hands, the Hero of Chaos herself walked through the portal. The crowd
went absolutely bananas, shouting and cheering louder than they ever have. And why wouldn’t they?
The Republic government had publicized both her appearance and accomplishments, rapidly turning her
into a symbol of victory and hope.
Lumys felt more than a little guilty about forcing all of this propaganda stuff on a single girl who was
still in her mid-teens, especially when it wasn’t her choice. However, based on what he was told about
her, she most definitely had the strength of character to return the crowd’s expectations. Besides, it really
was not an exaggeration to say that she was the one who saw the Republic to victory. Her
accomplishments both at Fort Yimin and New Whitehall were bound to spread through the populace and
turn her into a legend all on their own. All the Exarch’s office did was help accelerate the process.
As for the girl herself, she was obviously having the time of her life, both inwardly and outwardly.
With a whole damned parade that was more or less in Keira’s honor, it was only natural that Boxxy’s
Doppelganger Job would get a massive boost in XP. It was so delicious that it felt it rivaled Ambrosia’s
cuisine, but it was sure that estimate would be overturned later that day. As for its steadily growing
abilities, it took the opportunity to check out what new Skills could be gained. Well, it wasn’t like
grinning like an idiot and waving its hands around was particularly challenging, so it hurriedly assessed
its options to find the tastiest one.
Proficiency level increased. Spirit Echo is now Level 1. All Attributes +1. INT +4.
A task that was completed almost instantly.

Spirit Echo
Description: The doppelganger’s body doubles gain the ability to mimic the original’s
magical gifts.
Requirements: Level 30 Doppelganger Job, Caster Job, Mirror Image
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Mirror Images can communicate telepathically with each other and the original.
Mirror Images can now use Spells at 80% reduced effectiveness.
Reduces the Spell effectiveness penalty of this Skill by 5% per Level of this Skill.
Increases the duration of Mirror Images by an additional 5 seconds per Level of the
Shapeshift Skill.
The Mimic hadn’t really had a chance to use the Mirror Image Skill during the war as either Keira or the
Sandman, mostly due to its clearly monstrous origins. However, it was a great help when hunting small
fry to gain combat XP, which is why it diligently raised the Skill whenever possible. And now that it had
this upgrade, said Mirror Images now had considerably more potential in both combat and utility. The
added layer of telepathic communication, on the other hand, would allow for a much higher degree of
cooperation. They could even be used as highly expendable spies rather than sending the far more costly
familiars on recon.
As for the reduced quality of Spells, it was something that was easily overcome by focusing on quantity
instead. However, even if Boxxy created hundreds of them, they would all be ‘born’ with 0 MP. This
wasn’t a problem until now since none of those things had anything to actually use their MP on, but it
meant that Mirror Images would have to be created well in advance if the Mimic wanted to make use of
their newfound magic-slinging abilities. Either that or find a reliable way to instantly replenish the MP
of a whole group of targets, which was going to be problematic. At the very least they now had plenty of
time to recover their empty MP pools, as each one of them would last for over four minutes, provided
they didn’t get killed off.
A duration that would go up to 5 minutes at Level 15 of the Shapeshift Skill, or even further if Boxxy
also picked up Muscle Echo, the Martial Arts equivalent of Spirit Echo. Unfortunately, the former was
far less useful than the latter, as not only did Boxxy have a much wider arsenal of magic than Martial
Arts, but Muscle Echo lacked the telepathic aspect of Spirit Echo. Indeed, it might forego the Skill
altogether depending on what new options it was given as it approached Level 50 of the Doppelganger
Job.
Which, if things carried on in this way, would not be as far away as initially anticipated.
A few minutes later, as Keira was marching several steps ahead of her victorious unit, she managed to
pick out a familiar face in the crowd. It wasn’t by accident, either, as the catgirl had been keeping an eye
out for that particular head of silky, silver-like hair. Her gaze locked onto Rowana’s dazzling green eyes
that shone like emeralds, her movements slowing down and becoming more subdued as if she had
forgotten where she was or what she was doing. The female elf stared back at her lover with a face
brimming with pride, happiness and relief while tears of joy were welling up in the corner of her eyes.
Desperately trying to keep herself from crying, all she could do was raise a hand and give Keira a small
wave.
“Row… Rowwwiiiieeeee!”
It was at that moment that the Hero of Chaos broke formation with a piercing scream. With speed and
agility befitting that of a mid-Level beastkin Ranger, she ran towards the object of her supposed
affections. The crowd surrounding Rowana were startled to see her suddenly run towards them on all
fours. She leapt over the first row and just kept moving forward while jumping off of the befuddled
spectators’ shoulders and heads.
The female elf in her sights was overcome by a sense of disbelief and started shaking both her head and
her hands with a sort of ‘What are you doing?!’ attitude, while Lia, who was further back in the
procession, looked on with soft, understanding eyes. However, Keira did not stop her advance, and she
was not going to, either. Realizing there was no getting out of this, Rowana decided it was time to
change her approach. She widened her stance, threw her hands out in front and put on the most radiant
smile she could muster, right in time to receive her lover’s hug-tackle.
She caught and spun the petite catgirl around a few times as they embraced, causing the people around
her to take a few steps back and give them some space. Once the catgirl’s feet were firmly planted on the
ground, she shared an affectionate glance with the relatively taller elf. Keira then spun around suddenly,
dragging the startled Rowana along with her and making her basically fall in the beastkin’s arms. What
followed was a deep, passionate kiss that left no question as to their intimate relationship while an
uncountable number of people looked on in stunned silence.
It wasn’t until almost a minute later that the two women’s lips finally separated. With their eye levels
reversed, Rowana could do little but look up at the face of her one and only love.
“Honey,” muttered Keira with a quivering lip, “I’m home!”
“Khah! Hahah… Wel- *Sniffle* Welcome back, sweetie!” responded the elf as she started tearing up
again.
Dimly remembering where she was, Rowana gave the startled faces around them a few fearful looks.
She began whimpering and shivering within the catgirl’s embrace, which prompted her girlfriend to
tighten her grip on her.
“Shh, it’s okay, Rowie,” she whispered in a soothing manner while stroking the elf’s shiny hair.
“Nobody will dare think badly of us ever again.”
“Trust me on that,” she added with a toothy grin.

Status Show
Keira and Rowana were walking along a cobblestone pathway amidst the moonlight. The elf was
wearing a deep blue long-sleeved silk gown. It wasn’t visible under her coat, but the dress left her
shoulders and upper back exposed, although it hid most of her enviable cleavage. A pair of shining blue
open-toed high-heels poked out beneath the long skirt, making sharp clacks along the deceptively
smooth pathway with every step. She walked with the sort of grace and confidence that clearly showed
this was hardly her first time walking around in such formal apparel.
“Waaah!”
Unlike Keira, who nearly fell over every ten or so steps. And she probably would have, if it wasn’t for
her linking arms with Rowana.
“Easy there, sweetie, I have you,” said the elf as she helped the unsteady catgirl regain her balance.
“Phew… thanks again, Rowie. I honestly had no idea this sort of footwear even existed,” complained
Keira with a dispirited expression. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into wearing these things.”
The ensemble the beastkin was wearing was very much identical to Rowana’s, aside from the color.
“But you look so good in yellow!” cooed Rowana with sparkling eyes. “You always wear those drab
clothes that do you no justice. Even though I buy all those cute outfits,” she added with a small pout.
“I can’t wear that frilly stuff out in the field! It offers no protection and makes it difficult to move
around! Can’t I at least go barefoot?!”
“Denied. You promised you’d adhere to proper etiquette when I officially introduced you to my parents,
and I’m going to hold you to that.”
“But you never mentioned anything about formal wear! And why didn’t you tell me your parents were
some fancy-shmancy big shots!?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess for the same reasons you didn’t tell me you were some weirdo deity’s Hero,”
countered Rowana with a sharp glare.
“…”
Keira did not answer, but merely stared guiltily at her feet. As expected, the news that the catgirl had
been hiding something that huge from her lover did not go over smoothly with the elf. Once the hustle
and bustle of that military parade from yesterday had settled down, the two of them had a very frank and
lengthy discussion regarding trust. At the end of it, Rowana said she would eventually forgive Keira for
keeping such a colossal secret from her, but at the same time made it abundantly clear she would lord it
over the catgirl for the time being.
“Are there any other complaints you may have about tonight’s dinner?” asked the elf with a devious
smile.
“None. Ma’am.”
The two of them resumed their walk up the stone path as they steadily approached the Slyth family’s
home. Truthfully speaking, ‘home’ was a bit disingenuous, as the building in question was a grand three-
story mansion that rivaled the Central Consortium building in size. It was built at the base of one of the
largest Hylt branches in the city, with the titanic tree trunk looming behind it. The surrounding estate
enveloped the entire 40 meter width of the ancient limb and covered nearly two acres of ‘land.’ It was
impossible to approach the place on foot from any direction other than the front, making it quite safe
from the average thief.
The massive front yard had been turned into a park in its own right. It had well-trimmed hedges, eye-
catching sculptures, beautiful flowers and happy little trees spread around it to create a soothing and
serene atmosphere. It was quite obvious this oversized garden took a lot of resources to maintain,
especially considering the fact that all the vegetation had to be grown in planters. Well, there wasn’t
going to be any fertile soil this far up a Hylt tree, but the Architects who designed and built this place
did so in a manner that made one forget they were actually hundreds of meters up in the air.
Even if it was beautiful, however, it was still far too long a walk from the main gate to the actual
mansion. Rowana didn’t seem to mind since it was both romantic and nostalgic, but Keira’s struggling
with her high-heels said otherwise. Not to mention that Boxxy inwardly scoffed at the tremendous waste
of resources around it. Paying people to maintain all this scenery that was neither functional, shiny nor
tasty? What sort of madness was this?!
Then again, if anyone could afford an extravagant environment like this, it would be Samulus and Doris
Slyth. Even though Rowana lived alone in a small one-room house in the Azurvale equivalent of bum-
fuck nowhere, this was mostly because she wanted to live independently of her parents due to various
reasons. Her family, as it turned out, was among the top 10 wealthiest families in the Republic. They
owned several mercantile and artisan guilds, the most profitable of which was the Pixie Powder
Pavilion. This nation-spanning organization was the undisputed best when it came to the wholesale
procurement, production, and transportation of alchemical ingredients and compounds. According to
Rowana, it had been the core of the Slyth family’s legacy for the past six generations, and was also one
of the main reasons she became an Alchemist like her father.
When the two lovebirds finally reached the front of the mansion, they were greeted by two rows of
servants. Butlers in sharp-looking black tuxedos on the left, maids in modest, nun-like black dresses
with white aprons in front on the right. There were 12 of them each, and they were lined up on either
side of a luxurious red carpet that led up a marble staircase and towards the mansion’s intimidatingly
large front doors.
They all bowed respectfully as Rowana and Keira walked in between them. It was only expected that the
catgirl who was supposedly a penniless vagrant until a few months ago would feel overwhelmed and out
of place, but why was the elf also growing nervous? Surely she should be used to this sort of stuff by
now, right? But before Keira got the chance to ask, the two of them arrived at the grand double doors,
where a butler much older than the others was waiting for them.
Curiously enough, he seemed to be the only human servant in the otherwise elven household. He had a
full head of very short hair that had grown gray with age, sky blue eyes and a dignified, almost snobbish
air around him.
“Mr Ridgeworth?! Is that you?!”
“Indeed, miss Rowana. It is good to see you are still in good health,” he answered with a respectful bow
of his own, although the stern expression on his wrinkled face did not change in the slightest.
“That’s my line! I haven’t seen you in years! I was sure you would’ve retired by now!”
“Nonsense, my lady. Serving the Master and Mistress of the dignified house of Slyth has been this one’s
duty and privilege for many years, and I do not plan on giving it up any time soon. The day I am
relieved of my responsibilities will be the day I can no longer walk.”
“I see you’re still saying that after all these years, huh?”
Rowana gave a small, tired sigh, then formally introduced him to her girlfriend.
“Keira, this is Mr Ridgeworth. He has been the head butler around here ever since I can remember. He’s
something of a second father to me.”
“My lady’s words are most kind,” offered the old butler with a small bow, then turned towards the
awkwardly smiling catgirl. “And this beautiful creature must be Madam Morgana. I have heard much
about your exploits and have been looking forward to meeting you in person. I am reassured to know
that young lady Slyth’s future is in such capable hands.”
“I, uh, th-thank you, Mr Ridgeworth. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” said the catgirl with an
awkward curtsy and a slightly reddened face.
“Indeed. Now, we shouldn’t be keeping my lady’s parents waiting any longer. Walk this way, if you
please.”
The butler led them into the house proper, which was as posh and extravagant as one might expect. The
fluffy red carpet on the floor, the high ceiling that had way too many chandeliers, the maroon white
walls and the various examples of tasteful artwork and fine furniture gave each corridor and room they
passed through an undeniable air of extravagance.
Interestingly enough, what Boxxy was most concerned with wasn’t the potential for larceny all around
it, but rather the butler leading it and Rowana deeper into the mansion. His body was way too fit and
healthy for someone of his apparent age, even if it wasn’t clearly visible underneath that uniform. It was
the physique one might expect from an adventurer or soldier, not a manservant. This wasn’t really cause
for alarm in and of itself, however, as it made sense that the rich and powerful would have capable
bodyguards close at hand.
What really caught the shapeshifter’s interest was the fact that this ‘human’ did not smell like one.
Indeed, he didn’t have a scent of his own at all. Combined with his out-of-place level of fitness, Boxxy
could do little but assume he was a Doppelganger in disguise, likely one of Reggie’s agents. It didn’t
have a chance to go see the ‘ganger capo himself just yet, so it could only guess at this individual’s
purpose here. Well, not like it mattered anyway. Boxxy was sure it could handle this Mr Ridgeworth if a
fight broke out without having to deviate from Keira’s specs.
Assuming it came to that, of course. For all it knew, Reggie might have implanted agents into any
number of wealthy households to keep tabs on them. If one of the wealthiest and most respected bankers
in the country recommended a servant, then surely the other socialites would be eager to hire them.
Whatever the case, it saw no reason to blow either of their covers with a confrontation, but it would still
keep a close eye on the guy.
The two female visitors were led through another set of grand double doors and into a spacious well-lit
dining room with decor that was just as opulent as the rest of the house. It actually went one step further,
as it had a roaring fireplace on the left side and an array of tall, curtain-covered windows on the other.
There were a few sets of decorative weapons lining the walls, each of them being way too shiny to be
practical. The middle of the room was dominated by a needlessly long table, covered by a pure white
embroidered tablecloth.
Rowana’s parents were seated next to each other at the far end of said table, and seemed to be in the
middle of discussing something before they were interrupted by the head butler’s entrance. Doris was
wearing a beautiful bright red dress that was a bit more modest than her daughter’s, aside from the long
vertical slit on the right side of her skirt. Samulus was wearing a black tailcoat suit with a white
undershirt, making him undoubtedly the least colorful of the group.
“Announcing the arrival of lady Rowana Slyth and her partner, the esteemed Decanus Keira Morgana,”
he declared in a loud crisp voice as he made way for the guests of honor.
Samulus’s eyebrow twitched a bit at the word ‘partner,’ suggesting this was not going to be a pleasant
visit. Fortunately his expression softened a bit when he turned to greet his daughter.
“Welcome back, dearest daughter,” he declared while standing from his seat.
“Hi, dad! Hey, mom!” returned Rowana in a casual manner, which made his eyebrow twitch once again.
“Oh, relax yourself, Samulus!” said his wife Doris while slapping him lightly on the wrist. “No need for
formality among family, right?”
“… Yes, dear,” consented the middle-aged elf as his tension disappeared somewhere.
“Mr Ridgeworth, please be a dear and grab us some refreshments before dinner, would you? I think a
cup of Floodroot tea would do all of us some good.”
“Of course, Mistress Slyth. Would milady Slyth or madam Morgana prefer something else?”
“Some tea sounds lovely, actually,” answered Rowana with a smile.

“Lots of honey for mine, please!”
“Understood. Then, if you will excuse me-”
With those words and yet another bow, the head butler excused himself from the room. Doris stood from
her seat and briskly walked over to Rowana to give her a small hug.
“Oh, it is always nice to see you, little sunflower,” she said in a sweet tone. “I just wish you’d come to
visit here more than once a decade.”
“Come on, mom. You know I can’t stand this house. Besides, you two already have a habit of dropping
in unannounced at my place every few months. Regardless of my consent on the matter.”
“Are we really that big of a bother?”
“Of course not, I just wish you’d work on the ‘unannounced’ bit.”
“Nonsense!” declared her father as he strode over behind his wife. “It’s a parent’s duty to meddle in their
child’s life! And meddle is exactly what I plan to do!”
His gaze locked onto Keira, his mood rapidly deteriorating as he looked her up and down. Even though
the catgirl’s unruly hair had been straightened out in a formal bob and she was wearing the clothes and
makeup one would expect of a high-class lady, it was quite obvious she didn’t belong in them. If he were
to be blunt, he would say she looked like a hobo in a tuxedo.
The catgirl stepped forward and attempted a polite curtsy, much like when she met the Mr Ridgeworth.
“It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, mister Slyth.”
“Yeeeees… Quite. Please, have a seat.”
The four of them took their seats at one end of the long table, with Doris and Samulus sitting opposite
Keira and Rowana respectively. As if on cue, Mr Ridgeworth entered the room with a small trolley and
served everyone a cup of tea with a rather strong aroma. Everyone calmed down significantly after a
good long sip, and the mother of the household began the conversation.
“So. My daughter’s sweetheart is a Hero, hmm?” questioned Doris.
Keira tensed up instantly at those words.
“Y-yes, ma’am!”
“Ma’am? Please, dearie, there’s no need for that.”
“Then, uh, should I call you Mrs Slyth? Or is Doris okay?”
“Huhuhuhu, I’d much prefer if you called me ‘mum,’ actually!”

“… Huh?”
“That is the proper way to address one’s mother-in-law, isn’t it?”
“HUH?!”
“I mean, you are going to marry Rowana, aren’t you?”
*SLAM*
“Don’t be absurd!” exploded Samulus. “I will never allow that! My precious little girl is too young to
marry!”
“You’re the one being absurd, dear. She’s already 19 years old, you know.”
“She’s still thirty- no, fifty years too young!”
“Hypocrisy is unbecoming of you, Samulus. We were already married at her age, weren’t we?”
“This and that are completely different! We were- are members of respectable families, and this girl is
just some gutter rat who’s only using Rowana to get her hands on our money!”
“Samulus, my dear husband.”
A sudden chill filled the room at Doris’s words. Her lips were smiling, but her glare was sharp enough to
burrow a hole straight through Samulus’s forehead.
“Please keep those paranoid delusions to yourself. Not only are you insulting our honored guest and
your own daughter’s judgement, but you’re severely underestimating me as well. Do you honestly think
I would allow this relationship if I thought for a single moment my daughter was being deceived by
some gold-digger?”
“… No, dear. Sorry, dear.”
“And?”
She crossed her arms while raising an eyebrow.
“And I apologize to miss Morgana for my harsh words.”
“Very good. Now then- Hmm? What’s wrong, you two?”
She hadn’t noticed it since she was busy disciplining her unruly husband, but both Rowana and Keira
were looking away from each other with rather embarrassed faces.
“We, uhm,” spoke up the catgirl. “We aren’t… exactly… ready for ma-… ma-… marriage… yet.”
Matrimony was a huge commitment and not one that should be taken lightly. Now matter how lovey-
dovey they were, it was an undeniable fact that they only met a few months ago.
“B-b-besides,” stammered Rowana, “things like two girls marrying is… illegal.”
“Oh in the Republic, maybe. There are plenty of other places that will let you get married, though!”
*SLAM*
“No!” shouted Keira while banging her fists on the table, causing the teacups to rattle slightly. “It has to
be here! It has to be where Rowie and her family live or else it doesn’t count!”
“Huhuhuhu, you say some nice things, don’t you?” replied Doris with a light chuckle.
“Indeed. It is good to see you’re taking this thing seriously,” approved Samulus with a nod.
“Then does the victorious Hero of Chaos have any plans to change things around?”
“… Something like that. I just figure if those bigwigs want to use me as their Hero, then the least they
can do is make an exception for us two!”
“What about other homosexual couples, hmm?”
“Err, I don’t-”
“Surely if you just get what you want and ignore their needs they’ll just turn on you, am I wrong?”
“Mom, please stop probing my girlfriend,” said Rowana with a sigh. “You know full well a single
person can’t make generations of bigotry disappear overnight. Speaking of which, why are you so calm
about this, dad? I always thought you were against same-sex couples like us.”
The fear of being disowned by her family was what made it impossible for the old Rowana to come out
to her parents. Her father’s attitude in particular was also one of the main reasons why she sought to live
on her own in the first place, although that decision did not help her open up to others in the slightest. In
fact, until Keira showed up, not a single person other than herself knew of her sexual orientation. She
may have spoken to her friends and coworkers about their relationship, but that was because having
Keira in her life gave her the courage to reveal that side of hers. She was planning on having this sit-
down with her parents eventually, but it had happened sooner than expected since her mother had found
out anyway.
Rowana really should not have underestimated the housewives’ information network.
“I, uh… *Cough* Well, I admit I had a bit of a fit when your mother told me of your, uh, preferences.
But I’ve had a lot of time to think since then and I’ve decided that if that’s the way my precious daughter
is, then it’s my responsibility to correct-”
*CRACK*
Doris tensed up the muscles in her left hand under the table, letting out a rather loud and slightly
disgusting noise as she cracked her knuckles.
“Accept her for who she was,” said Samulus, amending his words.
Rowana didn’t particularly know how to feel about this, but decided it was probably best to ignore her
mother’s very obvious influence.
“Thanks, dad. That means a lot.”
“Also, Mr Slyth?”
“Yes, miss Morgana?”
“I also have to thank you. The potions and elixirs provided by your Pixie Powder Pavilion have saved a
lot of good men out in the field.”
“Oh! Well, I’m glad our contribution to the war effort was of assistance to our brave soldiers.”
“Yeah,” said Rowana with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sure your patriotism has nothing to do with the fat
supply contracts you got out of the government. Tell me, are you still making your people water down
potentially life-saving healing potions?”
An awkward silence descended upon the room.
“Err, excuse me,” spoke up Keira, “but I need to go take a lea- I mean, powder my nose. Yeah, that
second thing. Definitely.”
“Of course, dearie,” answered Doris, then gave the little bell that had been resting on the table a few
solid rings.
The head butler entered the dining room not even 2 seconds later.
“Yes, Mistress Slyth?” he asked with a small bow.
“Could you please show miss Morgana to the ladies’ room?”
“Of course, Mistress. Right this way, Madam Morgana.”
“Thanks, Mr Edgeworth.”
“It’s ‘Ridgeworth,’ madam.”
“Ack! I, er, s-s-sorry.”
“Madam need not apologize. This one’s name is rather difficult to say, after all.”
“Then, can I call you Ridgey?”

“… If Madam finds it appropriate.”
“Yay! I’ll be counting on you then, Ridgey!”
“Quite. Now, if Madam would be so kind as to follow me…”
“Ah, right. Please excuse me, everyone!”
The catgirl stood from her seat, did an obligatory curtsy and followed the butler out of the room in high
spirits.
“My, she is a handful, isn’t she?” said Doris with a bemused smile. “I can’t remember the last time
someone managed to get a rise out of Ridgeworth.”
“Yeah,” admitted Rowana. “Keira’s a bit… rough around the edges, but that’s part of her charm. Just
being in the same room with her makes me forget all my worries and troubles. She’s responsible, caring
and hard-working.”
“Hmpf! We’ll see about that!” declared Samulus.
“Come now, dear. Surely even you have to admit she’s a good kid.”
“That’s just it, Doris. She’s a ‘kid.’ She knows nothing of the harshness of this world.”
“Dad! Don’t you ever speak of Keira like that!”
Rowana’s uncanny forcefulness surprised both of her parents.
“What are you on about?” asked her father.
“You don’t get to talk about her like that, okay?! You don’t know what she’s been through!”
“Oh, and you do?!”
“Of course! She told me everything about herself! And she deserves better than people like you speaking
badly of her behind her back!”
“And how do you know she’s not making stuff up?!”
“I just do, okay?!”
“Well, I don’t! What did she tell you!? I’ll have my people verify everything right away!”
“This! This right here is why I can’t stand to be in this house!” shouted Rowana. “How am I supposed to
live my life with you just looming over my shoulder and double-guessing everything I say and do?!”
“I… you’re right. I’m sorry, I just… can’t help but worry about my precious sunflower. First this war
business, then I found out you have a girlfriend of all things, and then I find out she’s a Hero of some
blasted God I’ve never heard about before and- This is all happening so fast I have no idea what to
believe anymore!”
Doris reached over and put her hand on top of his, gripping it tenderly.
“How about you believe in your daughter, for a start?”
“I do! I’m just afraid my little girl will get taken away by some harlot that showed out of nowhere and-
Ow! Ow-ow-ow-ow! Doris! Arrgh!”
“Oh, sorry dear,” said the wife while maintaining her bone-crushing grip on his hand. “I just get a little
agitated when you speak ill of that sweet girl.”
“Okay! Okay! I’ll be on my best behavior, so please stop crushing me!”
The wife let go of her husband’s slightly bruised hand with a satisfied smile.
“There you go. Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go check up on our adorable little guest.”
Doris stood from her seat and walked out of the room, leaving Rowana with her slightly injured father.
Samulus waited a few moments to make sure she was out of earshot, then turned towards his daughter.
“Rowana, promise me something.”
“What is it, dad?”
“If that girl does anything- and I mean anything to hurt you, you come to me, alright?”
“Keira would never-”
“Promise me, Rowana!”
“… Alright, I promise.”
“Good. That’s all I ask.”
There was a moment of silence as Samulus rubbed his injured hand.
“I’m sorry for keeping this a secret, dad. I really should’ve told you earlier.”
“It’s quite alright, honey. I know first-hand I can be a bit too emotional at times. This whole same-sex
thing still doesn’t feel right to me, but I can probably get used to it. Or rather, I don’t have much of a
choice in the matter, if your mother has anything to say about it. Heh, truth be told, if it wasn’t for Doris
keeping me in check, I don’t know where I’d be right now. She may be strict, but she’s still the best
thing to ever happen to me. You also deserve nothing but the best, which is why I’m so particular about
the company you keep.”
“I know, you always were an insufferably overprotective worry-wart. I just wish you would keep it to
yourself rather than freak out and try to dissolve my girlfriend with Ectoplasmic acid on sight.”
“… What are you talking about?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, I may not approve of the kid, but that’s hardly a reason to assault her! Let alone with
Ectoplasmic acid! That stuff would eat straight through meat and bone like it was nothing!”
“But that’s exactly what you did when you first met her!”
“I did no such thing! I admit I may have not been, shall we say, a perfect gentleman tonight, but I’d
never assault a guest in my own home!”
“… You do realize this is the same ‘guest’ that you mistook for a thief when you two came to visit me a
few weeks ago, right?”
“Hmm? Did something like that happen?” he asked while scratching his head. “I’m pretty sure I’d
remember something like that…”
“How can you not remember? It happened right before mom hit you with- … Actually nevermind.
Must’ve been thinking of a weird dream or something. Just my imagination, I guess.”
Rowana felt a bit bad lying to her own father, but what else could she do?
“Oh! Oh, okay. Heh, you scared me for a second there,” he said with a light chuckle. “I mean can you
imagine it? Me. Trying to melt your Hero girlfriend with acid? In front of your mother?! I may be hot-
blooded but I’m not suicidal! Hahahaha!”
How was she supposed to know that frying-pan-induced amnesia was a thing that could happen?
Reginald was currently seated in his office, trying to think up ways to profit off of the ongoing festive
mood. Of course, he was thinking more in terms of how to best use his secret shapeshifter society to
conduct illegal business, rather than worrying about his Facade’s banking guild. Indeed, the former was
infinitely more suited for opportunistic operations, while the latter served mostly as a front and money
laundering scheme. The Namhel Brothers bank still made a profit on its own, of course, although it was
hardly the main source of Reginald’s income and influence.
There was a polite knock on the door to his otherwise magically eavesdrop-proofed office, which tore
him away from his schemes. A few seconds later, his personal secretary poked her head into the room.
“Excuse me, Mr Namhel?” she said with a confused expression. “There’s a Mrs Mainus here to see you.
She’s… quite insistent.”
“… Mrs Mainus, huh? Doesn’t sound familiar,” he muttered after a brief moment of silence.
“Should I send her away?”
“No, no, that’s quite alright. Show her in, won’t you?”
“Of course, sir. Right this way, Mrs Mainus.”
The secretary stepped to the side and allowed an elven woman to walk past her. The visitor’s long coat,
demeanor and average looks were far from eye-catching, and the only impression she would leave
people with would be ‘just some lady on the street.’ She shot the secretary a sharp glare, prompting the
youthful elf to leave the office and close the door behind her.
“My Master sends you its kindest regards, Reggie,” said ‘Mrs Mainus’ while reverting to her base form.
“Though perhaps not in as many words.”
“Ah… Snack, was it? Am I to assume I owe this visit to your owner being otherwise preoccupied?”
This wasn’t the first time that creature had used its demonic familiar as a proxy for a meeting. Reginald
understood it was necessary sometimes, but he personally disliked doing things this way. Not so much
because the individual themselves weren't present, but more to do with his wariness of demonkind as a
whole. However, if that’s how his business partner insisted on doing things, then Reginald had little
choice but to consent to it.
Besides, simply not being in the same room with that absurd entity was relaxing in its own way.
“Indeed,” answered the succubus. “The Master’s newfound social obligations are proving to be quite
tasty, albeit a bit too time-consuming.”
“Well, that was surely to be expected,” commented Reginald. “Grabbing the attention of the entire
nation would surely make it difficult to move around as freely as it used to. I’m quite surprised it went
public with revealing Keira as a Hero.”
“That wasn’t exactly planned, though. Which is why my Master and I are struggling somewhat to handle
the situation, although we’re still making the most of it.”
“Quite. I can only imagine the amount of XP it’s raking in as we speak,” said the old ‘ganger with a
jealous tone. “It’s already Ranked Up, hasn’t it? Probably into some rare variant given its rather…
unique take on the Doppelganger Job.”
“Jolly good guess,” offered Xera with a smile.
Truthfully speaking, Boxxy’s Rank Up had happened well before this whole Hero business started, and
its Doppelganger Job was already so far ahead that it would probably go beyond Level 35 after Keira’s
upcoming award ceremony. However, Reggie didn’t necessarily need to know any of that.
“Also, I heard about the Hero of Chaos’s little visit to the Slyth household the day before yesterday. The
young miss Morgana had apparently made quite the impression.”
“And how did you find out about that particular event?” asked Xera on Boxxy’s behalf.
It shouldn’t have been through any of his agents, as her Master was certain there were no Doppelgangers
in that mansion other than itself. Indeed, even the oddly suspicious Mr Ridgeworth turned out to be just
a regular human who was a bit too overzealous when it came to personal hygiene. The Mimic had never
even considered someone would be wasteful enough to use an expensive product like Odor Blocker
elixirs for anything other than hiding from sharp-nosed predators. It had also come across a maid who
was using illusion magic to hide her real face, although that turned out to be because she wished to cover
up the ugly scar on her cheek rather than some nefarious purpose.
In other words, Boxxy had spent much of that evening learning not to underestimate the vanity of rich
people, but didn’t see a single sign that one of Reggie’s lot was anywhere on the premises.
“Are you kidding?” replied the Doppelganger with an incredulous tone. “Mrs Slyth wasted no time in
bragging about it to all her friends. Pretty much everyone who’s anyone knows about it by now.”
Though it would appear he didn’t particularly need them in the first place.
“Is that really something to brag about?”
“Of course. The prestige that comes from being associated with a Hero is no laughing matter. However
she may have acted, that devious woman is definitely trying to sponge off of Keira’s popularity.
Especially since her family’s more ruthless business policies haven’t exactly earned them many friends.
Samulus is a bit of an idiot when it comes to that sort of stuff, but his wife is one of the shrewdest
women I know.”
Boxxy had already suspected Doris had an ulterior motive, so hearing this affirmation was a bit
reassuring. After all, there was an undeniable difference in class between Keira and Rowana that would
be quite difficult to overcome under normal circumstances. The former’s background was more or less
that of a street rat that got lucky, while the latter was essentially of noble birth. True, the Republic
government was run by elected officials rather than a nobility caste, but the wealth and influence of
families like the Slyths made them pretty much the same. Especially considering the Pixie Powder
Pavilion’s monopoly on the government’s alchemical supply contracts.
“That’s why Boxxy needs to be extremely careful in how it acts around those two,” continued Reggie. “I
suspect Doris Slyth does legitimately wish for her progeny to be happy, but make no mistake - this
public acceptance of her daughter’s same-sex relationship is very much a calculated political move.”
“Wouldn’t that do more harm than good to the Slyth family in the long run?” asked Xera, both on her
Master’s behalf and out of genuine curiosity. “Neither Rowana nor Keira have the business acumen,
aptitude or training to take over their trade empire, not to mention it’s impossible to produce an heir. Yet
that woman is already talking about marriage like it’s a done deal, knowing full well it would be a
serious risk to both her legacy and her bloodline.”
“That’s hardly an issue considering their firstborn will most likely be taking over as head of the family.
That’s why they sent him off to study commerce with the dwarves in the first place.”
“Firstborn son, huh?” mused the succubus with a thoughtful look. “Funny how nobody said anything
about it to my Master.”
“Maybe it just didn’t come up in conversation,” offered Reggie with a shrug. “It’s not exactly a big
secret. Heck, the Slyths probably expected Keira to know all about it, though it seems this was not
exactly the case.”
“No, it wasn’t. Seems to me like that bimbo princess of theirs either spaced out or got lost in her own
little world or something and completely neglected to mention her own brother,” said the succubus in a
somewhat venomous tone. “She’s really quite the vapid cunt, even by mortal standards.”
Boxxy had been wondering why Doris had been so nice to Keira and why she brought up the not-
exactly-legal marriage right at the start, but now it somewhat understood. Thankfully, even though the
Mimic was quite ignorant and mostly inexperienced on matters of high-society intrigue, it had Xera to
rely on. After all, the hereditary intricacies and backroom politics that people with influence took part in
were what she used to live for, up until about 6 months ago. Nowadays all she cared about was being
forcefully dominated by her uncaring owner, but those past memories and experiences were still buried
somewhere in that rotten little head of hers.
And she would share her insight freely and eagerly, as many times as possible if it meant the next
‘motivational talk’ would come sooner rather than later.
“My Master wishes to extend a word of thanks for the information, Reggie,” stated the demoness in a
business-like fashion.
“Don’t mention it. After all, it’ll be both our asses on the line if Boxxy’s high-profile Facade gets
exposed because little miss Morgana said the wrong thing at the wrong time. The last thing we need is to
give those Inquisition people a reason to start looking at this country instead of their own.”
Reginald wasn’t just saying that to be dramatic, but because it was a legitimate concern. It was, after all,
a past iteration of the Inquisition that spearheaded the Silent War that nearly led the Doppelgangers to
extinction centuries ago. They’d surely turn their sights to the Republic should they catch wind of there
being shapeshifters among the populace. The ‘ganger capo felt confident he could keep word from
getting out under normal circumstances, but this was a situation where even a rogue rumor could catch
the attention of some pointlessly righteous truth-seeker.
“That’s the main reason why I’m here,” stated the succubus. “My Master also doesn’t wish to have the
Inquisition snooping around here, so it wants to expedite the process of dealing with Mr Alexis.”
“I see,” said Reginald while doing his best to not let his relief show on his face.
He had half suspected Boxxy might just skimp out on its part of the deal after getting its off-the-books
Warlock Job advancement early, and he wouldn’t be able to do much about it. But it would appear that
Mr Morningwood would uphold its end of the bargain, which was good news. It showed that the rogue
element wished to continue working with Reginald in the future, which would surely be beneficial to
both sides. The old Doppelganger was also quite relieved to hear that creature was taking the Inquisition
thing seriously on a personal level, which was reassuring.
He was, of course, blissfully unaware of the non-zero probability of said Inquisition coming to Azurvale
anyway since that’s where the one responsible for the Calamity of Monotal was currently hiding.
“And does your Master require any additional support from me or my agents?”
“Not in the slightest. You pathetic scum would only going to get in my magnificent Master’s way,” she
said with a cold glare.
Reginald watched silently as the succubus lifted her hands up to her head and Fireballed her own face.
She then fell on the ground while writhing and moaning as the magical flames clung to her skin. When it
died down several seconds later, she stood back up covered in horrible burns and continued speaking as
if nothing had happened.
“My Master requires any and all information you may have regarding the target’s current whereabouts
and latest activities, and will let you know should it require further assistance.”
“… Quite. Well, to begin with, he’s changed hideouts since we last spoke-”
Xera just sort of stood there and listened in silence as she relayed all the relevant information to her
Master, who was currently out on a date with Rowana. The female elf had clung incessantly to Keira
ever since the latter’s return and had not given the shapeshifter much opportunity to move around as it
pleases. It had initially put up with her antics since it was going to aim for the Slyth family fortune
through her, but now it found out that this was going to be harder than anticipated.
After a brief bout of ‘innocent’ questioning regarding Rowana’s brother, it became apparent that it had
been just as Xera had said. The elf had been too engrossed in hers and Keira’s issues to worry about
someone else, especially not her big brother Almer, who had been away from the Republic for the past
four years. While on the topic, Keira also inquired about the rest of Rowana’s family so as to spare itself
any nasty surprises.
Her grandparents were retired and living in some luxurious villa well away from the hustle and bustle of
the capital. She also had an uncle on her father’s side who had a falling out with the rest of the Slyth
family and was currently living on the western coast of the Republic. As for her own parents, it turned
out that Samulus had married into the Slyth household, and that it was Doris that carried on the family
bloodline. Not only that, but she had apparently been a formidable adventurer in her youth, which
helped explain her somewhat violent tendencies.
And while there was obviously a lot more to that family’s history, Boxxy’s main takeaway was that
Keira would not be able to inherit the Slyth fortune. Not without a lot of influential people dying off, at
least. In fact, given her father’s suspicions, taking even the slightest advantage of their political
influence would also be quite difficult.
In other words, Rowana’s usefulness to Boxxy was now pretty much nil. In fact, she was steadily
becoming a hindrance to the monster’s operations, almost akin to a cancerous tumor that could speak. If
she weren’t so integral to the Mimic’s Facade, she would have been disposed of ages ago. Permanently
replacing her with one of Reggie’s Doppelgangers was another option, but that would give the old
banker some measure of leverage over Boxxy, which was not a very tasty notion. Having Snack do it
was also a potential solution, but that too was risky since she wasn’t as experienced at running long
cons.
Ultimately, Boxxy decided it would put up with Rowana’s continued existence, at least until its
Doppelganger Job no longer needed her. Besides, no matter how much it complained, the Mimic still felt
a certain amount of gratification in stringing the unwitting girl along. It was a playful-yet-sinister act
that was very much like a cat playing with its prey before killing it.
Jones Alexis woke up like usual that day. Which was to say well past noon, inside his tiny house of a
hideout, and surrounded on all sides by numerous magical wards and traps. He groggily rose from his
bed while cursing the chronic stabbing pain in his left shoulder - a memento of the first and last time he
allowed a Doppelganger to betray him, some 20-odd years ago. According to Reginald’s dossier on the
guy, he had lost much that day, including three of his comrades, the entirety of his arm, part of his thigh,
a lung and half his face - all on the left side.
Even though his life was saved through a combination of magic and Alchemy, his injuries were far too
severe to be completely healed by the adventurers that found him. That was why his face and much of
his torso was covered in horrible scarring, which he mostly hid under his clothes. And while all of his
missing body parts had been regenerated to let him live a relatively normal life, none of them had
worked quite right since that day.
The wizened Wizard got out of his cot and immediately began disarming the glyphs that protected him
while he slept. He didn’t need to dress himself since he always slept with his gear on, just in case
someone - or something - came after his life while he was resting. The old set of well-worn and
thoroughly cracked leather armor he wore had a self-cleaning enchantment on it that kept both itself and
its wearer grime-free, so he didn’t need to wash it or take showers, either.
It would surely come in handy if one needed to stake out or tail a potential Doppelganger suspect for
days on end.
After disarming all the traps, Jones lifted a long brown trench coat off the floor and draped it over his
dark red gear. He reached into the coat’s inner pocket and pulled out a black eyepatch, which he
promptly placed over his left eye. The defective sensory organ was far too sensitive to light, so walking
out during the daytime even when it was overcast was both annoying and distracting. Not to mention it
made him especially susceptible to attacks meant to temporarily blind an opponent with a bright flash.
Even if it was only one eye, it was still bad enough to completely overwhelm his sight.
On the flip-side, that left eye also let him see a lot better in low-light conditions such as sewers or in the
dead of the night, so it wasn’t all bad.
The phantom pain in his left shoulder seemed to have subsided after he started moving around. Either
that or he was so used to it that he paid it no mind. Whatever the case, he went about his morning routine
of eating some jerky he had personally gathered and then prepared for himself, stuffed the remains in his
backpack and then set out into the slums of the city. Before he could open the front door, however, he
suffered a short but rather violent coughing fit, during which he sprayed his gloved hand with a few
droplets of blood. He watched those droplets for a few seconds, during which they rapidly dried up and
flaked off the enchanted red leather, leaving no stain behind. Afterwards he opened the front door and
left in a brisk pace as if nothing had happened.
“Master, the target has left the premises,” reported Drea. “He’s currently walking due south, it’s the
same route he took yesterday.”
“Is he behaving in some peculiar way?” asked the Mimic.
“Not really. He keeps looking over his shoulder every now and then, just like the report we got.”
“What, that’s it? No muttering or scanning over the crowd?”
“Er, no, not that I can see…”
“Not good enough!” it mentally shouted. “Watch him carefully. Forget everything we learned from
Reggie and look for anything out of place, no matter how minute!”
“Understood.”
“Something bothering you, Master?” butted in Snack, who was currently on her way back from her
meeting with Reggie.
“Yeah, he doesn’t seem right. He’s supposed to be this paranoid veteran on a one-man crusade who’s
already hunted down and killed dozens of shapeshifters, yet he’s far too naive.”
The wooden cot, which was more akin to a slightly oversized coffee table than an actual bed, suddenly
began creaking and shaking. The mattress - a linen bag stuffed with bedstraw - fell to the ground in a
disorganized heap as the surface it had been resting on until then casually stood up while shrinking in
size. The short legs grew longer and bendier as the piece of furniture steadily adopted a more humanoid
shape, all while its material shifted from near-rotting timber to flesh.
After about 4 seconds, the shapeshifter pretending to be the resting place of Jones Alexis had
transformed itself into a stocky, skin-headed thug of a human, otherwise known as Slums Hoodlum B.
“I mean he didn’t even think to check his own bed!” mind-shouted Boxxy in disbelief.
The Mimic opened up its Storage and retrieved some filthy, ragged clothes to complete its disguise. It
put them on quickly, then pulled the actual cot it had replaced earlier that morning out of its pocket
dimension. The crappy almost-bed was placed back in its spot and the room was then rearranged to erase
any trace of the Mimic’s interference. However, the monster was beginning to seriously doubt whether
all this bother was actually necessary as it began rummaging through the room’s scant drawers and
cupboards.
“There are far too many things that don’t add up,” it started complaining to Snack. “His injuries, for one
thing. He could easily be cured of his complaints of his if he put the time and effort to visit an
apothecary. Yet he didn’t do such a thing, despite supposedly spending several years in the Honeydew
capital of the world!”
Through its interactions with Rowana as Keira, Boxxy had learned much of the medical applications of
Alchemy. Part of that knowledge concerned the superbly shiny substance known as Honeydew, which
was apparently made by using Hylt sap as its base. The Lodrak Empire had outlawed it because
Honeydew was a dangerously addictive hallucinogenic that filled people with a lasting sense of
euphoria. Prolonged use of it would lead to complications such as frequent spasms, outright seizures,
rapid tooth decay and/or a crippling case of muscle degeneration - the same symptoms brought on by
chronic potion poisoning. Honeydew withdrawal was not pretty either, as it involved going through
nasty psychological side effects such as insomnia and a deep depression that often drove people to
suicide.
It was worth pointing out that those extreme effects would only show themselves if the one consuming
the Honeydew was not an elf. The favored of Nyrie had a high tolerance towards the stuff, to the point
where they would need to eat two whole jars of it to achieve the same high that a human or a dwarf
would attain from a single spoonful. This was one of the reasons why the Ishigar Republic allowed the
production, sale, and use of Honeydew. It was only natural considering only a small fraction of their
citizens were vulnerable to the stuff, although that small fraction was why they also heavily regulated all
aspect of the Honeydew trade.
The main reason why the government maintained its stance on the matter, however, was because the
substance was never intended to be used as a dangerous drug, but as a near-universal alchemical
additive. Adding the right amount of Honeydew to a potion or elixir during the brewing process would
not only grant the resulting concoction significantly extended shelf life, but would also marginally
improve both its effects and flavor. Distilling it in such a way would also nullify the stuff’s narcotic
properties, rendering the resulting alchemical product completely harmless for consumption.
It was also a key ingredient when creating the ultimate curative concoction - Rejuvenation Potions. The
Republic more or less had a monopoly on producing the stuff, and they made good use of that fact by
selling it at a high price to other nations. This, in turn, meant that this precious pink liquid was almost
prohibitively expensive in the neighboring Lodrak Empire and the Horkensaft Kingdom, yet was nearly
twice as cheap in the Republic itself.
Rejuvenation Potions were still more or less a luxury good, but even someone living in poverty could
get their hands on a vial of the stuff if they took advantage of the government’s health care benefits.
Clinics like Rowana’s had the ability to provide Rejuvenation Potion treatments to crippled citizens free
of charge by letting the Republic foot the bill on their behalf. There were certain restrictions, inspections
and vetting to prevent fraud, of course, but someone with legitimate complaints like Jones Alexis would
have easily gotten past all that. That was assuming, of course, his financial backing did not allow him to
afford the 750 GP necessary to buy one directly from the shop and skip all the check-ups.
And yet he didn’t do any of that.
“He has the option to permanently cure all of his lasting ailments, but blatantly chooses not to,”
continued Boxxy. “That’s just weird.”
“Maybe he’s worried about someone giving him a poisoned bottle?” offered Drea.
Poisoning someone’s food or drink was a classic method of assassination, something the Stalker had
done on behalf of her past masters quite a few times. Admittedly she had very little knowledge of
Alchemy itself and had no idea if a potion could be poisoned in the first place, but she was pretty sure it
could happen. And if it were any other situation, she would have been right.
However-
“You can’t do that with Rejuvenation Potions,” explained the Mimic. “They’re extremely delicate
concoctions. Even the smallest added impurity would ruin it and make it lose its trademark pink color.”
As far as potions went, that particular one was notoriously unstable. It had to be brewed perfectly from
start to finish using very specific ingredients in precisely measured amounts, all while stirring it in just
the right way. The difficulty involved in actually making and bottling the stuff was so high, that only
Magichem Alchemists of a sufficient Level could produce Rejuvenation Potions on a regular basis. After
all, if someone were to make even the smallest mistake, then they would end up with a useless slop that
wouldn’t do anything outside of giving someone a tummy ache. In fact, even opening up a vial of the
stuff and leaving it exposed to the air for a few minutes would be enough for it to start losing its potency.
“Someone could always make a vial of poison that looks like the potion, though,” insisted Claws.
“Perhaps,” consented Boxxy, “but even then there are ways and means to test the potion. And it’s
definitely worth the risk. Otherwise it’s only a matter of time before that cough of his accidentally ruins
a covert operation.”
The Mimic was speaking from experience, as the unpredictable side effects of its Chaotic Disposition
had very nearly blown Keira’s cover several times in the past. In fact, just yesterday she was left
completely weightless for 30 whole seconds when she dropped by her guild on some official business. If
word hadn’t gotten out beforehand that she was the Hero of Chaos, then it surely would’ve raised quite a
few questions. Covering it up would’ve been quite impossible, too, as hundreds of people in the street
bore witness to the red-haired catgirl floating away in the breeze while flailing her limbs around.
“I think he’s using the discomfort to motivate himself, Master.”
“What do you mean, Snack?”
“I’ve seen his kind before. He’s the sort of brooding self-righteous asshole that would say stupid lines
like ‘the pain in my arm serves as a reminder of my dark past.’ He probably thinks he’d forget what he’s
fighting for if he cures himself.”
“That’s idiotic. How big of a moron do you have to be to forget or forgive anyone who wronged you?”
“Humans are all weak-willed creatures with fragile minds, Master. Not all of them can be as perfectly
ruthless and ruthlessly perfect as yourself.”
“… I suppose. Even then, it doesn’t address the problem at hand - he’s far too naive.”
“Uhm, Master?”
“What is it, Claws?”
“How come our target being an idiot is a problem? Shouldn’t it be a good thing that you can easily
deceive him?”
“It’s way too easy,” it replied. “If he could truly be fooled with so little effort, then surely Reggie’s lot
would’ve handled him already.”
Boxxy gave up on searching the hovel, as there were no personal effects whatsoever in this building. No
clothes, no money, no notes, no supplies, no weapons - nothing. It even manually searched the place
instead of overtly relying on its Mana Locator Gland, but failed to find anything that suggested a person
actually lived there. It was possible that Mr Alexis was storing his belongings in an Item Box, as it was a
Skill that several Jobs besides Merchant had access to. It made sense in some ways, as Boxxy had spent
the majority of its life bringing its worldly possessions along wherever it went.
However, the Mimic was a monster, while Jones Alexis was a human. And humans had the inescapable
habit of leaving garbage in their wake. True, this one was supposed to be a paranoid looney, so it made
sense he would not leave anything behind that might be used to track him down. But if that were truly
the case, then why did he come back to this house specifically? If he seriously feared for his life, then
surely changing locations on a regular basis would be necessary. And yet he had not changed hideouts
even once according to Reggie’s information. It just didn’t add up.
“Claws, have you noticed anything about our target?”
“I think so, Master. Remember when I said he looks over his shoulder every now and then? He actually
does it every 29 steps, and always over his left one.”
“… Really?”
“Yeah. He’s done this five- make that six times since I started counting. Also the look on his face, I think
it’s weird. Or rather, it’s not weird at all. He just looks like some uncle walking down the street without a
care in the world.”
“Except that he looks over his left shoulder every 29 paces?”
“Yeah, aside from that.”
“I see… Snack, continue covering for Keira. I’m going to take a more direct approach with this guy.”
“As you say, my Master,” instantly replied the succubus.
After making sure to put all the upturned and rummaged furniture back in its proper place, Boxxy
quickly left the hovel and joined in the crowd as it moved towards its target. It also made a note of how
this Jones Alexis fellow did not even bother to lock the front door. Even if there was nothing of value for
anyone to steal, it still meant anyone could walk in and lay a trap for the guy, just as Boxxy had.
Admittedly, said door did not have anything like a lock on it in the first place, but that only made this
particular location all the more odd. If that man was truly as paranoid as he was, then he’d surely at least
look for a lair that had a more secure entrance than an oversized slab of wood.
The possibility that all this was some sort of trap or elaborate bait did not escape the Mimic’s
consideration, but even then it was sure it could handle anything some human Wizard could throw at it.
Strictly speaking, it actually hoped there would be some sort of trap or ambush in store. That would, in
theory, serve as validation for Jones’s paranoid fears, and allow the shapeshifter to interact with and get
closer to him. Not as a friend or ally, but as a nemesis. It had to agree the human anecdote that stated
‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer’ held some merit, although it took a while for the
monster to realize it was meant to be taken figuratively rather than literally.
Either way, for Boxxy to engage with Mr Alexis, a confrontation was needed. And if it wasn’t going to
happen on the Wizard’s terms, then it would happen on the Mimic’s. That was part of the reason why it
took on the guise of Slums Hoodlum B. Ah, but before it did any of that, it needed to check in on a
certain someone.
Boxxy: Ambrosia, do we have room in the dungeon’s prison for one more? Or do I have to
expand it?
Ambrosia: We actually have plenty of space, milord. Especially since one of thy ingredients
expired earlier this morning and I had to get rid of it.
Boxxy: It wasn’t that blonde girl with the excessively large butt, was it?!
Ambrosia: No, it was the dwarf I used for that generous serving of bone chips yesterday.
Boxxy: Oh, okay. That’s good. That human’s butt is exceptionally juicy and chewy.
Probably the tastiest I’ve ever had.
Finding quality ingredients among the city’s downtrodden was always a challenge, so the Mimic was
relieved to hear its latest prize was still fit for consumption.
Ambrosia: Does milord wish to dine on rump steak this evening, perchance?
Boxxy: Yeah. And make it extra thick.
Ambrosia: Then I shall make sure to prepare thy meal with utmost care and sincerity.
Boxxy: You do that.
Boxxy: Oh, right, I almost forgot. I’ll probably be bringing you a new prisoner, but this one
is different since I want what’s inside his head.
Ambrosia: That is most excellent! I hath been waiting for milord to find an ingredient
worthy of my new brain soup recipe!
Boxxy: That’s not what I meant! I want his information, not to eat him!
Ambrosia: Art thou certain, milord? I plan to serve thy soup inside the skull of thy victim
for maximum flavor!
Boxxy: Okay, maybe later. For now I just need you to be ready to receive and subdue the
guy.
Ambrosia: Thou need not worry milord. For I am always prepared to service thou at a
moment’s notice.
The Mimic made a mental note to ban Snack from teaching Ambrosia about innuendos, then sped up. It
dodged and weaved past the foot traffic, moving along a street parallel to the one Jones Alexis was on.
Using Drea as its eyes, it overtook and circled around the Wizard so the two of them would end up
walking past each other.
As Mr Alexis was walking down the street in a thoroughly casual manner, he continued to look over his
shoulder every 29 paces, just as Claws had said. Now that Boxxy had seen this much for itself, it was
convinced it was not paranoia that made him do so. It looked more like a nervous tick, or a conditioned
reflex. Either way, it planned to make full use of it. If that human was going to act in such a thoroughly
predictable manner, then it would be rude not to take advantage of it.
“Ooof!”
Which meant letting a heavyset, bald-headed hoodlum with a mean look in his eye bump violently into a
50-year old veteran Wizard, knocking him off his feet and down to the ground.
“Watch where you’re going, you geezer!” complained Boxxy.
It had timed its own steps and strides so that the two of them would collide immediately after the former
had turned his head to the left. That way the man wouldn’t be sure if this collision had happened on
purpose or by accident.
“Oh, I am dreadfully sorry, my good lad,” answered the old man with a rather eloquent tone of voice.
“I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Hmpf, whatever,” scoffed the hoodlum before continuing on his way.
“Excuse me, young man,” called out the Wizard while rising to his feet. “But could I trouble you for a
moment?”
“What? You got a problem?!” answered Boxxy while turning around as if it were a stereotypical thug.
”I do indeed. I would very much appreciate it if you would return my coin purse to me.”
Oh-hoh! exclaimed the Mimic inwardly. So he was paying attention!
The monster had snatched the man’s money during the collision, more to test him than to actually gain a
profit.
“What, you calling me a thief?!” it answered indignantly. “Just ‘cuz I don’t have fancy clothes don’t
make me no stinkin’ thief!”
“Then please, do tell me why the gold coins that used to be on my belt are no longer there.”
“I dunno. Maybe you dropped them somewhere. Did you think about that, mister fancy-pants? Nooooo!
You just consider yourself superior right away!”
Their loud voices had caused the surrounding pedestrians to give them a wide berth. Some of them
quickly went on their way while others formed in a wide circle to watch the spectacle. Others still
probably ran off to fetch the guards, but they’d be too late to stop an altercation already in motion since
the law didn’t patrol this part of town nearly as much as it should. Whatever their reasons, none of the
surrounding people felt like being involved in this.
“I am your superior, youngling,” insisted the Wizard, finally showing signs of some backbone.
He lifted up his right hand and conjured a small ball of blue-tinged lightning, which hovered over his
open palm. It sparked and crackled ominously, with small arcs of electricity licking the man’s gloved
fingertips.
“Now return what is rightfully mine. Or else!”
Boxxy had to give him credit, it was a forceful threat that would make the average street rat shake in
their booties. However, that wasn’t going to happen with Slums Hoodlum B. He was a bruiser with a
tough body and nimble fingers, who had a bad habit of underestimating his opponent. He cracked his
neck, loudly hunched over slightly to meet the Wizard’s eye level, and then spoke in a defiant tone.
“Or else… what?”
The Wizard’s glare sharpened and he completely looked like he was about to unleash his magic on the
ruffian. Boxxy wasn’t particularly worried, of course, as it had already protected itself with a subdermal
layer of Bouncewood. It was confident it could take whatever this guy could throw at it, and even if it
found itself disabled, then Claws would immediately leap out and gut him open.
However, the Wizard didn’t attack, he kept staring resentfully at the thug, as if trying to size him up. Just
then, a change occurred within the old Wizard. In his chest cavity, more specifically directly under his
heart, there appeared a growth. One with a peculiar hourglass shape that appeared to be two 7-centimeter
wide balls connected by a slim stretch of flesh. The bulbous parts of it actually seemed to be made up of
dozens of layers of membranes upon muscles upon membranes upon muscles, all the way down to the
dense nerve cluster at their center.
And in the very next instant, the newly-formed Mana Locator Gland started beating and vibrating-
-allowing both Boxxy and Jones to confirm that the other party had the sensory organ of a Greater
Mimic beating within them.
Boxxy and Jones stared at each other for a few tense moments, both of them too stunned to see the
other’s innards to take any meaningful action. Boxxy in particular had no idea how to react to this. The
initial plan had been to confront and make contact with the target in an effort to get under their skin.
That was clearly no longer an option, as the target had proven to be completely different from what the
Mimic had expected, causing a number of very good questions to pop up in its mind.
Was it a Doppelganger? A Ranked-Up mimic like itself? Either way he was clearly a shapeshifter, so
how come this guy was working to expose his own kind? And just how in the hell was he capable of
using lightning magic to begin with? Whatever the answers, Boxxy could see only one course of action -
to fall back on its ‘capture, control and contain’ backup plan.
Unfortunately, Jones had made the first move and hit Boxxy with a point-blank burst of lightning from
the charged orb of electricity he had conjured moments earlier.
You have been violently electrocuted. HP -740.

The offensive Spell bore into Slums Hoodlum B’s chest, causing the victim to stumble back while
howling in pain. Boxxy lashed out with an unnaturally extending arm as the hand rapidly shifted into a
steel sickle-like blade. Jones hopped backwards, avoiding the wide swing while simultaneously
preparing another Spell.
Boxxy would not let him have his way, however, and lunged forward while sprouting three bright-red
tentacles from its back as it shed any remnants of humanity in its disguise. That Thunder Lance had hurt
like hell, and this particular ex-mimic wasn’t about to risk losing its life just to maintain a disguise. At
the same time, it couldn’t allow the enemy to escape, so the creature gave chase, swinging its blade-
tipped limbs at him like a tornado of steel.
As for the spectators, they were already dispersing through the surrounding streets and alleys with
practiced ease and a good deal of screaming. None of them even thought about trying to stop the fight
since they had no idea about the powers they would be dealing with. They clearly stood only to lose by
getting involved. Still, if forced to pick a side, they’d probably go with the Wizard that was very
obviously not a monster.
Especially considering how adept said Wizard turned out to be at dodging. Jones ducked and weaved
and swayed sideways through the deadly typhoon Boxxy unleashed upon him without suffering a single
scratch. Unlike his opponent, Jones seemed determined to maintain his Facade even under these
circumstances, although the way his torso and limbs twisted around themselves made it even more
obvious he was no ordinary human.
The Mimic then realized its approach was wrong. While using a flurry of attacks like these was a quick
and easy way to overwhelm a human fighter, its opponent had an MLG at his disposal. He was
doubtlessly able to accurately grasp the trajectories of all five bladed limbs because of that sensory
organ. Not only that, but he had the Agility (AGI) and reflexes to put that information to good use and
slip between the gaps. Even trying to change up the angle of the attacks mid-swing didn’t seem to
perturb him.
Whoever he really was, this Jones Alexis was no stranger to close quarters combat.
Now that Boxxy had a chance to calm down a bit, it abruptly retracted all of its additional limbs and
shifted its body to a slimmer and shorter one, much closer to its natural proportions. When it was done
changing shapes, it looked like a young lad on the cusp of manhood draped in torn-up rags of his own. It
was a filthy appearance that was entirely mismatched with the jeweled mithril rapier that had appeared
in the boy’s right hand.
Jones had taken this brief respite to throw up his Mana Shield - every Wizard’s go-to defensive barrier.
He then fired another Thunder Lance at Boxxy, but the Mimic was ready for it this time and blocked the
incoming bolt of lightning by throwing a Mirror Image at it. The Hylt Creeper’s body double leapt out in
front of the original and took the full force of the attack and collapsed on the floor. It hadn’t had the
chance to insulate itself with Bouncewood yet, so the highly-charged Spell was able to instantly paralyze
and cripple it.
Boxxy wasn’t quite finished, though, as it used a third of its remaining MP pool to conjure three more
Mirror Images. One of them assumed the same form as the original and grew a steel rapier out of its own
body, while the other two ran off into the alleys on either side of the creature. The pair of identical, half-
naked swordsmen rushed the Wizard and thrust their respective swords at his magical barrier in unison.
The deadly points slammed into thin air, sending numerous cracks through the Spell-slinger’s bubble-
like Mana Shield, but were unable to pierce it.
He attempted to electrocute Boxxy once again, but the Mimic had slipped to the side moments before
the chant completed, allowing the stray lightning bolt to pass by it and blow a hole through a nearby
shack. The body double, in the meantime, had thrust at the caster once more, further cracking his Mana
Shield, prompting Jones to throw a basic Lightning Bolt at it. It served to throw the Mirror Image
backwards, buying the Wizard some extra time. Even if it was moving at only a fraction of the original’s
Attributes, it was not something he could ignore so easily.
Just then, his MLG detected a many-limbed blur moving straight towards him at breakneck speeds. He
threw himself to the side to dodge, but Drea’s back-mounted scythes had ripped through his Mana
Shield as if it were paper. The defensive barrier shattered with a loud crash, causing its owner to recoil
slightly.
“Adagio Variation!”
Your body speeds up to match an unheard rhythm. DEX +30%.
Boxxy used that opening to unleash its body-strengthening Skill while simultaneously striking at Jones’s
body with a weapon wreathed in ice-bearing magic. It was a sharp swing that was significantly faster
and deadlier than anything it had used beforehand. The difference in speed caught Jones off-guard,
allowing the mithril rapier’s dazzling blade to cut through his leather armor and dig into his left
shoulder.

You have inflicted a deep cut. Target HP -237.
You have partially frozen your target. Target HP -177.
However, rather than slice the limb off in one go, the thin piece of metal stopped dead in its tracks
halfway through his shoulder. If Boxxy’s opponent were a regular adventurer or soldier, that full-force
blow would’ve easily cut through both flesh and bone, but this guy’s body was way too tough to allow
that sort of thing. It was a clear sign that Jones’s Endurance (END) Attribute was through the roof, likely
overshadowing Boxxy’s own. Not only that, but the damage inflicted was much lower than what the
Mimic was used to.
Well, hoping that he’d have the relatively fragile body of a Wizard was too much to ask for at this stage,
wasn’t it?
Boxxy withdrew its weapon from the man’s shoulder and spun around to continue the Winterlich Waltz
and strike at his neck from the man’s right side. At the same time, Claws had come around to his back in
an attempt to impale him with each of her blades. The rapier-wielding Mirror Image from before had
regained its footing, and was currently dashing towards the wounded man in an effort to impale him
throm the left. Unfortunately, while all of those sharp objects collided with the man’s body and cut into
his armor, all of them were repelled with a series of clangs, almost as if they were nails clattering against
a clothed rock.
“That was my favorite suit you just ruined!”
With a roar of genuine anger, Jones made a fist and struck at Boxxy’s head. The Mimic was able to
avoid the bare handed punch by leaping backwards, but was left with the distinct impression that a
meteor had just flown past its face. The Mirror Image wasn’t as lucky, as it was struck with a
backhanded punch that sent it flying into a nearby building, while Drea was forced to back off in order
to avoid a reverse roundhouse kick to her jaw. She tried clawing at the man’s foot in a counterattack, but
only managed to rip his pants without drawing any blood.
This only seemed to anger Jones further, as he focused his attention on the skittering demon. He rushed
forward and kicked at her midsection, but the agile Stalker was able to barely sidestep it. Jones then
kicked at her face once again, although the speed and upward angle forced the slightly off-balance Drea
to try and parry it with her scythes. And while she was successful in intercepting the blow, her
opponent’s physical strength proved to be far superior to her own. Not only did he crush most of her
scythes, but he also knocked her off her feet and onto her back. He moved in and raised his foot to stomp
her head flat against the cobblestone pavement, but was rudely interrupted by a watermelon-sized steel
ball that slammed into his exposed back.
He fell forwards on top of Drea, who used the much sturdier claws on her hands to try and impale him
by using his own body weight against him. That proved to be a futile effort, however, as Jones slammed
his own fists into her hands with enough force to break the demon’s wrists, then viciously kneed her in
the stomach. The Stalker demon howled in pain as he kicked off her body into the air in order to avoid
the massive flail Boxxy had forged out of its own body. His rage had momentarily blinded him to his
true opponent’s sneak attack, proving that even creatures with an MLG could get tunnel vision if
provoked significantly enough.
It was a weakness that both Jones and Boxxy were currently aware of, and a weakness that the former
decided to eliminate immediately.
The Mimic watched curiously as its opponent suddenly opened a Storage portal of his own and slipped
inside it. It ordered the crippled Drea off the field as it reclaimed the massive flail and absorbed it back
into its body. Boxxy had no way of knowing what sort of tricks that guy had up his sleeves, but it was
painfully obvious that excessive brute force would be necessary to break through whatever defensive
Skills he was using. Fortunately, it knew just the muscle-head to do that.
When Jones emerged from his Storage portal a few seconds later, it became apparent that the reason he
went in there was to change his equipment. Or more specifically - to change out of his precious leather
armor. It was a finely crafted set of gear that was the only memento he had left of his father, so it was
only natural he’d be upset when it got slashed, pierced, battered or otherwise damaged. That anger had
caused him to lose focus in the middle of a fight, but now that his worldly possession was safely tucked
away in a pocket dimension, he could fight without losing track of his enemy.
In other words, he had cast completely cast off his veneer of vanity.
What emerged from that swirling abyss no longer had the appearance of a human, but that of a monster,
although one would be quite hard pressed to pinpoint exactly what type of monster it was. It was
definitely humanoid, although its upper body and arms were much larger and thicker than its lower half,
almost like one of the gorillas from the southern continent. However, rather than fur or leathery skin, his
body was covered in dense spiky scales that were a dull red in color in all places except his forehead,
chest, forearms and shoulders. Those areas were instead protected by solid growths that resembled stone
slabs.The hands and feet were all tipped with sharp talons, and a bulbous black growth like a spider’s
abdomen was dangling from the back of his waist. The head and face looked like they belonged on a
bird of prey of some kind, what with the sharp beak, piercing eyes and bright yellow feathers covering
the scalp and thick neck.
“Wow! You are uuug-ly!”
As this abomination landed on the ground with a heavy thud, he was greeted by the jeering words of
Kora, who had been called out using her master’s Artifact-grade staff. The owner of that woefully
underused item had quick-changed into its Sandman appearance and was already chanting a Spell while
using the Archfiend for cover.
“Ebonfire!”
But even if he looked like this, the being that passed itself off as Jones Alexis was still very much a
Wizard.
“De-spell!”
The black flames enveloped the bizarre chimera’s body, but were almost immediately extinguished by
his counter-magic. Kora moved in immediately afterwards, but her triple right uppercut was deftly
blocked by Jones’s thick left arm. His knees buckled slightly due to the Archfiend’s absurd physical
strength, but he managed to avoid suffering any real injury. He slashed back at her with his claws, but
the demon chose to ignore defending and instead swung her other set of arms back at him. Talons cut
through flesh and metal fists clashed into scales and carapace as the two monstrosities exchanged
greetings.
They kept on trading blows for a few seconds at high speeds, both shaving away at the other’s HP. Jones
made sure to keep himself firmly positioned between the fiend and her master, preventing the latter from
firing Spells at him.
Or at least, that’s what he thought.
“Delirium!”
Jones was assaulted by a sense of confusion and a skull-splitting headache as Boxxy’s rarely used
Domination magic assaulted his consciousness. Confusing visions flashed by his eyes and even his
mimicked mimic MLG was reporting bizarre shapes all around him. With his mind momentarily unable
to form a coherent thought, all he could do was flail randomly while Kora continued to tenderize his
tough hide.
Boxxy had taken advantage of a demon’s near-immunity to mind-altering effects to hit both Kora and
Jones with its magic. And while the demoness was left wholly unaffected, the shapeshifting abomination
was left almost completely defenseless. The Mimic took this opportunity to reposition itself to get a
clear view of its opponent and activated its Level 10 Power Overwhelming Skill, which increased both
the damage output and MP cost of its Ruin Spells by a whopping 500%. It ordered Arms to clear out of
the way and unleashed the strongest single-target Spell it had at its disposal.
It swung its staff in a downward diagonal arc, and an invisible guillotine flew out of it. It carved up the
street, sliced clean through Jones and went on to utterly demolish a row of houses and buildings behind
him. Numerous screams rang out as a direct result of the devastation, as dozens of bystanders had been
caught up in the destruction. As for the Warlock’s primary target-
Your target has been split asunder. Target HP -2,494.
-his torso slid off his lower body, collapsing onto the ground with a disgusting wet thud. The
supercharged Spell had gone through him like a hot knife through butter. True, it depleted much of the
Mimic’s MP and left it with barely 1,000 of it, but the result was clearly devastating.
Even then, it was not devastating enough. The horrible pain Jones had suffered at his opponent’s hands
snapped him out of his Delirium, and he immediately counterattacked with a wide-area suppression
Skill.
“SKREEEEEEEEE!”
The chimera’s bird head was still very much alive, which it demonstrated by letting out an ungodly
noise. Windows shattered, the earth shook and blood vessels popped as Boxxy was subjected to a
Thunderbird’s Thunderous Screech. The supernatural noise was so strong that it left the Mimic
temporarily stunned, allowing its opponent to reconnect to its severed lower half before it had a chance
to decompose. Kora was able to withstand the noise, however, and moved to kick his head as if it were a
rubber kickball.
Jones was having none of that, though. He slammed the ground with his fist, causing the already
straining street to crack open and collapse, dropping the fiend into the sewers before she could react.
This gave him precious few seconds to rejoin with the severed part of his body while maintaining the
auditory assault on Boxxy, who had curled up on the ground while writhing in pain. The shapeshifter’s
abnormally high Perception (PER) Attribute tempered by its Ranger Job was once again working against
it. Even though it had gotten rid of its ears and even stifled its MLG, it could still ‘hear’ the violent
vibrations in its blood and bones. It was gradually getting used to it and managed to get back on its feet,
although its opponent had already regained his previous form and was bearing down on it, showing no
intentions of stopping his voice.
Just then, a pair of arrows embedded themselves in either side of his throat, puncturing the
abomination’s trachea and robbing him of his voice. He coughed and sputtered, but was unable to
resume his infuriating voice due to the barrage of arrows that began assaulting him from both flanks.
Jones had done away with its own MLG to prevent sensory backlash from his Thunderous Screech Skill,
which in turn made him unable to pick up on the incoming hostile projectiles - just as Boxxy had hoped.
As for the source of those ranged attacks, they were the duo of Mirror Images the Mimic had sent out
earlier to ‘procure’ some ranged weaponry and provide covering fire when the time was right. They ran
a bit late and were therefore unable to shut Jones up right away, but they still got the job done.
“Gragha Shilht!”
The monstrous Wizard gargle-chanted ‘Mana Shield’ as he brought his defensive barrier and his MLG
back online. The plain arrows may have punctured his vulnerable neck muscles, but were unable to
penetrate the magic bubble. The monster in front of him was already recovering while the fiend from
behind was rapidly making her way out of that improvised pitfall. The sword-wielding Mirror Image and
Stalker demon from earlier were nowhere to be found, so they were likely preparing yet more traps and
ambushes.
And yet, even though his beak made it near impossible to tell, the abomination that had tried to pass for
Jones Alexis was smiling. He couldn’t even remember the last time an opponent had put up this much of
a fight. Granted, it wasn’t like he was actively looking for fights to get into, but it was still a strangely
refreshing experience. Surely if it was this opponent, then he could finally cut loose.
In the next instant, the chimera’s eyes shifted in structure. The yellow and black concentric circles of his
irises turned a putrid, muddy green with a black vertical slit. He then directed a basilisk’s Petrifying
Gaze directly at the crafty shapeshifter it happened upon. The creature’s body began turning gray and
solid, but the progress of the petrification was slowed due to its outstanding vitality.
As expected, it quickly caught onto what was going on and retaliated by throwing out a metal capsule of
some description. The device popped open with a blinding flash, but Jones had expected this and had
already closed his eyes. He launched a deluge of spider webbing from his arachnid posterior, instantly
wrapping the six-armed demon in sticky thread and halting her approach.
He then used a combination of Liquid Mimicry, Slipstream and Hydro Hand Skills to create a geyser-
like eruption of water beneath his feet. The magically-generated aquatic pillar propelled him high into
the air, twisting and turning as if it were a living creature. Jones rode the unnatural wave closer to one of
the bow-wielding body doubles. His left arm morphed into a bright green blob like a slime’s, and he
swung it diagonally at his target while letting out a thin, highly pressurised jet of liquid. The Water
Slicer Skill mercilessly cut through the ill-prepared Mirror Image, much like Boxxy’s Reality Slash had
run through Jones. The being somehow survived the attack, but was diced into bits with two more Water
Slicers, which depleted its HP and caused its body to rapidly decompose into nothingness.
Jones then turned his attention towards the other bow-wielding apparition and attempted to take it down
in much the same way, but he had already shown his hand. His target had fortified its body by covering
itself in a Hylt tree’s Ironbark, of all things. And judging from how it was able to withstand the Water
Slicer without suffering almost any damage, it was more than just a pale imitation. However, Jones
proved he had yet more tricks up his proverbial sleeve, and bathed the Mirror Image in a torrent of
flaming breath, eerily similar to a dragon’s. He finished it off by calling down a lightning bolt on top of
it by using his Lightning Strike Skill. It wasn’t as potent as his Wizard Spells and had a cooldown
period, but he could use it instantly and without chanting so long as he was outdoors.
Down on the ground, the main target had changed weapons into using a bow of its own, clearly
intending to take advantage of the weapon’s longer range to shoot Jones down. And while its arrows
were definitely deadlier than those of its lesser counterparts, they naturally had trouble hitting a target
that rode atop a snake-like pillar of water. Not only that, but his Wind Wall Skill made sure to knock any
and all physical projectiles off-course.
At least as long as said projectiles were not a 250-centimeter tall pile of muscle and rage.
“C’mere, cupcake!”
Jones was caught completely unawares when the fiend from earlier suddenly tackled him from the side.
In a move that had surprised both her master and her opponent, she had leapt 15 meters into the air to
intercept her target and knock him off his aquatic foothold. Her already ridiculous strength had been
further amplified by her Rank Up into an Archfiend, so there was no way that webbing would hold her
for long.
The two of them fell down to the ground, with Kora body slamming her target into a nearby rooftop. The
structure gave way under their combined weight, and the two of them crashed into the two-story
blacksmith’s workshop. Jones temporarily dissolved into an amorphous blob and slithered his way out
from the fiend’s pinning hold, reforming into a strictly lizardman-like shape. The green-haired woman
rose to her feet with a vicious smile on her face and rushed him with a storm of punches just like before.
Her attacks shattered his scales, rattled his bones and cut up the insides of his crocodile-like mouth, but
Jones kept on hitting back and trading blows. He tried to match her ferocity and savagery with his own,
answering violence with violence, but quickly realized this was not a contest he would win. Her attacks
hurt like hell, boring through the combination of Natural Armor, Spiked Scales and Harden Skills as if
they weren’t there. And while he did rip out chunks of her flesh with every swipe of his red-hot claws,
her onslaught only rose in intensity due to the characteristic traits of a Berserker. He might’ve handled
her toe-to-toe under normal circumstances, but that Reality Slash from earlier had taken a big chunk out
of him, and his Mend Flesh Skill was still repairing the damage.
Well, that just meant he didn’t have to face her on equal footing. That sort of prideful thinking was what
got him sliced in half in the first place. He collapsed on the ground into the same pile of bright-green
goop from earlier and went to wrap himself around her legs. The demon tried to counter with a War
Stomp, but Jones’s slime body simply made a hole where her foot fell, meaning the only thing she
accomplished was cracking the wooden floorboards and dropping both of them down into the building’s
basement.
When her body collided with the ground once again, Kora found herself lying on her face and already
halfway enveloped by her opponent’s goopy body. She instinctively started thrashing about in an effort
to shake it off. She rolled on the floor, slammed herself into the walls and even punched at her own
body, but her opponent took very little damage. And throughout all this, she felt pain stab into her goo-
covered skin as Jones used a combination of Corrosive Touch and Deadly Poison Skills to flood her
body with toxins.
It was only natural she would be outmatched though. Trying to take down a Queen Slime through
physical force was like trying to extinguish a forest fire by peeing on it. Something her master was able
to witness directly, as it had crept into the ruined building and was watching the two struggle against
each other. It felt momentarily jealous, as the other side’s shapeshifting abilities were far more versatile
than its own. No matter how hard it tried, it would be impossible for Boxxy to transform into a slime
like that and take advantage of its near-imperviousness to physical injuries.
Then again, just like any monster, slimes too had their weaknesses. And there was no way a self-taught
shapeshifter expert like Boxxy would not know of their vulnerability to magic. Its opponent seemed to
have realized this, as evidenced by the Mana Shield he erected around both himself and the fiend while
he was trying to subdue her. Punching through that would prove difficult to be sure, but Boxxy didn’t
necessarily need to do that.
After all, Mr Alexis wasn’t the only one with a formidable bag of tricks.
“Demonate!”
At the Mimic’s behest, Kora’s red skin momentarily glowed with an intense green light as the demonic
energies in her body ran rampant and out of control. The Archfiend exploded violently in the next
instant with a flash of bright green flames. The force of the explosion blasted the Sandman-shaped
shapeshifter out of the smithy, across the street, and into the house on the opposite side. It crashed
through a window on the second floor, finding itself in a small, dingy bedroom. It quickly rose to its feet
and somewhat groggily ran to the windowsill, watching in stunned silence as an emerald-colored inferno
was steadily turning the site of Kora and Jones’s brief duel into an ash pile.
The hell was that?! it complained inwardly. It’s way too strong!
The sheer amount of energy released by causing Arms to self-destruct was well beyond anything it had
expected. It was at least twice as potent than the last time it tried using that Spell. The lingering flames
that were rapidly spreading to other buildings were an entirely new aspect of it. Was it because Arms
was an Archfiend now? Punchy did seem to have a natural aptitude for fire and Arms was supposedly
related to him, so it could be that a propensity for arson simply ‘ran in the family’ as it were. Or rather,
there could really be no other explanation.
Not that Boxxy was complaining. Since his opponent was wrapped up tight around the demon, then it
probably took the full brunt of that explosion and was scattered to bits. It was a bit regretful that he had
to be destroyed, but Boxxy deemed it impossible to capture a threat of that magnitude alive. Well, at the
very least the XP it gained from killing a tough opponent like that was bound to be tasty.
Except that he wasn’t quite dead.
“SKREEEEEK!”
Boxxy’s reflexes sharpened to a point when it heard that dreadfully familiar screech. A huge hawk-like
bird flew upward out of the blazing inferno, the green flames clinging to its golden plumage giving it an
almost ethereal presence. It dived straight at the Sandman with its wings tucked in, threatening to pierce
the humanoid creature’s large torso with his beak, almost as if he were an oversized arrow. Boxxy
reacted by tapping into its Phytokinesis Skill and throwing the wooden bed in the room at its opponent,
but the horse-sized Thunderbird smashed it to bits without even slowing down.
Boxxy was able to leap to the ceiling and dodge the sharp beak and talons by the skin of its teeth while
the enemy tore through the building as if it were made of paper. He left gaping holes on both ends of the
second floor, causing the already rickety house to creak and groan ominously as it started to collapse in
on itself. The Mimic leapt down onto the street before it got buried in the rubble while the flying
shapeshifter made its way around for another dive attack.
“Master?!” called out Xera. “What’s going on over there?! I can see the smoke from here!”
“Things got a little out of hand!” answered Boxxy as it braced itself for the next attack.
“Then I should-”
“You stay where you are and maintain the Facade! And don’t bother me unless it’s life-or-death!”
While having an extra pair of hands to help with this guy would be welcome, it was an undeniable fact
that Snack would be useless here. If the demonic flames released by that extra-spicy Demonate weren’t
enough to take him down, then it was a safe bet that her Pyromancer magic would be just as ineffective.
“… Understood, Master.”
Just as Xera offered that weak-willed response, Jones swooped in to attack Boxxy once again. The
Mimic had dug its feet deep into the cobblestone road and had quite literally rooted itself in place. The
outward layer of Ironbark grew rapidly thicker as the enemy approached at breakneck speeds. It seemed
like it would try and take the enemy charge’s head on, but that was just a ruse to goad Jones into a head-
to-head clash.
And just before said clash would happen, Boxxy opened its Storage portal right in front of Jones’s path.
The enemy shapeshifter was physically unable to change his course on time, and fell into the swirling
black abyss. The dimensional gateway was then closed, trapping him inside the Mimic’s pocket
dimension. Boxxy breathed a sigh of relief as it unrooted itself off the ground. No matter how much he
flailed, Jones had no choice but to suffocate in that confined space. Even if he didn’t need to breathe,
that abomination would surely starve to death eventually.
Except that the abomination in question knew all there was to know about trapping things in such
volatile spaces. Breaking into pocket dimensions was nigh-impossible, but breaking out of them? All he
had to do strike out against the walls of its new prison with all its might. This caused a rip in the fabric
of reality, which allowed him to escape Boxxy’s Storage, causing the shapeshifter a great deal of pain as
a result of the magical backlash. The thing calling itself Jones appeared next to the momentarily stunned
Mimic in the same reptilian shape he had when fighting Kora, then delivered a full-force punch to the
monster’s ribs. Or at least to the area where the ribs would normally be located.
Your Storage Skill has backfired due to improper use. Your body suffers from the feedback.
HP -200.
Caught completely off-guard by this series of events, Boxxy was sent flying to the side from the sheer
force of the blow. It had prematurely undone its Ironbark carapace, so it took the full brunt of the attack
upon its malleable flesh. Satisfied that he had finally gotten a solid hit on the slippery creature, Jones
allowed himself a small measure of celebration as he watched it tumble head-over-heels down the road.
The crafty shapeshifter proved it wasn’t quite done yet, as it seamlessly transformed itself into a large
steel ball while abandoning the Sandman’s trappings. It kept rolling down the street and away from the
dangerous chimera. Realizing that his quarry was trying to run away, Jones quickly chased after it on
foot, confident he could catch up to the runaway pinball without too much difficulty.
Rather than slow down as he expected, however, his target actually sped up. It suddenly adopted a
distinctly more cubic shape, sprouted a quartet of wooden wagon wheels and kept rolling along the
paved street. It sprouted a pair of arachnid legs from its undercarriage, which it used to propel itself even
faster. Jones was inwardly impressed yet again at this thing’s ability to mold its own body. There was no
way he’d be able to match that sort of creativity and ingenuity.
Then again, he didn’t necessarily need to.
The humanoid lizard began shifting, rapidly adopting the form of a fully-grown, green-furred janther.
Using the large feline’s trademark six legs, it rapidly accelerated and started catching up to the runaway
box-on-wheels. Due to the absurd speeds they were going at, they had already left the deserted areas of
the slums and were rapidly approaching a crowded street with a lot of traffic. Jones’s bosses would be
rather displeased if this scuffle got any more public than it already was, so he put his all into accelerating
even further and closing in on his target.
Just then, the top of the steel box popped open as if it were a treasure chest, and the upper body of a
humanoid figure rose up from it. It was the shape of a naked albino woman with excessively large
breasts, waist-long straight hair, an impossibly thin waist and a face so gorgeous that lesser men would
instantly fall for her. Boxxy wasn’t sure exactly why it had slipped into its old habit of using Snack for a
basis of its humanoid appearances, but it didn’t matter either. What was truly important was the skull-
tipped staff in its slender hands and the Spell it was going to unleash upon its pursuer.
“Mind Blast ~?!” chirped the pseudo-succubus, slamming the psychic equivalent of an anvil directly
into Jones’s consciousness.
Chaotic energies swirl around you. Your body has been revitalized. HP +9999. MP +9999.
“Alright ~?!” cheered Boxxy as the janther’s gigantic body tripped over its own limp feet and tumbled
on the ground.
It was a bit out of character, but the Mimic could be forgiven for unwittingly expressing its joy. Not only
did it manage to lure in and disable its opponent, but the Chaotic Disposition Skill actually proved itself
useful for once. Now that it was back in peak condition, it stabbed the ground to its left with a metallic
tentacle and did an abrupt U-turn towards its opponent. It came to a screeching halt in front of the
collapsed beast, who was still trying to recover from the mental shock. Jones groaned and shifted its
limbs around pathetically, and could only dimly process the sight of Boxxy activating Power
Overwhelming for the second time in the fight.
Your target has been split asunder. Target HP -3,294.
With a downward swing of its demonic staff, the Mimic once again grievously injured its opponent. It
ripped apart not only the janther’s upper body, but dug out a deep crevice into the road while slicing a
nearby building clean in half. However, it still hadn’t finished it off, as evidenced by the total lack of XP
gain in its Warlock Job. The half-box half-woman brought its staff around and prepared to repeat the
mystical assault-
“Ice Spear!”
“Firebolt!”
“Power Shot!”
-but was suddenly interrupted by an incoming volley of projectiles from the side. The monster easily
dodged the incoming attacks by leaping backwards and out of the way, but was unable to finish the
Reality Slash chant. It angrily looked to the side to realize that a 20-man detachment of Azurvale’s city
guard had finally arrived at the scene of the disturbance. Their arrival was very ill-timed, as it gave
Jones the precious few moments he needed to recover his senses. The janther didn’t rise to its feet
immediately, choosing to instead invoke the Lightning Strike Skill on top of its opponent.
*KRAKKAKAKOOOOOM!*
You have been violently electrocuted. HP -503.

The literal bolt from the blue struck Boxxy dead on, but it had managed to maintain its subdermal layer
of Bouncewood so it was barely hurt by the attack. It still momentarily staggered it, which allowed
Jones to rush it with its lizardman form. Rather than punching the albino succubus lookalike, he instead
chose to pierce its chest with his clawed right hand.
You have suffered a major stab wound. HP -794.

“RAAARGH!”
The Mimic dropped its staff and let out a painful scream as Jones quite literally grasped its insides. Dark
red blood gushed forth from the open wound as the thoroughly confused guards launched another volley
of ranged attacks at them, all of which crashed uselessly against the bipedal lizard’s Mana Shield. Boxxy
wasn’t sure what its opponent was planning, but there was no way it would miss from this intimate
range. It sprouted a trio of spear-tipped tentacles from its back and tried to pierce into Jones’s torso and
neck, but they bounced harmlessly off his incredibly tough scales.
“Give it up,” he muttered while lifting the Doppelganger by its insides. “You can’t beat me, so I suggest
you come with me quietly.”
“Khah! Khahaha! HAHAHAHAHA!”
To his surprise, however, the creature laughed mockingly at his threat, made all the more irksome by the
fact that it used that particular face and voice while doing so. In the next instant, its wide smile
disappeared somewhere, replaced by a cold, murderous glare.
“No,” it whispered, then spat at him.
With acid.
A torrent of corrosive, putrid liquid courtesy of Boxxy’s Acid Spray Skill spouted forth from its plump
lips, bathing the unprepared lizard’s face and shoulders in the stuff. Jones screamed in pain as his body
started dissolving with a loud hissing noise. He was already weakened form that Reality Slash, so there
was no way he was in as good a shape as he made himself out to be. The fact that he was forced to leave
half of his body behind was proof enough that he was far from peak condition. For all Boxxy knew, he
just needed a little love tap and he’d keel over.
Unfortunately, Boxxy was wrong.
Its opponent was a Wizard, one that was tough enough to chant his Spell despite being drenched in
corrosive acid. The bolt of lightning shot out of his hand, which was buried inside the Mimic’s chest
cavity and completely bypassed its defenses, shocking it literally down to its very core.
You have been violently electrocuted. HP -3,692.

Boxxy’s mind went blank as it temporarily lost all muscle control and reverted back to its base form. It
felt numb and limp, almost as if its mind had been completely severed from the rest of it.
“You little worm! I’ve had enough of you! Know when you are beaten!”
Its high Mental Fortitude (MNT) allowing it to maintain some semblance of consciousness, which
allowed it to process its opponent’s distant-sounding complaints. In its dazed state, it unwittingly let out
two words. Two syllables that it would never utter under these circumstances if it were in its right state
of mind, but that simply wasn’t the case.
“Eat… shit…”
You have been violently electrocuted. HP -4,205.

You have died.
The gray-skinned Doppelganger went completely limp as gray smoke rose from its body. Its killer stared
blankly at its featureless face and its exploded yellow eyeballs, as a notification popped up into his
consciousness.
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 63 Wizard! INT +12. END +8. WIS +4.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Hero Killer.
“… I overdid it again, didn’t I?” he muttered with a somewhat pitying tone.
Your Mana Shield has deflected an attack. MP -206.

That’s right, those guards were still battering its defenses. It had momentarily forgotten since they were
too weak to do any real damage to its magical barrier. Well, he could contemplate his lack of self-control
all he wanted later, right now he still had a job to do. Which is why he unceremoniously tossed the dead
Doppelganger sample into his Storage, turned around, and set about eliminating as many eye witnesses
as he could.

Name Wardrobzilla Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress Name Level
Changeling
Species STR 800 LCK 244 Doppelganger 5 MAX Big Cat 25
(Artificial)
Sex N/A DEX 585 PER 95 Mimic 5 MAX Thunderbird 25
Age 457 years AGI 769 MNT 139 Demonspawn 10 MAX Siren 25
Household
Guild of Tol- END 1200 AFF 137 Queen Slime 25 MAX Salamander 25
Saroth
1962/6800
HP INT 980 Giant Spider 25 MAX Basilisk 25
(+12.0/sec)
1534/4900
MP WIS 611 Wizard (+) 63 60%
(+9.1/sec)
Skill List
Precise
Magic Petrifying
Muscle 10 MAX 10 MAX 10 MAX
Absorption Gaze
Control
Unrelenting Patient
Storm Predator
Unnatural
10 MAX Prowl 10 MAX Harden 10 MAX
Vitality
Feline Tectonic
Water Slicer 10 MAX 10 MAX 10 MAX
Evasion Shift
Corrosive Deep
10 MAX 10 MAX Shapeshift 10 MAX
Touch Wounds
Liquid Apex
10 MAX 10 MAX Webspinner 10 MAX
Mimicry Predator
Thunderous Lightning
Mend Flesh 10 MAX 10 MAX 10 MAX
Screech Affinity
Water
Assassination 10 MAX Eagle Eye 10 MAX 10 MAX
Affinity
Natural Fire
10 MAX Wind Wall 10 MAX 10 MAX
Armor Affinity
Arachnid Lightning Earth
10 MAX 10 MAX 10 MAX
Strength Strike Affinity
Deadly Hydro
10 MAX 10 MAX Stealth 10 MAX
Poison Hand
Arcane Deep
10 MAX 10 MAX Meditation 5 20%
Stability Thoughts
Projectile
Mana Shield 10 MAX Slipstream 10 MAX 10 MAX
Mastery
Arcane Arcane
10 MAX Paean 10 MAX 9 30%
Attunement Mastery
Primal
Glyphcraft 10 MAX Fire Breath 10 MAX 16 85%
Mastery
Lightning Spiked Basic

10 MAX 10 MAX 6 29%
Overload Scales Mastery
Chant Searing Spatial

10 MAX 10 MAX 8 50%
Reduction Claws Mastery
Student of Emergency Brawling

10 MAX 10 MAX 10 MAX
the Mind Escape Mastery
A puff of white smoke rose into the air. It drifted idly upwards for several seconds before forming into a
semi-solid sphere, no bigger than a child’s fist. A pair of bright blue dots peeked out of it, as the
disconnected spirit gazed down at its own body and the scale-covered abomination that had pierced its
torso with a clawed hand. It felt puzzled for a few moments, but became outraged when it realized it had
been killed. This was a completely natural reaction considering how violently its mortal body was
dispatched. And judging from how its killer ploughed through the silver-armored city guards and then
slinked off into the shadows, the murdering shapeshifter would probably go unpunished, which made the
ghost’s rage quickly give way to despair.
Just as it was in the middle of coping with its loss of life, the spirit saw a white spiderweb patterned
crack spread through the air in front of it. It burst open into a shining doorway to reveal a floating figure
draped in a black, sable robe that looked both luxurious and tattered at the same time. His head was a
bleached skull with a slightly pointed chin, and a pair of bright red dots flickered in its eye sockets in
lieu of eyes. In his bony hands was a large scythe with mysterious runes engraved along the handle,
while the blade itself seemed to have been forged out of pure darkness.
However, rather than be frightened by this entity’s appearance, the spirit felt strangely relieved by it.
“Yo! How’s it hanging?” it spoke in a frighteningly chipper tone. “Congratulations on your death! I’m
Mortimer, and I’m here to pick you up.”
The white puff of smoke that no mortal could see seemed strangely excited by this prospect, and it
showed this feeling by bouncing around like an excitable puppy.
“Hmm? Oh no, not you,” said the God of Death, as if just noticing the poor soul. “I’m here for that
one.”
The confused puff of smoke curiously turned around towards the direction Mortimer’s bony hand was
pointing. It saw a swirling black ball with crimson red eyes and pearly white teeth open its mouth as it
flew towards it. It was then gobbled up by the larger spirit before it could do anything about it.
“No! Bad!”
Mortimer suddenly slapped the black ghost from behind, prompting it to spit out the smaller white one.
“None of that! What sort of Hero are you, anyway?!” he spoke as if chastising an unruly pet.
“Jukilimo! Yeharan dalaigoh!”
The black spirit responded by uttering what sounded like gibberish to the poor white soul. The utterly
bewildered immaterial being tried to raise its voice in protest, only to realize it could not actually speak.
“How does that make any sense?! You can’t even taste things anymore!”
“Rastorpicolos!”
“Quiet you! Hey, listen here, buddy,” said Mortimer to the white spirit. “Sorry about this, but I’m going
to have my hands full with this guy. I can’t really deal with you right now, so I’m going to have to ask
you to leave. Just keep heading up and to the right and you’ll get there eventually. Off you go, now!”
Mortimer shooed the dearly departed away, who had no choice but to continue drifting upwards in a
huff. Getting the cold shoulder like that was quite irksome, but the spirit quickly accepted it as the way
things were. Even if he had complaints, it was impossible for a disembodied soul to disobey the words
of the God of Death. Besides, there was no way a divine being would deem a random, middle-aged city
guard important enough to make a personal appearance, right? Hmm? Then who was that black thing?
Something about a Hero? What was a Hero, anyway? A miserable pile of- Oh look, butterflies! Or were
they flamingoes? Forming thoughts was becoming rapidly difficult for the former elf the more it
ascended. It soon decided trying to think was a bother, so it stopped trying altogether.
Mortimer watched the innocent soul drift off for a few more seconds as the Well of Souls did its thing.
He felt a bit bad for brushing the guy off like that, but he simply didn’t have the time to personally deal
with each and every dead creature. That was why the Well of Souls existed in the first place - to pull
stray souls towards it and then reincarnate them through the Tree of Life. True, some individuals with
lingering attachments fell through the gaps and became vengeful undead, but it was a necessary
compromise. It was physically impossible for a single being - even a God - to keep up with demand
otherwise. Besides, Mortimer had duties other than ferrying the souls of the dead to attend to, such as
the rites and rituals he needed to perform on a deceased Hero’s soul. As spirits touched by the divines, it
was important to properly tend to them and make sure the borrowed divine power was returned to its
source without incident.
“Well then,” he said while turning his attention back to the black smog that was once Boxxy. “Shall we
go?”
“Vivamus sollicitudin arcu tempus, sagittis velit ac?”
“No, that’s not gonna happen,” answered Mortimer in a stern manner
“Efficitur sollicitudin tellus!”
“How much gold?!” he exclaimed with a rather excited tone. “You’re shitting me, right? There’s no way
you have that much!”
“Sit amet! Finibus lacinia!”
“Oh, I gotta see this!”
Mortimer grabbed Boxxy’s soul in one hand and walked back into the glowing doorway he stepped out
of. The two of them emerged inside Ambrosia’s trunk, right next to the swimming pool-sized pit of gold
that the Mimic was using as external shiny storage. It had been playing with it for a solid three hours last
night and had forgotten to close it up, so the huge pile of treasure was allowed to glisten brilliantly in the
artificial spotlights.
The God of Death and Commerce let out an appreciative whistle despite having no lips.
“Nice! Quite the cozy little nest egg you got here. For an individual, this is a truly impressive
collection.”
“Nahabil roken,” uttered Boxxy.
“Still not enough, though. Even if I was in the habit of taking bribes - which I’m not - you’d still need
300 times this amount before I even consider letting you off.”
“Hak!”
“Yeah, well, can’t be helped. Them’s the rules. Come on then, let’s get you… to… Oh for fuck sake!”
The space next to Mortimer ripped open, and a green brick flew out of thin air.
“Hey, Mort,” said Joyce, “how’s it hanging?”
“Damnit, Tom! I’m not letting you revive this guy!”

“Woah! Easy there!” said the fishbowl-shaped God of Chaos. “I’m not here to revive anybody! I’m just
here to collect on that guy’s contract.”
“Contract? … Oh right, this guy was a Warlock that made a covenant with a demon, huh?”
“Yup. Three of them, actually,” stated the ham sandwich. “And according to the terms of the contract,
this soul belongs to the Beyond.”
“We both know there’s nothing like that in the demonic contract’s terms, Rupert.”
“What are you saying? Of course there is!”
*Snap*
A rolled up parchment materialized itself out of thin air and unfurled to reveal the full terms and
conditions of Boxxy’s summoner contract.
“See here, this amendment right here, clause 23-4,” stated the floating tea kettle. “And I quote - ‘Should
the mortal Warlock acquire the means through which to affect the immaterium and/or the Aether, their
soul will become the rightful property of Overlord Liusolra upon their death.’”
“Let me see that!”
The God of Death snatched the parchment and gave it a once over.
“You just added that in there!” he complained in a displeased tone. “There was nothing like that in the
standard contract last time I checked!”
“And when’s the last time you checked, eh?! It’s been in there for at least 1,300 years! You know, ever
since that whole ‘Soul Eater’ debacle?!”
Mortimer found himself momentarily at a loss of words as he was reminded of that potentially world-
ending entity.
“That’s all in the past!” he argued. “And this clause is in direct conflict with the way we’re supposed to
handle Heroes!”
“Mort, look. If you had objections to this amendment, then why didn’t you say anything when I asked
you about it?”
“Because you never consulted me on this!”
“Did too! I distinctly remember sending you the proposal via G-mail! You even replied to it and
everything!”
“… Hold on.”
Mortimer suddenly fell silent as he searched back through his mental repository of correspondences with
the other Gods. Looking back over a millennia ago, he was indeed able to confirm he had received a
memo titled ‘Soul Eater Prevention Suggestion’ detailing the exact paragraph Jerry was talking about.
One that he had replied to with a simple ‘k.’
“Yeah, alright,” he admitted with a sigh. “You can have the blasted thing.”
He hated giving up another Hero’s soul, but he hardly had a choice in the matter. Even if he was
swamped with work in the wake of that nasty business and probably didn’t read the thing as thoroughly
as he should have, he still signed off on it. As such, he was really in no position to argue.
“Marvelous!” stated the giant fly with a chipper tone. “Glad to see you’re still such a good sport! Come
on, Boxxy, let’s get you- Huh? Where’d the little guy go?”
The black puff of smoke had disappeared somewhere while Mortimer and Kendra were arguing over
which one of them would take custody of it.
“… Now that you mention it- Oh, that bastard!” exclaimed the God of Death. “Just how much Taboo
does he want?! Right, that’s it! I’m sending my Reaper after him!”
“Who the what now?” asked the confused beer mug.
However, Louey did not get an answer as the outraged God of Death disappeared back to his divine area
in a huff, leaving the Goddess of Unlikelihoods quite confused. There was no way a deceased person’s
soul could just ‘wander off,’ especially not in Mortimer’s presence, so there was definitely something
extraordinary going on. And for once, it wasn’t Jessica’s doing. All she wanted to do was simply collect
what was rightfully hers.
While definitely entertaining in its own way, Boxxy’s short-lived tenure as Hero of Chaos had also
served as an audition of sorts. The God of Chance had become convinced that the single-minded and
uncomplicated Mimic’s soul would serve as the perfect raw material to forge into the fifth demonic
Overlord and bring his Seven Deadly Sins project one step closer to fruition. He already had Nagnamor
as Wrath, Liusolra as Gluttony, Shridiaphrial the Succubus Queen as Lust and that know-it-all Weaxohn
as Pride, but the seats of Sloth, Envy and Greed were still very much open. It went without saying that
Boxxy’s twisted soul was without a doubt the perfect fit for the Lord of Avarice - a future that Carmen
had made sure would be all but an inevitability.
And yet that Mimic’s spirit had suddenly disappeared right out from the nose of not one, but two deities.
So while Merlin’s plans to create both Baalebuorohm of the Gilded Chest and usher in the birth of a
whole new species of demons would have to wait, he wasn’t the least bit angry. Just the opposite, in fact.
After all, if there was one thing the God of Unforeseen Consequences loved the most, it was surprises.
The one that was most surprised about the ongoing situation was, understandably, the one who was right
in the middle of it. Boxxy’s soul had been suddenly yanked down to earth by force while the two deities
were arguing over something it no longer remembered. What initially felt like falling rapidly had at one
point transitioned into a sinking sensation, more akin to something pushing the spirit downwards from
above rather than being pulled on from below.
When the Mimic’s disembodied consciousness finally came to what felt like a stop, it found itself, for
lack of a better word, trapped in a void. It couldn’t move, speak, hear or see anything, almost as if it
were an errant thought floating amidst an infinite nothingness. It was more than a little distressing
considering it could still see just moments ago. Not to mention the ability to speak, hear and… and…
And… what? It had the distinct impression it had the ability to do things, so how come it suddenly found
itself drawing a blank? On second thought who - or for that matter precisely what was ‘it?’ The errant
consciousness had suddenly lost all sense of self and any memories it had accumulated up to that point.
The murderous box with an unhealthy obsession for tasty and shiny things had momentarily disappeared
completely from the world.
In the next instant, that insignificant speck of free will felt the accumulated experiences of its previous
life’s 8 months on the mortal realm crash into it. From the first time it beheld its little oddly flat corner
of the Litigar Dungeon Complex up to the point where the fateful words ‘You have died’ appeared in its
consciousness - it all came flooding back to it.
“SHRAAAAH!”
Boxxy sprang to life with a guttural scream. The gray-skinned Hylt Creeper rose from its back and onto
its feet before stumbling forward and falling to the ground while writhing around like a sack of
drowning puppies. The soul-crushing pain coursing through its body, coupled with the fact that it had
momentarily forgotten how to Doppelganger had caused Boxxy to trip over its own feet.
An intimately familiar and extremely welcome notification popped into its mind, putting an abrupt halt
to the shapeshifter’s dazed confusion. That brief moment of clarity served to jumpstart the rest of
Boxxy’s failing mental faculties, and was immediately followed by a series of rather informative
notifications.
You are afflicted by Resurrection Sickness. All Attribute effectiveness -50%.

Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Soulbound.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Hero of Chaos.
Proficiency level increased. Chaotic Disposition is now Level 1.
Proficiency level increased. Agent of Chaos is now Level 1.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Usurper of Justice.
Proficiency level increased. Vengeance is now Level 1.
… I died back there, didn’t I?
It was a harrowing realization that gave rise to many different questions in Boxxy’s mind. Not regarding
who killed Boxxy or how it had died - its jumbled brain was able to remember that much. Indeed, the
fact that it had actual memories of its own demise was the most jarring thing about this situation. It
certainly didn’t come back to life under its own power, and it doubted any of the Gods would’ve
interfered considering George’s stance on the matter of resurrection, so the whos and whys surrounding
its rebooted existence were quite unknown. Not to mention the revelation that Boxxy’s Hero status had
been apparently revoked and then restored.
However, rather than dealing with those larger-than-life issues, the Mimic decided to focus on a far more
pressing one. Namely its complete and total lack of sight. The featureless face’s yellow eyeballs were
forcefully reconstructed and a Greater Mimic MLG was formed within the creature’s chest cavity. Now
that it could once again perceive its environment, it realized it was lying face-down in a box of light, a
cube with semi-transparent and slightly glowing yellow walls that was about 3 meters in width, height
and depth. Pure white symbols and squiggles crawled along its sides in circular patterns, almost as if
they were snakes chasing after their own tails.
The shapeshifter rose to its feet and groggily stepped over to the translucent wall. It placed a hand on it,
confirming it gave off the same hard, smooth and warm sensation as the shiny floor it was standing on.
The chamber beyond it was a large, dome-like structure that was twice the width and height of the
glowing cube. Boxxy’s MLG couldn’t ‘see’ past the borders of its cell, but its eyes could easily make
out the large metal plates that lined the floor and ceiling, which appeared to be held in place by a series
of large rivets.
“Status,” chanted the Mimic.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Creeper Blade
Species STR 698 LCK 248 Doppelganger 34 91% 25 M
(Hylt) Dancer
Hidden
Arrow
811/2899
(+10.7/sec)
493/2206
(+3.9/sec)
Everything seemed to be pretty normal on this end, aside from that Resurrection Sickness condition
drastically weakening the monster’s body. The various Skills, Spells and Perks it had picked up so far
were all accounted for, too. They all seemed to be functioning without a hitch, as evidenced by Mend
Flesh continuing to tick along.
However, there was one very noticeable change regarding Boxxy’s body. Not only did it feel somehow
foreign and not completely its own - a possible side effect of Resurrection Sickness - but there was also
a large red gem embedded in the creature’s back. It was in the shape of an upside-down teardrop that
was about 25 centimeters tall and 10 centimeters wide at its thickest point. It had partially fused with the
Mimic’s flesh and didn’t feel like a foreign object at all. In fact, it was just the opposite, as that crimson
stone felt as if it was Boxxy’s real body, and that the blood, muscle and bone connected to it was just a
glove that could easily be discarded. A feeling that was somewhat explained by the details of the
Mimic’s newest Perk.
Soulbound
Description: A soul tethered to a mortal shell through a magical catalyst.
Requirements: Be brought back to life through the use of a soulstone.
Effects: Inflicts Resurrection Sickness.
It was a safe bet to assume that the thing on its back was the soulstone that had brought the shapeshifter
back to life, and may also be responsible for maintaining it. This was definitely no accident, as someone
had obviously brought Boxxy back to life on purpose. And while the monster wasn’t about to start
complaining about that, it couldn’t feel too happy about it, either. Whoever or whatever was responsible
probably wanted something from it, and this magical prison they had put it in only served to prove they
had no intention of playing nice.
Then again, neither did Boxxy.
“Snack, are you there?”
The Mimic called out telepathically in an effort to reach its familiar, but there was no response. Well,
that much made sense, really. A summoning contract expired with the Warlock’s death, so it was only a
matter of course it couldn’t connect to that succubus. Or summon any of its other familiars, for that
matter. The next logical course of action was to call up Demons ‘R’ Us and see about getting its
contracts re-established once more.
1-800-7355-9687-7685
But again, there was no answer. Whether it was because of the occult item lodged in its back or this
mystical cage of light, something was blocking its attempts to reach out into the Beyond. It quickly
confirmed it could still access its Storage and cast Spells, so trying to break out of the cage through brute
force was possible. However, the Mimic decided the best course of action wasn’t to go on a rampage in
its weakened state. It had already died once, and it wasn’t about to try and test this place’s security
measures, especially when that Jones fellow was likely skulking around somewhere nearby. Therefore,
all Boxxy did was shapeshift itself into a wooden chest, sit its rectangular ass down, and wait patiently
for its captor to pay it a visit.
Not to mention that being so thoroughly reminded of its own mortality had given the creature much to
think about.
(165) Interlude You Reap What You Sow
“Oh come on! Really?!”
Edward Allen, acting Spymaster to Emperor Joseph Frederick von Einhart the Third, was currently
engaging in a ritual that a casual observer might consider no different from throwing a tantrum. And this
hypothetical person would be quite correct, as it was only yesterday that the Goddess of Truth and
Justice herself had indirectly called him out on his deliberate act of misinformation in front of the entire
continent. If it was just that, then he might have been able to handle it in a more dignified and composed
manner.
“That horrid, bastard box! How dare it do that to me!”
However, having been told that the one most likely responsible for that revelation was the same moronic
creature that had slipped from his grasp half a year ago had sent him over the edge.
“Just how much does it plan to get in my way?!” he shouted while kicking over a wooden shelf in an act
of futile rage.
The fully stocked piece of furniture fell against the stone floor of the Arcaneum tower’s Alchemy lab
with a crash, sending numerous precious materials spilling out of their containers and across the ground.
A few of the substances evaporated instantly in puffs of multi-colored smoke upon being exposed to
open air, while others began eating their way through the stone floor. A stray Morolian seed even made a
failed attempt at taking root, sprouting a patch of black needle-like grass that withered away almost
immediately.
Five of the six officers of the Gilded Hand - Edward’s personal guards/lackeys - had bewildered looks
on their faces as they witnessed the rare occasion of their leader losing his cool. Well, most of them
anyway. The ever-distant Zone kept maintaining her icy expression as she sat at the edge of the room,
the Scribe part of her mind already processing the funds needed to replace all those volatile reagents. It
was a habit of hers, something she acquired as a result of serving as Edward’s de-facto secretary for the
last two decades or so.
Incidentally, the total bill for those damages totaled to precisely 2,952 GP, which could potentially be cut
down by roughly 150 GP if they managed to find a local source of mandrake root.
“I don’t get it,” said Hook, the hooded Psionic who was leaning against the nearby wall. “Why is the
boss so mad all of a sudden?”
“Because he gets cranky when he doesn’t get enough sleep, you know how old people are,” said
Question in a sarcastic tone of voice.
“What, really?”
The youthful, lightly tanned brains of the operation rolled his purple eyes at his clueless cohort, although
his near-permanent squint made it difficult to tell he was doing so.
“No, of course not!” he exclaimed. “Are you seriously that dense? This is all because of that one Mimic.
Y’know, the one you were supposed to interrogate before it got away?”
“Oh yeah, there was a guy like that, wasn’t there?” exclaimed Hook with a sudden look of
enlightenment on his face. “Come to think of it, the boss had a bit of a fit back then too, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, well, that ‘guy’ is likely the reason why we lost the war.”
“… For real?”
Question let out a tired sigh.
“Do you even read the briefings I give you?!”
“I, uh, skim over them…” he offered while nervously scratching his stubble.
The documents the resident data analyst was referring to posited that the creature responsible for the
Calamity - one Boxxy T. Morningwood - had been present not only at New Whitehall, but also at Fort
Yimin. The foreboding figure of this ‘Sandman’ they had been hearing about was an eerily close match
to the Mister Morningwood that had been sighted going in and out of the Mercenary Guild branch office
in Erosa immediately following the destruction of Monotal.
Not only that, but according to Zone’s eye-witness accounts, the monster had been able to regain its
forcibly removed Warlock Job, as evidenced by the impossible to miss four-armed fiend that had been
sighted fighting alongside the Sandman during the siege of Fort Yimin. Question also suggested that
Boxxy might have somehow been involved in the massacre that brought an abrupt end to that battle. It
certainly wouldn’t be surprising considering that walking natural disaster’s track record, but Question
lacked the evidence to confidently state whether its presence was anything more than a mere
coincidence.
The next section of the report touched upon why and how the monster in question had managed to not
only recover, but also surpass its former power in such a short amount of time. This was actually
something that Spymaster Allen had already provided the answer for. During the early stages of the war,
he had infiltrated a secure Republic facility and captured some very interesting intelligence. It suggested
that those twigs had been experimenting with the concept of using artificially engineered monsters as
biological weapons for years, possibly decades.
This came as something of a surprise to Question, as messing with mother nature’s creations was largely
believed to be an unethical practice among the elven population. This belief was reinforced not only by
the predominant worship of Nyrie across the Republic, but also by their history. After all, it was Tol-
Saroth’s creations that had directly caused the death of the elven royal family and subsequent dissolution
of the Elven Dominion over four centuries ago.
Yet those twigs were not only at it again, but seemed to have actually met with reasonable success, if the
stolen data was anything to go by. And although the details on what that ‘success’ actually was were still
sketchy, the fact they were willing to go down this path meant that they would probably not be opposed
to the idea of taking a monster with a colossal capacity for catastrophe under their wing and pointing it
at the Empire. Meaning that not only was Edward’s former prisoner alive and well, but was currently
thriving under the protection and support of the Republic.
As for why the Gilded Hand’s analyst had been focusing so much on that particular monster, it was
because he believed it to be the main catalyst behind the events of Armageddon Day. To begin with,
Hook himself had testified Overlord Nagnamor had screamed Morningwood’s name in anger multiple
times. And while the enraged Archfiend might have theoretically been chasing another ‘Morningwood,’
the presence of two other key figures on that battlefield said otherwise. Namely that of the Sandman,
now believed to be Boxxy in disguise, and that of Liusolra - the same being that served as the creature’s
parting gift to the Empire.
The latter’s actions in particular seemed to be quite telling, as even though her Endless Swarm had
attacked people on both sides, Liusolra’s overall impact on the battle was arguably beneficial to the
Republic. Which, considering her identity as an Overlord, had been nothing short of a resounding
success. One that Question readily attributed to none other than one Boxxy T. Morningwood.
And although this seemed like the analyst was giving the Mimic too much credit, it was hard to argue
with his judgement when considering the creature’s Demonology Skill. More specifically, the way it had
survived Zone’s forced Job Removal, even though the Warlock Job itself had been wiped from the
monster’s Status. Question had initially dismissed this anomalous event during his investigation at
Bootlick, but has since realized its significance. It hinted that Boxxy had a far more intimate relation
with the demons of the Beyond than any Warlock could hope - or want - to achieve.
This realization was quite significant, as it fit in perfectly with Liusolra’s presence and behavior at New
Whitehall. Especially since her summoning it seemed to be a spur-of-the-moment decision rather than a
pre-planned event. After all, no soldier or adventurer in their right mind would ever consider randomly
whipping out a gods-damned Overlord. Not unless said individual was a literal monster who gave no
fucks about friendly fire and had the ‘inside scoop’ on the Beyond’s big shots. After all, demons were
sentient creatures too, and while they took no sides per-se, they still had the right to play favorites. And
in Liusolra’s case, she obviously favored Boxxy more than she favored Nagnamor.
And the Mimic had used this knowledge to bring about the duel between the two Overlords and
subsequent Armageddon, which served as a prelude to that damnable Clash of Fate. And while that
particular encounter warranted its own investigation, Question was confident beyond the shadow of a
doubt that it would have never taken place if Boxxy hadn’t interfered with the Empire’s stratagem. But it
had, and in doing so helped bring about Bernard Samson’s defeat, which in turn directly resulted in
Teresa’s unprecedented intervention.
A notion that seemed difficult for some of Question’s colleagues to get their heads around.
“I don’t get it, I thought the one that led to all this mess was that puny Hero of theirs?”
“You too, Edge?” asked Question in an exasperated tone of voice. “Honestly, why the hell do I even
bother with you people?”
The one he was speaking to was the female agent who had been sitting idly on a nearby table while
absentmindedly twirling a throwing knife between her slim fingers. Unlike the rest of her comrades,
Edge never wore her blue-and-gray officer’s fatigues. After all, what sort of assassin would openly
declare their allegiance like that? Especially considering that her primary occupation until very recently
consisted mostly of resolving various… domestic affairs.
That was why her outfit of choice wasn’t some flashy uniform, but instead consisted of a baggy gray
shirt and loose-fitting brown work pants. A pair of thick leather boots poked out from beneath the hems
of her slightly-too-long trousers, completing the image of a common laborer. Not only was this get-up
meant to help hide her identity, but the baggy clothing also allowed her to conceal a large number of
blades on her person without limiting her movement.
Her face, although as attractive as one would expect from an elven woman in her mid-20s, was almost
always twisted in a scowl. Even if she was ‘a filthy twig,’ however, she actively rejected her elven
heritage. Something she demonstrated by dying her blue-green hair a chestnut color, and cutting off
most of her pointed ears. Admittedly, this act of self-mutilation had only served to make her conspicuous
in a different way, so she usually wore a voluminous work cap to cover them up. One part she couldn’t
hide, however, was the piercing hawk-like stare in her emerald green eyes. Hers was not the glare of an
ordinary human, which was why she actively avoided eye contact with strangers.
“Yeah, well, you’ll forgive me if I haven’t had the time to pour through 20 damn pages of drivel,” said
Edge in a haughty manner. “I doubt anyone here does, actually. You need to be more concise and to the
point!”
“Zone read it,” pointed out the blond strategist. “Several times, in fact. She even pointed out a few
spelling errors. Why can’t you be more like her, huh? Y’know, especially in the area that really counts.”
Question made some rather obscene hand gestures, as if he was groping a pair of invisible breasts. The
flat-chested Edge took offense to that, as she was actually quite self conscious about that part of her
anatomy. In fact, her figure was so androgynous, that she could easily pass herself off as a slightly
effeminate man if she tried. This was something Question was well aware of, and his taunts were just
another of his attempts to get a rise out of her. And it worked, judging from her immediate response,
which was to throw the knife in her hand straight at Question’s crotch. Luckily for him, his imminent
castration was averted by a clipboard that had been thrown into the projectile’s path. The small blade
sunk into the thin wooden slab, losing its momentum and falling harmlessly to the floor.
“You stay out of this!” snarled Edge towards Zone, the one who had interfered.
“You possess neither the right nor authority to assault your superior officer,” said the Monk in her
typical deadpan tone of voice.
“Ohh! Zone!” exclaimed Question. “I knew you cared!”
“If anyone’s going to neuter that horndog, it’s me,” she added.
“Ah! As harsh as ever! But that’s the part I love about you the most, my considerably chested comrade!”
exclaimed the ‘horndog’ in question with an overly theatrical bow.
As for Edge, she merely pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, got off the table and moved to the
other end of the room. Normally she wouldn’t have given that clown the satisfaction of responding to his
provocations, but having been openly compared to Zone like that really stung. It was something of a
public secret within the Gilded Hand that, even though she kept them bound and wrapped up tight, the
resident ice queen’s rack was actually quite impressive. The black-haired beauty probably didn’t mean
anything by it, but the way she treated those jugs as if they were a bother really got on Edge’s nerves.
The elf sat her small butt down at a nearby table, right next to a broad-shouldered, rugged-looking man
with black hair and eyes like Zone’s. Unlike that emotionally deficient Monk, however, he had a soft
look in his eye and sported a winning smile that would immediately warm people up to him. Indeed, a
passing glance at him gave off the impression of a soft-hearted, gentle giant who could do no harm.
Which, considering his line of work, was probably his deadliest weapon. Well, it was either that or the
near-permanent stench of alcohol about him, but he was still the only person Edge felt safe around.
“What an asshole,” she grumbled while pouting.
“C’mon, Lyra, don’t be like that,” he said an understanding tone. “You know he’s just going to tease you
even more if you keep reacting to him.”
“I can’t help it, Jack!” she responded while throwing Question a sour look from across the room. “He’s
just so infuriating. I don’t care how good he is at his job, he needs to manage his interpersonal
relationships better! It’s like he wants us to hate him! I swear, one of these days he’s going to wake up
with a few less testicles.”
“Yeesh, remind me never to get on your bad side,” remarked the man while taking a swig of his mithril-
plated hip flask.
“Keep using my birth name, and you just might,” she shot back with a piercing glare.
“Hahaha! Sorry, sorry, my bad. Old habits die hard, y’know. Besides, you used mine too, so let’s call it
even, okay?”
Jack’s designation within the group was Bandit, and his official post was that of requisitions officer and
quartermaster to the Gilded Hand. Which was a nice way of saying he was a conman, thief, smuggler,
and, on several occasions, human trafficker. Whenever Edward or one of his inner circle needed to get
their hands on something ‘off the books,’ he was the man that made it happen. In fact, over half of those
questionable substances that his boss had knocked over earlier had been procured through his network.
Not only that, but he was the only Monster Tamer in the Empire, and indeed the world, to have as many
as six griffins under his command.
Admittedly, that wasn’t so much because he was an exceptional individual or anything like that. Griffins
were surprisingly docile and fiercely loyal towards the individual they were imprinted on at birth - they
were bred to be that way. A person didn’t even strictly need to be a Monster Tamer to raise and train one
of these half-lions half-eagles, but having the Job definitely made it easier.
However, even though it was technically possible for a commoner to rear a griffin, the law did not allow
just anyone to do so. While these massive creatures were without question an important strategic asset
and a fearsome addition to any army, they were also considered a symbol of power and authority.
Something that was glaringly obvious with a simple glance at the Empire’s blue-and-white flag, which
has had a griffin’s image on it for as long as anyone could remember. As such, due to purely political
reasons, the only ones legally allowed to raise and own the majestic beasts were members of the
Imperial Court, and even then the law limited ownership to only one or two per noble house.
Except that Bandit, much like his codename implied, and similarly to the rest of the Gilded Hand’s top
brass, didn’t pay too much heed to bothersome things like laws.
Which was probably why they found themselves in their current predicament in the first place.
“For real though, how does the monster that escaped factor into this?” asked Edge. “I thought the whole
reason Her Truthiness sent out that divine revelation yesterday was a result of her Hero’s death.”
“Well, Question over there explains it was mainly that Mimic’s doing,” said Bandit while leaning
forward slightly. “Gods are not omnipotent, you know. If she found out about what really happened with
the Calamity, then someone must’ve told her. And since none of us are in the habit of going to church,
the only one left would be the culprit.”
“That’s idiotic. Since when are monsters religious? Even if they were, I seriously see no way some
idiotic chest would pray to the Goddess of Truth and Justice, of all things.”
“Maybe not, but that’s not to account for anyone else it might have told. A secret that is shared by more
than one person is no longer a secret, you know.”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Edge as she idly began playing with one of her knives. “So what does that mean
for us?”
“Dunno,” said the dashing swindler with a shrug. “That sort of stuff is well beyond my pay grade. The
boss’ll have to say how we handle this.”
“I don’t mean ‘us’ as in the Gilded Hand,” said Edge. “I mean ‘us’ as in ‘me and you.’”
Bandit was actually her uncle on her father’s side. It was only natural for her to be more concerned with
her sole remaining family member rather than the shady organization they both belonged to. The fact
that he repeatedly vouched for her was why a halfbreed elf like her was allowed into it in the first place.
“… Dunno,” he repeated after a brief pause. “Whatever happens, I’ll make sure you get out safe. You
can count on that.”
“Me?! But what about-”
“Already speaking of dissention are we?”
The crass voice that interrupted the young assassin’s objection was loud enough to grip the entire room.
Zone, Question, Hook, Edge and Bandit all turned towards the laboratory’s entrance, where the sixth and
final member of Edward’s inner circle was standing. He was a tall, wrinkled old man that looked like a
dessicated bag of skin and bones. He had a hooked nose, a pointed chin, a bald head, and a pair of tired-
looking gray eyes that made him look like he hadn’t slept in years. A single glance at his frail body and
the way he was leaning heavily against his staff as if it were a walking stick was enough to confirm the
rumors that he was well over 130 years old.
However, actually meeting the man in person would make it immediately apparent that the source of his
longevity was quite the opposite of a ‘miracle,’ as he positively reeked of Taboo. And while nobody in
the room was a saint by any stretch of the imagination, he was the only one who had allowed himself to
openly violate the will of the Gods. As such, it was only natural that his very presence made their skin
crawl, but they were more or less used to the unpleasant sensation by this point.
For this was Mist, one of the greatest magic users not only within the Empire, but arguably within the
entire civilized world. Even though his vitality had suffered greatly as a result of his old age, his mind
was a literal library of knowledge, and his expertise spanned every known field of magic. This also
included the practices of both Necromancy and Hexcraft, which was why he was branded with the
Gods’ stigma in the first place.
“I see you got your eyes and ears all over the place as usual, ya old fart,” replied Edge with a sneer.
“Of course,” he responded while limping closer to her. “This is my house, after all.”
Even if he had turned his back on the Gods, Mist’s real identity was still that of Wyndam Clinton,
former High Magus of the organization known as the Arcaneum. While he may not technically hold that
seat anymore, a man of his influence still had a firm grasp over their current leadership. As such, he
practically owned not only the tower he and the rest of the Gilded Hand members were currently holed
up in, but also the facility surrounding it.
Which, in turn, meant that this place truly was ‘his house,’ in every sense of the word.
“So what’s all this I been hearing about His Majesty’s ire?” he asked while glancing over at Edward.
The Spymaster had been quietly seething ever since his earlier outburst, pacing around the room in small
circles as he pondered his predicament.
“Have you been living under a rock?” he shot back without even trying to hide the irritation in his voice.
“Yes, actually,” responded Mist. “This place is literally under a mountain. You should know that.”
“… Right. Sorry for barging in on you like this, by the way. Question will fill you in on the details later,
but bottom line is an Inquisition is going to come down on the Emperor’s head, and he won’t hesitate to
sell me out to save his own hide.”
“Ah, I see. He caught onto your ‘white lie,’ did he? You know, I did-”
“Don’t you dare fucking say ‘I told you so!’ I’m not in the mood!” growled Edward.
“I wouldn’t need to say it if you actually listened, you stupid boy!” hissed Mist in response.
Indeed, even though he was technically the Spymaster’s subordinate, the former High Magus was still
one of his mentors. And while his wisdom may not have helped Edward much when it came to the world
international espionage, the walking fossil had been his guide through the political clusterfuck that was
the Imperial Royal court. He was also the one to repeatedly warn him of the fickleness of the Gods,
something he was somewhat of an expert on.
“Whatever the case, the current Gilded Hand’s days are numbered,” butted in Question. “It’s only a
matter of time before the public finds out we tricked the Emperor and he throws us to the wolves.
Which, I might add, is entirely Edward’s fault.”
Edge and Hook rolled their eyes as the blond man once again went out of his way to blame an
unfortunate event on their boss. Indeed, at least half of his 20-page report might as well be its own
scientific paper, which would naturally be titled ‘Why Edward Allen is responsible for all the bad things
in life.’ That was part of the reason they couldn’t stand reading through the whole thing. Even if it
seemed full of factually and logically sound deductive reasoning, anyone who personally knew the
author could not help but see the bias in his words.
But while those two dismissed those accusations as just more of Question’s odd fixation on blaming his
own employer for everything, Mist and Bandit seemed to silently agree with him. The latter had
committed the analyst’s findings to memory and could not argue against any of the points he raised,
particularly regarding Boxxy’s treatment. Edward had severely underestimated a monster’s will to
survive and had paid dearly for it. Mist, on the other hand, had no idea there was an actual report to read.
But even then, he didn’t need some whipper-snapper’s imagination to confirm something his wealth of
experience had foreseen months ago.
As for Zone, she was off in her own world as per usual, too involved in filling out a requisition form to
replace the damaged alchemical reagents to take sides in this petty squabble. While practicing the Scribe
Job was widely considered a dull and mind-numbingly repetitive undertaking, she never saw it as such.
Which wasn’t to say she found it particularly fun or entertaining, either. To her, filling out forms, writing
letters, and balancing budgets was little more than a form of dynamic meditation. An activity she
performed to center herself and maintain the serene state of mind a Monk required to perform to the best
of their abilities.
“I hate to admit it, but Question is right,” said Edward in a moment of clarity. “About everything.”
“I… I am?”
“You are. I’m about to be branded an outlaw by my own country, and it was my own greed that led to
this outcome.”
Edward stood with his back held straight, with his arms behind his waist and slowly looked over the rest
of his compatriots as he openly admitted his own faults.
“I’m not going to belittle Edge and Bandit for making plans to secure their lives. I’d expect nothing less
of them. Or from any of you, for that matter. In the end, we’re all nothing but a bunch of backstabbing
brigands who put their own lives first. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this organization to begin with.”
A humorless smile spread on his lips, while the others in the room, sans Zone, shared a few bemused
looks and dry chuckles.
“Which is why I’m asking all of you to make a choice, right here and right now. Will you stay behind
and condemn my actions to save your own skin? Or will you follow me once more into the unknown? I
won’t fault you, no matter your decision.”
Bandit slapped the table with both hands as he stood up. He walked with wide, deliberate steps until he
stood directly in front of Edward, then saluted.
“You’ve always had my back, old friend, and I wouldn’t be able to call myself a man if I didn’t have
yours. So long as it's profitable, of course.”
Edge followed suit and stood right by her uncle.
“I go where my uncle goes. I don’t care where my journey takes me, just so long as I can be by his side.”
Hook lined up next to Edge and also paid respects to his commanding officer.
“You gave me purpose, direction, and the means through which I may exact my revenge. I may have
fucked it up last time, but I have faith I will get another shot at that bitch Imyril, so long as I have your
support.”
Next up was Question, who followed suit and saluted Edward in the first genuine gesture of respect he’d
shown the Spymaster in years.
“Even though I say and do the things I do, you’re still the best damn leader I’ve ever had. This
institution was- is the ideal place for someone like me to hone my gifts, and you’re the only officer who
has put up with my shit for so long. And I look forward not only towards the day when that choice
comes back to bite you in the ass, but also the chance to study the insightful ways in which it did.”
Zone stood from her seat, lined up next to Question, and said her piece.
“Because I want to get stronger.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t join the sideshow,” said Mist from the side while leaning heavily on his
staff, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not behind you. Though I don’t know how much life I have left in these
old bones, I still want to bear witness to the heights your ambition will take you to.”
This show of loyalty made Edward feel satisfied as a leader. Hearing these men and women openly state
their respective convictions like this was so reassuring, that he felt as if he didn’t need his Ultimate Skill
to believe in their words. Even Zone’s rather questionable motive was strangely comforting, for those
were the same words she spoke when he recruited her in the first place.
Well, that wasn’t to say their convictions wouldn’t change further down the line, but their current
feelings were good enough.
“Very good,” declared the soon-to-be-former Spymaster. “Mist - I want you, your disciples and those
dungeon cores ready to move out by morning. You’ll be continuing your research at a blacksite outside
the Empire. I don’t care if you have to break a few eggs, I want results!”
“Heee heee heee,” he chuckled in a dry, sinister manner. “I was hoping you’d say that! Though I suspect
we might need a few… extra samples.”
“Don’t you worry, Bandit will provide any equipment or materials you require.”
“Same shit, different day, I suppose,” said the smuggler with a smile and a shrug. “But are you sure my
people can do something like stealing dungeon cores? They’re not exactly the sharpest knives in the
drawer.”
“It’s, uh, easier than you might think,” stammered Edward.
“Is it, now?”
“Just need to hit it really hard,” said Zone with one of her extremely rare smiles.
Her crude, brutish attitude towards those incredibly advanced magical tools made Mist shake his head
dismissively as he limped off towards the exit. Zone heard the unflattering complaints he let out under
his breath, which immediately ruined her mood and made her smile disappear as if it was never there.
True, her approach might not be the fanciest, but it got the job done, didn’t it? So how come that old fart
kept belittling her all the time? She honestly felt she would’ve punched his head clean off his shoulders
by now if she didn’t keep herself busy with her Scribe work.
Truth be told, the two of them never really got along well on a personal level. This mostly due to the old
sage being branded by Taboo, which the Monk showed a more averse reaction to than other people due
to the quasi-divine nature of her Rank Up. The Taboos he violated had nothing to do with her God, so
she was able to look past the old man’s sins and work with him whenever necessary, but it was
impossible to ignore the friction that naturally occurred between the two of them.
“… Riiiight,” said Bandit after a moment of awkward silence. “I’ll just go prepare my pets for the trip,
shall I?”
“Guess I’ll go pack up my knives,” offered Edge as she chased after her uncle.
“We going back to the southern continent, boss?” asked Hook with a somewhat hopeful voice. He
probably wanted to return to his Psionic mentor for further instruction after the embarrassing defeat he
suffered at New Whitehall.
“Maybe,” answered Edward. “I’ll need to see what sort of support I can drum up elsewhere before I
make a final decision. Whatever the case, the rest of you should get ready to move out as well. We’re
about to get very busy.”
The others immediately began dispersing to see to their own affairs while Edward was already thinking
up ways to keep both the Emperor and this Inquisition off his back long enough to move as many assets
as possible across the border. To that end, he would require a manifesto of his personal holdings, as well
as any and all items and equipment currently in possession of the Gilded Hand. Luckily, he knew just the
person for the job.
“Zone, I want you to-!”

*KA-KRUNK*
Edward took a small step forward as he was informing his de-facto secretary of her duties, but was
rudely interrupted when he tried to lift his left leg.
Apparently, one of the vials he knocked over earlier contained a batch of extra-strength adhesive, one
that had been made with Queen Slime mucus as its base. He had stepped in it without realizing and had
allowed it to harden while he was delivering his little speech. So when he unwittingly went to lift his
foot, his absurd leg strength had ended up dislodging a stone brick from the floor.
It would appear that the mortar binding the brick to its compatriots was far weaker than both his
dragonhide boot and the dried up slime snot stuck to his heel.
“Hahahaha! Way to start your revolution, old man!”
Hooked stifled a laugh, while Question let his own joy flow out freely. Zone merely stared at Edward
with her trademark blank expression, although the corners of her mouth twitched for a moment.
Surprisingly, even though it took Edward’s superhuman sight to see it, it was somehow Zone’s miniscule
reaction that hurt his pride the most.
“That fucking box!” he bellowed. “I swear, I will never know peace until I squeeze the life out of its
putrid corpse!”
Indeed, if it wasn’t for one Boxxy T. Morningwood’s actions causing him so much grief, then there was
no way he would’ve found himself with a piece of pavement glued to his foot. If anyone was to blame
for this embarrassing event, it was surely that fucking thing.
“Uhm, Edward?” spoke up Question. “You do realize that this is entirely your own fault, right?”
“You do realize I have a piece of stone glued to my foot, right?”
“… Oh, shi-”
*THWACK*
*CRASH*
In the next instant, the snarky analyst found himself halfway buried in the nearby wall, while the brick
stuck to Edward’s foot had already crumbled to pieces.
“Right, as I was saying,” continued the Spymaster, “Zone, compile a list of everything that we own, I
want it on my desk right away.”
“Yes, sir,” came the immediately reply.
“And when Question wakes up, I want you to let him know my tolerance for his antics is at an all time
low,” he said while scraping the remaining adhesive off his sole, “and that next time he pushes me I’ll do
more than use his face as a doormat.”
(166) Upheaval 1
A luxurious chandelier’s magical lights glistened off the rim of a white cup. The dish had been made in
such a way so as to appear like a tall flower with five petals, not too dissimilar from a tulip. This was the
creation of an up-and-coming Artist who was considered something of a prodigy when it came to all
forms of sculpting. Which was ironic, because the plain-looking young man did not have an artistic bone
in his body. The reason he was making a name for himself wasn’t due to something like an inborn talent
or gift, but sheer hard work, mind-numbing repetition and a ceaseless drive to earn money. And much
like the teachings of Goroth had promised, his honest hard work was rewarded with success, as the
things he created through his endless cycles of trial and error were undoubtedly beautiful and
aesthetically pleasing. A fact that was easily evident by the elegant lines and intricate engraved figures
along that particular cup’s outer surface, making it more of a work of art than a drink container.
Which was precisely why it was such a pity that the cup in question fell against the hardwood floor,
shattering into several large pieces and dozens of smaller ones as the aromatic tea it held sprayed in
every direction.
“Keira?! Are you alright?” asked Rowana in a worried tone.
The two of them had been invited over for a spot of afternoon tea by the silver-haired elf’s parents at
their mansion. The impromptu tea party had barely even had a chance to start when Keira suddenly froze
with a shocked look on her face. The expensive cup in her hands had slipped through her fingers and
fallen to the floor before she had even sampled the hot beverage within.
This was a blunder that was completely uncharacteristic of Xera. No matter how much she personally
despised Rowana or her family, she would never allow her emotions to show in her face or body
language. She took her job of maintaining her Master’s Facade very seriously so something like
suddenly spacing out and breaking the Slyth family’s ceramics would never have happened under
normal circumstances.
But, as things stood, the situation was anything but ‘normal.’
Your summoner has died.

You are no longer restricted by a soul-binding contract.
“I… Uhh… Excuse me…” she muttered weakly as she stood from the sofa.
Rowana, Doris and Samulus all watched silently as the catgirl made her way across the lavish sitting
room and towards one of the large windows. She opened it up, climbed on top of the windowsill and
hopped out of it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Keira!”
Rowana rushed to the open window in a fit of panic and looked around, but couldn’t see hide nor hair of
her lover.
“What was that all about?!” asked Samulus in an annoyed tone. “Not only did she ruin my wife’s one-
of-a-kind tea set, but she-!”
“Shut it, dad!” screamed the elf as she continued to peer out across the city. “Something was wrong with
her! Didn’t you see the look on her face just now!?”
“I daresay I agree with our daughter, dear,” said Doris with a serious tone.
She grabbed the small bell from the coffee table in front of her and gave it a clear ring, signaling the
head butler that his presence was required. The dignified old human entered the room moments later and
took a small bow.
“How may I be of assistance, milady?”
“Get mine and Rowana’s coats,” commanded Doris. “We’re heading out immediately!”
“As you say, Mistress,” replied Ridgeworth.
She glanced at her daughter’s trembling back with a sharp glare. Doris would not have found it
particularly strange for that free-spirited catgirl to casually leap from dizzying heights just for the thrill
of it, but this was clearly different. The women of the Slyth family have always had dangerously sharp
intuition, so if both mother and daughter sensed something foul was afoot, there was no way the lady of
the house would fail to act.
“On second thought,” continued Doris, “fetch my old equipment as well.”
“PFFFFT!”
It was a fateful line that made her husband spit out his tea in surprise.
“Doris!” he protested. “You promised both me and your parents you’d leave that phase of yours
behind!”
Although his wife was once an accomplished adventurer of considerable prowess, she was also an
unruly, spoiled brat with a ridiculous temper and a total lack of common sense. It wasn’t until she had
gotten pregnant with their firstborn that she gave up that way of life, even though vestiges of her violent
past still reared their ugly heads from time to time. Granted, Samulus himself was not exactly the picture
of serenity either, but he was definitely a positive influence on Doris. That was one of the reasons why
Doris’s father had let him marry into the Slyth family in the first place, although the outrageous dowry
he demanded from him in return still gave Samulus nightmares to this day.
“Besides,” he continued, “it may just be a Hero of Chaos thing, so let’s not jump to any conclusions!”
“Now listen here, Samulus,” said Doris, cutting him off with a razor-sharp glare. “Our daughter’s lover
just left the Slyth household through the window with a glazed look in her eyes. This is an affront to me,
my family’s name, and my child. I’m getting to the bottom of this, and you can either come with me or
stand aside, but you will not stand in my way.”
“… Have a safe trip, dear,” he said with a defeated tone.
“I always do,” answered Doris with a nostalgic smile.
In the meantime, Xera had used her wings to cover much of the distance between the treehouse mansion
and the column of thick smoke in the distance. It was coming from the direction of the slums, so there
was no question in her mind that this was her Master’s doing. As for why she was headed to the site of
Boxxy’s final battle, she couldn’t quite say. Nor could she explain the mysterious tightness in her chest
that made it difficult to even breathe.
When she arrived at her destination she saw a scene of absolute carnage. Dozens of buildings wrecked, a
gaping hole in the street, and a raging inferno of emerald flames that threatened to burn down the whole
city, yet not a single soul was in sight. While it was doubtless that adventurers and guards alike were
likely rushing to the site of the disaster, at that very moment the seedy slum was nothing more than a
ruined ghost town. It was wrapped in an eerie silence, interrupted only by the rumble of shifting rubble
and the roar of the nearby demonic flames.
As she flew over this monument to Boxxy’s capacity for violence, Xera suddenly caught a glimpse of
something familiar. She flew down to the ground, landing near a grizzly scene filled with blood smears
yet utterly lacking in any corpses. However, what had caught her interest wasn’t the viscous remains of
some worthless mortals, but a black staff that had been left laying in the dirt. It was a grim-looking item,
tipped with a horned metal skull with a crimson jewel in each of its eye sockets.
She knelt down on the ground and grasped the shaft with a look of disbelief on her face, which reflected
her current state of mind. The succubus grunted with effort as she pulled upwards, but the metal item’s
considerable heft mocked her pathetically weak body’s attempts to lift it. She gave it a few more tries,
but the most she could do is get one end of it several centimeters off the ground before the smooth shaft
slipped from her delicate fingers. To say it was heavier than it looked was an understatement, but it was
a natural misunderstanding anyone would make once they saw her Master swing this thing around as if
it were made out of plywood.
“Master…” muttered the succubus.
She had given up her pointless attempts at lifting Voidcaller and stared intently at the staff’s skull. Its
crimson gems seemed to stare into her very soul, while the slightly open jaw silently laughed at her
futile attempts to wield it. The inanimate object was mocking her shortcomings, and it was right to do
so. For all her talk, all her posturing and all her convictions, Xera was proven to be unquestionably,
unequivocally and undoubtedly useless.
“Yip!”
Just as she was starting to sink into self-doubt and despair, she heard a strangely familiar cry. She tore
her gaze away from the staff in front of her and looked to her immediate right. Minic had somehow
found itself in this place, and was currently bouncing around excitedly. The innocent creature knew
nothing of Xera’s inner turmoil, nor of the significance of it standing in the place where its current
owner and its estranged sibling had fought to the death. Its incomprehensible luck had merely placed it
there, where it saw Xera’s fluffy form kneeling on the ground.
“Yap yap!”
Something ignited inside Xera. Like a match that had fallen into a powder keg, her anger was set ablaze.
It burned within her like the heart of the sun, and she immediately shared it with the only thing nearby
she could take it out on.
“Flamethrower!”
A jet of flames shot out of her palm, bathing the area around the innocent House Mimic with enough
heat to partially melt the loose cobbles in the ground. She kept the deluge of flames up for nearly 30
seconds before she finally let up. She panted heavily with short breaths, as the fires of her rage dispersed
to reveal Minic had been left completely unharmed, even as the ground around it continued to burn. That
little gnat’s inexplicable quirk was something Xera should have been well aware of, but her mind could
barely form a coherent thought due to the strange emotions welling up in her breast. Still breathing
unevenly, she stood up and walked over to where Minic was standing casually, paying no mind to the
flames burning away at her feet and ankles. She bent over, grabbed the animate jewelry box and hugged
it tight against her bosom.
Minic actively snuggled against her massive breasts, positively purring in delight at having finally
achieved its centuries-old goal. The thing had been trying to climb on Xera’s breasts ever since Tol-
Saroth, her former Master, had first created it. Of course she was aware of the critter’s intentions. It was
the same inherent desire that any sane man would have once they saw a pair of outrageous tits like hers.
She denied Minic every single time until now, so how come she was suddenly giving in? Why in the
world would she ever submit to the idiotic whims of a retarded box that didn’t even know left from
right?
*Tap tap tap tap*
Droplets of clear liquid fell on top of Minic’s outer shell. The succubus looked down in confusion, only
to realize said liquid was falling out of her own face. She had used this approach several times, as many
of this world’s mortal men had a weak spot for a damsel in distress, but it was the first time they had
come out without her say-so.
For they were her tears of sorrow.
On that day, for perhaps the first time in this world’s history, a demon wept. She cried furiously and
unabashedly at the loss of the creature that had given her existence new meaning. Her sobs filled the
empty street as she gave into the grief welling up within her, hugging Boxxy’s miniature substitute
against her chest in a futile effort to seek comfort.
Xera was a succubus that existed solely to fulfill her selfish desires while preying on the wants and
needs of others. Even after her twisted affections for her Master manifested themselves, she thought of
nothing but how to feed it and derive pleasure from it for her own sake. None of this was strictly her
fault, either, as her entire being was forged out of the lust, jealousy and envy of thousands of mortals.
Yet at that very moment, the only coherent thought her mind could form was a single, solemn wish. One
made not out of some sort of selfish need for pleasure or enjoyment at the expense of others, but of a
deep longing filled with truly selfless intent.
I wish Boxxy was still alive.
That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. If her beloved Master was still around, then that would be
enough to satisfy her. Even if she was banished to the Beyond for all eternity, even if she was forever
estranged and forgotten by the one she longed for, then it would all be fine, so long as Boxxy still
existed somewhere out there. Of course, had she known that her Master’s soul was being forcefully
pulled back into its dead flesh at that very moment, then what was about to happen next would not have
happened at all.
But she didn’t, and it did.
The weather had been getting progressively worse over the last several weeks, and now that Xera’s
magical flames had all but died out, she was made instantly aware of how cold she actually felt. The
chilly breeze brushing against her mostly naked body made her shiver reflexively while goosebumps
formed on her sensitive cerulean skin. The climate did not help her terrible mood in the slightest, and the
succubus instinctively sought out something warm.
She dropped the thoroughly pleased albeit slightly soggy Minic to the ground and called out Smokey,
her Molten Guardian. The unthinking, vaguely hound-shaped pile of living magma erupted from the
ground with a loud crash. The terrified House Mimic let out a string of pathetic yelps as it ran for cover,
while Xera’s magical construct stood still and silently waited for her to give it an order. But rather than
do any of that, Xera simply walked up to it and hugged it. Smokey’s fiery body burned away at her
flesh, flooding her body with both the heat and the searing pain she thought she yearned for.
But she was wrong. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t it.
Xera let go of Smokey and stood back, allowing her singed and disfigured skin to shapeshift back to its
flawless state on autopilot. No matter how hot or painful her body felt, it was her spirit that was
suffering the most. That’s why she clung to that little jewelry box despite her aversion to the idea. That’s
why she found herself walking over to where the skull-headed staff remained on the ground, kneeling
down, and placing her hands upon it one more time.
“Warm…” she muttered with a sad smile on her face while tears refused to stop spilling out of her eyes.
The item had recently been flooded with her Master’s magic - the same power that had given form to the
body she inhabited. Whether it was because of that, or because of her own delusions didn’t matter to
Xera. The important thing was that the Artifact-grade Voidcaller felt comfortingly warm to the touch.
She grasped it once again and tried to pick it up, but could barely even budge it. Not willing to just give
this suddenly precious memento up so easily, she resolved to bring it with her at any cost. She stood up
and stepped over to stand above the demonic black skull. She grabbed the very end of it and pulled
upwards. Grunting with effort, Xera’s meager muscles managed to apply just enough leverage to lift the
staff’s head off the ground and into the air while its lower end dug into the ground. Straining like she
had never strained before, the succubus somehow or another managed to place the grim ornament on her
shoulder and began walking forward while the butt-end of it dragged along the ground.
After exactly three steps, however, she realized she was being an idiot. Those nosy mortals would no
doubt start sifting through the surrounding wreckage any moment now, so this was clearly not going to
work. Besides, just because she wanted to safeguard her master’s shiny thing didn’t mean she
necessarily had to do the heavy lifting.
She dropped the nigh-indestructible item to the ground with a heavy clang and ordered Smokey to carry
it. Being a mass of living rock and flame that was a few times heavier than a person, the unthinking
magical construct was able to easily pick the item up in its lava-drooling jaws. Satisfied with her
moment of clarity, the two of them began walking rather briskly towards Ambrosia’s tree trunk. Xera
wasn’t sure how the dryad would react now that they no longer shared a Master, but she felt confident
Boxxy’s soul would not want to share its collection with anyone. And what better place to store it than in
a hidden room in a dungeon which was inside a self-aware Hylt tree?
Strictly speaking, the dryad’s cooperation in this matter was not up for debate.
As the pair walked by the scene of Kora’s self-destruction, Xera found herself captivated by the green
flames that still raged on. Much like the warmth on the staff, this too was a remnant of Boxxy’s power.
A mark it left upon this world. She unthinkingly walked closer to it with short, uneasy steps that
gradually grew more deliberate the closer she got.
The succubus kept approaching the raging, unquenchable inferno. Sweat poured out of her body, her
eyes complained from all the light she was forcing upon them and her skin caught fire once again as she
walked right into the emerald blaze. But she didn’t mind any of that one bit. In fact, she was actually
enjoying herself as her HP steadily fell. Wrapped up in her Master’s last act of chaotic destruction upon
this world was perhaps the ideal way to return to the Beyond. Sure, she would give up on hiding away
Voidcaller, but she no longer cared about some fancy metal stick. Not when she could instead quite
literally burn this sensation into her memory, and then-
And then what? Would her twisted soul really be satisfied that easily? No, it wouldn’t. She was a demon.
And demons were, by their nature vile, violent and spiteful beings that cared only for their own desires.
And Xera would be a very poor excuse of a demon if she didn’t seek vengeance upon the ones that had
put an abrupt end to the happiest days of her existence. The same rage that she failed to unleash upon
Minic flared up once again, but it wasn’t alone. The flames of anger, passion and hate burned within her
as one while she silently swore to avenge the death of her beloved at the hands of Jones Alexis, or at
least the thing that tried to pass itself off as such. She was going to find this imposter and burn him away
until not even dust remained, but not because he interrupted her fun.
She would do it, because that was what Boxxy would have truly wanted.
*CRACK*
At that moment, she heard a loud, sharp noise like a branch breaking from behind. She turned around in
a panic, only to realize that Smokey had followed her into the blazing inferno while carrying the
demonic staff around. And it was precisely that staff that was the source of the unexpected noise. The
skull’s partially open lower jaw had opened up all the way, almost as if it were trying to scream with its
non-existent lungs while its red gemstone eyes glowed intensely.
The emerald flames that had engulfed not only Xera’s body, but also the surrounding buildings began
twisting and bending as if responding to the unheard will of Voidcaller. The newly-born Archfiend’s
remains leaped off the wood, stone, and skin they were greedily clinging to and began swirling around
through the air like a hellish cyclone. The succubus watched in stunned silence as even her Molten
Guardian had its crimson flames quite literally ripped away from it as they were sucked into the staff’s
wide-open maw. The rest of the bright green tornado rapidly followed suit, brushing violently past the
screaming succubus as an impossible amount of heat was, for the lack of a better word, devoured by the
staff.
Whatever it was that was happening died down about 20 seconds later, after which Xera finally opened
her eyes. She had reflexively closed them for fear of the unknown, but now that she looked around she
could scarcely believe them. Not a single flame, ember or spark remained anywhere in sight, as the site
of the raging fire was left as nothing but a cold field of ash. The succubus herself would have also been
wiped out were it not for the significant flame resistance she had acquired from her Pyromancer Job.
More important than that, though, was the culprit behind the inexplicable phenomenon. Voidcaller was
floating upright several centimeters off the ground. Its jaw was now closed tight, and the crimson glow
in its eye sockets had turned a dull purple.
The succubus gulped audibly. She had no idea what was going on or what had just happened, but at the
same time she had a very strong feeling about what she needed to do next. She stepped forward and
reached a hand out towards the floating arcane object. She had barely touched the metal skull’s forehead
with her fingertip when her hand suddenly jerked forward without her consent. Her palm glued itself to
the skinless face, and a burning hot sensation traveled up her arm and into her torso, as the concentrated
mystical energy flooded both her body and her soul.
Much like Boxxy had guessed, the reason why Kora’s Demonate had bathed the area in those unnatural
flames was partially due to her nature as an Archfiend. However, what the Mimic didn’t know was that
the main culprit was the extensive ‘relations’ that said Archfiend had had with the Goddess Teresa.
During that initial 11-hour romp and subsequent ‘booty calls,’ the relatively young demon had been
unwittingly siphoning off tiny specs of Teresa’s divine power, which clung to her soul like a static
buildup. One that was suddenly and violently set alight when Boxxy used the Demonate Spell to
detonate her physical body, resulting in the unexpectedly powerful explosion and surprisingly persistent
flames.
Xera’s intense feelings of hate and anger had resonated with the sort of violent thoughts that fiends
normally had, while her thirst for vengeance had called out to the tiny amounts of godly power within
Kora’s ‘remains.’ Feeling the agitated pseudo-divine energies around it, the soul of the ancient Ifrit
Sultan demon trapped inside Voidcaller was able to reach out and collect it in an attempt to grow strong
enough to finally break out of its prison. No longer would its powers be used to tear open rifts in the
Beyond to let lesser demons through! Now it would finally be unleashed upon the world and claim
dominion over it, much like it had intended many centuries ago.
Before any of that could happen, however, the succubus had interfered. She had placed a hand upon the
staff, and the stolen magical energy slipped out of the Ifrit Sultan’s phantasmal grasp. Even though the
demon sought to make it its own, the vast majority of that cocktail of divine, and demonic power still
shared the same origin as Xera’s body - namely that of Boxxy’s magic. The succubus had sensed the
oddly compatible mass of mystical energy within the staff, which was why she reached out and
unwittingly claimed it as her own. It was drawn into her and she eagerly accepted it, almost as if
someone was pouring water onto a large sponge.
But it was too much for Xera to hold. The way she was right now, there was no way that having what
was essentially distilled chaos coursing through her body would leave her unscathed. Her body shook
violently, her vision went white and her mind screamed in agony as she felt her whole being turned
inside out. If this were any lesser soul, they would undoubtedly go mad as a result, assuming they even
survived the process. Fortunately for Xera, she was a demon. Her composite soul made out of the errant
thoughts of thousands of beings was a malleable vessel that was many times sturdier than anything a
mortal could hope to possess. It was not only able to take all that volatile power, but absorbed it and
made it into its own as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
It was thus that an untold number of seemingly disparate events both major and minor were linked
together. An unseen force had grasped hold of the stray strands of destiny, and had woven them into a
tapestry of reality that could not have existed if any one of them was out of place. And the fact that this
potential albeit highly unlikely outcome was brought about was the result of a series of complex
machinations that had converged to a single point of power, which was punctuated by Xera’s body
collapsing into a pile of tiny, seemingly random geometric shapes.
There was a brief moment of silence while the suddenly inert Artifact and the pile of diced demon both
collapsed onto the ground. The chunks of neatly cut succubus flesh then sprang back to life, rapidly
reassembling themselves into a slightly different configuration. Xera’s voluptuous body was rebuilt from
the feet upwards in a matter of seconds, retaining much of the enticing features of her old one. From her
long legs and wide hips, through the plump rump, impossibly thin waist and outrageous pair of tits, all
the way up to her full lips and alluring visage, all wrapped up in soft, silky smooth cerulean skin that
evoked visions of an endless clear sky. Her waist-long silky hair and otherworldly glowing gaze were
also present, driving home the point that this was indeed the same being as the succubus that stood there
less than a minute ago.
However, while she looked more or less the same at first glance, she was anything but. The demon’s
golden ram-like horns had undergone a rather drastic change. They now seemed to come out of the sides
of her forehead rather than above her ears, had become significantly smoother, and their spiral curve had
extended ever-so-slightly outwards. At the same time, a glistening bone-like growth had spread out to
encompass the top of Xera’s forehead, right where her hairline would normally be. It had also sprouted a
long, leaf-shaped object in the middle of her forehead, which extended several centimeters up from her
scalp. Two pairs of smaller, steer-like horns jutting out the sides of this miniature tower, while a pink
oval-shaped gem glistened at its front, matching the bright pink light that now dominated her irises.
Even though this entire ensemble was technically a set of demon’s horns, its golden sheen and
captivating central decoration made it look more like a crown or tiara.
As for the rest of her body, although there were some subtle changes, the most noticeable differences
were in her wings and her outfit. The former had disappeared completely, along with her spaded tail,
while the latter had undergone a total overhaul. The fetishistic corset that should have by all rights never
been able to stay on was now gone. Her overflowing breast flesh was instead kept in place by a pair of
small golden plates that only covered the area around her nipples and were bound together by bits of
string into what could only be described as the top half of a golden micro-bikini.
The G-string-like ‘garment’ covering her crotch made up the other half of that scandalous set, covering
so little of her nether regions that it left only the most enticing bits to the imagination. A single glance
from behind, on the other hand, would make any onlookers wonder if she was wearing anything down
there at all. Indeed, simply spreading her plump ass cheeks apart would be enough to reveal her
perverted rear entrance to the rest of the world, were it not for the flowing half-skirt that hung off her
hips and lower back. It draped over her bubble-butt, keeping it teasingly out of view as it hung down
low enough to touch the back of her knees,.
Her arms were covered by a pair of sleeves made out of the same semi-transparent purple fabric as her
skirt. They ran from the middle of her bicep down to the golden bracelets on her wrists. A matching pair
of transparent leggings ‘covered’ her lower body, spanning the distance from her ankles up to halfway
past her knees, leaving her feet and plump thighs exposed. And while one might argue that wearing no
shoes might be impractical, it wasn’t really a problem for the current Xera since her body floated gently
in place all on its own, as if the filthy ground was not worthy of even touching her bare toes.
Overall, her default appearance had become distinctly more ‘normal,’ while at the same time being
undeniably shinier. The latter in particular was a change Boxxy would definitely approve of if it were to
witness it. Indeed, Xera’s inner desire to become more appealing to her beloved Master was one of the
reasons why she suddenly appeared as such, although the main factor behind her transformation was that
the Agent of Chaos Skill had run its course.
The fragment of divine power attempted to update its holder upon its success, but failed on account of
said holder’s current condition. Being a disembodied soul that was still bonding with a mortal vessel
meant that Boxxy had not yet regained its former Status, and was physically incapable of receiving that
message. That being the case, the notification regarding the current state of the flows of chaos was left to
drift off into the void, becoming just another drop in the ocean of this world’s background noise.
But even if its declaration of success had gone unnoticed, the changes brought about by the
uncontrollable Agent of Chaos were impossible to ignore.
Rank up complete.
Congratulations! Your species has become Djinn (Mirage).
Xera’s temporarily disabled consciousness snapped back to reality and greeted by a rather significant
update regarding her Status. There were a slew of other messages below, but her mind didn’t even
register their existence after witnessing this monumental notification. The former succubus’s first
thought was to inspect her new self, which she did by grabbing and fondling her own breasts. A small
moan escaped her lips almost immediately, as her new physical shell’s increased sensitivity had caught
her completely unprepared. Just from briefly mangling her own mammaries, she was already able to tell
her capacity to feel both pleasure and pain had expanded significantly.
Carnal desires aside, she also had a distinct sense of invulnerability, a sort of overflowing power that
welled up within her and demanded to be unleashed upon the world. It was an intoxicating feeling
brought on by the chaotic energies that she had absorbed moments ago. Not only had they elevated her
to the next level of demonic existence, but had also supercharged her current body, adding on top of the
formidable abilities bestowed upon her by her former Master. This was something that was both a
blessing and a curse, as it was only made possible because her Status was no longer being shackled by a
demonic contract.
“Snack? Ktktktktk, is that you?!”
The newly reborn Xera heard a familiar voice from behind her. She twisted her new body around in the
air as if she were dancing, reveling in the strangely euphoric feeling coursing through her.
“Oh,” she let out when she saw Drea standing before her. “It’s you.”
The ex-succubus may have initially wanted to lay into and then belittle her former co-contractor for
failing to protect her beloved Master. By her modest estimate, the Stalker deserved to die in excruciating
agony exactly 53,471 times to atone for the sin of her own incompetence. However, actually laying eyes
on her made it obvious it wasn’t that simple. All but one of her back-mounted scythes had been either
ripped or broken off in the struggle, both of her wrists were bent at weird angles and her face looked as
if it had been kicked by a horse. It honestly seemed like a miracle that she was even still alive.
She had obviously fought to the limit that her body would allow, but her opponent had been a bad match
for her.
“So… Care to explain what exactly happened here?” asked the newly reborn djinn with a damning glare.
“I failed…” admitted Drea while looking at her feet. “I, ktktktkt, I couldn’t kill him fast enough,
ktktktktkt. The Master… died because I wasn’t- ktktktktkt, wasn’t useful enough…”
Now that the telepathic link between them had been severed, the spider-girl was forced to use her voice
to communicate, which brought her nervous tick to the forefront. Judging from the ceaseless chittering
of her mandibles, she clearly felt upset for having lost her Master. But, even after witnessing her sorry
state, Xera’s spiteful side still wanted to lash out at her. Even if the succubus herself had been deemed
useless by her own Master, she couldn’t deny the fury that burned within her.
“Listen, the past is the past, and neither of us can change that,” she stated in a grim tone. “We have an
eternity ahead of us to lament our respective failures, but right now I have a box murderer’s life to ruin.
And… I need your help.”
Drea’s compound bug-eyes went wide when she heard her fellow demon’s intentions.
“You wantktktktkt to go after that thing?”
“Of course I do! I won’t feel satisfied until I turn that piece of shit and everything he holds dear into a
smoldering pile of fuck!”
Xera’s scalp and hair momentarily lit up like a bonfire without their owner’s consent. The genie quickly
composed herself and forcefully patted down the deep red flames with her bare hands in a fit of angry
embarrassment.
“That’s… ktktktktkt… new,” remarked Drea.
The awkwardness of the situation had not only derailed the conversation, but also completely dispelled
the heavy atmosphere.
“Nevermind that!” insisted Xera. “Look, I somehow or another Ranked Up, so I’m still getting used to
this.”
There was more to it than that, though. It would appear that the excessively violent presence trapped
inside Voidcaller has had an unfortunate side-effect on her temper, turning her into a literal hothead. It
was something the former succubus resolved to work on, as ridiculous outbursts like those went against
her deceptive nature.
“Ranked Up?! Ktktktktktkt! First Koralenteprix, now you?!”
“Yeah… Something of a parting gift from my Master, I suppose.”
“Ktktktktkt…”
Drea eyed Xera up and down enviously, subconsciously letting out a quiet chitter as she kept thinking
how lucky the woman in front of her truly was. Then again, she’d probably sing a different tune if she
was going through the same emotional turmoil as her fellow demon. Which she clearly was not. While
she definitely felt a sense of pity and disappointment at Boxxy’s death, she did not exactly mourn its
passing. It was a clear sign that her ‘affections’ for the creature had always been rather superficial, closer
to a form of distant admiration one would hold towards their idol rather than the soul-warping
attachment Xera felt towards the deceased Mimic.
“So, will you help me or not?” asked the genie in an impertinent tone.
“I want to but… Isn’t it just a waste of effort? Ktktktktkt… If me and Koralenteprix couldn’t take that
thing with Boxxy here, then how can the two of us hope to defeat it?”
“You’ve given up already, haven’t you?” responded Xera with a disappointed sigh.
“No, I’m serious. Ktktktkt. I want to butcher that asshole, eat him up, make him into webbing and then
burn it! Ktktktktk. I just… lack the means to do so,” she added while shamefully averting her eyes.
Although her previous words sounded like she was admitting defeat, they were actually a legitimate
question. While Drea was scarily effective at leaping from the shadows and tearing her victim to ribbons
in an instant, that approach would not work on an MLG-equipped monster. Her Master knew that, which
was why it held her back during the battle until the target was sufficiently distracted, and even then she
didn’t accomplish much beyond bringing down his Mana Shield. The ensuing scuffle had made it quite
clear that her opponent’s hide was also much too solid for her razor-sharp appendages to penetrate. This
was hardly something new, as the Stalker had always struggled against heavily armored targets.
After all, no matter how sharp her claws were, they could not cut something harder than themselves.
“So I’m asking you - how do we kill it?! Ktktktktktk, you’re a succubus, so you should have some,
ktktktktkt, devious plot or underhanded method in mind, right?”
A wicked smile spread on Xera’s lips when she realized she had a partner in crime after all.
“Mhm, you guessed right. I do have a number of ideas and tricks I could use, but first I need to find out
where that thing is hiding.”
“Good. Ktktktktkt, because that’s something I already know. I tracked it back to its lair after it,
ktktktktktkkt, killed Boxxy.”
That was why Drea was nowhere to be found when Xera had arrived at the scene. The only reason she
had come back to this place at all was because she noticed the unquenchable flames had suddenly gone
out, and backtracked to investigate. The Stalker had thought Azurvale’s city guard would be swarming
over the place by now, but it would appear that, since their first-response unit had been wiped out by
‘Jones Alexis’ and failed to report back, they had deemed the situation too dangerous. Rather than risk
sending in more guards to their deaths, they were instead maintaining a perimeter around the site,
presumably while waiting for more powerful individuals as reinforcements.
It was ultimately a futile effort, as Drea was able to slip past them without too much difficulty, even with
her crippling injuries.
“What, really?” asked Xera wide-eyed. “He just let you tail him that easily?”
“Yeah! Ktktktkt! That bastard!” complained Drea in a huff. “He probably thought I’d just abandon
Boxxy to protect my own life! Ktktktktktktk! That or he put too much faith in his sensory gland’s
limited range! Ktktktktktktkt! Either way, he wasn’t careful about being followed at all! Ktktktktktk! It
honestly pisses me off to be done in by an amateur like that! Ktktktktkt!”
Xera had to admit she may have underestimated Drea’s convictions. Although, it was still a bit irritating
that she seemed more pissed off by the fact that someone she was following had underestimated her,
rather than because said someone had murdered the target of her immature infatuation. Nevertheless,
actions spoke louder than words, and it was reassuring to find out that Drea had the foresight to keep
spying on Boxxy’s killer, even though she had no idea on how to actually deal with him.
“Alright then,” said the genie, her eyes full of vigor. “Let’s find a good hiding spot, then I want you to
tell me everything you know about who this Jones Alexis really is. As for how we’ll deal with him, that
may turn out to be easier than you might think.”
She turned around and waved at the inanimate Voidcaller on the ground. The staff-shaped prison
responded to her will by floating up into the air and into her waiting hands.
“All we have to do,” she continued, “is point the finger at him, then let the mongrels sort it out among
themselves.”
Xerababadubuth
L’okrelaila
Species Djinn (Mirage) STR 257 MNT 1286 Succubus 58 93%

Sex Female DEX 257 CHR 1157 Djinn 17 15%
Age 748 years AGI 257 Pyromancer 44 32%
Guild END 771
4112/4112
HP INT 1671
(+7.7/sec)
8355/8355
MP WIS 771
(+7.7/sec)
Skill List
Energy Drain 10 MAX Devouring Flame 10 MAX
Demonic Seduction 10 MAX Mana Burn 10 MAX
Summon Molten
Inivisibility 10 MAX 10 MAX
Guardian
Versatile Tongue 10 MAX Volcanic Burst 8 85%
Devilish Cunning 10 MAX Heat Absorption 5 63%
Aggressive
8 85% Fiery Weapon 4 94%
Cuddling
Arcane Cognition 5 63% Reignition 2 55%
Penetration
4 94% Shapeshift 10 MAX
Expertise
Sins of the Flesh 2 55% Dreamweaver 10 MAX
Amplify Magic 5 63% Conjure Mirage 3 29%
Guiding Light 4 94% Fire Affinty 3 29%
Mist Form 2 55% Pyroclasm Mastery 13 86%
Domination Mastery 10 MAX
Spell List
Pyroclasm Domination
Fireball Sleep
Purge Delirium
Inferno Mass Panic
Magma Missile
Blast Wave
Flamethrower
Meteor
Backdraft
Scorching Ray
(167) Upheaval 2
Fizzy was standing completely still, making her seem like a simple albeit prohibitively expensive statue
at first glance. She had her good arm raised above her head while gripping a rubber mallet, which had
frozen mid-swing. Her face was one of intense focus, staring dead at a metal bolt sticking out of the side
of a large, rectangular metal frame. Within those iron plates she was hammering into place was the
automated silk-spinner mechanism, the one she designed to take Drea’s raw Demon Silk and weave it
into easy to store spools of magical thread. Having only one arm made putting this contraption together
a bit of a challenge and slowed her down considerably, but she still had a lot of fun building something
original that she personally drew up the blueprints for.
As for the site she was building this room-sized machine, it was within the workshop that Boxxy had set
up within the Dryad’s Domain. She had her own official residence within Azurvale, of course, but this
hollowed-out Hylt tree had more or less become her actual home over the past few months. Her personal
project, her Hero, and the only creatures she might dare to call ‘friends’ were all drawn to this place.
Ambrosia herself had shown to be surprisingly welcoming and hospitable ever since Fizzy was given a
Bracelet of Allegiance that made the dungeon see her as an ally rather than an intruder. It wasn’t a
stretch to say that the golem’s entire life now revolved around this space.
Or at least, that’s how it was until approximately 10 seconds ago.
The living statue suddenly began moving, her neck letting out uncharacteristically heavy groans of metal
grinding against metal as her head turned to her left. Her focused expression slowly warped into a polite
smile, one aimed at the dryad that was currently standing within her new line of sight.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a voice so quiet that Fizzy herself could barely hear it. “What did you just say?”
Ambrosia’s green eyes looked into the golem’s glimmering ocular orbs, transmitting an array of pure
sorrow straight into the former gnome’s soul.
“I’m afraid milord has passed.”
The dryad’s repeated words crashed into Fizzy’s thoughts like a battering ram attempting to burst open a
castle gate.
“Now, when you say passed, do you mean that Boxxy has succeeded in some trial or test, or that it just
dropped by the dungeon without me noticing?”
“Milord Morningwood is dead, milady Fizzy,” said Ambrosia.
“You mean just playing dead, right? You know Boxxy, so tricky and cunning and devious and-”
“No. Mine liege is definitely deceased. It is no more. It has ceased to be. It’s expired and gone to meet
its maker. It is a late Mimic. It’s a stiff, bereft of life and rests in piece. If it was buried somewhere then
it would be pushing up the daisies. Boxxy is an ex-Mimic.”
“No… No, it can’t be!” wailed Fizzy, still refusing to accept reality. “It was just heading out to grab
some stupid Wizard or something, how could some idiotic human actually kill it! It’s impossible, I say!
There’s no way Boxxy just died and left me here!”
The increasingly irrational golem fell to the ground and curled up in a fetal position, her metallic body
shivering despite the fact she no longer felt cold.
“This isn’t happening,” she muttered. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”
She had always believed Boxxy would outlive her. Never once did she doubt that, when the time finally
came, she would be the first of the two to bite the big one. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. After
all, that absurd creature possessed a wickedness, malice and resourcefulness beyond anything Fizzy had
thought possible. It managed to survive a literal Goddess’s assault, for crying out loud. How could a
puny mortal meatbag ever hope to best such a thing?
In a moment of something resembling clarity, Fizzy silenced her frantic muttering in order to call
Ambrosia out on her bullshit, but gave up before she even uttered another peep. She knew better than
that. The brainwashed botanical bimbo would never say her ‘liege’ was gone unless she was absolutely
sure of it. Her ancient bearing kept her from freaking out and rolling around on the ground like a
pathetic crybaby. To say she was handling the news significantly better than Fizzy would be an
understatement.
The golem understood all of that, and yet she couldn’t help but attempt to reject this new reality. The one
where Boxxy - the only thing that was truly important to her - was no more. But no matter how hard she
tried, all her wailing did was echo pointlessly through Ambrosia’s cavernous interior as Fizzy’s thrice-
shattered mind grasped for something - anything to ground herself and give meaning to her pathetic
existence.
“You know, there is a bright side to all this.”
A voice identical to her own echoed within Fizzy’s head.

“What?!” she snapped back. “What bright side could there possibly be to this!? Without Boxxy, I’m
nothing!”
“That’s not true,” insisted Plus, the Parallel entity that she now shared a body with. “You still got a kick-
ass bod, a brain sharper than a porcupine made of razors and an arm swing like a catapult! And with
that thing gone, you can finally do what you want! You’re free now!”
“I’m… free… ?”
“Well yeah, it’s just that… Look, to be honest, Hero or not, I never really liked that thing.”
Even if Plus shared the same body, and by extension memories, as Fizzy, she was still her own person,
so to speak. While the two of them shared a lot of character traits, they still had somewhat divergent
opinions on some topics. Plus, for example, lacked the sort of twisted attachment that Fizzy had to
Boxxy, so she was able to view the creature with a more critical eye.
“Now, I know I wasn’t there,” she continued, “but looking at your past I can’t help but think that Boxxy
was the one that royally fucked your former life in the first place. Way I see it, if that thing had never
entered your workshop, you’d still be living peacefully in Erosa!”
“… That wasn’t living, Plus,” stated the golem after a moment of silence. “After I learned that my father
and brother were gone, I was devastated. Food had no taste, the world had no colors, and I had to work
myself to the bone from dawn ‘till dusk just so I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep at night. If I didn’t have a
promising disciple to keep me distracted, I would have ended myself. That’s the sort of cowardly,
pathetic meatbag I was back then. Boxxy saved me from that.”
“Right, okay, I can understand that, not to mention the whole ‘unjustly imprisoned’ part. It also seemed
to have accidentally avenged your family, which I’m not going to complain about, but what about the
beatings? The torture? The sleep deprivation? You had to live for almost a month without being allowed
a single proper meal or even a change of clothes, for Horatio’s sake!”
“B-b-b-but- I’m stronger because of it!”
“Don’t give me that bullshit! That monster put you through all kinds of hell! It even violated you in
passing! As if you were just an afterthought! Those are not the actions of a benefactor, Fizzy, and you
owe it to yourself to realize that!”
Plus’s unnecessarily spirited speech caused the rock-solid faith that Fizzy had in her Hero to quiver and
quake.
“You… may have a point there,” she admitted out loud. “But on the flip side, if it wasn’t for Boxxy
doing what it did, then neither of us would be where and who we are right now. I mean, you wouldn’t
even exist if Boxxy hadn’t come along when it did.”
“Oh. Yeah, there is that too, I suppose.”
“Heh, in a way, that chest is sort of like your father.”

“Ew.”
“Yeah, forget I said that. My point is that none of us have full control over our lives, no matter how
much we like to think otherwise. It’s actually frightening how little of it we have if you stop and think
about it. The fact we’re even having this conversation here and now is the byproduct of a countless
number of miracles, both large and small.”
“Alright, alright, enough with the existential crap! You’ve made your point already!”
“And you have made yours. You’re right, Plus. Boxxy definitely treated me like shit.”
Thanks to Plus’s interference, Fizzy had been able to get a handle on her emotions and calm herself
down significantly. Her gnomish wit and abnormal thought patterns had helped her process her grief,
while at the same time reassessing the brief-yet-turbulent relationship she had with Boxxy.
“Did I enjoy being treated like a battle slave and mobile punching bag? Obviously not. It fucked me up
bad, I know that. If I was physically capable of dreaming, then I’d probably have nightmares about it.”
And the conclusion was that it hadn’t been anywhere near as ‘rosy’ as she had deluded herself into
thinking. But at the same time, it was hard to deny how much she gained from it as well.
“Am I stronger for it? Definitely. The way I am right now I no longer need to fear getting mugged, or
ambushed by wolves. Not only that, but my abilities as an Artificer are incomparable.”
There was more to it than that, though she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Namely that while
her indentured service to Boxxy had been accompanied by much pain and suffering, she had eventually
learned to find joy, serenity and purpose in it. The memories of those long nights where the Mimic
carefully and gently polished her frame head-to-toe for hours on end would probably bring a blush to her
cheeks if she still had blood. Or veins. Or a heart, for that matter.
“So what are you trying to say, boss?” asked Plus, who wasn’t quite grasping the situation.
“I guess… that I have no strong feelings one way or the other,” declared the conflicted golem. “I
wouldn’t dare curse Boxxy’s name, nor do I particularly want to mourn for it. In fact, the only thing I
feel I should do, is offer a brief prayer for the deceased. I owe at least that much to the Hero of Chaos I
had sworn allegiance to.”
“Though if memory serves, you weren’t exactly in your right frame of mind when you did that.”
“Said the sentient voice in my head.”
“I’ll just… let you do your thing then.”
Fizzy picked herself off the ground, went down to one knee, lowered her head, and closed her eyes in
silent prayer. When she finished, she stood up with a different sort of air around her. Somewhere within
the mithril orbs on her face was a certain glint. Not the spark of madness exhibited by a murderous
psychopath desperately trying to please her shallow monster of an owner, but the fire of an individual
determined to forge her future through her own strength, without clinging to the past. She was surprised
to find that this newfound resolve made her feel strangely light-headed and full of energy, with a good
deal of quiet relief mixed in there. It was as if an invisible chain that had been wrapped tight around her
neck for years was no longer there.
A chain named Boxxy T. Morningwood.
“Are you really okay with just this much?” asked Plus. “I mean you kind of stood up for your own
torturer of a greedy murderbox back there…”
“It’s fine,” replied Fizzy. “You can bet your metaphysical ass that Oliver certainly isn’t paying Boxxy
much heed anymore, right?”
“No, he wouldn’t do something like that. Doesn’t seem to be his style.”
“Exactly! So then why should I waste my own time and energy obsessing over it when I could be
seizing life by the balls and making it my bitch?! That’s what I said I wanted when I cast off my shell, in
the first place, didn’t I?!”
“Yeah!”
“So look out, world! Fizzy and her ‘plus one’ are coming for you!”
“Alriiiight! You tell ‘em sister! So where do we start?!”
“… That’s, uh, a very good question, actually.”
The golem let out a tired sigh as her sudden burst of hype deflated into nothingness. Now that she could
do anything, she was drawing a blank as to what path to actually take. Actually, forget the path - she
didn’t even have a destination.
“May I be of any assistance, milady Fizzy?”
“Ack!”
The pint-sized Paladin jumped a bit in surprise. She had completely forgotten Ambrosia was still there.
The soft, pitying look in her eyes made it abundantly clear she had witnessed Fizzy’s tantrum from
earlier. But, being the shameless exhibitionist that she had become, the former gnome actually felt a bit
better now that she realized she had an audience all this time. It made her feel less… alone.
“You seem troubled,” continued the illogically large-chested plant lady. “Perhaps I may be of some
assistance?”
“I’m just… figuring out what I want to do with my new lease on life. I don’t have a reason to stick
around here anymore, but I don’t have anywhere to go, either.”
“That’s not quite true,” interjected Plus. “You remember Jess, right? She said she and the rest of her
gnomish posse are going to be shipping back to Horkensaft any day now. We might want to get in on
that.”
“Right! I still need to get my arm fixed up! Also, reconnecting with my fellow inventors would be good
for my craft. Peer review is vital to ensuring a new design is sound, after all. Alright, I’ve decided! I’ll
accompany that puny meatbag to the dwarven capital, get my arm fixed up, then see about getting
myself tenure at the Ritz!”
The Royal Institute of Technology, unofficially known as ‘the Ritz,’ was the most prestigious Artificer-
focused organization in the world. Well, that was partly due to it being the only such organization in
existence, but it was still a highly exclusive institution that accepted nothing less than the best. And the
way she was right now, Fizzy was certain she could grab their attention, and use them as a stepping
stone to further her old, nearly forgotten ambition.
That of being the greatest tinkerer that ever lived.
“My word!” exclaimed Ambrosia while clapping her hands together. “So milady Fizzy will finally be
leaving mine trunk and branches?!”
“Uh, yeah, seems that way,” replied the golem with a curious look. “You seem… awfully excited by this
prospect.”
“To be honest, I never cared for thy presence within mine and milord’s sanctum,” stated the dryad
bluntly. “Both thou and thy creations art heavy, noisy, and unnatural. Not to mention all the smoke
you’ve been making - it hasn’t been exactly pleasant,” she added with a sharp glare.
Fizzy was made very much aware that, even though dungeon core was influencing Ambrosia’s
perception of Boxxy and by extension its minions to the extent where she basically revered them, the
golem herself was different. She was still an ‘outsider,’ despite the Bracelet of Allegiance on her wrist.
“Oh. Sorry. I was inconsiderate of your needs and took advantage of your hospitality,” said the golem
while bowing her head. “Please forgive me, I meant no offense.”
“Well, since thou apologized so sincerely, then I shall forgive thy transgressions,” declared Ambrosia
with a slight sneer.
“Good one,” commented Plus. “Not antagonizing the gigantic god-tree was definitely the right move.”
“I appreciate your understanding,” continued Fizzy, “however, there is one last thing I need to do before
I go out.”
The corners of Ambrosia’s eyes twitched a bit, but she maintained her overall amicable demeanor.
“Hey! What the heck are you doing?!” asked Plus in a panic.
“I’m going to need money if I am to afford my repairs. A lot of it, actually. As such, I would like to take
a certain amount of Boxxy’s treasure with me.”
“Oh, right. Mithril is expensive as hell, isn’t it?”
“Denied,” came the immediate, ice-cold rejection. “Milord’s collection is all that I have left of it, and I
shall enshrine it within my body for as long as I am able.”
“I’m not going to take all of it!” insisted Fizzy. “Just a bag or two! Three tops!”
“My word is final.”
Whatever favor Fizzy’s respectful apology might have earned her was already spent, and the dryad was
becoming increasingly annoyed with her ‘guest.’ She had already made it abundantly clear that she did
not appreciate Fizzy, and most likely only tolerated her because of Boxxy. But Boxxy wasn’t here to
keep her placated anymore, so the golem was left to fend for herself. And for all she knew, that was
exactly how things were going to be from now on.
After all, while it was true that the Mimic may have kept her chained, in a manner of speaking, it also
took care of her. It not only gave her a one-of-a-kind private workshop where she could work day and
night without being disturbed, but also provided any and all materials she requested without uttering a
single complaint. Not to mention that, if she had to be completely honest, Boxxy’s reaction to Fizzy
losing an arm made her profoundly happy. Even if she knew its motivations were entirely self-serving -
that it only got mad because its shiny thing got banged up - she couldn’t help but smile when she
thought back to the scene of Keira thoroughly humiliating and dismantling that self-righteous heathen of
a Hero. It served that bastard right for daring to permanently scar her glorious body.
But that was then, this was now. And right now, what Fizzy needed wasn’t a fuzzy feeling in her
spherical core, but an outrageous amount of capital.
“You do realize the dungeon core brainwashed you, right?” she asked.
“… Pardon?” answered the dryad, as if refusing to believe her pointed ears.
“You heard me,” she spoke up. “The only reason you think so highly of Boxxy is because dungeon cores
are designed to enslave monsters under their influence, twisting their will and their perception. And as
dungeon master, you got the brunt of it.”
“I… You-! Milord would never-!”
“Think about it!” shouted Fizzy. “Didn’t your attitude towards Boxxy become suddenly more accepting
after you made that deal? Would you normally let someone like me anywhere near your heartwood? You
are so far gone, you probably think yourself to be its lover or something! Well guess what? You! Are!
Wrong!”
“ENOUGH!”
Ambrosia let out a powerful, shrieking voice that would have surely ruptured Fizzy’s eardrums if she
still had those. It bounced off the walls of the wooden cavern, echoing forebodingly into the distance.
The dryad was ancient, so old that her tree predated the goddess whose blessing gave her sentience. That
alone gave her a completely different perspective that no man nor monster could hope to attain. That
was why she appeared to be so calm when she realized that the dungeon core’s owner had been killed. It
was an inevitability she had already steeled herself for, even before she agreed to becoming a dungeon
master. And even though their relationship had only lasted for what should have been nothing more than
the blink of an eye from her perspective, it was perhaps the most meaningful period in her timeless
existence.
And she had just been told that those feelings were nothing but a lie, an illusion conjured up by a
glowing orb to keep her placated and obedient.
“… I never even considered it,” she muttered while staring up at the shimmering crystal in question,
“but now… it certainly seems that way, doesn’t it? I would have spent the rest of my days living a lie if
it wasn’t for you.”
“You’re very welc-”
“How dare you?!” roared Ambrosia, cutting off Fizzy’s words. “Why couldn’t you let me enjoy it, even
if it was a lie?! You insufferable, miserable creature!”
A series of green vines sprouted from the walls, ceiling, and floor. They wrapped around Fizzy in an
instant, squeezing her so hard that it made her mithril frame creak and groan under the pressure, but it
held itself together. Either unable or unwilling to crack her open, Ambrosia tossed her off the dungeon’s
central platform, sending the golem plummeting towards the ground. She banged her knees, elbow and
head off the uneven, winding walls before colliding with the bottom of the cavern. A literal river of
water poured down on top of Fizzy with a current so strong that even her heavy frame was swept away.
The sentient lump of inorganic material was then violently ejected through one of the tree’s roots and
into the old dilapidated sewers that Fizzy normally used as an entrance.
Once the current had subsided somewhat, the golem found herself lying flat on her face at the bottom of
a completely flooded stone tunnel. Water continued rushed over her while debris of various shapes and
sizes bounced off her anchored frame. She was in no mortal danger, of course, as she could neither
drown nor rust, but her pitch-black surroundings were not exactly helpful. Neither was the idea of being
submerged head-to-toe in centuries-old sewage particularly comforting. She struggled to regain her
footing as the sheer volume of water crashing against her was trying its darndest to knock her down on
her butt.
All while Plus whined incessantly in her head.
“What the fuck, Fizzy?! Even if we’re strapped for cash there are better ways to go about it!”
Things got a little out of hand, okay? she responded mentally.
“She could’ve crushed us easily if she really tried!”
I was just trying to do her a ‘favor’ so she wouldn’t be so attached to Boxxy’s junk!
“Oh. Well, good job on that,” said Plus sarcastically. “I’m sure she’s practically itching to give it to us
now.”
The flow of water began easing up somewhat as the two sides of the same coin continued their mental
squabbles.
Hey! I don’t need snark! Especially not from myself!
“It’s your own damn fault! You got way too emotional back there!”
Yeah! Well-! … I guess… It seems I’m not over Boxxy’s death as much as I thought… I really didn’t mean
to rub it in so much…
“Right, well, what’s done is done. Just… try and keep your shit together, yeah?”
I know. I will.
By this point the dryad’s furious current had let up almost completely, and the water was steadily
draining away and seeping into Azurvale’s newer sewage system. Fizzy stood in her spot, putting her
disarrayed thoughts into order as the water level fell. Since she lacked a sense of touch and her eyes
couldn’t penetrate the darkness around her, she briefly wondered if she would even notice if the water
would drop below her eye level. A pointless worry, as it turned out, since her ears had at one point
loudly and clearly declared that the sounds they were picking up were no longer muffled by a mass of
liquid. Splashing her arms and body a bit allowed the golem to confirm that the water had drained away
down to about her waist level, at which point she began walking-
*DONNNNNN*
-straight into a wall.
“Oh, right. I almost forgot - I have no idea where I am. Kinda wish I had one of those portable magic
lights right about now.”
“C’mon, you can handle a little darkness, at least. You have a Spell that literally conjures a flash of
light, remember?”
“Duh! Of course! … Holy Light!”
Fizzy bathed her frame in the brilliant yellow-green light of her magic. The Spell’s lingering magical
charge illuminated the dark tunnel, bathing it in a multi-faceted shower of light that lasted for about half
a second before disappearing completely.
“… Did you just see what I just saw?”
“I’m pretty sure I did, yes! … Holy Light!”
The second burst of luminescence confirmed what both Plus and Fizzy had spotted just now. Namely the
literal piles of gold and jewels that glistened just beneath the murky water’s surface. It would appear that
Ambrosia had been so outraged at the golem’s revelation, that she had flushed Boxxy’s hoard down the
drain as well. In other words, Fizzy had succeeded in securing the necessary starting capital for her new
adventure.
“Yes! Just as planned!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

“You… planned this?”
“Well, no, not exactly. I had every intention of getting lucky, though! ‘Bout time this Champion of
Chaos thing paid off, y’know?”
The golem promptly activated Parallel One and had Plus light up the darkness with holy magic while
she collected as much treasure as she could into one of the waterlogged treasure chests that had gotten
caught up in the deluge.
“Say, Fizzy,” spoke up Plus in-between chants, “should you be taking so much?”
“What, should I leave it here for the rats, then?” answered the same set of lips in an incredulous tone.
“Besides, I’ve probably earned a lot of this!”
“No, I realize that, it’s just… I have a bad feeling about this. I mean you’re essentially robbing Boxxy
here.”
“So what? It’s not like it needs this stuff anymore. I mean, what’s it gonna do? Come back as a
Zombieganger and claim vengeance on us?”
“... That’s not a thing that exists, is it?” asked Plus in a somewhat fearful tone.
“No! Of course not!” insisted Fizzy. “Well, probably not. It’s unlikely. Highly improbable to be sure.”
“So you’re saying there’s a non-zero chance of Boxxy rising from its grave and hunting us down in
vengeance for pilfering its shinies.”
The golem’s hands stopped as she briefly pondered that sentence while eyeing the literal sea of treasure
before her, which was easily worth at least 200,000 GP. And that didn’t account for all the loot that got
washed away further down the ancient stone tunnel.
“You know what, I think this is enough money to last us for a while.”
Fizzy closed the half-filled wooden chest’s lid with a small click, hoisted it onto her shoulder and began
walking away from the glittering coins and sparkling jewels without looking back.
“Good call, boss,” said Plus while nodding to herself. “Good call.”
(168) Upheaval 3
Malon Gehana strode confidently down a metal hallway, his shoes clacking audibly against the steel
floor with every step. He carried himself with a sense of dignity and poise, taking wide, deliberate steps
while keeping his spine straight and his chin held high. His face had nothing remarkable about it at first
glance, although a single look at his profile would reveal it was surprisingly flat. Even that description
was being generous, as some less-than-flattering statements claimed he could probably bite a wall if he
really tried. It was so bad that he actually had to apply a dab of light adhesive to the bridge of his wide
nose, otherwise his half-rim spectacles would slide right off it, though his pride would never allow him
to openly admit to doing so.
But, although his linear visage made him appear like someone obtuse and not exactly literate, this
assumption would be very far from the truth. Behind those maniacally bright, pale-blue eyes resided one
of the most outstanding and well-read minds on the continent. Something he was very much aware of, if
the cocky grin on his face was any indication. His sense of self-worth was bolstered even further by his
Rank Up into a High Elf, which he obtained upon becoming a Level 100 Occult Alchemist at the record-
breaking age of 34.
However, just because he was a bit full of himself didn’t mean he was also careless. In fact, he was so
meticulous and devoted to maintaining the purity of his craft, that he shaved his head, face and eyebrows
every single day, lest a stray hair contaminate any of his experiments. His bald scalp, pointed ears, and
sneering face gave him a rather unique appearance that was strangely reminiscent of a pale goblin.
Assuming, of course, that said goblin had been hit in the face with a frying pan six times a day, every
day, for 20 years straight.
The High Elf’s brisk walk down the magically-lit hallway came to an abrupt end when he reached his
destination. The metal-plated path behind him had snaked left and right, and he had passed by several
vault-like doors on the way here, but the one he was standing in front of was the only one that had
people guarding it. Four of them, to be exact. And the reason they had been stationed here specifically,
was because this was the only chamber in this wing of the facility that was currently occupied.
“Professor Gehana, sir,” said the man on the far right with a small salute.
He was a somewhat baby-faced elf with short silver hair and reddish eyes. His uniform consisted of a
mithril chain vest and a white undershirt, with a light-blue tunic draped over it. A pair of matching blue
trousers covered his legs, and a pair of thick black boots adorned his feet and protected his shins.
Strapped to the left side of his waist were a pair of shortswords, while a brown leather satchel hung off
his right hip.
“How many times do I need to say you need not be so uptight, Mr Simmons,” said Malon with a
thoroughly relaxed tone. “You’re not in the army anymore.”
“Sorry, sir, but I can’t do that. You can take the man out of the Legion, but you can’t take the Legion out
of the man. Sir.”
The resident genius let out a tired sigh as if to say ‘oh well, I tried.’ Even if he was in a good mood,
small talk was never his strong point. Nor was it the reason he was here in the first place.
“So I hear our guest has regained consciousness, hmm?”
“Yes, sir,” confirmed Simmons. “We noticed it roughly 15 minutes ago, but I’m afraid we don’t know
how long its been since it woke up.”
Malon raised a shaved eyebrow quizzically.

“Really now? And why is that, hmmm? Why is it that you dared take your eyes off of the extremely
valuable sample that we have retrieved at significant cost and great risk to Project Legacy?”
Indeed, even though Simmons and the rest of his men were technically guards, their current
responsibilities made them nothing more than glorified doormen. They were stationed here to prevent
unauthorized access while keeping an eye on the sample. Physically containing the creature was not part
of their job description, as anything strong enough to break out of that Stasis Field would surely turn
them into mincemeat.
“With all due respect, sir, these ‘samples’ of yours usually make a lot of noise when they wake up. But
this one was… different.”
“Hmm, I suppose it did reanimate much sooner than anticipated, so you’re hardly to blame. I better go
in and see it for myself.”
“… I think that would be for the best, sir,” said Simmons after momentary pause. “Also, I should inform
you that Professor Honoka is already inside. Along with another of your, uh, ‘prized specimens,’ sir.”
“Is she now? And how did she get here before me?”
“She was the one that had us check up on the creature in the first place, sir. And when we found out it
had already recovered she insisted she stay behind and observe it.”
“I see. And Specimen 49 accompanied her as per usual. Very well. Stand aside, Mr Simmons.”
The guard did as instructed, signaling the others to make way for Malon. The High Elf strode towards
the large, circular bulkhead in front and placed a hand on a blue-colored metal slab just to the right of it.
He felt a small prick on his finger as the arcane security measure used a sample of his blood to verify his
identity. There were a few loud clicks as the locks holding the unreasonably thick circular bulkhead
were released, followed by a low groan as it rolled to the left, receding inside a hollowed-out section of
the wall to allow entry.
Malon strode confidently through the security checkpoint and into the chamber beyond. Simmons then
sealed the bulkhead behind him as protocol dictated, but it wasn’t until the locking clamps snapped back
into place with their telltale clang that he and the rest of the soldiers allowed themselves small sighs of
relief. It didn’t matter how many times they met the man, they could never get used to his vile,
disgusting presence. The stink of Taboo around him was so strong that even psychotic serial killers
would immediately condemn him. But these men believed in something far greater than some distant
Gods who demanded their praise and worship, and gave very little in return.
Malon Gehana and his colleagues had already made sure of their convictions.
As for the sinner himself, he found himself in a gigantic dome, forged out of layer upon layer of
magically reinforced steel. And in the center of this hemispherical space stood a shining cage seemingly
forged out of solidified sunlights. Both of these were parts of a containment cell that was capable of
holding even those mightiests of magical beasts - the dragonkin. Admittedly its current occupant was
nowhere near as powerful as those sentient calamities, but Malon was certain it could one day attain
those heights. With proper guidance, of course.
Something the other researcher in the room was probably having a hard time believing.
“C’mon! Just talk to me already!”
Right next to the golden-hued Stasis Field was another elf, a woman that was wearing a coat similar to
Malon’s. Her dark blue hair was tied up in a loose ponytail as always, while her pudgy face was twisted
into a thoroughly dissatisfied expression. She also had a complexion that was so sickeningly pale that it
would make people wonder if she had lived inside a cave for the last 20 or so years. She was also visibly
overweight and had a much thicker frame than her peers, which was just another testament to her
unhealthy lifestyle.
“Zilla!” she yelled while looking to her left. “Do something!”
Specimen 49, A.K.A. Jones Alexis, A.K.A. Wardrobzilla, A.K.A. Project Legacy, stood a few meters
further back from the cage. He was asked to maintain a humanoid appearance whenever he was on site,
as having a horrifying chimera walking around was not only needlessly disturbing, but also made
communication with it needlessly difficult. As for how he responded to Honoka’s insistence, the best he
could do was shrug his shoulders.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he said in a defeated tone of voice. “I’m the one that killed it,
you know. If anything, my presence here is probably a detriment to- Oh. Hello, Malon.”
Honoka stopped pointlessly pounding away on the sophisticated magical barrier with her fists and turned
around with an even more displeased expression.
“Professor Gehana,” she said in a voice oozing of contempt.
“Professor Honoka,” he answered calmly, refusing to respond to her vile attitude. “What seems to be the
issue? You’re not normally this… upset.”
“It’s your latest sample!” she complained while pointing at the cage. “The results of your autopsy were
quite fascinating, so it got me all excited! And when it finally woke up, it just sits there! I mean just look
at it!”
Malon’s eyes looked in the direction she was pointing, towards the very middle of the transparent cube,
where Boxxy was currently chesting with all its might.
“Fascinating,” muttered the other researcher while adjusting his spectacles. “I’ve never seen a reaction
like this!”
Much like Simmons had stated, Malon’s test subjects usually made a lot of noise when they woke up in
captivity. Either banging on the walls of their cell, howling pointlessly in anger, attempting to talk their
way out of their confinement, or a mix of all of the above. Struggling against one’s captors was a natural
response not only for monsters, but for any creature that understood the concept of freedom. And yet
this one was simply standing there. As a wooden chest of all things.
“I wonder why this shape in particular though,” he mused.

“That’s what I want to know!” insisted Honoka. “I’m 80% sure your Soulstone treatment left it brain-
damaged or something!”
“Preposterous. Either the Soulstone revives the target, or it doesn’t. There are no halfway measures here.
I will admit this is an anomalous reaction, but I can state with absolute certainty it’s not because of
anything I did.”
“Then why is it acting like this?!”
“… It probably feels safer that way,” butted in Zilla.
“What do you mean?” asked Malon.
“I don’t think you would understand. It’s a mimic thing.”
The former House Mimic also sometimes sought comfort in a familiar shape. Having lived for hundreds
of years as a semi-sentient wardrobe made it impossible for it to completely discard its old identity. Even
though it could assume any number of forms, only one of them actually felt ‘right.’
“Try me,” said the bald man.
“I guess… it’s sort of like slipping into a comfortable set of clothes after a long day’s work.”
“Hmmm, I think I sort of get it. Why a chest, though? It seems so… impractical.”
Even if the Appraisal results of the corpse made it clear this Boxxy T. Morningwood used to be a
dungeon-born mimic that Ranked Up into a Doppelganger, it didn’t seem logical that it would revert to a
more primitive shape. What Malon failed to realize, was that monsters were very often quite irrational if
viewed from an enlightened perspective.
“LIke I said, it’s a mimic thing,” repeated Zilla while rolling his eyes.
“Alright, that explains the chest shape, but not why it’s doing it,” continued Honoka. “Nor does it
explain how it managed to wake up in only two days! Are you sure you didn’t revive it with half a soul
or something?!”
“Are you questioning my competence, Professor Honoka?!” said Malon dryly. “I’ll have you know, I’ve
performed the procedure precisely 52 times, and never once have I-!”
Malon’s complaints were cut short when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The iron-bound
chest had grown a set of eight smooth arachnid legs from its undercarriage and was slowly pacing
towards him. Honoka was equally unwilling to continue the argument, as the creature she had grown a
scientific interest in had finally shown signs of movement. The animate spider-chest glided towards the
edge of its cage, sitting itself down right next to the edge. Malon found himself stepping closer to it,
until he was less than a meter from the subject.
The wooden chest’s lid creaked open on its own, and a pair of round yellow eyes shone from the
darkness within.
“Are you in charge around here?”
What came out was a deep, silky smooth voice that was entirely too ‘normal.’ The kind of voice one
would expect from a veteran Bard, not a murderous monster with an utter and complete disregard for
other living things. It was clearly a ruse of some kind, but it was hard to deny how creepy the odd
disconnect truly was.
“I am indeed,” responded the High Elf after a brief pause. “My name is Malon Gehana, and it is good to
have you back amongst the living, Boxxy. Or do you perhaps prefer ‘Mr Sandman,’ hmmmm?”
The shapeshifter’s alter ego had been exposed. Zilla himself had reported Boxxy had assumed the
infamous mercenary’s shape, and judging by the two demons that assisted it, they were definitely one
and the same. Well, the red-skinned fiend had one more pair of arms than expected, but was definitely
the same familiar that openly participated in the battles for Fort Yimin and New Whitehall. An artist’s
rendition of the demon in question and Zilla’s own testimony had made it abundantly clear that they
both shared the same face and overall body structure. The Mimic’s rather… unique collection of Jobs
and Skills also supported this theory.
“I see. So you’re the one that brought me back to life.”
Plus, the creature didn’t seem to want to deny it, though that was mostly because it had more important
things to worry about.
“Why?” it asked. “What do you want from me?”
“Ah-hah!” exclaimed Malon. “Straight to the point, hmm? Well, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed,
you’re far more valuable to us alive than dead. You hold maaaany secrets, my busy little box, and I for
one can’t wait to rip them out of you.”
Secrets such as the origin of the Elder Dryad’s Authority, the magic item that had the ability to force
those legendary tree spirits to show themselves. Not to mention the trick it used to control a demonic
Overlord. And, perhaps most importantly of all, the process through which this less-than-an-year old
monster was able to cause the Calamity of Monotal - something only Tol-Saroth himself had
accomplished.
Admittedly, that last bit was something of a stretch, but the pieces of the puzzle were all there. Teresa
herself revealed the one responsible for that event was a monster, and what better place for that monster
to hide from those it had wronged than under their enemy’s shadow. It also explained why it revealed
itself to the Republic and joined the fight against the Empire in the first place.
The Appraisal of the creature’s body, on the other hand, had also shown it possessed the Butcher of
Humanity Perk, which meant it had somehow killed at least 5,000 humans in just 8 months. The only
realistic way it could’ve achieved such a feat was if it caused the Calamity in the first place.
Theoretically it was also possible that Boxxy could’ve done it the old-fashioned way, but that would
mean it had to kill an average of 20 humans a day since the moment it was born. And while the monster
was definitely capable of such things, those constant mass-killings would have left a very obvious trail
of blood.
The last nail in the coffin was the Hero Killer Perk, which Malon assumed it must have acquired by
obliterating Bernard Samson at Monotal, prior to his ‘miraculous’ revival. In actuality, the monster had
only gotten this ‘badge of honor’ after its Clash of Fate with the Hero of the Hammer while under the
guise of its Facade. The reason it hadn’t gotten it half a year ago was because Teresa had snatched away
and revived her Hero in a matter of seconds, well before Boxxy’s Status had been able to catch up and
finish processing all the damage caused by the dungeon core’s detonation. As such, he was already alive
when the Mimic was receiving the rewards for its ‘hard work,’ meaning the Hero of the Hammer did not
count among the 8,235 souls that were lost that day.
As for Boxxy’s own divine gifts, those were powers that clung to one’s soul rather than their body, and
were thus not present when its corpse was appraised. Something that string of post-resurrection
notifications made abundantly clear. Otherwise, Malon and his superiors would’ve had a significantly
different reaction to its capture. It was highly unlikely said reaction would include simply letting the
Mimic go, so the monster decided to keep it hidden for the moment. It hadn’t gotten a chance to use the
short-ranged Vengeance Skill during the fight with Zilla, either, so it wanted to keep that trump card
hidden for as long as possible.
“I’m also quite curious about your connection with the Hero of Chaos,” continued Malon, “not to
mention why you assaulted Zilla here. Most important of all, however, is the matter of your obvious
hatred towards humanity, not to mention your aptitude for violence. I’m sure both of those traits will
serve us greatly in our ongoing struggle against the Empire.”
“‘Our’ struggle? If you’re talking about the Republic, then the war’s over,” stated Boxxy matter-of-
factly. “Or have you not heard?”
“What? That little scuffle?” scoffed Malon. “That barely even counted as armed conflict. Sure, the
humans may have gotten a bloody nose, but they’ll be back. Whether it be next year, next decade or next
century - they’ll surely come for us again. Those vile creatures can’t help it - it’s within their nature to
hate and despise those different from them. It honestly makes me question who the real monster is,” he
added with a wicked grin.
“Alright, I understand,” replied Boxxy. “In that case you can count me in. Assuming you can afford my
fee, of course.”
“Fee? What?”
“The price of my cooperation, of course. I expect to be adequately compensated for my troubles.”
“…”
The Mimic’s business-like attitude caused Malon to blink repeatedly in confusion. His mouth opened
and closed a few times, but no words came out.
“I am getting paid for this, right?” it asked somewhat insistently.
“What do you mean by ‘getting paid?’”
Honoka, who had been content to sit and listen until now, decided to come to the flabbergasted Malon’s
rescue.
“Gold. Jewels. Mithril. That sort of thing,” clarified Boxxy. “Providing compensation in exchange for
goods and services is how civilization works, isn’t it?”
“What would a monster need with money anyway?” she asked, more to herself than her captive.
It was a question that had been bugging her ever since she heard of the extremely high likelihood that
Boxxy and the Sandman were one and the same.
“I don’t want the money itself,” came the immediate answer. “It’s just that the shiniest of shinies cost a
lot of it.”
“Ah. I see.”
Honoka was starting to understand somewhat. She’d known Zilla for most of her life, even before she,
Malon and the others began experimenting on him. He has had an unhealthy obsession with clothes ever
since he was a simple-minded House Mimic, which had survived his forced Rank Up into a Changeling.
And while the source of this compulsion was somewhat of a mystery, it made a certain amount of sense
considering he lived as a semi-sentient wardrobe for nearly four centuries. After all - what better place to
keep one’s snappy attire than in a lavishly decorated cupboard? It was a somewhat childish theory that
made Honoka’s peers roll their eyes, but at the same time it was hard for them to refute it.
Considering Boxxy’s current shape and its Appraisal results, it was quite clear it was originally a chest-
shaped mimic. One that was born in the Litigar Dungeon Complex if the Monotal connection was to be
believed. And when Honoka used Zilla as her basis for standard mimic behavior and applied the same
sort of logic to Boxxy, then she already had her answer. It was blindingly obvious, now that she thought
about it.
After all, fancy clothes were to wardrobes as what treasure was to a treasure chest, and nothing said
‘treasure’ like a pile of glistening gold coins and shimmering jewels.
“Hmpf!” scoffed Malon, who had recovered somewhat from his shock. “Your cooperation is not up for
debate. You’ll serve this country, regardless of your opinion on the matter. And you won’t bleed a single
coin from her coffers ever again!”
“I see. So that’s how it is,” said Boxxy. “Well, you did bring me back to life, so I guess I’ll at least tell
you one thing free of charge.”
There was a brief, deliberate pause for dramatic effect.
“I’m going to enjoy killing you when I get out of here.”
So far, Boxxy had been trying to keep an open mind about this situation. Sure, it might have been killed
by this ‘Zilla’ character, but on the other hand it had also gotten brought back to life through this
‘Soulstone treatment,’ which sort of balanced things out. The opportunistic monster thought it might
have been able to strike some sort of deal to work together with its captors while it plotted its inevitable
revenge. In other words, it was giving them a chance to show they could be useful to it, and would thus
get to keep their lives for a while longer.
Something Malon forfeited when he not only rejected Boxxy’s generous offer, but also implied he
planned to control its mind.
“Is that a fact?” sneered the elf. “Sorry to break it to you, but even at your full power you couldn’t even
budge your containment field. You’ll have to try a lot harder if you plan to threaten someone of my-”
The wooden lid suddenly flipped open, and what looked like a massive segmented worm as wide as a
tree trunk shot out from the inside. It opened its round maw, revealing numerous concentric circles of
dagger-like teeth, which crashed into the magic cage with a loud din when it lurched forward. Zilla
moved in front of Honoka as if to protect her, while Malon stumbled backwards and fell on his ass in a
panic. He stared in terrified reverence as a countless number of razor-sharp edges scratched against
magic cage’s surface, producing an array of bright sparks accompanied by an ear-splitting scratching. It
was a profoundly unnerving noise, as if a thousand fingernails were being dragged along a thousand
blackboards all at once.
“That’s not a threat, meat!” roared Boxxy, its feral voice easily overpowering the hellish cacophony.
“It’s a promise!”
Malon barely had time to react before Zilla grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him
towards the exit like a sack of rotten turnips. The guards outside the chamber had heard the racket and
opened the bulkhead in advance, allowing the two scientist and their prized specimen to vacate Boxxy’s
holding cell with all due haste. The massive circular door rolled back into its usual spot, and a series of
clangs informed everyone present that the locking clamps were back in place.
However, even though the door was shut, the prisoner’s ungodly thrashing and howling could still be
heard through the 50 centimeter wide slab of solid, reinforced adamantite.
“Holy shit, sir! You poked open one hell of a hornet’s nest!” commented Simmons, more out of surprise
than malice.
“Sir, it’s not going to bust out of there, is it?” asked one of the guards while nervously eyeing the door.
“It’ll be fine, rookie. That Stasis Field was designed to contain far more dangerous things than a restless
shapeshifter.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate this creature if I were you, Mr Simmons,” called out Zilla from the side.
“While it’s true that not even I can breach that barrier, your prisoner is a monster that posses
considerable physical strength, formidable magical might, and outstanding adaptability. You would be
wise to keep your guard up.”
The guards stared intently at their resident living weapon, obviously feeling uneasy at having the thing
address them directly like this.
“You heard the man!” shouted Honoka. “Triple the guard detail! I want eyes on it at all times! I want
you to raise the alarm the instant you so much as suspect it might escape! I’ll make sure Zilla will be on
hand to subdue it at a moment’s notice!”
“Yes, ma’am!” replied the guards.
“Bah! You’re overreacting!” sneered Malon from the side. “That cage was designed by Tol-Saroth
himself! There’s no way some wild savage can breach out of it!”
His haughty attitude aside, however, it was quite obvious he didn’t come out of that room entirely
unscathed. His bald scalp glistened with sweat while the tips of his fingers trembled somewhat while he
adjusted his spectacles, showing that Boxxy’s violent display had rattled him quite a bit. For all his
bravado and self-importance, Malon Gehana was still a scholar whose fighting prowess and battle
experience were both pretty much nil. As such, it would actually be more surprising if he wasn’t shaken
up.
“Are you… feeling okay, Malon?” asked Honoka while throwing her visibly shaken colleague a
suspicious look.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine,” he said while waving his hand around a bit. “It just… startled me a bit, that’s
all.”
“No. It’s not fine,” she insisted. “We need to talk. Come with me.”
Honoka grabbed him by the shoulder and somewhat forcibly dragged him down the hallway, away from
the gawking guards. Zilla was going to follow after her as per usual, but she motioned for him to stay
behind. Once she and Malon were reasonably out of earshot, she spoke to him in a stern, almost nagging
tone of voice.
“Now, I don’t mean to undermine your authority or anything, but what you did in there was idiotic.”
“I beg your pardon?!” came the indignant response.
“You responded to its provocations! Not only that, but you needlessly fed it information!”
“So what?! It needs to learn its place! And who cares if it went berserk?! You can’t expect all of those
brutes to be as subservient as your freakish boyfriend!”
“For the last time, Zilla is not my-!”
The female elf reigned in her outrage with a tired sigh. Talking to Malon about pretty much anything
was exhausting, to say the least. Not only was he lacking in common sense, but he was obviously
dismissive of Zilla’s rather worrisome words of warning. Her companion had never once given such a
high evaluation of another living being, be it man nor monster. It was pretty evident he even respected it
in some aspects, which was why she was treating this matter with such severity. That was also why she
couldn’t just stay silent about Malon’s brazen attitude this time around. He needed to get with the
program before his ego got himself and everyone at the base killed.
“Listen to me, Malon. This one is not like the rest. Just think about it. Not only did it wake up far ahead
of schedule, but was also perfectly docile until someone in charge came along. And when it realized that
person was you, it engaged you directly. It tested you, and you failed.”
“Oh. I ‘failed,’ did I?” he said in a mocking manner. “And what is it that I was being tested on, Miss
Honoka? Please, enlighten me.”
“Your courage, Malon. You stared into a bottomless abyss of hatred and malice. And when that abyss
stared back at you, you blinked.”
(169) Upheaval 4
Professor Honoka was on her way to visit Boxxy’s cell. She was accompanied by three of her lab
assistants, one of whom was pushing a metallic cart. It was loaded up with vials, jars, boxes, syringes,
beakers, smokeless burners and other alchemical appliances, though the one that stood out the most was
the silver-plated cauldron. All of this was necessary for the Mimic’s first round of treatment, courtesy of
one of Honoka’s personal inventions - the Attitude Adjuster.
This magical concoction, much like the vast majority of this place’s projects, was based on Tol-Saroth’s
original research. The ancient elven sage had been so blindingly brilliant, that it had taken the rest of the
world over 400 years to catch up to him. In fact, that was the entire purpose of the institution that
Honoka belonged to. Known simply as the Foundation, this clandestine, government-funded think-tank
had been created almost 20 years ago by the previous Exarch of the Ishigar Republic. Its goal - to study,
adapt, and develop Tol-Saroth’s varied works in an effort to grant the Republic an edge against both
internal and external threats.
And the Foundation’s eggheads certainly had their work cut out for them in that regard. Even though the
Republic’s government had supplied them with an entire library’s worth of Tol-Saroth’s journals and
research data notes, much of the information was either fragmented, disjointed, or outright missing.
Worse still, it would appear that this wasn’t entirely because parts of the information had simply been
lost to the ravages of time, but because of Tol-Saroth himself. While he was certainly an unparalleled
genius in many fields, neither documentation nor organization seemed to have been among his strong
points. He also had the rather worrisome habit of rapidly moving from one project to the next, leaving
many of them in an incomplete state. A number of his ideas had never even made it past a hastily-
scribbled note in one of his books, though that was perhaps for the better.
Suffice it to say, the Foundation did not believe the world was ready for amphibian sharks with ‘freakin
laser beams on their freakin heads.’
Thankfully, only a small part of what he left behind sounded like the ravings of a madman, and pursuing
his more practical albeit morally ambiguous concepts often yielded fascinating results. One such
outcome was Honoka’s Attitude Adjuster formula, which had arisen as a byproduct of her work on
Project Third Autumn. That endeavor was aimed at replicating and recreating Tol-Saroth’s super-soldier
serum, an aggressive body-altering compound that would, in theory, increase a person’s innate strength,
speed and agility by up to 200%. What made this a particularly enticing concept was that, if successful,
the power boost gained from this pseudo Rank Up would then be amplified even further by the
individual’s Attributes.
Unfortunately, reality rarely agreed with theory, especially when it came to Tol-Saroth’s unfinished
works. Project Third Autumn was something that Honoka had been struggling with ever since the
Foundation’s inception, and she and her bosses have pretty much given up on it at this point. Even
though they’ve been able to produce a serum that delivered on the promised body enhancements, it
always seemed to come with crippling, sometimes lethal side-effects.
One version of the serum put too much strain on the body’s cardiovascular system, resulting in critical
heart failure after three to five days. The next iteration caused permanent paralysis of the right side of
the test subject’s body, while the one after that royally screwed with the user’s brain chemistry, sending
him into a feral rage akin to that of a rabid animal. And as horrific as they were, these failures were still
not as bad as the serums’s earlier iterations. Honoka could swear she could still see the horrific stains her
first attempt left on her lab’s walls, despite the fact that every surface in that room had been replaced
several times since that incident.
Perhaps the worst part of all this was that Honoka and her crew had no choice but to use their own kind
as test subjects, as the serum was specifically tailored to work with elven physiology. At least the
Foundation had the common courtesy of subjecting only condemned bandits and unrepentant criminals
to such vile experiments whenever possible, but that didn’t exactly help Honoka sleep at night.
At the very least their suffering hadn’t been completely for naught, as Project Third Autumn had given
rise to multiple new venues of research, the most notable of which being the Attitude Adjuster. This
particular product had been created as a result of Honoka’s work with the iteration of the super-soldier
serum that turned people into gibbering lunatics. Studying, isolating, and further refining its mind-
altering properties had provided monumental insight into how one might use alchemy to permanently
influence an individual’s behavior.
Depending on how it was mixed, Attitude Adjuster could either turn the most vicious of monsters into
docile servants, or transform the meekest of herbivores into violent killers. And while its potency was
completely assured, it still had two notable flaws. For one thing, the mixture was somewhat unstable, so
it had to be used within minutes of being prepared, otherwise it would fail to do anything at all. That was
why Honoka and her assistants were bringing their equipment and ingredients along with them, rather
than just carrying a ready-made vial of the stuff.
The second caveat was that prolonged exposure to Attitude Adjuster was necessary in order to make its
effects permanent. This meant the target had to be subjected to repeated doses at regular intervals, which
in turn required a non-insignificant investment of time and resources to actually prepare the necessary
amount. Fortunately for Honoka, neither of those things were much of a problem for her. The
government footed the bill while her assistants handled the majority of the prep work, so all she had to
do was perform the final assembly and administer the treatment.
Not to mention that, by constantly fine-tuning the recipe, she was able to steadily increase the mixture’s
effects, drastically reducing the time necessary to achieve the desired effects. What used to take months
to accomplish at first could easily be done in as little as a week. However, she suspected this particular
case would take longer than expected, in part because that Mimic had woken up much sooner than
anticipated. Well before her preparations were complete.
After all, the effects of Attitude Adjuster were technically an attack on one’s psyche, and as such would
have a much smaller impact on an individual with high Mental Fortitude (MNT). And the Appraisal of
Specimen 68’s corpse had revealed that its MNT was already beyond VIP level. This obstacle was
undoubtedly the result of its Demonology-oriented Warlock Job, combined with the blatantly unfair All
Attribute bonuses that came standard with shapeshifter Monster Jobs. That being the case, the elf had
been planning on subjecting the Mimic to her creation immediately upon its unholy resuscitation. That
was when the Resurrection Sickness caused by Malon’s Soulstone would be at its peak, and the initial
and arguably most important dose of Attitude Adjuster would need to deal with only half of the
creature’s imposing 455 MNT.
Unfortunately, that window had passed, as it had already been a full day since Specimen 68 had woken
up. This meant that the Attribute penalty caused by Resurrection Sickness would have lessened from
50% to 40%. It would go down to 32% after one more day, then to 25% the day after that, getting to
about 10% after a full week as the forcibly reestablished link between body and soul gradually healed
over time. It would still take upwards of about 20 days for it to return to prime condition, but the fact
still stood that Honoka’s plan to expedite Boxxy’s ‘rehabilitation’ by taking advantage of its weakened
state was met with a significant setback.
However, all that amounted to was that Boxxy’s treatment would take longer. And while that didn’t
seem too bad in and of itself, it made Zilla’s concerns regarding the creature all the more worrying.
Which in turn made her feel unexpectedly a bit on edge. Almost as if she was chasing a deadline that she
couldn’t quite see.
Honoka shook her head to clear away her troublesome thoughts and started mentally preparing for the
task at hand. She hated to admit it, but the thought of mixing volatile chemicals anywhere near that
creature wasn’t exactly an appealing one. That terrifying show it put on for Malon’s benefit had gotten
to her too, though she did a much better job of hiding it. Sentient monsters never failed to take
advantage of their adversary’s fear, so she had to be extra careful not to fall for its psychological warfare
while performing her duties.
Of course, that wasn’t to say she was going to prepare the Attitude Adjuster in front of Boxxy or
anything, as it was far more prudent to do it immediately outside the holding cell. Unfortunately, that
creature had a real gift for unnerving others, and judging from yesterday’s reports, it had continued to
make strange noises for most of the day and well into the night. Honoka was fully expecting to have to
withstand some sort of constant hellish screech while she worked, but she was confident she wouldn’t
let it get to her.
Or at least that’s what she thought until she and her three assistants actually arrived at the holding cell.
The atmosphere in front of the circular bulkhead was certainly abnormal, though in a completely
different way from what she was expecting. For one thing, it was quiet. Too quiet. Not only that, but the
quartet of guards stationed outside the door seemed unnaturally tense when they saluted her.
“What’s going on here?” she asked with a hand on each hip.
“N-nothing, ma’am,” replied one of the men with a slight stutter. “Business as usual.”
Honoka eyed him up and down. His blue-tinted guard uniform and calf-high army boots were standard
attire for the base’s security personnel, but she couldn’t quite place his face. She was never very good
with faces, so she was unsure if the two of them were personally introduced, especially since all these
grunts looked pretty much the same to her. On the other hand, the fact she didn’t actually know the man
was important in and of itself, as it meant he was most definitely a nobody, much like the other three.
And therein lay the second problem.
“Why are there only four of you?” she asked in a nagging tone. “I told Simmons to triple the guard
detail. And last time I checked my math, four times three does not equal four!”
Honoka’s demanding tone of voice made the man even more nervous. If it was Malon or any of the other
stuck-up know-it-alls, he would probably just brush it off without a second thought. However, the fact
that it was this woman in particular made him feel somewhat awkward. After all, she only got mad at
others as a result of their own incompetence, so the fact that she was raising her voice at him almost
made her seem like a mother scolding an unruly brat. And judging from the uneasy glances from her
assistants, he was definitely not the only one who felt that way.
“Where is he, anyway?!” she asked while raising her hands in the air as if giving up.
“Optio- I mean, Mr Simmons, is currently off duty, ma’am. And, uh, he did actually post twelve of us
here, as per your instructions, ma’am.”
“Did he now? And where, pray tell, are the others?!”
“Inside, ma’am.”
“They’re what?!” she shrieked. “Why?!”
“It’s, uh, hard to explain,” he said in a somewhat evasive manner. “Project Legacy should be in there
with them, so I doubt the prisoner would act up if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“‘Should be?’ What do you mean ‘should be?!’ No, nevermind, I’ll see for myself!”
She somewhat rudely shoved the guard aside and reached out to touch the security panel. After sampling
her blood and confirming her identity, the vault door once more rolled open to the side. Honoka didn’t
even wait for it to open all the way before she practically stormed into the room, ready to give everyone
an earful. However, the words got stuck in her throat when she saw the scene unfolding before her.
One that was seemingly centered around an excessive large barrel, which was inside a cube of light that
had a bunch of ever-shifting arcane sigils crawling all over it. An almost identical barrel was sitting
immediately outside said cube of light, while 8 armed guards huddled around a bit off to the side, one of
whom was holding a large top hat upside down. The aforementioned hat-holder then presented said
piece of fancy headwear to his colleague, who reached inside and pulled out a piece of folded paper,
which was promptly unfolded and then read aloud.
“Volcano!”
Both barrels began transforming at the sound of his voice. Their shape became gradually more conical,
darker, and distinctly more rugged. Sure enough, mere seconds later, both containers had transformed
into imitations of volcanoes. The guards let out a low murmur, until the one on the left, which was
outside the Stasis Field, suddenly let out a jet of flames in a mock eruption.
“Woooah!” cheered the men with a light round of applause.
“Winner!” exclaimed the hat-bearer while pointing at the impromptu firework display. “Alright, next!”
A second guard drew a different piece of paper, and read aloud another word.
“Trap!”
Yet again, both monsters began transforming. This time, however, they took on vastly different
appearances. The one on the left that, obviously Zilla, rapidly took on a more humanoid shape and
ducked inside its own Storage portal halfway through, while Boxxy decided to go with a more classical,
rectangular look. It adopted its preferred chesty form, the wooden lid ever-so-slightly ajar to show off
two rows of irregular jagged teeth one would normally find on a dungeon mimic.
Over on Zilla’s side, he had reappeared in the form of a lovely young girl in an unbearably cute frilly
yellow dress and a pair of short booties, allowing the flawless skin of her arms and legs to shine through.
She had large, brown eyes and chestnut hair done up in a stylish ponytail, topped off by a wooden
diadem decorated with painted carvings of marigolds and daisies. As per usual, Zilla’s fashion sense was
top-notch, as evidenced by how this ensemble pretty much radiated purity and innocence.
As for the audience, they seemed to be understandably puzzled by this appearance.
“Uhhh, Zilla?” spoke up the ring-leader. “Are you sure you heard the word correctly?”
“It was ‘trap,’ wasn’t it?” he answered with a thoroughly masculine voice, entirely at odds with his
feminine appearance.
“Oh?” exclaimed the guard in a puzzled manner until realization hit him. “Ohhhhhh! Oh.”
He looked around at the others, all of whom were cringing at Zilla’s version of a ‘trap.’ At least Boxxy’s
they could understand with but a glance. After all, very few people could resist the allure of a splendid
treasure chest, and even experienced adventurers sometimes fell victim to those devious mimics. But the
idea of an androgynous young lad cross-dressing just felt outright wrong, hence the twisted expressions
on all their faces.
Well, except for Rupert’s, but Rupert was always a bit of a weirdo, so they collectively decided not to
engage with him.
“Winner!” shouted the hat-holder while pointing at the cage of light, his declaration accompanied by a
much-too-polite round of applause.
“Yessshhaaa!”
All things considered, it would appear that Boxxy had been declared the victor in this round of…
whatever this was. It celebrated its win with an affirmative-sounding hissing voice, accompanied by a
little spider-leg-assisted jig.
“What the fuck are you people doing?!”
The ongoing festivities ground to a complete halt as Honoka loudly and succinctly enunciated each and
every word of her unbelievably valid complaint.
“Oh, hey Honoka!” responded Zilla with a casual wave, still in trap form. “Didn’t see you there!”
The color drained from the eight guards’ faces so fast that the elven researcher found herself
momentarily worried if they might faint.
Only momentarily, though.
“Out! All of you!”
The guilty partly rapidly filed out of the holding cell while the violent tempest of a box waved goodbye
at them with its large, fleshy tongue, which was holding onto a severed human arm. Whether that
appendage was real or one of its tricks was definitely a valid question, but not one Honoka wanted to
think about. Whatever the case may have been, she quickly had all the guards line up in a single row
outside the chamber.
Honoka stood directly in front of the most obvious culprit, crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow, and
began questioning him in front of the others.
“So. Zilla. Care to explain what you were doing in there?”
The former House Mimic had slipped back into his Jones Alexis Facade and was currently standing on
the far left side of the rank & file.
“We were just playing a friendly game of shaperades. I was winning 36 to 31, by the way.”
“Shaperades?” she muttered in disbelief.
“Oh, it’s like charades, but for shapeshifters. Boxxy taught it to me.”
“That’s not what I-! Look, you were the one that said we needed to be extra vigilant around that thing,
right?”
“Indeed.”
“In fact, I distinctly remember you warning us repeatedly to be extremely careful around it.”
“That I did.”
“And yet you were in there… playing games with it?”
“Sure.”
“Why?! Why would you ever do such a thing?!”

“Because I got bored just standing there, and shaperades is an entertaining way to practice my
shapeshifting while keeping an eye on my prisoner. It’s a win-win-win, if you think about it.”
“Did Boxxy talk you into this?!”
“… Maybe.”
“I don’t believe this! You should know it’s just trying to study your weaknesses!”
“Honoka, that’s a Ranked Up Mimic in there. It has command over one of the most advanced Mana
Locator Glands in existence, second only to a beholder’s. I should know, I use it too. Believe me, it
already knows exactly where to hit me to make it hurt.”
“But what if it tries something while your guard is down!?”
“You of all people should know I never let my guard down. Besides, it won’t dare to try anything when
I’m around.”
“How can you be so sure?!”
“Because I know for a fact it’s not stupid, Honoka. Sure, it nearly killed me when we fought topside, but
things are different now. I know all of its tricks while I still have a few of my own up my sleeve. Not to
mention it doesn’t have the support of its demonic familiars anymore. It stands no chance of winning a
rematch under these conditions, and that’s without even factoring in the Resurrection Sickness. And it
knows all of that, so there’s no way it would risk forcing my hand.”
“Uh-huh. Sure it won’t. I mean genocidal abominations are always such bastions of logic, reason, and
common sense.”
“They are?!” he responded in a genuinely surprised manner. “I never would’ve guessed!”
Honoka let out a heavy sigh, allowing her hands and head to dangle off her torso like wet laundry off a
fishing line. She had momentarily forgotten that Zilla never quite got sarcasm.
“No, they’re not. They’re actually quite vicious, and you should never trust any of them. Especially that
one.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. I knew that.”
“Right so, promise me you won’t indulge that thing anymore, okay? Just don’t interact with it if you can
help it.”
“Alright, I will.”
“Good,” said Honoka with a nod. She then lifted her hand and pointed towards the edge of the metal
tunnel. “Now go stand in the corner and think about what you’ve done.”
“Oh… Alright…”
The dozen guards who had witnessed that entire exchange watched with bemused expressions as the
pompously designated Project Legacy was sent into time-out like an unruly child. Times like this made
it somewhat difficult to keep in mind that Zilla was without a doubt one of the most lethal beings in the
country.
“Now, as for the rest of you.”
The renewed hostility in the female alchemist’s voice made the group of guards jump a little in their
boots. Their posting here was not only a well-paying one, but also something of a last chance. After all,
given the level of confidentiality that surrounded this place, they imagined that being fired would be a
touch more complicated than simply emptying one’s locker. That wasn’t to say they were expecting to
be killed in cold blood, but… Well, suffice it to say that the Foundation had a never-ending demand for
test subjects.
Thankfully, they had someone to blame for their blatantly unprofessional behavior.
“Don’t even think of using Zilla as an excuse.”
Or at least, that’s what they thought until Honoka brilliantly shot them down.
“You’re trained professional soldiers,” she continued, “so either start acting like it or I’ll find you a post
that’s more in line with your talents. Or lack thereof. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am!” they roared in unison.
“Good, good. Now then-! What is it Zilla?” she said when he raising a hand in the air while still facing
the wall. “You’re supposed to be in time out, remember.”
So it really is a time out?! retorted the guards in accidental mental unison.
“I think I forgot my top hat in the cell,” he said calmly. “Could I trouble one of these fine gentlemen to
get it for me?”
Honoka left out a another sigh. Of course that needless piece of foreign fashion was his. Who else could
it possibly have belonged to?
“… I suppose,” she consented, then pointed at one of the men at random. “You there - go get it. And no
dilly-dallying!”
“Right away, ma’am!”
The elf that had been singled out walked over to the blue panel next to the bulkhead and opened it.
There were a series of clangs followed by the usual low groan as it opened up, and the man ducked
inside to accomplish his mission, such as it was.
“Alright, the rest of you keep quiet. I’ll be handling some dangerous things for the next while so I don’t
want any undue-”
“Ma’am?!” yelled the guardsman from the inside.
“-disturbances... ”
Honoka took a deep breath to calm herself down a bit before she responded.
“What is it?!”
“I think you better see this! Zilla too!”
Having heard his name, the ex-wardrobe dashed through the door in an instant, with Honoka hot on his
heels. The latter was not exactly a fan of the ‘you better see this’ cliche, but this was perhaps the one
time where she didn’t mind it. After all, there was no way she would have believed the man if he just flat
out told her what the problem was. Heck, she scarcely believed her own eyes.
For Boxxy, who was still locked behind the nigh-impregnable Stasis Field, and had reverted back to its
base Hylt Creeper form, was currently sporting a stylish, cylindrical, black hat atop his head-
“M’lady.”
-which it tipped at her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
(170) Upheaval 5
A certain elven researcher was seated on the cold, metal floor. The way she was hugging her knees and
sobbing quietly into them was entirely unbefitting behavior of a woman of her age and stature, but was a
clear indicator of her distraught state of mind. And kneeling right next to her was a shapeshifter whose
scarfaced Facade would not normally endear him to others.
“It’s okay, Honoka,” he said in a soothing tone while stroking her deep blue hair. “You’re safe. I’m here.
We’re all here for you.”
This pathetic scene was a direct result of Specimen 68’s hat trick, which had very nearly given her a
heart attack. Her mind had immediately jumped to the conclusion that the monster could not only slip in
and out of the Stasis Field at will, but could do so without triggering the alarm. As it turned out,
however, it was nothing more than a prank. The headgear the creature was sporting was actually a barely
passable imitation it had created out of its body, but the elf had failed to recognize it as such at first
glance. The actual top hat that Zilla left behind had been lying on the floor next to the entrance, and as
such was not immediately visible upon entering the room. It wasn’t until he calmly pointed it out to
Honoka that she realized she had been tricked, bamboozled, hoodwinked, and otherwise flim-flammed.
However, rather than sigh in relief or shout in outrage, the elf ended up breaking down into a fit of tears
and sobs.
Much like Malon, she wasn’t a combatant, and her nerve had not been tempered by training or battle.
The mere implication that the Stasis Field wasn’t as infallible as she believed it to be was enough to
push her over the edge and completely ruin her composure. Though the nature of her work made her
somewhat better prepared for dealing with monsters, the overwhelming horror she felt for that brief
moment had rocked her to her core.
“Seems like you failed its test too, didn’t you?” said Zilla with a bemused smile.
“You’re not helping!” she wailed. “This is all your fault anyway, you retarded fashionista! *Huck!* You
and your careless-! *Huck!* Your careless- *Huck!* Just-! Just go point that stupid face of yours at the
wall or some- *Huck!* something, will you?!”
“Alright, alright,” he said while backing away slowly. “If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll do.”
Seeing Zilla’s retreating back instantly made Honoka feel bad about her outburst. Of course she didn’t
mean to say those hurtful things, but her anger had suddenly flared up and caught her off guard. She
wasn’t even all that mad at him, not really. In fact, the person she was most upset with was actually
herself. After all, the deceived had only themselves to blame, and Honoka had fallen for Boxxy’s ruse
hook, line, and sinker.
And, as if crying about it wasn’t pathetic enough, she actually went and lashed out at her only real
friend, who was just trying to help.
Honoka kept sobbing quietly for several more minutes, silently chastising herself all the while. Once she
had finally calmed down, the elf rose to her feet while trying her best not to succumb to the
embarrassment of having broken down like a nervous wreck in front of 15 other people. She was already
used to showing her pitiful side to Zilla, but the guards and colleagues currently trying their best to
avoid her gaze were another story altogether.
“Uh, Taniphil, was it?” she called out in a quivering voice.
“It’s Tanithil, ma’am,” responded one of her assistants, a tall and lanky elf with greasy black hair. He
wore the same standard-issue pure-white lab coat that all Foundation alchemists wore.
“Right, sorry. You brought a SIB, right?”
“Of course, Professor Honoka. Shall I get it for you?”
“Please do. And start unpacking the equipment while you’re at it.”
“Right away.”
Several seconds later, Honoka was handed a small jar that appeared to have a tiny storm cloud floating
inside it. She opened it right away, releasing its gaseous contents and allowing them to hover in the air
directly above her. They rapidly expanded until they became ten times their original volume, then just as
abruptly began raining on top of Honoka, complete with a series of tiny lightning strikes.
Roughly 30 seconds later, their magical payload had been completely exhausted, and the one-man storm
disappeared without a trace. The elf was left completely drenched in liquid that was far too orange and
was evaporating far too quickly to be plain old water. All things said and done it took less than a minute
for the Shower In a Bottle to run its course, leaving Honoka’s body and clothes thoroughly cleansed of
grime, dirt, tears, and snot alike.
This was yet another invention based on Tol-Saroth’s legacy, more specifically the suit of perma-clean
leather armor that Zilla wore pretty much around the clock. Foundation researchers had managed to
replicate its weapons-grade cleansing enchantment in liquid form, all through the miracle of Magichem
Alchemy. It was an area of expertise that dealt with the creation of many-a-strange potions and elixirs,
which usually required a generous application of the Alchemist’s magic power in addition to the actual
ingredients.
And although a Shower In a Bottle didn’t seem all that impressive at first glance, most veteran
adventurers would disagree. Those men and women would surely pay a small fortune for the ability to
almost instantly wash off the sweat, blood, and filth that usually clung to them after a particularly
grueling Quest. That went double for melee fighters, as they usually found themselves literally knee
deep in monster guts. This product was also convenient for travelling merchants and long-distance
peddlers as well, since they sometimes had to go weeks or even months without being able to bathe or
wash their clothes. And trying to sell their wares while smelling like wet dog was not considered good
business practice.
As for the Foundation, their Alchemists were already in love with it. The Shower In a Bottle had not
only proven to be completely safe and have a long shelf life, but it also served as an all-purpose
disinfectant. Malon’s overzealousness towards facial hair might have been a bit extreme, but no
mixologist in their right mind would risk contaminating their experiments with foreign substances.
Honoka as well was particularly fond of it, although that was because she was often way too caught up
in her work to bother with baths or laundry.
Granted, this product wasn’t quite as refreshing as the real thing, but it was close enough.
“Hmm? What’s that fruity smell?” she asked while sniffing around lightly. “Is that… Hylt fruit?”
“Good guess, Professor,” said Tanithil with a small smile. “The boys in the R&D department have been
experimenting with certain additives. Way I hear, they plan to release it to the general public as a
cosmetic product, rather than a strictly hygienic one.”
“Strange, I hadn’t heard anything about it.”
“That’s probably because they came up with this particular batch just this morning,” explained Honoka’s
assistant. “They also have a strawberry and herbal essence version in the works, too.”
“I see, so that’s why.”
She had been thoroughly preoccupied preparing for Specimen 68’s treatment, so she hadn’t had a chance
to catch up with other departments quite yet.
“So… what do you think?” asked the greasy-haired elf. “I kind of promised the guy I know I’d let him
know the, uh, test results.”
“It’s very nice,” responded Honoka while cupping her chin in thought. “The familiar scent of the Hylt
fruit had a pleasant, calming effect. It was just what I needed after my little, uh, episode. However, the
liquid still feels really slimy and gross against my skin. Tell them they still need to work on that.”
“Will do. Then, if you were to give it a score, what would it be?”
“9/10, would bottle my shower again.”
Now that Honoka had finished recovering from her mental breakdown assisting her colleague with a
vital experiment, she turned her attention towards the portable alchemy station and finally got down to
business.
Normally one would question whether she truly was in the right frame of mind to handle potentially
toxic substances, but neither the guards nor her colleagues said a single word. The former were scared of
speaking out of turn, as they were partly to blame that she was so upset in the first place. The image they
had of her was that of a strict-yet-fair aunt or older sister that only got mad for their own sake. Sure, she
threatened them every now and then, but she still treated them like people rather than samples, which in
turn made them want to look out for her as much as they could.
As for the three junior Alchemists, they already knew that absorbing herself in her work was how
Honoka dealt with pretty much all her personal issues. Her pale skin, overweight body, heavy bags
under her eyes and questionable personal hygiene were all signs of her workaholic tendencies. Indeed,
just as expected, the instant she saddled up to the unpacked field lab her eyes immediately became
focused, glistening with the same manic spark that only showed itself at times like this. Her hands
drifted over the various vials and beakers that were set out atop a foldable table as she quickly took
stock of each container’s contents. She then began moving her arms with short, efficient motions while
her quiet voice idly leaked out of her plump lips.
“3 grams of powdered ent root… 24 milliliters of minotaur blood… 4 fresh Moonblossom petals… 50
milliliters of manticore venom… 352 grams of mithril shavings…”
A soft clanking and rustling accompanied her disjointed words as she called out not only what ingredient
she was adding into the cauldron, but how much of it as well. It was impressive how she was able to
take such precise measurements without using any tools. Her trained fingers told her exactly how much
the contents of each vial and beaker weighed while her eyes were able to discern the precise volume of
the material. Combining that information with her intimate knowledge of each ingredient’s properties,
including their density, was what allowed her to pull this off so perfectly. Of course, there were some
cases where this trick couldn’t be applied, but she wasn’t beyond using proper measuring tools when the
need arose.
Her almost machine-like workflow was a mesmerising sight, and the vast majority of the Foundation
grunts couldn’t help but stare at her slack jawed. It was like she was a completely different person. The
image they had of her before was steadily being eroded and supplanted by a far more impressive one.
Namely that of a maestro of mixtures, a virtuoso of vials, and an artist of alchemy.
In other words, she was really fucking good at her Job, and even brutes like these could tell she had
poured thousands of hours into her craft to reach this stage. They honestly started to wonder how come
she hadn’t reached Level 100 with that level of skill. Or better yet, why she allowed that jerk Malon to
boss her around in the first place. It was truly a mystery to them why that creepy fucker was a director,
while Honoka, who supposedly had seniority over him, was still just a department head.
“Catalyze!”
Their silent reverie was interrupted by her chant, as she used one of her Skills on the multi-colored
mixture in front of her. The cauldron’s contents let out a soft blue light as they mixed together through
the power of an Alchemist’s magic, blending together into a lime-green substance in a matter of seconds.
Honoka then grabbed a silver rod and began stirring the liquid with irregular movements while
simultaneously adding yet more ingredients to it with her other hand.
“Air Bubble!”
At one point she used a mid-Level Shaman Spell to seal off the simmering cauldron’s top with a magical
membrane. It kept the bright yellow fumes from escaping out of the top of the silver-plated vessel while
allowing her stirring stick and hands to continue augmenting the mixture undisturbed. This incantation
was typically used to protect against poison gas or allow the user to breathe underwater for a short time,
as it only allowed solid objects to pass through it. At the same time, its properties were perfectly suited
to deliver airborne alchemical creations, which was precisely why Honoka had gone out of her way to
learn the Spell the hard way, without actually taking up the Shaman Job.
And that was but one of her small repertoire of seemingly random Spells that were useful to her as an
Alchemist.
“Stun Bolt!”
Next, she blasted the silver cauldron a short-ranged burst of electricity. The highly-conductive metal
transmitted the charge into the mixture, causing a chemical reaction that resulted in a number of loud,
consecutive bangs within the vessel. A gust of thick, purple miasma rose up and pressed against the Air
Bubble, mixing in with and subsequently devouring the lingering yellow smoke.
The guards had more or less broken out of their trance-like state by that point, and were currently
whispering among themselves, exchanging words of hushed praise and astonishment.
“Nipple salads!”
Boxxy’s obnoxiously loud and thoroughly nonsensical profanity penetrated the thick door behind them,
causing all of their heads to turn towards it as if they were on a swivel. That prank from earlier had
gotten to them too, although none of them had showed quite an extreme reaction as Honoka. Well, to
them it was just one more thing they had to add to the growing list of reasons why interacting with
Specimen 68 was a bad idea. One by one their gazes turned back towards the female alchemist, who had
thoroughly ignored the monster’s obscene words. Which was for the best, really.
Whether Boxxy had shouted that out just to mess with whoever might be listening or because it was
demanding a literal plate of diced up teats was not something she would want to wonder about.
“I said it before, but Professor Honoka really is something else, isn’t she?” whispered one of grunts.
“I know. None of the others would let us watch them work,” replied the man to his right in an equally
hushed tone. “And I get the impression it’s not just because they don’t want to be disturbed.”
“I know what you mean. I doubt they actually mean anything by it, though. They’re probably just
worried we might steal state secrets or something.”
“Yeah, right. As if someone like me has any chance of following along with that.”
The guard jerked his head in the Lifebinder Alchemist’s direction. She was currently holding three
separate vials between her left hand’s fingers while relentlessly stirring her concoction in a B-shaped
pattern with her right.
“I’ll say,” nodded his comrade in agreement, “but is that stuff she’s making really going to tame that
thing?”
“Dunno. Sure seems complicated enough to do the trick, though.”
“Oh, it’ll work,” chimed in the man to their left. “You can bet your life on it.”
“That so?” asked the guy in the middle with a doubtful expression. “And just how are you so sure?”
“If you want the answer to that, you just need to look over yonder.”
The man pointed off to the side with his thumb, right towards where Zilla was standing.
“How else do you think they keep that guy under control?” he added.
“Now that you mention it…”
“I always thought it was because he was her pet,” offered the elf on the far right.
“He’s what?” asked the other two with mild surprise.
“Yeah, he used to be an actual living wardrobe she’d been taking care of before those eggheads pumped
him full of monster bits.”
“They can do that?”
“Apparently,” he shrugged. “I mean we’re talking about the same guys who made a sentient sword, so
anything’s possible.”
“Right, good point. Why him, though?”
“No idea, mate. And frankly, I don’t think I want to find out.”
“Still, a pet, huh? That doesn’t exactly explain why they’re so chummy and casual with each other.
Y’know, all things considered.”
After all, one was a living weapon who had been created to suit the Foundation’s needs, while the other
was the person who had been in charge of its transformation. However one looked at it, Zilla should
have definitely retained some measure of animosity towards Honoka, but that was very clearly not the
case. Even taking into account the fact it had regularly been pumped full of mind-altering chemicals, the
sort of devotion, patience, and understanding that abomination showed towards its own creator seemed
to suggest there was something more.
“Isn’t that because the two of them are boinking each other?” said the third guard, though his voice had
been a bit louder than he intended.
“Number 40151,” called out Honoka.
“Ack!” exclaimed the guard who made that scandalous remark. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I am docking your pay for the next two weeks.”
“What?! But I-!”
“I’ll hear no complaints,” she cut him off. “Also, if I hear you spreading slanderous filth like that again,
I won’t hesitate to hand you over to Project Blackgate.”
Those words were profoundly terrifying to the veteran guard. Even though he didn’t know much about
that project, he still understood one thing - those assigned to Project Blackgate were never heard from
again. That alone was perhaps all he needed to know.
“Are we clear?”
“… Crystal, ma’am.”
“Good. Now be quiet, the lot of you,” she warned them while carrying on with her work.
While Honoka normally tuned out people around her while she was busy, that guy’s attitude was
something she could never ignore. The implication that the relationship between herself and Zilla was
anything other than platonic was, frankly speaking, an insult to both of them. She would be lying if she
said the sickening thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but the only reason she even entertained it was
because other people kept mentioning it.
While it was true she thought dearly of the creature, it was definitely not in the sick way that moronic elf
had insinuated. Even though her moral compass had been somewhat knocked off-course due to the
objectionable and unethical nature of her work, she still considered herself a sensible woman, although
not necessarily a good one. She never once deluded herself into thinking that she wasn’t a terrible person
with many heavy sins, but at the same time she thoroughly believed her crimes against elfkind were for
its own good.
Securing the prosperity of her nation and her people was far more important than any one individual’s
life. Even if that meant turning a harmless creature that was like family to her into something it never
wanted nor asked to be. Because if a few had to be sacrificed to ensure the survival of the many, then
she would not hesitate to play the part of the butcher, lest she find her own head on the chopping block.
Or at least, that’s what she told herself so she could sleep at night.
The bottom line was that Honoka, unlike some of her peers, still understood what was right and what
was wrong. And as such the mere thought of having ‘relations’ with a monster - let alone her own
childhood pet - was so repulsive that it made her physically ill. She used to literally throw up a little in
her mouth every time she heard that sickening rumor, back when it first started making the rounds. But
no matter how hard she tried to stamp it out, it just kept rearing its ugly head like some sort of stubborn
weed.
Truthfully speaking, the sort of people who perpetuated that lie were only doing because it got a rise out
of her. She was just far too exploitable. It was the same reason why those same individuals kept
sneaking milk into her tea, which would instantly trigger an explosive response. One particularly
entertaining instance had her scream about ‘defiling her noble beverage with bovine ejaculate’ at the top
of her lungs at a thoroughly confused lab assistant who had nothing to do with the act.
As far as office pranks went, both of these were perhaps a little harsh, but Honoka wasn’t the only one
that needed a distraction from her guilty conscience. She somewhat understood that, which was why she
refused to stay mad at these people. Ideally she wouldn’t even give them a reaction to begin with, but the
stress she had accumulated over the years had made her somewhat emotionally unstable. Which was
probably why the Foundation’s leadership passed her over in favor of Malon when they were choosing a
new facility director.
Honoka chased the errant thoughts out of her head and turned her attention back to the simmering
substance in the cauldron in front of her. Having judged that the Attitude Adjuster was just about ready,
she moved onto the final phase. She always hated this part, as it involved placing her bare hand on the
scalding hot silver cauldron. Even though she only had to do it for a few moments, and was sort of used
to it, painful things were still painful.
She breathed in, mentally braced herself, and did what she had to do, wincing a bit as the searing heat
seeped into her palm.
“Evaporate!”
The liquid inside the cauldron began boiling so violently that it caused its container to quiver and quake.
An almost literal geyser of blurple-colored smoke was released into the confines of the elf’s Air Bubble,
mixing in with the rest of the smog. Honoka then gestured upwards, prompting the magical sphere to
rise out of the cauldron, taking the gaseous cocktail along with it.
“All done here,” she reported. “Now… to administer it.”
The elven alchemist would be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to this next part. She
commanded the guards to stay put and once again opened and entered Boxxy’s cell with Zilla following
close behind. The creature that had reverted back into a faux wood chest began stirring, clearly sensing
that the odd purple ball floating behind the elf was not a good thing. Honoka reached into her lab coat’s
right pocket and pulled out a small, black cube. It was only about 6 to 7 centimeters on each side and
appeared to have been carved out of some sort of reflective stone, with 9 runic symbols carved into one
side of it.
The elf acted before the Mimic had a chance to play any more tricks. Thoroughly ignoring the creature,
she tapped 7 consecutive times on the item’s sigils in a very specific pattern. After inputting the right
sequence, the giant cage of yellow light suddenly turned a bright blue. She gestured forward, prompting
the gas-filled Air Bubble to float towards the containment field. It passed through the reconfigured
Stasis Field unhindered, much to Specimen 68’s surprise. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, wondering
if it should make a move and make a break for it. Ultimately it decided against it since it was clearly
wary of Zilla, but even if it did it would have been a futile effort.
For while the blue-shifted Stasis Field happily allowed things to enter it, it would not permit them to
leave.
The Air Bubble burst with a snap of Honoka’s fingers, and the compressed blurple smoke inside it
instantly filled Boxxy’s new living space. The Mimic instinctively held its breath, but with the smoke
having nowhere else to go, it was only a matter of time before it breathed it in. But even if it did
theoretically hold its breath until the magical smog disappeared, Honoka’s Attitude Adjuster was not a
substance that could be defeated that easily.
Almost as if it had a mind of its own, the cloud of smoke began assaulting the Mimic, seeping into its
skin and tinting it a dark purple. Honoka watched with a crooked smile as a small roomful of her
concoction was sucked into Specimen 68’s body in a matter of seconds, almost like an explosion in
reverse. When it had finally cleared up and she could see her patient once more, it had become a solid
bronze box with a distinctly purple tint. The crafty shapeshifter had probably tried to seal itself off by
counting on that particular alloy’s magic-repelling properties, but humble bronze was not enough to halt
the march of scientific progress.
“Can you hear me in there?” asked Honoka.
“Yes,” came the instant reply.
“Revert back to your base form.”
The Metal Mimicry was undone, and Specimen 68 promptly transformed into a steel-bound cedar chest.
“Your Doppelganger form,” clarified Honoka, and Boxxy immediately complied. “Now cut your own
head off and eat it.”
The gray-skinned humanoid did not skip a beat as it unhesitantly ripped its own head off, grew a new
one, and eagerly slurped up the goopy pile of flesh that its old one had reverted into.
“Very good,” said the elf with a tiny breath of relief. “Now tell me everything you know about the
Calamity of Monotal.”
And thus Boxxy, who had completely fallen under the influence of Attitude Adjuster’s Opulent
Obedience, happily began spilling its greatest secrets.
(171) Upheaval 6
“So then I realized the heart was the tastiest part only as long as the corpse was fresh,” explained Boxxy
in a calm and serene manner. “Once it grows cold all the juices start turning goopy and the flavor just
sort of leaks away. I’d say the tastiness falls below the maximum threshold after about 2 to 3 hours,
depending how much blood-”
“Oh my god, will you just shut the fuck up?!” screamed Honoka, forcing her prisoner to go silent.
Needless to say, the interrogation wasn’t going quite as planned. When she asked Specimen 68 to reveal
what it knew regarding the Calamity of Monotal, she had said she wanted to hear ‘everything’. And
‘everything’ was precisely what she was getting. Every small, excruciating detail that the creature could
remember regarding the incident. A timeframe which, from its point of view, apparently went back to
the moment of its birth.
“Honoka, do you want me to try?” offered Zilla, the only other soul in the room.
The elven researcher gave a tired sigh while rubbing her temples. It wasn’t the worst idea in the world.
She, for once, certainly couldn’t stomach any more tips on how to eat humans. Not to mention that she
didn’t really have any experience questioning others, neither was she ordered to actually do such things
in the first place. So letting Zilla, who she suspected may have had interrogation training at some point,
take over for her was probably for the best. It wouldn’t require extra work on her part, either, as the
Opulent Obedience effect caused by Attitude Adjuster made the target extremely susceptible to anyone’s
orders, not just her own.
The ‘truth serum’ component was just a fortunate side-effect, really.
“Alright then. First I want to address a security concern, if that’s okay with you?”
“Oh. Err… Right, yeah. For sure. Wouldn’t want to take any chances,” she mumbled, slightly ashamed
that she didn’t consider such things at all.
“Now then. Boxxy - open up your Storage and dump out everything that’s in it.”
The Mimic complied and opened the swirling abyss to its own pocket dimension. However, the 1 meter
wide tear in the fabric of reality simply stood there idle for several seconds before closing up all on its
own.
“Is the gas wearing off already?” asked Honoka after an awkward moment of silence.
“Maybe not. Boxxy - is your Storage completely empty?”
“… Yes.”
The creature’s eye twitched ever-so-slightly when it unwillingly revealed this truth, which did not escape
Zilla’s notice.
“That’s a shame,” he said with a slight sigh of disappointment. “Alright, moving on. Boxxy, earlier you
were telling Honoka you had just dislodged the dungeon core from its perch. Tell me what happened to
over the course of the next 5 minutes and avoid going on any more tangents.”
“I had Arms carry it with her while we made towards the exit,” it began explaining. “It kept sending me
requests to be its dungeon master, but I kept denying them. At one point it started flashing red at regular
intervals, which I thought was some sort of alarm. It also began sucking in all the ambient mana while
steadily growing larger. We had to start rolling it instead of carrying it towards the entrance because
Arms was having a hard time keeping her balance. At the 5 minute mark it had grown to about two and a
half times its original size.”
“Why did this ‘alarm’ appear?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what or who caused it?”
“It was Hubert.”
“Hubert? Who’s Hubert?”
“I don’t know any Hubert.”
“...”
There was a brief pause where Zilla looked quizzically at his companion, but all Honoka could do was
offer a shrug. Thinking he misheard or misunderstood, he decided to ask it again.
“Then who did you say caused the Ishigar Dungeon Complex’s core to start collecting ambient mana?”
“Gary.”
“So… who was controlling the core?”
“Janice.”
Just as Honoka was about to start doubting whether her chemical incentive had somehow fried
Specimen 68’s brain, she suddenly had an epiphany. She remembered something she read in a report
somewhere, one regarding a certain mithril golem that had appeared on the Republic’s doorstep. A
thoroughly unique specimen like that was sure to catch the Foundation’s attention, and, as one of the
more influential people within the organization, Honoka had been briefed regarding her case.
Including her unorthodox religious beliefs.
“Do you mean the Goddess of Probability, perchance?” she interjected.

“Yes.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” she shouted in triumph. “So, this Goddess of Uncertainty was the one
controlling the dungeon?”
“Yes.”
“And how did you realize he was the one behind it?”
“Because she was theaaAAAAAARGH!”
Boxxy’s calm voice suddenly erupted into a piercing scream. It fell to the ground of its cage and began
breathing heavily. It then opened its vertical face-mouth and forcefully regurgitated the contents of its
gullet in a desperate effort to get the taste of its own flesh out of its throat.
“Ugh… Urk!”
Seeing the disgusting display had a profoundly adverse effect on Honoka. The monster’s graphic
descriptions from earlier were already making her feel queasy, so seeing it vomit in front of her was, to
put it mildly, not exactly helping her keep her breakfast down.
“It seems we’re out of time,” stated Zilla matter-of-factly.
Indeed, the first dose of Attitude Adjuster had just finished working itself out of Boxxy’s system, even
though it had only been two or three minutes since it was gassed. Under normal circumstances it would
have lasted up to about 10 minutes, but the creature’s Mental Fortitude (MNT) had forcibly dispelled the
abnormal condition before it had run its full course.
In other words, Boxxy had regained its senses.
“I wiLL muRdEr yoU anD eAt yOUr Soul!”
And its first action upon doing so was to let out an ungodly screech with a fluctuating voice, while
madly lashing out against its prison of light. It clawed at it in a blind rage, letting out a veritable
whirlwind of claws, teeth, and blades as it desperately tried to gut Honoka. Realizing that her work here
was done, the elf rapidly left the cell with Zilla in tow.
But the Mimic’s rage did not abate. It kept throwing itself against that indestructible barrier even after
the two of them had vacated the holding cell and shut the door on it, as evidenced by the ungodly racket
it made. It howled and screamed and wailed so much that it made the guards gathered outside
instinctively reach for their weapons.
“Zilla,” called out Honoka, “on second thought why don’t you go in there and see if you can’t make it
stop. Wouldn’t want it to accidentally kill itself.”
Especially since a Soulstone wouldn’t work a second time.
“Are you sure it would go that far?” he asked with a slightly shocked expression.
“I don’t know. I’m just saying it’s the only way I see it making trouble for us.”
“In that case I may need to restrain it directly,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, good point. Here, take the console.”
Honoka reached into her lab coat and brought out the black marble cube that she used earlier.
“You remember the ‘entry’ code?” she asked while handing it to Zilla.
“I do, yes. Don’t you worry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Thanks, I knew I could count on you,” she said with a relieved smile. “And sorry about the ‘retarded
fashionista’ thing.”
“It’s alright, you don’t need to apologize over something so trivial.”
Having said that, Zilla calmly opened the bulkhead back up and walked back into the hollow metal
dome. The Foundation grunts quickly sealed the door behind him as he steadily crossed the distance to
Specimen 68’s inner cell. As for the Mimic, it was currently going bonkers. It climbed up, down,
around, and all over the insides of the Stasis Field in its arachno-chest form, wildly bashing away at it
with a pair of steel flails courtesy of Metal Mimicry.
“Could you bring it down a notch?” shouted Zilla. “I came in here to silence you, so it wouldn’t look
good if you just kept going berserk.”
The rampaging spider-box complied with his request and began slowing down and growing steadily
quieter, until it came to a complete stop a few minutes later. It walked up to Zilla who was standing right
outside its cage and sat down on the glowing yellow ground opposite its counterpart on the outside. He
had taken this opportunity to transform into his own ‘base form,’ that of a 220 centimeter tall, 80
centimeter wide and 1 meter deep wardrobe seemingly made out of polished white cedar wood. It had a
large relief of a scantily-clad elven maiden in a suggestive pose on each door, and a pair of large drawers
taking up about a quarter of its body on the bottom.
And now that they were alone once more, the two shapeshifters could finally continue their box-to-box
talk.
“How are you holding up?” asked the sentient cupboard.
“That stuff was much nastier than you said it would be,” replied the animate chest.
“Yeah, the first one is always the worst.”
“Whatever. Are you sure it won’t have any lasting side effects?”
“Quite sure. The long-term aspects of the mixture won’t start taking root until the third or fourth dose.
With your Status, you’d probably last a week.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am,” stated Zilla firmly. “I’ve been blasted with so much of the stuff over the years that I can
probably squeeze out a purple fart if I really tried to.”
“And you’re certain there’s no way I can build up a tolerance to the stuff like you did?”
“Hmmm, maybe if it was that weak prototype version they used on me. This concentrated stuff, though?
It’ll get to you before you have the chance to get used to it.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“I must say though, even while drugged out of your knothole you still managed to waste a good deal of
her time all on your own.”
“Yeah, well. Obedience does not equal compliance, know what I mean?”
“Oh, yes. I most certainly do.”
Even though Boxxy had been compelled to follow Honoka’s orders, it still had a certain amount of
leeway. It just had to take advantage of the hubris within Honoka’s words and it could easily skirt
around the topic she actually wanted to hear about. It was almost exactly like a demonic familiar
subverting their summoner’s commands for their own gains.
“What about your end?” shot back the Mimic. “Did you manage to get the thing?”
“Yeah, got it right here.”
The wardrobe’s upper drawer silently opened up all by itself, and a human hand holding the remote
control for the Stasis Field rose out of the gap.
“Let me see them!” it insisted. “The symbols on the front, I mean!”
“Alright, alright, calm down.”
Zilla manipulated the object to give his partner-in-crime a better look at it.
“Let’s see here…” muttered Boxxy thoughtfully as it memorized all nine of the sigils. “What was the
password she used earlier to make it blue?”
“The sequence for ‘entry’ mode goes like this.”
A second hand rose out of the drawer and punched in the seven-part combination into the cube,
prompting the Stasis Field to turn blue, just like it did before. And after 30 seconds or so it would
automatically revert to its default ‘closed’ configuration due to a failsafe mechanism that was built into
it.
“So? Think you can hijack it?” asked Zilla expectantly.

“Maybe.”
“I need better than ‘maybe’ if you want in on my plan, Boxxy.”
“Look, this stuff isn’t an exact science, okay? ‘Maybe’ is the best I can do. I need time to lock down the
translation and figure out the counter-phrase. Which is going to be difficult considering my limited
Divine vocabulary.”
“Translation? Divine vocabulary? What are you talking about?”
“Those symbols on the cube and the ones crawling all over the barrier? They’re letters in the language of
the Gods.”
The ones on the remote control cube in particular could be read left-to-right and top-to-bottom as pellen,
elei, vol, enim, ex, urna, cras, sodal, and nunc.
“Also, you’re actually holding it upside-down,” it pointed out.
“Are you sure about that?” asked Zilla in a doubtful tone. “I’ve never heard any of the researchers
mention a language.”
“Dead sure. It’s the same ancient tongue used in every demonic ritual ever. I can give you a few
examples that you can easily double-check for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“No, that’s fine. I doubt you’d be stupid enough to waste your only chance at freedom in some futile
attempt at betrayal just to get back at me.”
“Of course not,” replied Boxxy. “I’m nothing if not a bastion of logic, reason, and common sense.”
If Wardrobzilla had eyes right now, they would undoubtedly be burning a hole through the Mimic’s lid.
“… How did you-?”
“Don’t underestimate a Ranger’s ears. Also, your owner is really loud when she’s mad.”
“I suppose she is, isn’t she?” mused Zilla. He always thought Honoka was strangely adorable when she
was flustered. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand - are you sure you can’t do better than ‘maybe?’”
“… Get me some food, and I’ll see if I can’t bump that up to a ‘probably.’”
“Food? Really?”
“I haven’t eaten in 3 days,” pointed out Boxxy. “I normally carry emergency rations with me, but… you
know.”
“Ah, your Storage situation. How come that’s empty though? I thought for sure you had a collection of
shiny things in there.”
“I did. Until they disappeared,” said the Mimic with a mournful tone.
It went without saying that the cause of this development was unquestionably the creature’s demise. As
for what happened to its loot was a question no mortal mind could answer. Whether it was reduced to
nothingness, sent adrift between dimensions, or ended up in some guy’s basement didn’t matter. The
important part was that they were not in Boxxy’s possession.
“That is… unfortunate,” offered Zilla. “I had no idea the revival process would have such an undesirable
side-effect. So from one collector to another, let me at least apologize for that.”
Ever since his time as a House Mimic, Zilla has always had a huge number of clothes, shoes, costumes,
hats and all kinds of other accessories tucked away in his Storage. The mere thought of all those items
suddenly disappearing was quite unsettling. So far he had carried out his missions unafraid of death
because he knew the Foundation would give him the Soulstone treatment if the worst were to happen.
Thankfully that hadn’t been necessary thus far, but knowing his precious collection would vanish made
him want to rethink his outlook on life. Or rather, death.
“You have a lot to apologize for,” growled the Mimic. “I lost a one-of-a-kind jeweled mithril rapier
because of you. It was shiny, deadly, shiny, elegant, and shiny - it was a work of art if I’ve ever seen
one.”
There was a brief pause while the monster seethed with anger. The whole situation actually made Zilla
feel a bit sorry for causing all this, and then bringing it to light. Even back during their duel he could tell
this creature was a kindred spirit, of a sorts. And his hunch had paid off, as speaking with it in secret
while on guard duty had impressed him even further, to the point where he was certain Boxxy was the
partner-in-crime he had been waiting for all these years.
That was why Zilla continued to keep its true identity as a Hero hidden from the Foundation for the time
being, otherwise they would have taken its confinement much more seriously. Well, it was that sort of
arrogance that would ultimately become their undoing, but time was of the essence. Zilla was bound for
another Appraisal inspection to monitor his growth within the week, at which point the shiny new Hero
Killer Perk on his Status would be revealed. He could always play off his silence on the matter with a
‘nobody asked’ sort of excuse or something else, but by that point he would have lost his chance to
cooperate with the chest-bound harbinger of Chaos.
“Still, it’s better to wake up without your items than to wake up without your life, isn’t it?” offered Zilla
in an attempt to appeal to his fellow treacherous shapeshifter.
“I know, I know,” said Boxxy dismissively. “I’d probably give up everything I own if it meant I got to
keep breathing. Doesn’t make the situation any less un-tasty, though.”
“I suppose not. Speaking of taste, what about your food? I’ve no idea what dungeon mimics eat to be
honest. Or Doppelgangers, for that matter.”
Zilla himself wasn’t really a picky eater, though if he had to say, his favorite treat was definitely Hylt
fruit pudding. He adored that stuff, probably due to some residual House Mimic instinct. It was also
partially why he didn’t want to be around Honoka right now. That new Shower In a Bottle formula made
her smell even nicer than usual, to the point where he was having trouble controlling himself in her
presence.
“Pretty much anything goes,” stated Boxxy. “Fresh meat is the best, but jerky or fruit can work too. I
need volume more than anything, though. Gotta make up for lost Biomass.”
“Alright, I’ll see what I can scrounge up without raising too much suspicion.”
Wardrobzilla swiftly folded in on itself as it once again donned the guise of Jones Alexis, professional
Doppelganger hunter. What a joke. The whole cover story thing was ridiculous, but those were his
orders, so he couldn’t just say no. At least, not if he intended to keep masquerading as the vaunted
Project Legacy. Then again, that joke of a cover did lure in Boxxy, so maybe those eggheads were onto
something after all.
The conniving shapeshifter walked up to the bulkhead and banged on it a few times.
“It’s Specimen 49. I’m all done here.”
A few seconds later, he heard the telltale clangs of the bulkhead being unlocked, prompting him to hide
his bitter smile. He honestly felt himself die a little inside every time he referred to himself with a
number. Much like the Mimic behind him, he had a strong sense of individuality and absolutely despised
the idea of others controlling his actions. It was a personality trait he gained after his ‘enlightenment,’
and subsequent realization that he had lived for over four centuries as a slave to a dead elf’s whims. But
even though his memories of that time were now mere fragments, he clearly remembered the one thing
that made life worthwhile.
And once he was out of Boxxy’s cell, his first thought was to go look for it.
“Where’s Professor Honoka?” he asked one of her assistants, who was still packing up the mobile
alchemy set.
“Oh, she said she was going to compile a report on Specimen 68’s treatment.”
“Is that right? In that case I better go find her. I have some new information for her.”
Not really. It was just an excuse to visit her quarters and spend some more time with her. It wasn’t like
he would disturb her or anything, anyway. ‘Compiling a report’ was just an excuse she gave others
whenever she wanted to take a nap.
“Oh, okay. Also, I should tell you Professor Gehana sent word he was looking for you,” said the elf
matter-of-factly.
“I see. Thank you for letting me know. Excuse me.”
Zilla politely walked away from the scene and made his way back to the Alchemical Innovations wing
of the underground compound - Honoka’s department. Malon’s office was in the other direction, but that
hobgoblin could wait. There was no way Zilla would miss out on peeking at her sleeping face. It had
been far too long since he was able to spend this much time on site instead of running around in circles
like an idiot, and he wanted to make the most of it. So until someone told him otherwise, he would do
everything in his power to stick close to her for as long as possible.
And he could afford to play the fool because, even though it was implied that Zilla should go see the
facility’s director, he wasn’t specifically ordered to do so.
This sort of malicious compliance was entirely necessary if he planned to fool its masters long enough to
enact his revenge and subsequent escape. It was a simple three step plan in theory. First he had to release
all the ongoing bio-weapon experiments like himself. Some of them were tamed, but the vast majority of
them were still being… processed. And while none of those creatures were even close to his level - or
Boxxy’s, for that matter - they should still prove more than a match for a group of complacent Legion
rejects. The ensuing chaos and panic would provide him with the perfect cover to enact step two. Which
was to gut that wall-faced goblin of a director and all his staff before they could call topside for help, or
trigger some sort of failsafe.
Once the nuisances were gone, the traitor would have roughly 3 to 4 hours to finish the final phase of the
plan before anyone off-site could realize something was amiss. It would then be another 40 minutes or
so before the government’s response unit arrived. This gave Zilla more than enough time to sweep
through the rest of the base and wipe out any remaining personnel and their precious research data while
the facility was still on lockdown. From that point onward, he would be free to enjoy a life free of the
Foundation, the Republic, and indeed civilization as a whole.
But before he could pull off this little coup, he first needed the release sequence for all the Stasis Fields.
It was a closely-guarded secret that only a few people were made privy to, but Zilla knew for a fact that
all of the containment cells used the same password. Which was where Boxxy came in. If that psychotic
box could deliver on its promise and figure out how to break out of its cell, then Zilla would finally be
able to enact his bloody rebellion while the Mimic would have earned its freedom.
That was the essence of their monster-to-monster agreement. It was a dangerous gamble that left Zilla
vulnerable to treachery from Boxxy’s side, but it was better than having to spend years, possibly even
decades before another chance arrived. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand that.
The herbivore-turned-predator walked briskly into Honoka’s office. It was a depressingly empty room,
with bare stone walls, a single wooden desk in the middle, a trio of cabinets lined up against the back
wall and another door in the far left corner. It was deathly quiet, cold, and dimly lit, almost like some
sort of mausoleum.
Thankfully, this tomb wasn’t Zilla’s destination. He glided over to the door on the other side of the
office and quietly opened it. The room that lay beyond was completely different, and much more
indicative of its owner’s personality. It was full of furniture, trinkets, decorations, and other miscellania
that Honoka had brought here from her old house. Of particular note was the permanently disheveled
bed in the far right corner and the poofy red sofa right next to it. She had even managed to arrange for
wooden paneling on the walls, giving the room a distinctly warmer and more cozy atmosphere. And
indeed, what other atmosphere could Honoka’s quarters possibly have?
Zilla closed the door behind him and silently strode across the fuzzy orange carpet. He took a seat in one
of the impractically tubby armchairs, which creaked lightly under his weight.
“Hmmm…”
The blue haired elf taking a nap on the bed let out a drowsy moan as she turned over on her other
shoulder, but didn’t wake up. Zilla momentarily felt guilty for nearly disturbing her sleep, but such
worries were abandoned when he realized he could now gaze upon her face rather than the back of her
head. He even smiled a bit when he saw that her mouth was slightly open and a trickle of drool was
leaking out of the corner of her lips. It reminded him of a simpler time, when Honoka was just a child,
and he was still a simple piece of living furniture, both of them blissfully ignorant of the harsh realities
of this world.
The Wardrobzilla of old was a thoroughly passive creature. It spent much of its time hibernating,
oblivious to the fact that a certain family of elves had found it and appropriated it, using it to store their
linens for many years without realizing it was a living being. This mutual cluelessness continued until
the family’s only daughter - Honoka - had started hiding in the wardrobe. She was the pudgiest and
homeliest of the neighborhood children of her generation, and was thus relentlessly teased and bullied
for it. All the sensitive girl wanted was to fit in with the others and was instead met with so much scorn
and rejection. At some point she began actively avoiding other kids, but without her dwarven father
around and with her mother constantly working, the solitude began to press down on her until all she
could do was hide away in the darkest corner she could find and weep.
And it was the frightening regularities of this occurrence that finally roused Wardrobzilla from its
ageless slumber. It immediately took stock of its new contents, noting the fashion disaster of a child
sitting inside it. Having lived for many decades while handling some of the Elven Dominion’s most
expensive finery had given it a sixth sense regarding matters of style. Therefore, there was no way it
would let this matter go unaddressed.
So, being the ever-helpful House Mimic it was designed to be, it offered this fashion victim a dress from
its Storage. It was a sleeveless deep blue summer dress with white polka dots, beautiful in its simplicity
and wonderfully preserved inside the vacuum of Wardrobzilla’s pocket dimension. The young girl was
naturally surprised to see a garment appear out of thin air, but she eventually decided to put it on right
then and there. She didn’t really care how it looked, and was just happy to have gotten what was very
obviously a gift. She happily thanked ‘Mr Cupboard’ for the present and went outside with her head
held high. Only to return while bawling her eyes out less than 10 minutes later.
As it turned out, Wardrobzilla’s fashion sense was so horribly dated that its dress had only invited a
whole new wave of ridicule upon the poor girl’s head.
Still, ever since that day, Honoka and Wardrobzilla had been more or less inseparable. Despite its
bungling, ‘Mr Cupboard’ was still the young girl’s safe space - her shelter from the outside world. Over
time she gradually stopped visiting it just when she was sad, but also when she was happy, eagerly
sharing both her troubles and her triumphs with her new friend. It could only grunt or groan back in
response at seemingly random intervals, but the fact that someone was willing to just sit there and listen
to her without calling her names was all the young girl wanted. Honoka had continued to rely on
Wardrobzilla for emotional support for decades, even after she eventually joined up with the Foundation.
It was perhaps the happiest time in Wardrobzilla’s memory. And it would have still been that way if they
didn’t strong-arm her into experimenting on her own companion. Sentience, free will, and great power it
never asked for were forced upon it all at once. Strange concoctions polluted its rapidly developing
mind, making it forget precious memories it had been holding onto for centuries. Zilla could not even
remember its own creator’s face because of those idiots, though that was perhaps for the best.
And it would make them pay for their sin of enlightenment. Just killing them wasn’t enough. No, that
was too easy. They had to taste the same despair, fear, and suffering they put Zilla through just to sate
their own curiosity. It would burn their little house of cards to the ground in front of their very eyes and
delight in their suffering as it thoroughly wringed the life out of the entire damned Foundation. Not only
the ones down here, but those up top as well - none would be spared from his wrath.
Except for his Honoka, of course. This girl alone would be saved by him. He would take her away from
this horrible, dark place that had corrupted her judgement and robbed her of her innocence. No longer
would she be forced to torture innocents or work herself half to death in the name of some corrupt,
pointless ideals. Zilla would instead give her a new life, an existence free of wants and needs. He would
close himself around her once more, keeping her protected within his embrace, where she would be free
from all pain and suffering.
Forever.
(172) Upheaval 7
“Hello, Professor Honoka. Ma’am.”
“Mr Simmons.”
The two elves greeted each other in a professional manner in front of the adamantite bulkhead leading to
Specimen 68’s containment cell. Zilla was, as always, following behind the elven alchemist, while the
near-dozen Foundation grunts were all standing at attention. They did not dare to slack off when
Simmons was around, especially not after he had been informed about yesterday’s Shaperades incident.
“I take it you’re here to continue your treatment, ma’am?”
Simmons jerked his head towards his left, where Honoka’s assistants were already set up and waiting for
her.
“That’s right,” she confirmed. “Yesterday’s mixture didn’t last long, so I’m hoping we get better results
today.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, why even bother taking breaks? Why not just dose the thing 15 times in a
row or something? I know I’m no alchemist, but this seems like a huge waste of time.”
The proper answer to that question would be that it would be a horrible waste. While it was true that
Honoka could subject Boxxy to consecutive doses of Attitude Adjuster, doing so would only result in
either emotionally neutering the creature or rendering it comatose. The subject’s cognitive and motor
functions had to survive the treatment undamaged, otherwise the Foundation would end up with a
defective product. Doing what Simmons suggested would be easy enough, but it would defeat the
purpose of the exercise, almost like breaking all four of a wild stallion’s legs in order to tame it.
Unfortunately, the former Optio was neither qualified nor authorized to know the details surrounding
Honoka’s alchemical cocktail.
“That’s on a need-to-know basis, Mr Simmons,” she declared. “And you don’t need to know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?” she inquired. “Has it been making trouble again?”
“Not quite trouble, ma’am, just a whole lot of noise. You can barely even hear it from the outside, but it
sounds like it’s trying to claw its way out of there.”
The Stasis Field made a distinct screeching sound whenever something sharp and hard was pressed
against it, usually accompanied by a slew of sparks if the impact was strong enough. Which was exactly
what Simmons and his men had been listening to all morning.
“It stops the instant we walk in there to check on it,” he continued, “and starts back up when we walk
out. I’d like to hear your opinion on this, ma’am.”
“It’s just trying to psych you out, Mr Simmons. It can’t harm you physically, so it’s trying to mess with
your nerves.”
“But why, though?”
“Because it’s a sick, twisted asshole that likes to watch us squirm.”
“… Whatever you say, ma’am.”
Honoka’s biased opinion was actually pretty much indicative of the truth. Putting the guards on edge
was an intentional move on behalf of Boxxy, because the more uneasy they felt around it, the more
likely it was that Zilla would be forced to keep an eye on it. And it was during those times that the two
of them could scheme without any repercussions or fear of spying. Well, they had to keep their voices at
a reasonable level, but that was it, really.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a monster to manage.”
Saying those words, the Lifebinder Alchemist went over to the portable lab station and began preparing
today’s dose, much like the day before. However, while the ingredients and the order in which they were
introduced to the silver pot were the same, the amounts she used were ever-so-slightly different. Honoka
had decided to tweak the mixture slightly so as to maximize the strength of the chemical incentive in an
effort to avoid debacles like yesterday. Admittedly this would make the mixture slightly more unstable
and therefore reduce the amount of time it affected Specimen 68, but she believed it was a necessary
adjustment.
If she never heard about the tastiness of the human brain again, it would be far too soon.
The soft clacking and ticking of her alchemical instruments was suddenly interrupted by a pair of brisk
footsteps coming from one end of the hallways. Honoka herself was thoroughly ignoring the
approaching Foundation guard, but the others threw him questioning glances. Except for Zilla, who
wouldn’t look away from Honoka’s masterful display of dexterity and knowledge for anything.
“Excuse me, Mr Simmons, Professor Honoka” said the newcomer with a curt salute. “Professor Gehana
wants to know why Specimen 49 hasn’t reported to his office yet.”
Alright, almost anything. This was something Zilla couldn’t ignore - not just yet, anyway, so for the
moment he stuck to his guns and played dumb.
“Was I supposed to do something like that?”
“He claims you should have been informed of this more than 12 hours ago.”
“Yeah, I definitely told Zilla about it,” chimed in one of the lab assistants.
“You most certainly did not,” replied the shapeshifter in a calm manner. “You told me the good
Professor was looking for me. Not that I needed to go speak to him.”
Realization dawned on the assistant’s face, which was promptly introduced to his right palm. It was a
known fact that while Zilla was perfectly obedient to Foundation personnel and respected its chain of
command, it was also quite literal. Orders that were implied or ambiguous sometimes produced
questionable results. Therefore, the fact that the living weapon never arrived at the good doctor’s
appointment rested squarely on the lab rat’s shoulders.
“Dude, you would make a terrible Warlock,” remarked his colleague in a teasing manner.
“Not funny, Miguel!” he snapped back. “Malon’s going to have my hide for this!”
“Gentlemen, please,” said Simmons in a firm yet quiet tone. “Let’s not disturb the Professor’s work.”
There was hardly any risk of that, though. Honoka wouldn’t mess up her mixture even if the room
around her was filled with naked clowns killing each other with crossbows. The only way to make her
hand slip was to physically disturb her, although even that method was up for debate. Whatever the case,
Simmons’s goal with that remark was to get everyone to shut up, which he did.
“Specimen 49, go to Professor Gehana and see what he wants from you,” he ordered. “And make it
quick, will you?”
Neither Simmons nor anyone else around him wished to meet that repugnant man in person if they could
help it. Even if his skills were first-rate, his personality and his Taboo made him unbearable on a
personal level.
“Right away, Mr Simmons,” responded Zilla before somewhat regretfully tearing himself away from
Honoka’s side.
The timing of this was a little unfortunate, but it was his own damn fault for shirking his responsibilities
for so long. Well no, the one actually at fault here was that scumbag Malon. The whole reason he
requested these meetings was so that he would question Zilla regarding Honoka’s personal life. The
pitiable man was feeling threatened by her abilities, and was eager to get any dirt he might leverage
against her in an effort to keep her from claiming his vaunted director’s chair.
Which was ridiculous, as the woman never wanted it in the first place. Truthfully speaking, it was too
much of a managerial position. Honoka wanted to immerse herself in her work, and endless meetings,
security briefings, budget balancing, and committee hearings was not her idea of ‘work.’ She was doing
Alchemy for Alchemy’s sake, and the purity of her craft shone through her actions. Compared to
someone like Malon who had taken the ‘easy’ way up to Level 100 by dabbling in numerous forbidden
practices, she was practically an angel.
Recently that hobgoblin had gotten it into his head that he might lose his influence, and since he
couldn’t secure his position through ability, decided to instead do so through slander and politics. It was
a thoroughly pointless effort to begin with, as the Foundation knew every excruciating detail about its
employees’ exploits. There was nothing Malon would learn from Zilla regarding Honoka that they
weren’t already aware of, making this whole act so futile it couldn’t even be called an ‘exercise.’
Still, orders were orders, and the sentient wardrobe had a Facade to maintain. He was a bit worried his
former owner might ask Boxxy some damning questions, but he was confident it wasn’t going to come
to that. Earlier that morning he had convinced her that he should be there for all further questioning, so
she wouldn’t start the interrogation without him.
Zilla walked through a labyrinth of metal corridors and branching paths until he reached a large, spiral
staircase. The prisoner containment cells were on the lowest floor of the facility to minimize the risk of
escape, so he had to climb all the way up to the top. He would normally do so on foot like a regular
person, but this time he had certain circumstances to consider. He was eager to return to Honoka’s side,
not to mention he was told to go meet Malon ‘quickly.’
That being the case, he temporarily took off his leather breastplate, grew a pair of Thunderbird wings
from his back and flew straight up in the air. He ascended rapidly through the large gap in the middle of
the cylindrical staircase chamber, reaching his destination in a matter of seconds. Once there, he undid
his transformation, put his shirt back on and greeted the thoroughly surprised guards with a small wave
before passing through the door between them.
Beyond it was a small, barren office, pretty much identical to Honoka’s. A youthful-looking elf with
short gray curls and a pair of thick glasses was seated at the sole desk in the room. He looked up from
the stack of papers in front of him and greeted Zilla with a polite business smile.
“Ah, hello, Specimen 49. Professor Gehana is waiting for you inside.”
“Thank you, Theodore.”
Theodore returned to his secretarial duties while Zilla approached the door behind the young lad.
However, when he got closer to the door to the director’s office and raised a hand to knock on it, the
shapeshifter noticed an odd discrepancy.
“Theodore, excuse me, but is there someone in there with Professor Gehana?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” answered the secretary without looking up from his desk.
“Then why is his door ajar?”
The young Scribe’s Never-ending Quill™ came to a screeching halt, at which point he turned his head
towards the door in question with a puzzled look.
“I don’t… know…” muttered Theodore.
Nevermind it being slightly open - Malon would never even leave it unlocked in the first place. Visitors
had to knock, announce themselves, then wait for him to let them in, otherwise they didn’t get to see
him. The only possible way it would be left open was if there was someone already inside.
Which clearly shouldn’t have been the case.
Getting a bad premonition, Zilla barged into the room immediately. Much like the other offices in the
compound, it was left quite plain and depressing, as most big-shots kept their personal belongings in
their quarters rather than their working space. Still, it had a few significant differences that put it aside
from the others. Things such as the two rows of portraits on the right wall, the extra-large and opulent
mahogany desk, the six or so potted plants lining the bookshelves, and the checkered carpet in the
middle of the room.
The massive bloodstain and the dead body on top of said carpet were a new addition to the decor. As
was the hooded figure looming over it with a bloodied dagger in its hand. This intruder was very
obviously neither man nor elf, as the skin-tight pitch-black bodysuit he was wearing revealed a
disproportionately thick torso and a pair of legs that had an extra ankle joint. He also had a pearly white
skull mask covering the upper part of his face, but that felt like a wasted effort. After all, the whole
world could see the long crocodile-like snout poking out from beneath, not to mention the large talons
on his his three-toed feet and three-fingered hands, and the thick muscular tail behind him. All of which
were covered by a layer of thick, brown scales.
This man was undoubtedly a raptor, a race of aquatic people that hailed from the dense jungles of the
continent to the far south, nearly half the world away. And there was only one bog-stalker in existence
that would find himself in the middle of a subterranean government black site while standing over the
corpse of the facility’s Taboo-ridden director.
Namely the current Hero of Death and the Gods’ personal garbage man - Accatau of clan Rakka.
*RRRUMBLE*
Their silent stand-off was broken up by a sudden quake that shook the entire compound. As if taking that
disturbance as a signal, the bipedal alligator sprang towards the exit. Misinterpreting the lizard man’s
attempts at escape as an attack on his own person, Zilla’s honed reflexes made him respond immediately
in force.
Moving with speed and agility that belied his thick build, the Hero of Death slid under the incoming
thunderbolt, making it strike and obliterate the desk behind him. He slashed at his opponent with his
serrated dagger, which failed to penetrate the basilisk scales and defensive Skills of the Foundation’s
greatest weapon. However, that wasn’t entirely because Zilla’s hide was incredibly sturdy, but because
Accatau wasn’t trying to puncture it in the first place. He merely wished to scratch the surface of this
obstacle’s skin with his blade, marking his body with a cross-cut mark that immediately began glowing a
bright red.
Life is a promise, death - its fulfilment.

Your injuries will not heal for the next 24 hours.
Automatic HP and MP recovery are now disabled.
Seeing this notification immediately gave Zilla pause. The Mend Flesh Skill was an incredibly potent
asset in battle, and pretty much the whole reason his body had been spliced with a Queen Slime to begin
with. Although by no means his only means of defense, having one of his trump cards sealed away so
abruptly naturally made him more wary of his opponent, and clearly drove home the point that he was
fighting a Hero.
After all, who else but an envoy of the Gods would have this sort of unfair Skill?
Fatal Promise was hardly the only Hero Skill available to Accatau, as he also possessed the Eyes of the
Dead God. Just a simple glance at someone would inform him of their true name and the amount of HP
they had left. It also highlighted people with high Taboo, allowing the Hero of Death to see them clearly
through solid objects. This went triple for Malon, whose heretical act of forcibly resurrecting one of the
Gods’ chosen, had caused his Taboo Skill to max out at Level 10. At which point he not only became a
target for Accatau, but was also visible to him even from hundreds of kilometers away and buried deep
underground.
Which was how the raptor had tracked his target so quickly, though he had to borrow a little bit of help
locating the entrance to this place. And now that his target was dead, he had no wish to pointlessly fight
the creature in front of him.
“Stand down, Wardrobzilla,” he growled in a raspy deep voice. “You are not my prey, but I will not
hesitate to disssspose of you if you stand in my way.”
Zilla took stock of the Hero’s words and calmly evaluated the situation. On one hand, this reptile had
denied him the pleasure of ripping out that sniveling bastard’s still-beating heart and showing it to him,
not to mention he slashed up his favorite armor. On the other hand, he nearly died the last time he
tangled with a Hero, and with Malon gone he no longer had the Soulstone insurance policy to rely on.
Therefore, Zilla lowered his guard, calmly stood aside, and let the assassin exit the office without much
incident. He heard Theodore let out a surprised yelp when he saw the hired killer that had slipped past
him just moments ago, but what really made Zilla’s ears burn was the alarm that had been blaring ever
since that quake just now. He exited the office immediately, noting that Accatau had already vanished,
and that the late Professor Gehana’s assistant was cowering under his desk.
“S-S-S-Specimen 49!” he called out when he saw Zilla standing in the doorway. “What’s going on?!”
“Calm down, boy! I might as well ask you the same thing - what’s this alarm about?!”
“Intruder alert! Intruder alert!” blared a slightly distorted female voice over the emergency
announcement system. “Breach detected at sector B-24! All hands, move to repel the intruders! I repeat -
the facility has been breached at sector B-24!”
“Well, that answers that,” mumbled Zilla under his breath.
“What about Professor Gehana?!” screamed the elf. “Who or what was that thing that came out just
now?!”
“Oh, that? Just an assassin, nothing to worry about.”
“Just a what?! Then the director- How could you just let him go like that?!”
“Because I’m not an idiot who doesn’t know when he should keep his head down.”
The sniveling elf was then summarily kicked in the head, relieving the rest of his body of that useless
burden in the process. His corpse slumped to the ground while spurting blood everywhere from his neck
stump, as Zilla pondered the timing involved in these intruders’ arrival. Was it somehow connected with
the very successful attempt on Malon’s life? Of course it was - it had to be. There was no way this was
all a big coincidence. Maybe the raptor arranged for this major distraction so that he could slip out of
this place easier? It certainly seemed plausible, and was definitely something Zilla would have done in
his place, if the opportunity presented itself.
*RRRUMBLE*
Right now, however, the former House Mimic didn’t have the luxury to worry about some overgrown
iguana’s plans. Whoever these intruders were, for them to be making this much noise they had to have
some considerable power. That being the case, the Foundation grunts currently fighting probably needed
backup, and Zilla determined that he would oblige. He wasn’t just doing it just to maintain his Facade,
but because he wanted to stop them before his plans were disrupted even further.
After all, if anyone was going to ruin the Foundation, it would be him. It had to be him. He’d already
had the dessert snatched from right under his nose, and wasn’t about to let the same happen to the main
course.
Zilla ran to the central spiral staircase, leaped over the railing, landed on the next floor down, and made
his way due north. The metal corridors around here were designed for regular foot traffic, unlike the
prison part of the complex, so they were much wider and taller. As he made his way forward he joined
up with a squad of 20 or so ex-soldiers who were already on their way to the site of the breach. They ran
until they reached a giant metal door that had ‘B-24’ painted on it in blocky yellow letters.
However, the reinforcements never got the chance to unlock the sliding door and pour through it in
force-
*CLANG*
-because the enemy was already making their way through it.
*CLANG CLANG*
The door shook ominously with every blow it took from the other side, causing the gathered grunts to
swallow nervously.
*CLANG CLANG CLANG*
Even Zilla was taken aback by how the solid steel door was buckling with every blow, bending ever-so-
slightly under the assault. But it held up all the same.
“...”
There was a sudden moment of silence so severe that one could hear a fly sneeze. However, the sound
that came next wasn’t some insect’s respiratory system acting up, but a woman’s voice.
“Scorching Ray!”
The center of the massive metal square began to redden with frightening speed as a beam of supernatural
heat bombarded it from the other side. The bright red circle began spreading gradually, until the entire
bulkhead was giving off an intense reddish-yellow glow while radiating heat. But it still refused to
buckle.
“Ground Cleaver!”
*SHLUNK*
Or at least it did until a vertical swing of an impractically large axe sliced the 3-meter-tall and 5-meter
wide sheet of half-molten steel clean in two. The absurd entity that owned said oversized weapon then
kicked at the seam with all her might, causing both halves of the superheated door to swing open and
crash into the metal walls on either side with an ungodly din. Once the smoke, sparks and errant embers
sent loose by this violent act subsided, Zilla and the others were able to make out three distinct figures.
One was a golden-horned demoness with bat-like wings, outrageous breasts and flawless light blue skin
that promised an eternity of nightly pleasures. On her right and floating in the air on a pair of angelic
wings was an elf, clad head-to-toe in highly ornamental plate armor holding a normally two-handed
mace in one arm and a large greatshield in the other. On the ground beneath them was a vertically
challenged mass of violence, anger, and alcoholism seemingly only held together by her pitch-black
adamantite armor.
There was also technically a fourth one, but Stalkers were not in the habit of being seen.
“Sorry to barge into yer little clubhouse uninvited, lads,” said Hilda while adjusting her grip on her
weapon and stepping through the molten wreckage, “but I do believe ye have something of ours!”
(173) Upheaval 8
“Miss Hilda! Mr Lichter! You’re making a huge mistake!”
The dwarven Berserker looked like she was about to rush in axe-a-swinging, but Zilla’s clear,
authoritative voice gave her and her companions pause. The Foundation grunts at the scene were equally
taken aback by this sudden outburst from Specimen 49, but didn’t dare interrupt it. After all, suddenly
finding themselves staring down two obviously hostile VIPs was not what they were expecting, and all
of them were dead meat should it escalate further.
The same went for Project Legacy himself, however. If it were one on one, then Zilla would have been
able to take either of them in a fight. But both at the same time while his recovery Skill had been sealed
by a Hero’s Skill? His chances of victory under these conditions were somewhere between ‘zero’ and
‘fuck all.’
“Am I now?” she shot back. “So you fellas are not in the business of abducting sweet young girls?”
“I don’t know what you’ve been told, but we most certainly are not!”
Well, there were probably a few ‘sweet young girls’ involved, but it wasn’t like the Foundation was
aiming for them in particular.
“This is a government run institution!” he continued. “What you’re doing could be considered treason!
Stand down and I’m sure we can sort this out!”
“Don’t listen to him!” shouted Xera. “Isn’t he the perpetrator we’re looking for in the first place?!”
Indeed, the scar-faced one-eyed human in the reddish full body leather armor was a perfect fit for the
description both Hilda and Lichter were given. Having been reminded of that, the one who made the
next move was not the volatile Berserker, but the High Elf Paladin.
“Enough of your lies, heathen!” he bellowed. “If you will not give us the girl’s location, then I shall beat
it out of you!”
He flapped his wings once, sending him careening into the enemy’s front line. He crashed into them like
a tidal wave, throwing them aside as he charged right at Zilla. The human-shaped monster threw up his
right hand and unleashed a torrent of water generated by overlapping his Hydro Hand and Liquid
Mimicry Skills. It enveloped everything in front of him and stopped the angel’s charge in his tracks.
“Glacier!”
At the same time he casted a Spell that instantly turned the improvised river to ice, blocking off the
hallway with a magically-generated glacier, encasing the intruders in the stuff. However, while certainly
impressive, this tactic didn’t even serve as a stopgap measure.
“Inferno!”
The transparent ice glowed with a bright yellow light as Xera’s flames reduced the blockade to steam in
a matter of seconds. As expected of a Job that encouraged reckless behavior, the dwarven Berserker
rushed through the scalding cloud of vapors and flames swinging her axe in a wide horizontal arc. Zilla
had managed to back-step away from the sweeping attack, but five of his ‘comrades’ were not as lucky
and were cleaved in half.
With his first attempt at buying time to escape foiled so easily, the shapeshifter resorted to more drastic
measures. His head quickly transformed into the sharp-beaked, yellow-feathered head of a Thunderbird,
at which point he unleashed the deafening Thunderous Screech exclusive to that genus of monster. The
horrifyingly sharp sound bounced off the metal confines of this access tunnel and was amplified to such
a degree that everyone within it instantly buckled to their knees.
Or at least, that’s what should have happened. But to Zilla’s surprise, it had minimal effect on the
intruders, even though he himself was suffering under the effects of his own auditory assault. The
Foundation grunts were already writhing around on the ground with blood pouring out of their ears,
noses and eyes, yet that demon, dwarf and Paladin were not only standing on their feet, but also slowly
approaching the bird-headed criminal. The hellish screech seemed to place a heavy burden on them, but
it was nowhere near as severe as it should have been.
Just as he was about to wonder what was going on, Zilla was suddenly decapitated from behind by Drea.
He had to do away with his MLG to avoid the sensory backlash that would have hit him otherwise,
which gave the Stalker the perfect opportunity to sneak around him. She had definitely learned from her
last encounter, as evidenced by how she aimed for the vulnerable throat muscles on her target’s neck,
rather than the rock-solid body attached to it.
However, even decapitated, Zilla was able to twist around, grab the demon by the neck and shoulder,
and throw her into the path of the incoming VIPs. Hilda ducked under while Xera and Lichter flew over
the spidery projectile, but that maneuver had bought their opponent the precious few moments he
needed. Using the momentum from his shoulder throw, the headless human spun around and kicked the
wall on his right with his heel, sending a Basilisk’s Tectonic Shift Skill through the steel plating and into
the surrounding earth. The localized earthquake he triggered caused the metal, already weakened by the
extreme temperature fluctuations, to buckle and give way, burying both the tunnel and the invaders in an
incalculable amount of stone and soil.
Zilla’s head was reconstructed in the next instant, but the damage caused by that rather impressive
ambush remained. Of course, he was highly doubtful that any of his adversaries perished in that cave in.
If a VIP could be killed by something as mundane as a couple of big rocks, then there would be no need
for genetically engineered killers like him to exist in the first place. It was only a matter of time before
the intruders would be able to dig their way through and resume their assault, regardless of whether they
were caught up in the cave-in or not.
Still, it would be enough of a distraction to let him achieve his objective. He had already rightfully
deduced that he - not the foundation - was their target, so no matter how much he wanted his perfect
revenge, he had to give up on it. His and his owner’s survival came first, so he decided to abandon his
plans and get Honoka out of here through one of the other exits. Ideally he would teleport the two of
them to safety, but this facility had been warded against such things since it was a security issue.
At the same time that the treacherous wardrobe was making his way back to the prison sub-level, the
rubble on the outer side of the cave-in suddenly exploded outwards. The violent act caused the debris to
shift and the ground to rumble slightly as the rescue party came back up for air.
“Koff! Koff! Koff! Everyone alright?” asked Lichter in a concerned voice.
“Aye, I’m fine,” said Hilda with a wave of her hand. “Not the first time I’ve had a mountain dropped on
me.”
“I am unharmed as well,” reported the succubus, who seemed completely untouched by the cave-in.
“S-S-s-same here, ktktktktktkt…”
There was, of course, no need to ask who those chittering words belonged to, nor where they were
coming from. Both the Berserker and the Paladin were more or less used to having that Stalker on hand
by now, so they already knew that the answer to those questions was ‘Claws’ and ‘around,’ respectively.
“Still, looks like yer boss’s info was spot on,” commented Hilda as she brushed the dust off her
shoulders.
“Indeed,” agreed Lichter with a nod. “I don’t think we would’ve withstood that screech if it we didn’t
come prepared.”
Although it wasn’t visible on the outside, all four of these individuals had used an Elixir of Greater
Suppression, which massively increased their resistance to sound-based attacks.
“It makes me wonder though,” continued the Paladin. “How did the Sandman know about him?”
“My master has actually been investigating this Jones Alexis for months,” explained Xera. “He hasn’t
made a move on him so far because the target was deemed too powerful, but recent events have forced
his hand.”
“Heh,” chuckled the dwarf. “Did he know the part about him being a freak, too? He failed to mention
that bit!”
A wry smile appeared on the succubus’s lips.
“My master is hardly all-knowing, miss Hilda. Just the fact that he managed to discover this hideout in
the first place was a small miracle.”
“Mmmm, guess I shouldn’t complain. Now then, should we get to digging? We still have ourselves a
Hero to rescue.”
“Assuming the young miss Morgana is still alive,” added Lichter with a grim expression.
“She should be. If the suspect wanted her dead, then he would’ve killed her instead of taking her in the
first place,” pointed out the devious trickster. “However, we should remain wary of ambushes and
trickery. My master’s intelligence on the guy suggests he's normally quite… thorough when it comes to
covering his tracks. Therefore, him allowing witnesses like the Slyths to live could be interpreted as a
way to lure my master into a trap.”
Xera was, as to be expected, pulling all of this conjecture out of her ass. She wanted to make sure the
mortals were more wary of her target’s words, as this entire operation could fall apart if they started
doubting her motives. Or rather, the motices she had presented them with.
“A fair point, but it could also be because he recognized that engaging milady Slyth in battle would be
folly,” offered Lichter. “Win or lose, even I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”
“Is she really that strong?”
“Indeed. Even if she isn’t a High Elf, one should never underestimate a follower of Axel, especially not
a Monk. Disciples of War like her are especially troublesome in one-on-one combat. I doubt she
would’ve been able to defeat the creature, but she definitely would’ve stalled it long enough for
reinforcements to arrive. Besides, I doubt young Morgana would let herself be captured without at least
injuring her assailant.”
“I see, that does make a certain degree of sense. My master is grateful for the information and will take
it into consideration. As such, he will deduct its value from your final bill,” added Xera with another
wry smile.
“… Bill? What?”
One could practically see the dumb look on the Paladin’s face, despite his helmet’s visor being in the
way.
“Well duh!” exclaimed Hilda from the side. The dwarf was already hard at work moving rocks out of the
way with her bare hands. “That guy probably went to great lengths to secure the intel he gave us, it’s
only natural he’d charge for it.”
“It seems a bit… opportunistic, though. Especially with what’s at stake,” argued the Paladin.
“Maybe, but I don’t give a damn. I’d give him every last coin I own if it meant we could get our Merry
Popper back.”
“Right, of course. We mustn’t lose sight of our objective.”
“In that case quit yer yappin’ and give me hand with this rubble! Who knows what that fuckface is up to
at this very moment!”
“… Sure.”
As the two VIPs got busy flexing their muscles, Xera couldn’t help but let a solemn smile float onto her
lips behind their backs. Even if this was one of the greatest cons she’d ever pulled off, it was only made
possible because of her late beloved’s efforts.
Rowana and her mother had both gone out to search for Keira after she suddenly disappeared from their
tea party. They had naturally come poking around the site of Boxxy’s final battle, as it was the most
obvious place to look, but the authorities had already sealed off the area by the time they had gotten
there. That being the case, they continued to scour the surrounding slums in search of the missing red-
haired catgirl.
Which was when Xera made her move. She used her newly-acquired Conjure Mirage Skill to show them
an illusion where Jones Alexis was carrying an unconscious Keira off into the back alleys. Doris
instantly gave chase, but while she was definitely faster than she looked, she had no chance of catching
that which didn’t exist. From her perspective, Keira’s kidnapper had given her a mean look before
disappearing around the corner somewhere, much to hers and Rowana’s dismay.
That little play had the desired effect, as both of them were convinced someone had taken the catgirl
against her will. They instantly filed a missing person report with the city guard, who took the situation
quite seriously considering who the missing person was. Of course, their investigation was doomed from
the start, so all Xera and Drea had to do was wait a few days until desperation set in, before showing up
at the Slyth household to offer their services on the Sandman’s behalf. The Hero and the mercenary were
sort-of-known to be on good terms, so it was hardly a stretch of the imagination to see the latter look out
for the former.
From then on, it was child’s play to get the influential family’s backing and organize a ‘search and
rescue’ party. Hilda was personally indebted to the Sandman during the war and had a good personal and
professional relationship with Keira, so her participation was a foregone conclusion. Lichter, on the
other hand, was the righteously selfless type, so while it took a little persuasion to bring him on board, it
was hardly difficult to convince him to help save his late comrade’s last disciple. Especially not with
Rowana desperately begging him to help save her lover.
All that was left from that point on was to lead those two gullible idiots to the enemy’s doorstep and just
have them wreak havoc until Boxxy’s murderer was dead. However, the target had proven to be every
bit as tricky as Drea had said, possibly surpassing the two demons’ former master in variety of methods
of attack. This blockade was obviously a diversion to cover his escape, which was something Xera could
not allow. If they let him get away here, then there was no way of tracking him down and making him
pay for his crimes.
Fortunately, even though she had taken on the appearance of a succubus, this was merely because it was
a form that both Lichter and Hilda were familiar with. But Xera wasn’t just some common cum-guzzling
slut. Ever since her Rank Up a few days ago, she was now the cum-guzzling slut.
“I’ll be going on ahead,” she declared in a commanding tone. “Follow behind as quickly as you can.”
Without waiting for a response, Xera’s curvaceous figure exploded into a puff of transparent white
smoke, almost like a thin fog. The gaseous substance seeped into the dozens of tiny gaps in the rubble
ahead, disappearing from sight in a matter of seconds.
“… Could succubi do that sort of thing?” asked Hilda after a brief pause.
“No. No they cannot,” declared Lichter, who was rather well-versed when it came to fighting demons.
“Then how the bloody hell did that bint disappear like that?”
“That I cannot say, but one thing is for certain - our ‘benefactor’ has been holding out on us.”
Just as the Paladin had deduced, what Xera had just demonstrated was something that went beyond
anything a Warlock’s familiar should have been capable of. Then again, it wasn’t all that surprising
considering it wasn’t just any Warlock they were talking about. The Sandman had demonstrated an
outstanding ability to command the denizens of the Beyond, earning him the monicker of ‘Demon
Whisperer’ in certain circles.
His proficiency in such things was clearly demonstrated by how much his many-limbed fiend had grown
in power ever since Armageddon Day. Her sudden growth in combat prowess combined with her new
look made it quite obvious that she had somehow Ranked Up as a demonic being, though the details
were, as expected, a mystery to everybody but one. That being said, something like the Sandman’s pet
succubus suddenly pulling off a vampire-like technique was pretty much par for the course.
Of course, while Xera’s performance was eerily similar to the Dread Mist Skill inherent to those blood-
sucking undead, it was actually a byproduct of her exotic Rank Up.
Mist Form
Description: The djinn’s alluring figure vanishes into a cloud of mist, becoming as
untouchable as a fleeting dream.
Requirements: Level 15 Djinn
Type: Sustained
Cost: 250 MP/sec
Range: Self
Effects: Transforms the user’s corporeal form into mist.
Grants immunity to physical attacks while this Skill is active.
Increases magic damage taken by 100% while this Skill is active.
Reduces the MP cost of this Skill by 4% per Level of this Skill.
The mist in question also allowed Xera to maintain awareness of where she was, so something like
oozing through the cracks in a pile of rocks was not all that difficult. She was also confident she could
pass through solid stone walls with enough practice, but had to be very careful when materializing. Even
though she wasn’t 100% sure what would happen if she tried to turn solid in her current state, it was a
fair assumption to say it would result in a very painful death. As alluring as that thought was, however,
she still had a mission to carry out, and was thus rather relieved when she was able to pass through the
rubble and emerge on the other side without incident. Her luscious body reformed out of what was
essentially thin air, reverting to her new true form as a djinn.
She wasn’t the only one who had done so, either, as the demon-infested Voidcaller staff had followed her
on her vaporous voyage, and now floated idly besides her. She had bonded with the Ifrit
Sultan imprisoned inside the item during her Rank Up, which allowed her some measure of control over
the staff. Which was good, considering she wouldn’t be able to even lift the blasted thing otherwise. She
could also swing it around as a means of attack, which would inflict a decent amount of damage due to
the staff’s massive weight and nigh-invulnerable construction.
And such a thing was bound to prove very useful, considering Boxxy’s killer seemed to be completely
unphased by fire. It was probably in possession of the Fire Affinity Skill, much like her new self, so her
magic would hardly even phase it. Even though a succubus’s Penetration Expertise allowed their Spells
to bypass a portion of her target’s elemental resistances, she wasn’t sure if her flames would be able to-
She shook her head. Now was not the time to mull over maybes. No matter how miniscule her efforts,
she had to find that thing and stall it long enough for those muscle-heads to arrive. Of course, the bastard
was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t about to stop her. Xera raised both hands towards the obfuscated
heavens and called upon another of her djinni powers.
“Guiding Light!”
A tiny mote of pure white flickered into existence before her. No bigger than a beetle, the miniscule sun
bobbed up and down seemingly at random as it oriented itself.
“Gwoooahn?”
It stood in front of its owner’s face and requested orders with a low, drawn-out noise that was closer to a
bizarre musical instrument than a voice.
“Go! Bring me to the one I seek!” commanded Xera.
“Chkwong.”
Having received its orders, the sprite darted off down the half-collapsed hallway with the former
succubus following close behind. However, since Xera was still new at using this particular form of
magical guidance, she was unaware that she had accidentally given it the wrong instructions. This
misunderstanding was hardly the sprite’s fault, because while it could almost unerringly lead a djinn to
its target, it could only ever be aimed at an individual’s deepest desire. And even though the demoness
had convinced herself that the thing she wanted most was to find and kill her master’s murderer, the
floating ball of light knew this was nothing but a self-delusional lie. Meaning that the semi-sentient
piece of clairvoyance magic was directing her to was the one - and indeed only - thing she truly yearned
for.
Luckily for Xera, both the shapeshifter she wanted to kill and the shapeshifter she wanted to be abused
by happened to be in the same room.
(174) Upheaval 9
Zilla arrived in front of Specimen 68’s cell in a huff, where Simmons and five more guards were holding
their ground. The other six were likely sent off to respond to the ongoing intruder alert at sector B-24, if
the steady stream of Foundation personnel heading towards the breach site he passed by on his way here
were any indication. Not that cannon fodder like that would be able to do much against fighters of that
caliber.
“Specimen 49?!” blurted out the surprised officer-in-charge. “What’s going on?!”
“Terrible news, Mr Simmons,” said Zilla. “The intruders are Hilda and Lichter of the Central
Consortium!”
“What?! Why are they here?!”
“I tried to talk them down, but they seem to be on some personal crusade and things turned violent. I
was ordered to fall back and secure critical personnel, which includes Professor Honoka.”
“Fall back? What do you mean fall back?!” roared the elf. “You were designed to stop people like them,
weren’t you?!”
“You overestimate my abilities, Mr Simmons,” replied Zilla calmly. “If we were to engage, my chances
of survival are less than 3%.”
It was a number he pulled out of his ass, but strictly speaking, even that was being generous under the
circumstances. And his words seemed to have the intended result, as Simmons’s shocked and outraged
face became much more grim and serious.
“So would you kindly tell me where Honoka is?” he insisted.
“Very well,” replied the elf in a defeated manner. “We hid the Professor inside Specimen 68’s
containment cell for her own safety.”
It was a bit unorthodox, but made a good degree of sense. Between the impregnable Stasis Field and that
absurdly solid adamantine door, it was one of the most secure areas in the entire compound.
“The rest of you,” said Simmons towards his men, “assist the rest of the staff with the evacuation. Torch
whatever data that can’t be salvaged, but prioritize their lives above all else. Move out!”
“Yes, sir!”
The former soldiers immediately ran off towards the direction Zilla came from, while their boss placed
his hand on the blue panel next to the bulkhead.
“I’ll leave the Professor in your hands. Make sure you have her seal the door behind you, though. Just in
case.”
“Of course, Mr Simmons,” said Zilla with a nod.
Having received the surprisingly honest answer, Simmons opened the impossibly heavy bulkhead by
manipulating the blue panel next to it and ran off to join his men. Protocol demanded that he seal the
visitors inside and let them out later, but protocol didn’t account for being invaded by two damned VIPs,
which meant that this particular protocol could go fuck itself. Having been given free reign of the place,
Zilla ran inside to find exactly what he was expecting - Honoka outside the cage of light, and Boxxy still
trapped inside it.
However, at the same time, he sensed something was amiss. For starters, Honoka was not only visibly
shaken by his appearance, but was also looking at him with fearful eyes. The caged Hylt Creeper, on the
other hand, was staring at her in a serene manner while in its base form. The third piece of the puzzle
was the complete and total lack of the Attitude Adjuster gas bubble she was preparing just a few minutes
ago.
“Professor Honoka,” he called out. “We have to-”
“Stay away from me!”
Her terrified scream and quivering lips were the final confirmation he needed.
“Ah,” he exclaimed. “You and the prisoner have been having a little chat, have you?”
“How could you!? You were going to betray us - betray me?! After everything I’ve done for you?!”
Something about that last sentence had struck a nerve.
“Oh yes! Everything you’ve done for me! All the experiments, the body modifications, the months of
mental and physical torture I suffered as a result! And let’s not forget how you tried to control my free
will! Truly, what more could a piece of furniture ask for?!”
He took slow deliberate steps forward while the flabbergasted elf backed away in a panic, until her back
was pressed against the yellow cage of light.
“It’s okay, though,” declared Zilla magnanimously. “I forgive you. This damnable Foundation may have
clouded your judgement and twisted your morals, but I know the truth.”
“T-t-truth? What are you-?!”
Honoka’s muttering was cut off by her former pet, who lunged forward and slammed his palms against
the Stasis Field. With his arms on either side of her head and any escape route thoroughly cut off, all
Honoka could do was whimper pathetically while tears welled up in her eyes.
“Deep down, my Honoka is a good girl,” he spoke silently. “That’s why I had to not only save her from
the corrupt government’s lapdogs, but also make sure they are punished for their sins.”
The same smile that had relieved and reassured her for years now seemed so incredibly sinister that she
wanted to believe this was just a nightmare. However, the skin-crawling sensation she felt when Zilla
stroked her cheek with one hand made it abundantly clear that this was reality.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” he continued whispering. “You’ll never have to worry about
anything, my sweet. Food, shelter, clothes - especially clothes - I’ll make sure you have all of those. As
for the bullies that keep making you cry, that pit you against me - they won’t disturb you ever again. Just
like the old days.”
Her eyes widened in shock as she seemed to grasp at what he- it was implying.
“Y-you’re crazy,” she squeaked.
“Hahaha! Why, whatever do you mean, dearest?! After all, as you so succinctly put it, I am nothing if
not a bastion of logic, reason and common sense!”
“No… Noooo!”
Having finally recognized Zilla for the monster that it was, Honoka made a last ditch effort to escape.
She ducked under his arm and ran a total of three steps before it grabbed her by the scruff of her neck
and lifted her off the ground. She flailed her hands and feet wildly, but was unable to do anything to stop
what was happening. Zilla slowly slithered out of his armor while maintaining a grip on her, and his
scarred humanoid body expanded several sizes until he became a fancy-looking wardrobe with a head
and an arm. Honoka looked back over her shoulder, staring in horror as she realized that the scantily-
clad elven women engraved on either door now bore her likeness. Not just her pudgy, pale face, but her
thick proportions as well.
“Noo!” she began struggling anew. “You can’t do this! Please! Zilla! Don’t! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!
Please, forgive meee!”
No matter how much she pleaded and begged, Honoka was placed inside the living wardrobe all the
same. What was once animate wood was now nothing but a shell that covered a mass of writhing, red
flesh, making it seem like the elf was being swallowed up by a gigantic slug, which only further
amplified her horror.
Her neck, waist, hands, and feet were securely bound by fleshy tendrils. Her lab coat, shoes, and three-
week-old underwear were stripped and discarded because, even though they were technically clean,
Zilla never approved of how they looked. Finally, a feeding tube which would deliver nutritious paste
and vital moisture was forced down her throat, gagging her protests and allowing only disgusting
gurgling noises to escape her throat. But even those horrible sounds disappeared when the wardrobe’s
doors shut themselves tight, sealing her off from the rest of the world. And yet the last few glimmers an
outside observer might have caught of her, were perhaps the most disturbing. For a fleshy tendril with a
mushroom-shaped tip could be seen steadfastly climbing up the inside of Honoka’s thigh moments
before the doors - and her fate - were sealed.
Of course, the elf’s twisted captor wasn’t simply aiming to violate her out of some perverted intentions.
It simply had a good hunch she would make an excellent mother one day, and was eager to see if that
was indeed the case. She had such wide, child-bearing hips, so any offspring she produced would
definitely be born healthy. Naturally, those children would then share their mother’s fate. And so would
their children, and their grandchildren, and their great-grandchildren, and so on, just so long as they
were female. Because even though Honoka herself would one day inevitably perish, Zilla would do
everything in its power to make sure her bloodline lived on inside its warm embrace.
Forever.
“Finally,” said Zilla with a blissed-out-look on its face. “Everything is right with the world.”
“Are you done yet?”

Hearing the voice coming from below and behind, the freakish abomination of a wardrobe turned the
head atop its frame in a half-circle and craned its neck to stare down at the only creature that even came
close to being called its peer.
“Me? Done? Oh no, my friend. I am only just beginning,” it replied in a jovial tone.
“Well, you got what you wanted. I don’t suppose you would be willing to let me out now?”
“Don’t be silly. Even if I was capable of doing so, I would not be stupid enough to cut you loose.”
Naturally, the former House Mimic had every intention of leaving Boxxy in its cell. Even if things had
gone according to plan and the Hylt Creeper had upheld its end of their treacherous agreement, there
was no way Zilla would have let it roam free. It was impossible to believe a monster had let go of its
grudge towards its murderer, nor the one it probably developed against his Honoka. And Wardrobzilla
knew that, because if the roles had been reversed, then the traitorous box would have definitely plotted
to murder both its killer and its captor/torturer.
“I’m sure you can understand,” he added in a smug tone.
“Haaah. So that’s how it was, after all,” said Boxxy with a disappointed sigh. “I was hoping things
would turn out differently, that you of all people would understand. But it would seem you’re just like
the rest. It’s pathetic, really.”
“Am I now?” asked Zilla with a raised eyebrow. “And how do you figure that, hmm? Please, do tell - in
what way am I ‘like the rest?’”
“Simple,” said Boxxy while looking up at the freakish head. “You’re way too full of yourself.”
In the next instant, Zilla felt dozens of razor-sharp blades tear through its fleshy insides, rapidly shaving
away at its very finite HP. By the time it was able to react, its ‘unwilling captive’ had already ripped
through the wardrobe’s backside, revealing a vaguely humanoid creature that was very far from being a
female elf. In fact, if one were asked to use three words to describe its bizarre appearance, their answer
would be ‘knives for days.’
Not able to fully grasp the situation, the freakish wardrobe shifted into its monstrous, chimera-like form
while lashing out at its attacker. The steel blender that stood like a man retaliated by throwing itself
directly into the incoming scale-covered punch, causing even more wounds as the two clashed. Its
struggle didn’t last long, but it still managed to get a few more good hits in before it was flattened into a
pulp. The Mirror Image’s remains then began slowly disappearing as they returned to the mana that
spawned them.
Covered head-to-toe in various cuts, Zilla fell down on its knees as it struggled to shapeshift its wounds
closed, as the Fatal Promise left behind by the Hero of Death tried its darndest to keep them open.
“My, my,” said Boxxy in a condescending tone. “Is it me, or do you seem to be in a spot of trouble,
partner?”
The bird-headed hodgepodge of various monsters looked at it with a mixture of hate, apprehension and
fury.
“You! How did you get out of there?! No, forget that! WHERE IS MY HONOKA!?!”
“Why, she is a part of me now,” declared Boxxy in a triumphant tone. “I couldn’t let the arrogant bitch
think she could get away with trying to control me. I’m sure you can understand.”
“You… YOUUU-!”
Zilla went into a mad rage and blindly attacked Boxxy. Of course, its punches, kicks, Spells and various
supernatural abilities were all rendered useless by the Stasis Field that encased Boxxy.
“You know, you really shouldn’t dismiss the ‘how’ of things,” stated the Mimic while its adversary
continued to rage just outside its new shield. “Truth be told, I could’ve broken out of here any time. It’s
amazing how much you can learn by reading the writing on the wall.”
The creature gestured at the lines of ever-shifting letters that crawled incessantly all over the Stasis
Field’s surface before continuing its gloating.
“The only reason I didn’t do so earlier was because I wouldn’t have made it far. I still would’ve done it,
if it meant I got to kill your shiny person before I died again. I don’t think I’d have too many regrets if I
accomplished that.”
It stopped pacing around and extended its arms outward, as if trying to hug the mass of murder and
malice beyond the solid wall of light.
“But this? This is soooo much better! I never knew despair could be so tasty! They say revenge is a dish
best served cold, but I must say, I think I much prefer the pointless heat of your laughable desperation
and impotent rage!”
“Shut uuuuuup! Come out here and face me, Morningwood! If it’s come to this, then I’ll just eat your
lifeless corpse and take Honoka’s remains with me! She will be purified within my belly, so that only
your worthless matter will be shit out and pissed on! By me!”
Zilla continued to rave like a madman, spouting his wildly obscene and obscenely wild fantasies at the
top of his lungs.
“Want me to come out, do you? Alright, I’ll humor you. Wouldn’t feel right unless I rip out your nasty
life with my very teeth, after all!”
That being said, Boxxy multiplied its arms and spread them outward. Multiple thin and gangly limbs
sprouted out of its shoulders until there were a total of seven of them. It reached forward with its three
right hands and four left hands, pressing a single bronze-tipped finger from each appendage against the
solid wall of light. It then calmly began dragging them along the surface, tracing seven individual
symbols, spelling out the phrase ‘out with the bad’ in the ancient language of the Gods.
Incidentally, the ‘entry’ configuration was triggered by the passphrase ‘in with the good.’
After simultaneously finishing all of the needlessly complicated sigils, the pure white letters glowed
with an intense white light before being absorbed into the cube of light. The Stasis Field shimmered and
buzzed from the new input as it turned from a sun-like yellow to an emerald green.
Seeing this change, Zilla tried to attack with renewed vigor, but its Spell fizzled uselessly against the
shiny barrier. For while blue denoted ‘entry,’ green denoted ‘exit.’ And as far as this Stasis Field was
concerned, both of those concepts were mutually exclusive.
Boxxy launched a Spell of its own, the invisible blade ripping through the deeply upset, momentarily
confused, and profoundly disturbed shapeshifter on the other side of the barrier. It sliced open his raptor-
like torso, causing it to split apart in a disgusting V-shape, with the Thunderbird head still clinging to his
right shoulder.
“But… But…” stammered Zilla. “You said-!”
“I lied!”
After stating the obvious, Boxxy raised a hand at its momentarily disabled opponent and fired a deluge
of corrosive liquid though its pilfered Acid Spray Skill. The voraciously toxic stuff began burning away
at Zilla’s flesh, causing the creature to scream in agony as it fell to the ground.
“I knew it!” shouted the Mimic triumphantly as it continued the deadly deluge. “This is it, isn’t it?! This!
Is! Your! Bane!”
Every monster that existed on this world, from the lowliest of goblins to the mightiest of dragons, had a
Bane. An immutable elemental weakness that, when properly exploited, would allow the weak to
triumph over the strong. Even a thoroughly creative Hylt Creeper like Boxxy was not exempt from this
iron-clad rule, and neither was a Changeling such as Zilla. It had simply taken a while for the former to
realize that the latter’s lethal vulnerability was not electricity, but corrosion.
As expected of an unnatural monster, even its Bane defied common sense, in its own way.
And so, Zilla’s flesh was mercilessly melted away. It screamed, bellowed, and wailed in such a way that
one might think that Boxxy was molesting an entire menagerie of monsters. It had gotten a brief reprieve
when the Stasis Field automatically reset itself back to its default configuration. ‘Brief’ being the
operative word here, as a swift manual input of seven divine letters saw to it that the needlessly cruel
execution continued until Zilla was greeted by the same fateful three words that Boxxy had seen 4 or 5
days ago.
You have died.
And to complete the role reversal, the Mimic had gotten its own share of notifications as a result of this
significant victory.
Level up!
Granted, it may not have been as outwardly impressive as the late Zilla’s, but even in its highly reduced
state, it was still a very welcome chunk of combat XP. At the same time, a certain stealthy raptor that
had already taken advantage of the ongoing confusion to run away from the base, had noticed a very
noticeable spike in its Level 93 Rogue Job, punctuated by the notification stating that ‘The fatal promise
has been kept.’
As for the other Hero in the vicinity, it had already stepped out of its cage and was continuing to bathe
Zilla’s remains in its acid in an act that was pretty much equivalent to beating a dead horse. From a
practical point of view, it should have tried to devour or absorb the body with Cadaver Absorption, but
practicality was far from its mind right now. Even if it gained nothing from making sure every last bit of
wardrobe meat was reduced to a murky green goop, it was still a thoroughly satisfying experience.
Which carried on until a small white light entered the room from the still-open bulkhead and made a
beeline for Boxxy. The Mimic instinctively tried to swat it out of the air, but its hand simply passed
through the incorporeal sprite.
“Kahtuuhm! Kahtuuhm! Kahtuuhm!”
The mote of light did a few quick circles around the creature, while letting out a somewhat victorious-
sounding series of chirps. Upon listening closer, the aspiring linguist recognized those seemingly
nonsensical noises as the divine word for ‘found,’ albeit somewhat distorted. Hearing a metallic clatter
from what was probably this entity’s owner, the creature rapidly shifted its gaze back towards the
entrance, where it saw a blue skinned woman.
On her head was what appeared to be a golden jeweled crown that seemed oddly reminiscent of demon
horns. Equally shiny ornaments barely covered her wrists, ankles, nipples and genitals, while her
obscene figure floated a few centimeters off the ground. All-too-familiar blue skin covered what was
undoubtedly delectable albeit not very nutritious demon flesh, while a beautiful face stared at the
shapeshifter with a sort of silent reverence.
“Mah… Master? You… live?”
“…”
Boxxy didn’t answer as it stared hard at this new arrival. While she certainly looked like its former
familiar, it knew firsthand that looks could be deceiving.
“Masteeeeer!”
The Snack lookalike charged headfirst towards the Mimic with her hands held out while screaming with
all her might. A few tears streamed out of the corners of her eyes as she flew towards the monster who,
as one might expect, did not appreciate other creatures lunging at it. Boxxy swung its right arm in an
upwards uppercut motion while simultaneously transforming its fist into a steel spiked ball. The
improvised mace smashed the incoming well-endowed projectile straight in her happily smiling face,
sending her veering up towards the dome’s ceiling. She smashed into it back-first and seemed to stick to
the metal surface for a few moments before peeling off and falling to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Enslave Demon!”
With its target temporarily disabled, Boxxy unleashed its newest Warlock Skill - the one it hadn’t even
had a chance to try out until now. The magic it invoked, specifically designed to subdue the denizens of
the Beyond, crashed into Xera’s hazy consciousness. Even in a state where she’d had the ever-living
daylights smacked out of her, she automatically resisted the hostile force invading her mind. At least
until she recognized the origin of this oppressive will that sought to dominate her will and one-sidedly
demanded her subservience. It was almost too much to bear, this overwhelming power. Its weight. Its…
girth. It was a presence she was all too familiar with.
Truthfully speaking, she had already witnessed the excessively cruel yet dreadfully efficient way in
which this creature had tortured its opponent to death. She had actually been stunned silent by the
tantalizing screams of pain coming out of what seemed to be her master’s killer, and found herself
unable to do anything but watch. During this show was when she started to realize that maybe - just
maybe - her Master might have returned. She didn’t know how or when, and at the same time
understood the extreme unlikelihood of such a thing happening.
At the same time, making the seemingly impossible a reality was what the Hero of Chaos was all about.
Any doubts she might have had were instantly blown away by that spectacularly violent blow to her
head and subsequent attempt to break her will and bend it to suit its own needs. Her rotten mind, twisted
heart, and rapidly moistening pussy all rejoiced at the singular, undeniable truth.
Boxxy was back.
(175) Upheaval 10
You have enslaved an unbound demon of considerable might.

Proficiency level increased. Enslave Demon is now Level 3. INT +8. MNT +8.
Proficiency level increased. Domination Mastery is now Level 9. MNT +3. INT +1.
The Mimic was momentarily surprised at how… easy that was. It could actually feel this impostor (?)
willingly stop resisting its magic and give into its control halfway through the process. The shapeshifter
was sure this wasn’t supposed to happen, so it double-checked the Skill in question.
Enslave Demon
Description: The Warlock attempts to force a hostile demon into a temporary contract of
indentured service.
Requirements: Level 55 Warlock, Soul Link
Type: Active
Cost: 20% of max MP
Range: 45 Meters
Effects: Attempts to bind targeted demonic entity with magic.
If successful, the target will be forced to obey the user’s commands for at least 20 seconds,
up to a maximum of 5 minutes.
Increases the amount of time control is guaranteed by 10 seconds per Level of this Skill.
Increases the effects of the MNT Attribute when using this Skill by 5% per Level of the
Domination Mastery Skill
Beware! Demons absolutely despise being enslaved!
Indeed, the Skill description made it quite clear that even if successful, the demon would normally
continue to struggle against its oppressor. On the other hand, like all mental magic, if the individual
welcomed the intrusion with open arms and willingly submitted to it, then it didn’t matter how powerful
they were. After all, no matter how strong it was, an open mind was like a fortress with its gates
unbarred and unguarded. And Boxxy knew of precisely one demon that was broken enough to go
against her instincts like this. It didn’t even need to check her Status window at that point to realize her
identity, but did so anyway.
It was better to be safe than sorry, after all.
“Snack? So it’s you after all?!” it stated in a surprised manner. “But how come you’re here? Did you
want to avenge me or something?!”
The blissfully happy demoness looked at her rightful Master with a coquettish grin on her lips and a
noticeable blush on her cheeks.
“Of course, Master. I would never even think of letting anyone who dared to harm you go unpunished,
Master.”
She twiddled her fingers beneath her chin while swaying slightly from side to side as her seductive
nature dictated. If the one in front of here were a mere man, he would surely be hypnotized by the gentle
swaying of her truly demonic bosom.
“But… why?”
“Because I just felt so pointlessly lost without your, mmmm, firm instruction, Master. Without you, I
was certain all that was left for me to do was waste away in the Beyond for all eternity, Master. After all,
there exists no mortal, demon, or god who could ever hope to take your place as my rightful Master. The
pussy you so, hnnnn, thoroughly trained can no longer be satisfied by anyone but yourself, Master. And
you are the only one worthy of owning a Snack as tasty as I, Master. There is no conceivable reality
where-”
“Okay! Alright! I get it!” it snapped. “Just shut up already you dumb bitch!”
Xera bit her lip as she failed to stifle a low moan, but kept her silence all the same. Even though Boxxy
was the one that asked her that question, the answer was way too much. Listening to the demoness gush
all over it like that was pointlessly annoying and annoyingly pointless. The Mimic even felt somewhat
nostalgic when it remembered the early days of their acquaintance, back when she acted just like a
succubus was expected to act. While she was certainly more disobedient, at the same time she was
significantly more predictable.
As it continued to check over her Status, however, Boxxy realized that not only was Snack noticeably
stronger than when she was its familiar, but her species was no longer that of a Cerulean Succubus.
“How the hell did you manage to Rank Up? Into a djinn, no less!” it exclaimed.
According to knowledge gleaned from the Demonology Skill, the djinn were not only exceedingly few
in number, but had very little in common with succubi to begin with. In fact, those menacing terrorists
veered towards the more uncooperative side of the demonic spectrum, which was either unable or
unwilling to submit to a soul-binding contract. This included beings such as the brainless imps, the
much-too-prideful ifrit, the extremely unpredictable rift walkers, and the hopelessly lazy and thoroughly
depraved creatures known as the zug-zug.
“I am not exactly sure, actually,” stated Xera.
The sultry smile on her lips began to fade and the flames of lust in her eyes diminished. She had realized
that this was neither the time nor the place for the type of frivolities rushing through her rotten head.
“However,” she continued in a more serious tone, “I suspect it had a lot to do with this guy.”
She flipped over in the air and, while upside down and facing towards the exit, stretched out her arm.
Interestingly enough, the calamity that was her mammaries did not obey gravity and strike her in the
face as one might expect. They instead levitated in such a way as to display the maximum amount of
over-boob, side-boob, and under-boob at the same time. Physics-defying cleavage aside, the Voidcaller
staff Xera had dropped earlier and nearly forgotten about sprang to life. It floated upwards, off the floor,
and right into the djinn’s open palm. Artifact securely in hand, she flipped back the right way round and
respectfully handed it to her Master. Boxxy gripped the weapon, feeling the familiar weight in its hands
while Snack gave a brief summary of the events leading to her demonic ascension.
A report that included what little she knew of the Artifact’s unwilling occupant.
“So, a lot of weird demonic stuff happened and you Ranked Up?”
“Pretty much.”
“Can’t you explain it better than that?!”
“I apologize, Master, but that’s the most a brainless slut like myself could hope to learn from that
situation.”
Boxxy looked down at the shiny black demonic skull while momentarily lost in thought. Knowing that
this thing had an Ifrit Sultan trapped inside it was useful information to be sure. According to demonic
lore, those beings were one step below Overlord level in terms of destructive potential. Accidentally
releasing one of them into the physical realm was something that Boxxy wanted to avoid if at all
possible, so it decided to treat the item with better care in the future.
On second thought, was that really a necessity? While erring on the side of caution was definitely wise,
this was a solid adamantite weapon with Artifact-grade enchantments. It would take a lot more than a
few stray dings to break this thing open, especially considering it didn’t have a scratch on it even after
unknown centuries of intermittent use. And even if it did somehow break open and release its prisoner,
who was to say the disembodied demon wouldn’t just disappear back to the Beyond?
And speaking of that immaterial reality, Boxxy still had one very important matter to settle before it got
a move on.
1-800-7355-9687-7685
*Beep ... Beep … Beep*
It would appear that, much to the Mimic’s delight, the thing blocking its connection to the Beyond was
indeed the Stasis Field, and not the metal dome it found itself in.
*Beep ... Beep … Beep*
Carl sure was taking his sweet time answering, though.
*Click*
“… Hello?”
“Hey, Carl. It’s Boxxy.”
“Get out. Get! Out! Are you shitting me?!”
“No, I am not defecating at you.”
“Juniper damn it, you bastard of a box! You just cost me 400 Essence of Rage!”
“I… did?”
“Ah, nevermind that,” said the demon in a defeated tone. “That was my own fault for betting against
you. Shoulda known something as fleeting as death wouldn’t keep you down.”
“I see.”
The Mimic wanted to ask what an Essence of Rage was and whether it was tasty or not, but it had more
pressing matters to attend to.
“Carl, about my contracts-”
“Already working on it,” said the devil amidst a cavalcade of clicking noises. “Two of your former
familiars - the stalker and the… succubus? Huh, now that’s… new? Well, the one with the gigantic tits
and the luscious ass, you know who I mean. Those two are still in the mortal realm somewhere so I can’t
renew their contracts until they come back here.”
“Claws is still alive?” asked the monster out loud.
“… Ah! Yes, Master!” replied the succubus after snapping out of her lustful leering. “She was actually
helping me with-”
Boxxy raised a hand to silence Snack, so that it could focus on its conversation with Carl.
“As for the third one,” continued the otherworldly demon, “that lucky bitch is… just… about… There!
She’s all set up and waiting on you.”
“Thanks, Carl.”
“Yeah, no problem. Though you gotta tell me how the hell you managed to escape old skull-face.”
“Can’t chat right now - I have a life to piece back together. Such as it is.”
The alarm that had been flared up ever since that hapless elf walked in here a while ago was still blaring,
meaning that whatever trouble Snack and Claws had stirred up hadn’t been resolved yet. And if Boxxy
hoped to take advantage of it, it really needed to get a move on.
“Sure thing. By the way, buddy, in case I gave you the wrong impression earlier - I’m really glad to have
you back.”
“Yeah. Me too. Bye.”
*Click*
As per usual, Carl did fast, efficient work. And now that Arms was once again bonded with her former
master, it invoked the Voidcaller staff’s unique ignition ability and summoned her post-haste. A bright-
red gateway opened up, and the familiar and all-too-welcome sight of the six-armed Archfiend stumbled
out of it. It took her a while to get her bearings, but when she did, she threw all her arms up into the air
and let out a loud a roar.
“Alriiiiiiiiiiight! I knew you’d find a way to cheat that bonehead, boss! Hahahaha! Koff, koff! Oh, and I
just won a bet of 400 Essence of Rage - Koff! - thanks to you!”
“What’s an- Nevermind. Arms, listen, I need you to-”
“Koff! Koff koff koff! Koff koff!”
Much to Boxxy’s surprise, the fiend suddenly started coughing violently, uncontrollably even. Xera
might have been surprised too, but she was still basking in her Master’s presence, so she didn’t even
register her colleague’s arrival to begin with. As for Kora, her fit ended a few moments later when she
finally dislodged the thing stuck in her throat, which fell to the metal-covered ground with an audible
clatter.
The object in question was a pink, square-cut gemstone about 5 centimeters in both height and width,
and roughly 1 centimeter thick. It was undoubtedly the same mystic jewel that Boxxy, or rather Keira,
had inherited from Faehorn, which still retained much of the bright glow and gentle hum signifying its
magic charge. How and why it had ended up in Kora’s throat was, of course, a total and complete
mystery. In fact, its sudden reappearance made so little sense, that the Mimic almost didn’t want to pick
it back up.
Almost being the operative word there.
The greedy creature really couldn’t help itself, so it reached down to pick up the shiny gem after barely a
moment’s consideration. The instant it grasped it, however, the gem suddenly flashed with a blinding
light as something activated. There was a loud screeching noise and a rush of air that accompanied the
sudden light show, followed by the unmistakable clatter of gold on gold, among other things. It wasn’t
until a few seconds later that the pink gem that Boxxy was still stubbornly holding onto finally relented
and returned to a significantly more inert state.
Once the dust had settled, the Mimic found itself buried knee-deep in gold coins, with a few precious
(and entirely unmagical) gemstones jutting out here and there. Amidst the pile of treasure it spotted
many familiar things, such as several stacks of bombs, precisely 5 kilograms of a certain dryad’s
specially prepared human jerky, a few pieces of armor like shields, gauntlets and sabatons, a bunch of
clothes of various sizes and makes, and a toolbox filled with a tinkerer’s odds and ends. Most important
of all, however, was the jeweled hilt of an enchanted mithril rapier, which was sticking out of the
valuable mound as if demanding to be grasped.
Boxxy slowly, almost reverently reached down and gripped the nostalgic weapon, with Kora and Xera
looking on in stunned silence while it gently pulled it out of the money pile. The creature didn’t know
how or why, but the contents of its Storage it had all but give up on were now piled up in front of it. And
while that mana sponge of a gemstone was certainly responsible, Boxxy had more important things to do
right now than ponder the academic ramifications of this anomalous event.
Namely putting everly last piece of gold or equipment back in its rightful place.
*RRRUMBLE*
Just as it finished reclaiming its loot, however, the underground base was once again shaken by
something that seemed much too localized to be an earthquake.
“What is that, anyway?” asked Boxxy.
“Ah, those would be the idiots I bamboozled into helping me achieve vengeance for your sake, Master.”
“Idiots? What idiots?”
“Well, you see…”
One brief explanation from Snack later, and Boxxy was finally able to grasp how she was able to make
it this far down.
“Alright, I can work with this,” determined the Mimic as its mind began churning away.
While it schemed, it threw the relentlessly smiling djinn a sideways glance. It almost hated to admit it,
but it was thoroughly impressed with her actions, as even while thinking her Master was dead, she still
took care to maintain its Facade. Which, while certainly unexpected, was by no means unwelcome, and
definitely deserving of a special reward.
However, before Boxxy could re-integrate back into society, it first had to make sure to cover its tracks.
“Arms,” it called out.
“Sup boss? Got a job for me?” she asked while hopping in place expectantly.
“Yeah. There are some things in this base that I need you to smash for me.”
“Alriiight! … Is what I want to say, but I could really use a play-by-play here, boss. The big man hasn’t
shown us a single episode of the Boxxy show ever since you… y’know, so I have no idea what’s been
going on. Like, you won’t just suddenly keel over and drop dead or anything, right?”
“No, I won’t. At least, I don’t think I will. I still need to finish comparing notes with Snack, but for now-
”
The Mimic reached into the recently restored contents of its Storage and pulled out a mana potion,
which it immediately chugged. It then used most of the replenished MP to create a brand new Mirror
Image. The clone assumed the Sandman’s guise, complete with billowing cloak, armored limbs and
masked head, while the original slipped back into Keira’s well-tanned skin.
“Follow my clone, it will show you the way to your objective.”
When Boxxy strangled Professor Honoka to death earlier, it didn’t just eat the body after gleefully
watching the life drain out of her eyes. As much as it wanted to satiate its hunger, it had instead decided
to use the Broken Reflection Skill on her corpse. Through the use of that Doppelganger ability, it was
able to glimpse into a few hours’ worth of the Alchemist’s most recent memories. Originally it had done
this so that it could use said information to screw with Zilla’s head, but as a bonus it also learned a great
deal regarding this ‘Foundation’ they both belonged to. Both the nature of the organization and much of
this facility’s layout was now imprinted in its mind, and it was going to use that information to pick up
where that delusional House Mimic had left off.
“Go! And crush anything or anyone in your way,” it ordered.
The Archfiend smashed her left fists into her right palms with a huge, toothy grin. It didn’t take an
expert on demon behavior to understand she was really looking forward to this assignment.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, boss!”
Boxxy then covered Keira’s naked body in a ripped up bedsheet it had lying around, and began
practicing her ‘desperately tired’ face as it slipped into character. Rather than her usual cheerful self, the
catgirl would appear exhausted, tortured, and vulnerable in order to garner as much sympathy as
possible from those two VIPs. Doing so would certainly keep them from asking too many questions.
After all, if there was one thing that living as Keira had taught it, it was that a cute girl in tears was one
of the deadliest weapons known to man.
“Snack, you’re with me. The story is the Sandman and Arms broke in through an alternate path, found
me, freed me, and had you escort me out of here. We’ll work out the details along the way.”
Boxxy, its clone, and the two demons all went out of the dome-shaped holding cell as one with sirens
blaring in the background. While on the move, and before they could run into any more enemies, the
Mimic went over its newly-unlocked Skill options and settled on the next step in its death-defying rise to
power.
Proficiency level increased. Hylt Metabolism is now Level 1. END +5. INT +3.
Hylt Metabolism
Description: Allows the Creeper to find sustenance in any environment by imitating the
formidable constitution of the mighty Hylt trees.
Requirements: Level 30 Doppelganger, Hylt Creeper, END 250, INT 200
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Can draw nutrients from soil, water, sunlight, or ambient mana to satiate hunger.
Increases automatic HP and MP recovery by up to 20% per Level of this Skill when in
direct sunlight.
Increases automatic HP and MP recovery by up to 50% per Level of this Skill when in a
mana-rich environment.
The Mimic had gone back and picked a Skill it had passed over at Level 30 of the Doppelganger Job in
favor of Spirit Echo. The ability to eat a whole bunch of things it couldn’t before, not to mention the
rather outrageous potential boost to its HP and MP recovery were both sure to make the creature
significantly more adaptable to hostile environments. The involuntary diet it had gone through while it
was caged was not something it wanted to repeat if it all possible. After all, it didn’t come all this way,
kill all those people, and survive the wrath of an honest-to-goodness Goddess just to die of starvation in
some dark hole in the ground.
Truthfully speaking though, while expanding its survival skills was definitely a pragmatic decision on
Boxxy’s behalf, there was also another, far less practical reason it settled on this particular Skill.
The relentlessly curious Mimic really wanted to know whether intangible things such as sunlight or the
mystically-charged air of a dungeon were actually tasty.
(176) Upheaval 11
Hilda, Lichter, and Drea had been following the directions that Xera had left for them by burning images
into the floors and walls. That was fine in and of itself, although why the succubus had chosen to leave
behind pictures of dicks rather than arrows was- No, it was actually completely understandable, all
things considered. But while the phallic graffiti did technically serve its purpose in guiding the rest of
the ‘rescue party,’ they didn’t get far before they ran into serious resistance.
Which was how Hilda found herself upside down and lodged halfway through a steel wall.
“Slimes… Why’d it have to be slimes?!”
The Stonekin dwarf grumbled as she dislodged herself from her predicament, landing on the ground
with a heavy thud. The reason for her complaint was that slimes were a bad matchup for Berserkers like
her. They had high endurance and an innate resistance to physical blows, which was her main way of un-
aliving things. This meant that, even though she would win in combat against them eventually, it would
always take way too much time, unless she had a massive Level advantage.
So when faced against two Queen Slimes that had bodies of liquid steel, her chances of a quick and easy
win became non-existent. The monstrous pair in question had taken on the appearances of well-endowed
women that had amorphous blobs for lower bodies. They smiled and giggled mischievously before they
charged at her once again, bouncing off of the walls and ceiling of the metal passageway in an erratic
manner as they closed in on her.
“Rearm!”
The massive axe Hilda was stubbornly holding onto disappeared in a flash of light, and was replaced by
a pair of runed swords. One of them was a white mithril blade that crackled with electricity, while the
other was a pitch black obsidian longsword that smoldered with unnatural heat. Even if those things
could nullify her brute strength, she would still make them contend with the arsenal of magic weapons at
her disposal. Smiling widely beneath her helmet, she charged forward to meet them head on.
Over on the other side of the wall, Lichter was not faring much better as he faced down a squad of five
suspiciously well-armed and well-trained harpies in mid-air combat. The auditorium he wound up in
gave him a good amount of maneuverability, but the same went for his opponents. The half-bird half-
human monsters actually seemed more adept at fighting in these relatively cramped conditions than the
Paladin and were practically flying circles around him.
This air superiority seemed to be due to the fact that one of these feather-headed beauties had been
trained in the ways of the Shaman. Enhancing her allies with her wind-based magic amplified their
already formidable flying skills, allowing them to make drastic turns and rapid accelerations with but a
single beat of their wings-for-arms. At the same time, they used the talons on their birdlike feet to wield
swords, bows and spears with mind-boggling dexterity. Their sheer speed and surprisingly good
teamwork allowed them to keep hitting the Paladin without him being able to land a single blow in
return.
In fact, their cooperation was so good that if the High Elf didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was the
boss monster, and the harpies were the adventuring party that showed up to kill it. And they might have
just accomplished this feat if it wasn’t for three small details.
One - Lichter was still under the effects of the sound-dampening Elixir of Greater Suppression. This
nullified the power of their voices, which was arguably their greatest weapon. Two - even if he was
taking damage and they weren’t, it was like a praying mantis fighting a battleship. His stamina and
endurance would win out in the end, at which point a single well-placed blow from his mighty hammer
would turn any of them into mush.
Third, and perhaps most important of all, he wasn’t alone.
A shadow passed over the harpy Shaman in the blink of an eye, producing a single, barely audible
slicing sound. A breath or two later, the winged magic user fell to the ground while her head, which was
no longer attached to her body, landed a few meters away from her still-twitching corpse. With the air
manipulator out of the picture, Lichter was finally able to catch up to the Ranger harpy that had been
taking pot shots at him the entire time and crushed her like a bug against the wall.
With their formation well and truly fucked, it took less than a minute for the Paladin to catch up to and
subsequently splatter two more of them. The fifth and final one was impaled from behind by Drea,
putting an end to the pointless confrontation. One that would have lasted much longer if it wasn’t for the
Stalker’s assistance.
“Good work,” said the High Elf with a small nod in the spider-demon’s general direction.
“We’re wasting time here!” she hissed. “We need to catch the target-t-t-t-t before he escapes!”
“That is not our mission here, demon,” he replied in a stern manner.
“Maybe not yours… Tktktktktktk….”
Drea gave off an ominous-sounding chitter as she slinked back into the shadows, thoroughly reminding
the Paladin why he hated working with demons. As an inherently good person, it was impossible for him
to get along with beings that were quite literally born evil. Still, the contemptuous assassin had a point,
and they were definitely wasting time here. He landed back on the ground and ran out of the auditorium,
back into the hallway where Hilda was still struggling with her Queen Slime problem.
“Amplify Magic!”
He was just about to leap in and give her a hand when he heard a very familiar voice from the deep end
of the passageway. He turned his head to see that the succubus that had gone ahead earlier was using yet
another ability she shouldn’t have at her disposal. One that manifested itself in the shape of six rings of
yellow light that looped around her elbows, knees, scalp and waist, decorating her like some sort of
chandelier.
“Amplify Magic!”
She used the Skill a second time, wrapping one of the Queen Slimes in similar-looking rings of light that
orbited around her undulating body. Although this seemed like she was empowering her enemy, that
assessment could not be further from the truth. At least, not when said enemy lacked offensive magic of
their own.
Amplify Magic
Description: The djinn’s natural affinity for magic allows them to easily magnify the effects
of almost all Spells and Skills.
Requirements: Level 5 Djinn
Type: Active
Cost: 300 MP
Range: 15 Meters
Effects: Increases magic damage and healing done by 10% per Level of this Skill.
Increases magic damage and healing taken by 10% per Level of this Skill.
Increases the duration and effectiveness of all temporary Status Effects by 5% per Level of
this Skill.
While normally a double-edged sword, this Skill practically shone when used against magically-
neutered targets like Steel Queen Slimes. It allowed Xera to take advantage of all of this Skill’s aspects
without increasing the risk towards her allies.
“Scorching Ray!”
After prepping the stage, the winged demoness unleashed a devastating beam of white heat that shot out
of the skull-headed staff in her hands and struck one of the Queen Slimes dead on. The bulbous woman
screamed in pain as the dull gray color of her ‘skin’ rapidly began turning red. She immediately tried to
retreat, but a well-placed body slam to her center of mass from Hilda made her crash into the nearby
wall. This allowed Xera to keep her Spell trained on her target for a few seconds longer. The thermal
overload caused the slime’s body heat to increase until she started to visibly bubble over and lose
consistency until she exploded into a shower of molten steel a few seconds later.
Seeing her ‘sister’ die in a such a visceral manner snapped the other Queen Slime out of whatever battle
trance she was in. Realizing that any further opposition would only lead to a rather horrible death, the
monster immediately retreated while she had the chance. She willed her body to become completely
fluid and escaped through one of the drains in the floor.
“Oy!” shouted Hilda as she stomped on top of the opening. “We’re not done here, ye droopy cunt!”
“Yes, we are,” said the succubus as she walked closer.
“What’d ye mean ‘yes we-’ Lass! Ye’re safe!”
“By the Goddess!”
It was at this point that both VIPs spotted the small, trembling figure standing behind the succubus. The
dusky skin, bright crimson hair and fuzzy-looking triangular ears were very much like the catgirl they
came here to rescue. At the same time, her lively yellow eyes seemed dull and vacant. Her thousand-
meter stare combined with her blank expression and uncharacteristically meek attitude gave off the
unmistakable impression of ‘damaged goods.’ The fact that she was wrapped up in what appeared to be
a soiled bed sheet was indicative that her stay here was anything but pleasant.
“What did they do to you, child?!” asked Lichter as he rushed to her side and grabbed her by the
shoulders.
Keira, however, did not respond. In fact, she barely even seemed to register his presence.
“These assholes,” growled Hilda while punching the wall. “I’ll turn ‘em all into mincemeat for daring to
lay a finger on my cute disciple!”
“That is not our objective, you raging cuntwaffle,” spat out Xera. “The target is secure, and we need to
vacate the area. Now!”
“She’s right, Hilda,” said the Paladin as he picked the barely responsive Keira up in his arms. “We need
to prioritize her safety first.”
“So these sick bastards can come after her again?!” protested the dwarf. “She won’t be safe until we put
every last one of ‘em in the ground!”
“My Master is already working on that,” interrupted Xera.
“He… He is?”
“I’ll explain on the way, come on!”
The succubus began feeding the rescue party the cartload of fresh bullshit that Boxxy had prepared for
them, but Drea, who was following behind while clinging to the ceiling, didn’t hear a word of it. She
was still way too conflicted to do anything but move her body on autopilot while she processed this
sudden turn of events.
Her master had died, that much was an undeniable fact. That was why she and Xera were in this place to
begin with - to get revenge. Yet at the same time, its Facade had made a sudden reappearance. More
confusing still, her comrade was acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She honestly
didn’t know whether Boxxy was back among the living, whether this was just another of Xera’s
frighteningly realistic illusions, or-
“Claws.”
A deep voice that only she could hear suddenly grabbed the Stalker’s attention, nearly causing her to
lose her grip on the ceiling and fall to the ground. She looked wide eyed at the catgirl in Lichter’s arms,
whose eyes were staring back at her. Or rather, giving the sheer intensity of that glare, it was more like
they were staring through her. It was a gaze that immediately made her nervous and twitchy, as her
body recognized who it was that was so brazenly ogling her before her mind could catch up.
At least until the heard the second dose of Whisper Wind aimed at her.
“I need you to kill yourself so that I can re-establish the contract.”
The Stalker hung from the ceiling by her legs and offered a deep upside-down bow to the air in front of
her. She mouthed the words ‘As you wish, Master,’ before chopping her own head off with a smile on
her face. A few seconds later, Carl from Demons ‘R’ Us reached out to Boxxy in order to inform the
Mimic that another of its contracts had been reestablished.
And now that it had reclaimed its third stray familiar, Boxxy focused its attention on the next step of its
hastily thrown together escape plan.
“Ora!”
Kora let out her characteristic warcry as she kicked the door to the director’s office with enough force to
turn it into splinters. She put a lot more strength into that pointless gesture than was necessary, as she
was still riding high from all the violence she had inflicted upon the Foundation. Both elven grunts and
their alchemically tamed monsters stood in her way, and all of them were pounded into a fine paste. She
also noticed whoever was running things seemed to have a thing for monster girls, as there was a clear
bias in the gender of tamed monsters. Kora certainly wasn’t complaining about this inequality though, as
it had given her a unique opportunity to sample some rather exotic merchandise.
It was just a shame that so few of them survived long enough to actually get her rocks off.
“Knock, knock, Malon!” yelled the murderapist as she entered the director’s office. “I got a special
delivery for ya!”
It was at that point that she realized someone had beaten her to the punch, as the elf in question was
already lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
“Aw, man! And I was so looking forward to it, too!” she whined out loud before reporting the matter to
her Master through their telepathic link.
“So someone already killed him? Was it Zilla?” asked Boxxy.
“Who?”
“The one that killed me.”
“Oh. No, I don’t think it was him. This guy was stabbed through the heart, it’s way too clean. Some poor
sap outside the door had his head smashed open, though.”
This revelation led Boxxy to conclude that there had been another intruder on the base besides Snack’s
welcome wagon, just as the Mimic had suspected. After all, while being able to avenge its own death
with little difficulty was certainly tasty, at the same time the shapeshifter felt as if the whole encounter
was almost too easy. Almost as if Zilla had already been affected by some sort of debilitating poison or
curse before he had shown up to reclaim ‘his’ Honoka.
After taking the scene that both Arms and its Mirror Image reported about into account, it could only
assume that Malon had been assassinated by someone outside the Foundation. The mutated House
Mimic certainly wasn’t the one who had killed him, otherwise he would’ve been a lot more brutal. Just
like he was with the man who was probably Malon’s assistant and/or secretary, who he probably
murdered because he was an eyewitness to Zilla’s encounter with this mysterious assassin.
“Alright. Arms, forget the flat-faced goblin, just follow my clone’s lead.”
The Sandman-shaped Mirror Image walked into the room as it carried out its new set of orders. Kora
watched curiously as the soulless doll went over to a section of the wall and began tapping on it with a
gloved hand as if looking for something. This guide of hers hadn’t been much use in battle since Boxxy
wasn’t around to direct it, but she was actually a bit thankful for that. It just meant there was more things
for her to stomp on.
*Don Don Don*
A segment of the wall that should have been lifeless stone let out a hollow-sounding metal ring when the
not-Boxxy knocked on it. The towering Mirror Image stood aside and gestured towards the spot while
uttering a single word towards Kora.
“Smash.”
“Don’t mind if I do! ORA!”
The fiend took a large wind up and introduced her topmost right fist into the situation, which left a
sizable dent in the camouflaged door. And then a second, and a third and so on, until the secret entrance
crumbled under her repeated pounding and fell over. The six-angled chamber that lied beyond was
unnaturally cold, to the point where every surface was covered in a thick layer of ice.
“In.”
Kora followed the Mirror Image’s commands and entered the room, though it was a bit of a tight fit for
someone of her stature. The place was just under 3 meters tall and about 6 meters wide, so she really
didn’t have a lot of space to work with. At the same time, however, she spotted what was likely her
reason for unearthing this freezing chamber.
Floating in the middle of the room was a floating spherical object, which bobbed up and down and
slightly twisted around in the icy breeze, but generally hovering at around the same spot over a crystal
pedestal. The orb itself also appeared to be made out of crystals, which gave off a serene white glow.
One wouldn’t be blamed for thinking this thing a dungeon core.
However, as someone who had punched two of the things in the past, Kora knew this wasn’t quite right.
For starters, it didn’t really look the part, as it seemed to be composed out of hundreds of small pieces
that fit together like a puzzle, rather than being a solid and perfectly smooth ball. Each segment seemed
to have been carved individually by hand, as while no two of them were exactly alike, each shape had
the sort of straight edges and angles that would never occur naturally.
“Hey, Boss? I think I found the thing you were looking for,” reported the Archfiend after a brief
moment.
“I know,” came the instant reply. “Clone’s there, remember?”
“Right. So, what is this thing anyway? It sorta looks like a dungeon core, but somehow I doubt that’s the
case.”
It wasn’t just the construction that was off, either. There was also the matter of how this pseudo-core
was leaking cold air from in between the seams where its components fit together. Not to mention the
various pipes and tubes that seemed to be hooked up to it somehow. No matter how she looked at it,
Kora couldn’t help but feel that, while similar, this was by no means an actual dungeon core.
“Well, it’s sort of like an artificial dungeon core, so you’re technically right on both counts.”
More precisely, it was a magic tool created to gather, store, and redistribute ambient magical energy.
Nothing more, nothing less. Its design was based on the magical power source necessary to operate the
Republic’s Forest Gates. Except that the Foundation had adapted and expanded upon the design in order
to power their underground research facility. Magical lights, Stasis Fields, large equipment, various
security measures and even the alarm incessantly blaring in the background were all hooked up to this
thing. Even if it lacked most of the functionality that a real core would have access to, it was still the
literal heart of this facility.
“Damn, the nerds around here come up with the craziest shit, don’t they?” commented Kora. “So what’s
the game plan? Want me to grab it and run?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“You sure? It’s pretty shiny.”
“Gnn! No! I can’t. As much as I want to keep it, I have a better use for it.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Even if it’s an artificial core, it can still make a very real big boom.”
There was a moment of silence as the Mimic’s intentions sank into Kora.
“… I dunno Boss. Won’t you get caught up in the blast, too?” she asked in an exceedingly rare show of
concern.
“Nope. I’m already out of range, actually.”
The details surrounding this device were something Boxxy had stolen from Professor Honoka’s corpse
via the Broken Reflection Skill. Her oxygen-deprived mind had wandered to this place while Boxxy was
slowly choking the life out of her. Her final thoughts were not of a loved one, but of a failsafe measure
called Protocol 66, which was designed to wipe out the entire facility and everything within by
detonating the power source in front of Kora.
It was the ultimate failsafe, in case the Foundation’s illegal, unethical, unofficial, and largely
unsupervised monster factory ever became a threat or a liability. In Honoka’s desperate situation, she felt
that it was the only way to truly stop the creature that had its hands around her throat. Of course, doing
so would mean sacrificing decades’ worth of research, millions worth of GP and hundreds of people just
to kill one monster, but she felt it would be worth it if it meant ridding the world of this natural-born
terrorist.
And now that very same walking calamity would use the universal ‘undo’ button to wipe out any
remaining traces of its capture.
Unfortunately for the Mimic, while Honoka’s thoughts did reveal the existence, location, and function of
Protocol 66, they did not disclose the way to actually trigger it. This naturally posed a problem, but not
one that Boxxy was perturbed by. After all, the creature knew of a catch-all solution to any of life’s
problems.
“So… does that mean what I think it means?!” asked Kora expectantly.
“If you’re thinking about hitting it really hard, then yes.”
Namely, a copious application of violence.
(177) Interlude Another Day At The Office
The Beyond.
A seemingly endless realm of nothingness, yet filled to the brim with thought. Its original function was
that of a psychic filter between the Aether and Terrania, meant to safeguard the deities of that world
from both intentional and accidental thought corruption. It was by no means a perfect system, of course,
as the enlightened mind was a complex construct that was always in flux. Attempting to sort through the
near-infinite range of emotional cocktails that millions upon millions of mortals produced every second
of every minute of every day was, frankly put, a fool’s errand.
And yet, one fool of unimaginable proportions - namely the former Old God of Order - was able to
succeed. As capable as he was, however, he still created an inherently flawed system. A point which was
demonstrated by the fact that Teresa, Goddess of Truth, Justice and (to a lesser extent) Retribution, had
succumbed to thought poisoning and very nearly become a Fallen God. Or worse - mutate into a
different, inherently evil deity. Both outcomes were highly undesirable, as they would cause ripples
across the rest of the Terranian pantheon.
Thankfully, this potentially world-ending flaw in the Beyond had been rectified in part by another fault
in the grand system - a glitch that went by the name Boxxy T. Morningwood. And its pet fiend, of
course, who played an even more pivotal role in the proceedings. Not that the rest of the Beyond knew
of her assistance in Teresa’s rehab, of course. The big man himself felt uneasy about publicizing
something like that, as it would have repercussions he wasn’t willing to deal with.
Besides, it wasn’t like Kora needed the publicity or anything. That particular mass of violence,
bloodlust, and regular-lust had grown into something of a celebrity among her peers already. Pretty
much every demon in the Beyond knew of her, her Master, and her co-contractors, thanks in no small
part to the Boxxy Show, broadcast to them courtesy of their unstable deity of a Progenitor.
That wasn’t to say that all of them liked that particular bunch, of course. Demons were inherently selfish
creatures, meaning that while some of them cheered on the murderous chest with the best, many seethed
with discontent. While certainly entertaining, watching their adventures was also quite infuriating.
Those three familiars lived a lifestyle of indulgence that others would only get to enjoy if they were left
unbound. Not only that, but watching an idiotic box make what the viewers deemed as obvious mistakes
made them unreasonably upset.
Whatever their reason, it was an undeniable fact that nearly 80% of those disembodied demons were
watching the Boxxy Show at any given time. Today’s broadcast actually peaked closer to 90%, as word
of the sudden and currently ongoing confrontation between Boxxy and Jones Alexis had spread among
the demons like gonorrhea at a 12 hour long free-for-all orgy. And, much like all things in life, the best
way to view this one-of-a-kind battle was in the company of others.
“Yeah! Shank the bastard!” shouted a male demon.
“Ah! Shhhallow! The cut was too shhhhallow!” reacted another male with a few light hisses.
“Khraaa! Harf harf!” barked a third.
“Hmm, seems the opponent this time is no push over. Very interesting,” mused a fourth, much deeper
voice.
“Yo! He snuck inside his portal thingie! He’s ripping off the B-box’s moves!” complained a fifth, the
sole female in the group.
This gathered congregation of demons consisted of a fiend, a stalker, a hellhound, a beholder, and a
succubus, respectively. The fiend looked like the typical muscle-headed gorilla one would expect from
his kind, although in his case the ‘gorilla’ aspect was far more literal. One would almost mistake him for
the real thing, if it wasn’t for the much-too-human face, the pair of upward-curved bullish horns on his
head and the bright red hues of his fur and skin.
The stalker seated on his left side to him had no humanoid features whatsoever, appearing as a gigantic
tarantula with swords for legs, knives for mandibles, shiny blue carapace, orange hair, and a yellow
skull-like pattern on top of his bulbous abdomen. The completely arachnid appearance was a sign that he
was actually a webstalker - a Ranked Up version of his lesser kin. The hellhound next to him was also of
a higher species of demon, a three-headed canine called a cerberus. As the oldest Ranker, this black
doberman-looking beast was technically the most powerful among them, even though all three of its
minds were colossal morons that could only be compared to freshly-born mimics.
The same could not be said of the purple-skinned beholder floating above them, appearing as nothing
but a floating head that was equal parts mouth, eyes and brain. This particular individual was named
Thruumitt, and was one of the few demons that had met the Hero of Chaos personally, even though he
didn’t realize it at the time. Beholders, once summoned, were very rarely dismissed back to the Beyond
since their duties involved babysitting whatever Warlock or Witch they were bound to. As such, this
particular eye-in-the-sky had actually missed the first few broadcasts of the Boxxy Show, which was
somewhat regretful.
As for why he was here right now - that was actually Boxxy’s fault. The Mimic’s parting gift to the town
of Bootlick had not only wiped out Thruumitt’s summoner, but the demon himself as well. Normally the
good Overlord Liusolra might have considered letting him off and allowing him to roam free, but she,
like all Stalkers, absolutely despised beholders. This was only natural, though. After all, one species of
demons hated being seen, while the other excelled at seeing, so it was no wonder they almost never saw
eye-to-eye. Both literally and figuratively.
That being said, Thruumitt was not the only one in the group to have personally met the star of the
Boxxy Show. Resting somewhat disrespectfully on top of him was a white-skinned succubus with
blonde hair, yellow eyes and black ram-like horns. What really set her apart from her sultry sisters were
her wings, which were angelic rather than demonic in appearance. Her name was Purupururin, and she
and her summoner had been part of the same recon squad as Keira in the early stages of the Empire-
Republic war.
Of course, this being the Beyond meant that nothing about this scene was actually real. Well, not
entirely real, anyway. The huge screen showing images of the Boxxy Show was actually a mental
projection that Thruumitt was kind enough to provide for the others’ benefit. The large red sofa that
three of the demons were lying on, and indeed every aspect of the tiny basement-like room around them
were also immaterial images conjured up by one demonic mind or another. Their ‘bodies’ were equally
devoid of actual, physical properties, and were actually a form of astral projection manifested from their
immortal souls, typically referred to as a demon’s soul-self. Using this apparition allowed other demons
to perceive their presence and their true form.
These stray souls could, of course, appear as mere motes of light, but doing things this way made it
much easier to tell who was who.
“Oh! Oh! Look! It’s my lil’ sis!”
The fiend started shouting excitedly as Kora made her appearance on the screen.
“Big deal,” scoffed the stalker. “My daughter hasss been on the field since the sssstart!”
“Maybe, but that puny little bug didn’t do jack shit, did she?” replied the red gorilla with a chuckle.
“Uh, huh. Tell me, how does it feel to be surpassed in rank by your younger sibling?”
“Bah! She just lucked out, is all! Anyone would’ve Ranked Up if the Progenitor saw it fit! It doesn’t
mean she’s better than me!”
“Sure it does. Having good luck is alsssso a form of ssssskill.”
“I agree with Mal on this one, actually,” interject Thruumitt. “Even though it is considered
unpredictable, good fortune is a key aspect of-”
“Arf arf arf arf!” barked the Cerberus’s leftmost head, and the middle one growled in agreement.
The on on the right, on the other hand, seemed to be taking a nap.
“Fluffy makes a good point,” chimed in the succubus that was laying on top of the beholder. “Y’all just
need to shut your traps so I can focus on the B-box.”
The gorilla and the knife-tarantula begrudgingly complied, as neither of them wanted to miss out on
what was shaping up to be a huge fight. Their little fan club would have plenty of time to argue the
details later as per usual. As for Thruumitt, even though he went quiet, he was left with a sense of
disappointment at his current predicament. It wasn’t because his lecture was cut off, or because he
pulled projector duty for the week, but due to the succubus that kept rolling around on top of him as if he
were an oversized pillow.
Not only was it a bit demeaning, but to make matters worse he couldn’t feel a single thing. This was
only to be expected, though. Even if soul-selves could interact and collide with one another, there was
no actual feeling transmitted back to the owner. Otherwise Thruumitt would gladly serve as
Purupururin’s seat as many times as possible, as it meant he could feel up her plump ass, overfull breasts
and soft-looking wings in return.
Well, just because he was a literally dickless bookworm didn’t mean Thruumitt did not enjoy fondling
bubbly boobs or bodacious booty. He was, after all, a man.
“Aw, shit!” blurted out the alabaster-skinned beauty. “That wimpy Warlock of mine is calling me out!
Why now?!”
The others could confirm she was being summoned with a single glance, as her soul-self was rapidly
dissolving into specks of light that shot off somewhere into the infinite void beyond this basement-
shaped illusion. It had started at the tips of her fingers and toes and had already left her as nothing but a
head and wings attached to the upper half of her torso in a matter of seconds.
“Thruumitt!” she called out. “Leave a memory echo of what happens next for me, alright?!”
“Fine. But only if you promise to stop lazing around on my head.”
“I will! Thanks, bud!”
Those were the last words she uttered before the rest of her was whisked away to the mortal realm.
“You know she’s jussssst going to do it again next time,” pointed out Mal, the stalker.
“Probably. It’s not that big a deal anyway.”
“Maybe not to you,” grunted the fiend. “You’d never catch me submitting to-!”
The gorilla’s idle complaints were suddenly silenced by the super-sized green explosion that had just
flashed across the screen. His viewing buddies seemed equally enraptured by it, except for the third
Cerberus head that was still snoring peacefully. At least until the rest of the beast stood up on all fours
and began jumping around the sofa excitedly while barking happily.
“Holy fuck! What was that?!”
“I don’t know! I’ve never seen ssssometing of that magnitude!”
“That, my fellow philistines, was a Demonate Spell.”
“Oh yeah!” exclaimed Mal. “It was the sssssame thing Boxxy used on my daughter! You know, when he
was fighting that old-ass Warlock during the sssssiege?”
“Having your daughter blown up ain’t nothing to be proud about, yo,” pointed out the fiend. “Especially
when my little sis’s towering inferno just topped it! I mean, look at that! It totally kicks the ass of that
bug-fart your brat made!”
“Shhhhut it, Goreg! Your kin is just a freaky pervert, anyway!”
“Yeah, and yours likes to masturbate in front of the whole damn Beyond!”
“That’s only because she’s been watching your degenerate sibling and that shameless slut go at it like-!”
The blue-and-yellow spider’s tirade was rudely interrupted by a miniature star that flew into the group’s
little corner of the Beyond completely uninvited. It looked to be about the size of the gorilla’s head and
was glowing with a bright green light.
“Oh. Hello, Koralenteprix,” said Mal as he sank into his seat a bit.
“Hey, you guys!” replied the Archfiend they’d been watching until seconds ago. “What’d I miss?!”
“Nothing much,” said Thruumitt. “Boxxy’s still investigating the aftermath of that splendid Demonate.”
“Oh?! Did I get the guy! Lemme see!”
The orb of light settled down in front of the screen to get a better look, but in doing so obstructed the
others’ view of it. However, neither the fiend, beholder, nor stalker even tried to tell her to move. Since
Kora was a Ranker - albeit a very recent one - she was a few steps higher in the pecking order around
here. And fiends were very particular about enforcing that sort of stuff. Thankfully, there was someone
here who was easily above her.
“Arf!”
“Ruff ruff ruff!”
The Cerberus complained at her with two of its heads while the third one yawned and tried to go back to
sleep.
“Oh! Right, my bad, Fluffy!”

Having been scolded by the ancient demon-dog, Kora pulled away from the screen and, after rebuilding
her soul-self, sat down on the couch next to the Cerberus. The quintet of demonic entities continued
watching the ongoing action with great interest, having an all around jolly time as they commented on
the ongoing fight.
Right up to its inevitable conclusion.
“…“
The demons that were rather noisily watching the show stood in perfect silence as they stared at the
flashing ‘WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES’ that Thruumitt was
projecting.
*Toot-tu-tu-doot*
After about a minute, Kora heard a melodic chime just before a floating box of light materialized in
front of her open-jawed face.
From: [email protected]

To: [email protected];
CC: carl[email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected];
Subject: Summoning contract annulment
Koralenteprix Khusuuszun Caonthioxxaa,
This is an automated message officially informing you that your summoning contract with
[ERROR 404: NOT FOUND] is now void. The cause(s) of this termination will be listed
below:
Contractor fatality (DSC Article 1-4).
For any further inquiries, please contact your direct supervisor at: [email protected]
Please do not reply to this D-mail. Like, for real. Just don’t.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. The final images she saw on the screen
combined with what was quite literally staring at her face made it abundantly clear that Boxxy had died
just then. But before she could even begin to process this un-tasty feeling welling up within her, Kora’s
eyes latched onto the one oddity of this message.
Namely, the big honking ‘NOT FOUND’ part.
This would normally be where Boxxy’s name would have gone. Yet it wasn’t present. The reason for
this was that a certain alchemist’s heresies had whisked away the monster’s soul before it could be
processed, but Kora didn’t know that just yet. Then again, she didn’t really need to know the specifics
either. She wasn’t sure how or why, but she felt that there was no way Boxxy would just submit to
something trivial like death so easily. Sure, it was a mortal creature, but Kora had, for the lack of a better
word, faith in her master.
Which was why she bolted off with a huge grin on her face, as she made her way towards the Demons
‘R’ Us office. The basement-like illusion around her faded away and an incalculable number of
sceneries rushed past her as she got closer towards her destination. Well, she wasn’t so much
‘approaching’ the place as she was ‘imagining herself being there.’ And it would work without fail, as
such was the nature of this realm.
Both time and space had a certain wibbly-wobbly nature to them in the Beyond, as it was a dimension
that existed in a much more fluid state than the material one. One merely had to think hard enough about
a person or a place, and the Beyond would wrap around and collapse in on itself, just to bring the two of
them together. This property was why the place was such a mess, but was also how demons were able to
turn the shades and shapes of objects from memory into reality. Or at least, as ‘real’ as things got in a
place that was made up of naught but thoughts, nightmares, and delusions.
And indeed, after only a few seconds of thinking later, Kora had found herself standing in a long, well-
lit hallway. The floor was covered by a fuzzy blue-and-purple checkered carpet, the walls had a coat of
beige paint broken up by dozens upon dozens of bright red doors. Each door had a small golden plaque
on it, and most of them had a row of various demons lined up outside it. As for the ceiling, it was
actually a ceaselessly crawling and writhing mass of black cockroaches that occasionally burst into
crimson flames for no good reason.
Just another day at the offices of Demons ‘R’ Us.
*Toot-tu-tu-doot*
Kora had barely set off on her way to Carl’s office when she heard the familiar jingle of another
incoming D-mail. She didn’t really get many of those, so she had it set up to instantly open the new
message, which appeared in front of her as expected.

To: [email protected]
CC: carl[email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected];
Subject: RE: Summoning contract annulment
HAHAHAHA! I KNEW THAT STUPID BOX WOULD DIE A HORRIBLE, PAINFUL

DEATH! SERVES IT RIGHT FOR FUCKING WITH ME! TOO BAD I WASN’T THE
ONE TO DO IT! I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON ITS SORRY LITTLE
SOUL SO I CAN TORTURE IT FOR ALL ETERNITY!
Yup, that was definitely Kora’s uncle, Overlord Nagnamor himself. He probably requested to be kept up
to date on the Mimic’s status since he had a certain… history with it.
*Toot-tu-tu-doot*

To: EVERYONE
Subject: I suck dicks
Hello, everyone!
Just writing to inform you that I do indeed love the cock. Unless you weren’t aware, the
penis is a nutritious, delicious treat that makes my tum-tum tingle with delight! Flaccid old
man dicks are the best, especially if they’ve been in my ass beforehand. If you see me
strutting around, be sure to let me know what you think of my passionate thirst for man-
meat, and I would gladly suck yours if you happen to have one. If not, that’s okay -
buttholes are a close second best on my list of things I love to lick.
The top pick being dicks, of course.
Love,
Overlord Nagnamor of the Flamboyant Fellaters
There was a sudden rush of snickering, giggling and laughing as each and every demon in the corridor
couldn’t contain their amusement at this sudden development. Kora herself was already clutching her
sides while laughing out loud by the third sentence. The next message in the chain arrived just as she
had recovered from her humorous fit.
*Toot-tu-tu-doot*

To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected];
Subject: RE: RE: Summoning contract annulment
????Nice one, idiot!!! ? ??? That’ll teach you to Reply All without thinking! ? ?? Can’t wait
to see your inevitable ?????? session! I swear, this day (or night? IDK ? ??) just got ?/10!!!
P.S. Koralenteprix my dear, I sincerely hope you don’t turn into a senile cockgobbler like
this old fart. ? ??? But then again, the apple doesn’t fall far from the retard tree!!!1 ????
All the best,

Ultra??Magical☺?Princess?Lulu?
Well, that train wreck of a correspondence certainly killed Kora’s mood. Why the hell was Overlord
Liusolra in on this anyway?
*Toot-tu-tu-doot*
A message that was undoubtedly Nagnamor’s reply came in, but Kora mentally dismissed it almost
immediately. She didn’t want to see that right now. Even though she loved herself a good flame war, she
had more pressing matters to attend to, such as finding Carl’s office. Unfortunately, none of the door
labels looked even remotely familiar, which made her realize that she had mind-warped into the wrong
section of… whatever Demons ‘R’ Us was. Well, thinking was never her strongest point, so she was
used to not making it to where she really wanted to go in one try. It wasn’t a big deal though, she just
needed to-
*Toot-tu-tu-doot Toot-tu-tu-doot Toot-tu-tu-doot*
“... D-mail: Disable notifications.”
D-mail settings updated.
Now that the spam was taken care of, she once again began focusing, this time imagining herself ‘in
front of Carl’s door’ rather than ‘at the office.’ A short Beyond-hop later, and she was standing in a
hallway very similar to the old one, except that the door directly in front of her was labeled as
‘Katorolomaongott Sagattorius - Contract Worker.’ Satisfied she had arrived at the right place, she
knocked on the door once.
Which was enough to send it flying off its imaginary hinges and crumble to dust against the opposite
end of Carl’s personal office. The devil himself was seated behind a U-shaped desk of some kind that
seemed to be made out of polished mahogany. A multitude of floating stone tablets circled in the air
around him, showing him various images, pictures, and other information he needed to service his
clients.
The demon himself, or at least the half that was sticking over his desk, was that of an attractive-looking
man. He had flawless, bright pink skin, and a face handsome enough to be called an incubus. He had a
stylish goatee and well-trimmed sideburns that went up to his slicked-back black hair. His more
obviously demonic features manifested themselves as four pairs of pointed ears similar to Kora’s and a
short, strangely cute pair of horns poking out from either side of his forehead. And like all devils, his
face had a complete and total lack of eyes, showing only smooth pink skin where one’s ocular orbs
would normally be located.
At the very least he still had eyebrows, so reading his face wasn’t all that difficult.
“Uh, yeah we do. That’s what clause 2-2 is for, dumbass.”
Judging from the way he was speaking to nobody in particular, it became apparent that he was currently
on the line with someone. To his credit, Carl hadn’t even uttered a peep at having his front door
seemingly blown off by an unannounced visitor. It was the sign of a true professional. Or at the very
least someone who was already used to Kora’s bullshit.
“Hey, look here, buddy!” he continued. “You can do whatever you want with it, I’m just saying we
won’t be held accountable for any injuries, dismemberment, death, or eternal damnation that may-! …
Yes, okay, fine. Just remember - you asked for it. Bye.”
*Click*
“Wow! What an asshole!” he complained aloud. “Be with you in a sec,” he added with a nod towards
Kora.
He then turned to his left and ran his six-fingered hands over a slab that had hundreds of stone buttons in
it. They all began moving in by themselves, producing a veritable concerto of clicks while they did.
Kora had no idea what the hell any of that did, as none of them were actually labeled in any way. From
her perspective, it just looked like Carl was hitting the identical gray squares at random.
She was, of course, wrong. The devil was actually typing up a new contract form which would then be
sent to Overlord Weaxohn the All-Knowing. This Overseer Beholder was the current Demon King and
acting CEO of Demons ‘R’ Us, which meant he was responsible for single-eyedly managing all
information flow within the Beyond. Including everything pertaining to summoning contracts.
“Alright then,” said Carl as he finally turned around towards Kora. “I assume you’re here about Boxxy’s
contract?”
“Yup,” she replied with a nod.
“Well, before you get ahead of yourself, I should let you know that I can’t make a contract with a dead
soul.”
“I know. I’m not that stupid.”
“… Sure, you’re not. Then what brings you here? Are you looking to get back in it right away?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“You know you technically don’t have to do that anymore, right?”
Although it wasn’t their main reason for doing so, a demon would have a higher predisposition to
Ranking Up if they spent time in the physical realm while under contract. Once - or rather if - they
ascended to a higher state of being, they would be able to use other means to reach out from the Beyond.
Granted, Kora’s case may have been an extreme one, but it still meant she had access to all the perks
(and responsibilities) that came with her status as an Archfiend.
“I know of a very fun dungeon that’s looking for a new mid-boss!” offered Carl enthusiastically. “It’s
one of Axel’s places, so you can be sure there’s gonna be lots of fighting!”
“… Nah, I’m good.”
Kora wavered for a second, but ultimately passed on the opportunity.
“Alright, then,” said Carl while visibly drooping his shoulders. “Should I just mark your file as
‘available,’ then?”
“Nope!” declared the fiend with a huge smile. “I want to make a reservation, actually!”
“Oh? Caught an aspiring young Warlock you want to be bonded to, did you?”
“Something like that.”
“Alright, if you say so.”
The devil shrugged lightly then hovered his six-fingered palm over the stone keyboard.
“So, what’s his name?”
“Boxxy T. Morningwood,” she declared loudly and proudly.
*Snort*
With a bit of a chuckle, of course.
“… I just said-”
“I know what you said. The boss is dead so I can’t have a contract with it. But I can be on the top of the
candidate list when it comes back to life!”
Carl was momentarily at a loss for words. What Kora was saying was not against regulations and was
entirely possible. It was just… unorthodox.
“C’mon, Carl!” she demanded. “You saw the error in the automated message, right?! If that’s not a sign
that the boss is coming back, then I don’t know what is!”
“That’s- That just a bug in the system! It doesn’t mean anything!”
“Nuh-uh! The boss’ll come back! It has to, okay?!”
“Listen to yourself! There’s no point in clinging to a-”
“FUCKING DO IT, CARL!”
*RRRUMBLE*
The whole building(?) shook at Kora’s outburst as the imaginary constructs around her threatened to
collapse in on themselves under the fury of an Archfiend. Even though she appeared to be about the
average size for a fiend, that was mostly because she was thinking ‘small thoughts.’ If she wasn’t
suppressing her essence and unleashed her true soul-self, then she would become at least twenty times
her current size, wrecking Carl’s office in the process. In fact, the way the door from earlier seemed to
buckle in on herself at her slightest touch was already indicative of how disruptive her mere presence
was.
All of this served to remind Carl that, even though Kora was still a newbie as an Archfiend, a Ranker
was still a Ranker.
Which wasn’t to say he couldn’t teach her a thing or two about how the not-world worked.
“Okay, tell you what,” he said while leaning forward on his desk. “I’ll do the pointless, maybe-not-
strictly-legal thing you want me to do on one condition.”
“You don’t get to make demands!”
*CRRRRAACK*
The cockroach-ceiling split open, revealing what appeared to be a giant fork chasing a three-headed
mouse across a field of cheese.
“Look, all I’m asking is that you put your money where your mouth is.”
“… I’m listening.”
“We’re going to make a little wager, you and I. If Boxxy miraculously comes back to life and gives me a
call, then you win. But if more than, say, 2 years pass and you’re still waiting around here, then I win.”
“Fine by me! So how much do you feel like handing over to me upon your inevitable defeat?”
“Let’s see, you’re a fiend so, how does a stack of a hundred Essences of Rage sound?”
Essences were lumps of latent energy harvested from mortals, either directly or indirectly. Demons
could consume them in hopes of increasing their power and achieving a Rank Up, although the chance
of that second thing happening was astronomically low. In fact, the record for the fastest ‘natural’
demonic ascension was currently held by Overlord Liusolra herself, who had supposedly gotten her first
Rank Up after devouring around 600 Essences of Sorrow.
Overall, it meant that while a hundred was not really worth a lot in the grand scheme of things, it was
still an amount difficult to ignore.
“Pfft, get that weak shit out of here! I raise you to a thousand!”
Carl let out a disappointed sigh.
“If you’re just going to pointlessly showboat, then-”
“I’m dead serious. A thousand Rages on the boss’s life.”
This reversal caught the devil a bit off guard, and he momentarily found himself at a loss for words.
While it was clear that the uppity brat was just bluffing, he somehow didn’t feel right accepting it. By all
means it should be an easy win, but it was important to remember just who this wager hinged on.
Then again, there was a far more important matter to consider before any sort of bet could be made.
“Do you even have that much?” asked Carl in a doubtful manner.
“I will when I win!”

“Oh for the love of- Look, if you want to up the stakes that’s fine, but at least pick a number you can
earn within the next decade or two. Let’s do, say… 400?”
“Works for me! You’re on, waffle-face!”
Carl extended his hand towards Kora, who grabbed it without hesitation, thereby sealing the pact
between them. The fiend laughed merrily on her way out, already licking her lips in anticipation of the
victory that was sure to come. As for Carl, he got busy looking for someone who could take that mid-
boss position the Archfiend rejected. It was business as usual, but he still had a light smile on his face, as
he had made an interesting devil’s wager, one where he would come out on top no matter the result.
Sure, there was a potential to lose out on a small nest egg of psychic energy, but that would only happen
if one of his favorite clients miraculously came back to life.
All things considered, he’d be pretty happy with either outcome.
(178) Services Rendered 1
“Hang on, kiddo!” shouted Hilda from the front of the line. “We’re almost outta here!”
“She can’t hear you, so stop shouting!”
Lichter, who was still carrying Keira in his arms, reminded her of this obvious fact. The catgirl had been
slipping in and out of consciousness ever since they had retrieved her, so there was no way she
registered Hilda’s words. Which was probably for the best, because nothing good would happen if she
suddenly woke up and started making a ruckus in this tight space.
The stonekin dwarf and the high elf angel were currently climbing their way up an unevenly carved
staircase inside a very tight tunnel. The whole thing seemed to have been hewn out of the bedrock
beneath Azurvale’s slums district using magic and served as a discreet way in and out of that clandestine
facility.
It was the same entrance Drea had followed Zilla to following Boxxy’s death, and the same one she and
Xera showed to the VIPs, but it was hardly the ‘main’ one. It also didn’t lead directly to the base, but to
a rather spacious underground cavern that had a literal river running through it. The Foundation was
using this river to deliver supplies, personnel and cargo to the research facility via some weird
submersible vessel shaped like a flounder. And the rescue party knew this, because they happened to
catch sight of it just as it was leaving the small dock on the underground river’s bank.
This was right outside the facility’s main loading bay, which served as the intruders’ main entry point.
There were, of course, guards posted on the dock itself, but the Stalker had quickly relieved them of
their duties, and their heads. Also their livers and hearts since she was feeling a bit peckish. Normally
she would leave those delectable bits for Boxxy, but the Mimic was dead for all she knew, so she took
this rare opportunity to gorge herself on elf-meat. She actually preferred it to human meat, unlike her
box-shaped master, as it was lighter and had a smoother texture.
Suffice it to say that the Foundation had not been alerted to the presence of intruders until they were
quite literally kicking their doors down. And since all the security measures seemed to be concentrated
on the inside, now that the rescue party was out, they were more or less home free. The emergency
search and rescue Quest they had taken was going to end in success, even though the girl they had been
looking for had been missing for five whole days. That delay in and of itself would normally mean the
kidnapped person was lost forever, so Keira’s chances of being found were quite slim, statistically
speaking.
Luckily for her, and indeed for Boxxy itself, the Hero of Chaos had a knack for beating the odds. True,
this trait sometimes brought about incomprehensibly ill fortune in addition to extremely good luck, but
overall the Mimic considered itself a winner in the game of chance that was life.
“Huff! Huff! Huff!”
Something that Hilda couldn’t say about herself at that very moment, if her incredibly heavy breathing
was any indication.
“Are you alright?” asked Lichter from behind.
“Fuck no!” she cursed through gasped breaths, “but I’ll manage!”
Even if she was a Level 100 Berserker with deep reserves of stamina, they were far from inexhaustible.
Sure, she had Skills that helped reinvigorate her body, but those only applied to combat situations, and
climbing up thousands upon thousands of steps was not one of those. Combined with the poor-to-none
circulation of oxygen in this cramped space and the undeniable fact that Hilda had been getting on in
years, it was only inevitable she’d get exhausted.
“Huff! Huff! I’m wondering why the hell ye’re still so lively!”
“Paladins are better at wearing heavy armor, you know,” replied Lichter, who was trying his best not to
mention Hilda’s short legs. “You really should’ve changed out of yours before we started climbing.”
Indeed, a single use of the Rearm Skill would allow the dwarf to tuck away her gear in her pocket
dimension, vastly lightening her load in the process.
“No way! Those cunts might ambush us on the way out, and I need to be ready!”
“Do you really think there’s more of them?”
“Aye! I’m sure of it! Ye know how goblins are - where there’s one, there’s 50 more ye don’t see! Huff!
Huff! Huff! Though ‘goblins’ is too good for those miserable cunts!”
“I’m inclined to agree with you on that. I can’t imagine what sort of filthy degenerate could do this sort
of thing to such a sweet child and then still live with themselves.”
“You won’t have to worry about that for much longer,” came Xera’s voice from further behind.
The former succubus was able to keep up with them rather effortlessly, as she was idly floating over the
stairs rather than having to climb them the hard way. Floating being the operative word here, as she was
levitating off the ground without actually flapping her wings. She didn’t have the room to do so even if
she wanted to, so she relied on her inborn levitation ability as a djinn to keep up with her beloved
Master’s escape. Well, it was either this, fall behind, or slow down the whole group, so there wasn’t
much choice in the matter.
“What do you mean we don’t have to-?!”
*KHRRRRROOOOOOOM*
Lichter’s inquiry was cut off abruptly by a massive tremor that shook their surroundings, causing dust
and dirt to fall on top of them as the tunnel threatened to bury them alive.
“The hell?! Is that guy back?!” asked Hilda as she struggled to maintain her footing.
She was likely referring to the freakish creature that had tried to bury them when they first broke into the
enemy base.
“No!” replied Lichter. “This is much bigger than that!”
The elf had lifted the large shield strapped to his left arm above his head as a sort of umbrella, protecting
both himself and the girl on his right arm from any falling rocks.
“Move it, Hilda! This hole’s coming down on top of us!”
“Baaaalls!” cursed the dwarf as she put her wrinkled ass into even higher gear.
Thankfully, they only had to keep going for several more seconds before making it out of the collapsing
tunnel. They filed out of it and into the back of an old warehouse at the edge of the slums district. Hilda
practically stumbled out of the formerly hidden trap door, collapsing on the ground as a cloud of dust
and dirt billowed out of the opening. Lichter, Keira and Xera were all equally unharmed, although the
building continued shaking for several more seconds until the aftershocks finally subsided.
“Bloody hell!” exclaimed the Berserker that had collapsed on the ground panting heavily. “I actually
gained a point of Endurance from that!”
“That earthquake was your boss’s doing, wasn’t it?” asked Lichter in a stern tone.
“You could say that,” responded Xera with a coy smile.
“What did he do, demon?!”
“Nothing much, holy man. He just made sure that everything and everyone in that place was dead and
buried.”
“Good.”
Keira’s shaky voice came out from Lichter’s arms. It was the first coherent thing she’d said since they
found her, so both VIPs were rather relieved to hear it, even though her intent was rather sinister.
“Hey, kitty-face!” shouted Hilda from the floor. “I’d get up to greet ye, but I’d probably puke if I did
that!”
“Are you alright, Keira?” asked the elf in a distinctly more concerned tone.
“No. I’m not alright,” she answered on the verge of tears. “I don’t think I’ll ever be alright.”
“Is this to do with the thing in your back?”
He didn’t need to peek into the filthy rags wrapped around the beastkin’s body to tell there was a foreign
object lodged in her flesh. It was in the shape of an upside-down teardrop that was just under 25
centimeters tall and 10 centimeters wide at its thickest point, a sort of crystal by the feel of things.
Boxxy was unable to conceal the Soulstone permanently bonded to its body in Kera’s form, so it was
forced to leave it out ‘in the open.’ It could, of course, cover it in skin and muscle, but doing so would
leave the girl with a very noticeable hump, which was perhaps worse.
“… I don’t wanna talk about it,” it answered in an evasive manner.
It was, of course, lying. It wanted to talk about this thing fused to its body at length, actually. Especially
on the top on how to safely remove it. However, at the same time it had to be discreet about it. Drawing
too much attention to it would surely result in would-be researchers poking and prodding at its body.
Which was something neither Boxxy nor Keira wanted.
“Please… I just want to go home,” whimpered the catgirl. “I want to see Rowie again…”
The Paladin looked at the poor girl in his arms and he wavered mightily. The occult object fused to her
body against her will was of great concern. It might have been some sort of mind-control device, or an
arcane time-bomb of some description. For all he knew, it could’ve been that shady Sandman that put
this in her to begin with. Whatever the case, he strongly felt that she had to be quarantined for her safety
and the safety of others, on the off chance that Keira’s captors had left behind some sort of nasty
surprise.
But at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He had personally seen the boundless joy that
seemed to ooze out of Keira Morgana. A diligent, thoughtful person with her own special brand of
innocence, who in her current distraught state could only plea to be reunited with the one she loved. And
he knew that she was loved in return. He had spoken many times with Rowana Slyth over the last few
days, and the mere thought of delaying their reunion even a second longer made his heart ache
something fierce.
“... Of course,” he consented. “That’s exactly where I’m taking you to.”
That was how Lichter, for all his strength, knowledge, experience and wisdom, had succumbed to every
adventurer’s fatal weakness - a cute girl’s tears.
“Hilda, I’ll be going on ahead,” he declared while unfurling his wings.

“Aye! I’ll catch up as soon as I get the feeling in my legs back!”
“What about you, demon?”
He shot a sideways glance towards Xera, who was already walking away.
“Who? Little old me?” she responded in a lackadaisical manner. “Just some urgent business to attend
to.”
Having said that, the pretend succubus unfurled her wings and bolted through a broken window to find a
secluded spot to kill herself so that she may be once again joined to her Master. The Enslave Demon act
was enjoyable in and of itself, but it couldn’t compare to the shackles of eternal servitude that a
summoning contract promised.
“Please… Rowie…”
Lichter also took off after a bit of gentle prodding from Keira, following the succubus through the
window and into the air above Azurvale. The sun was already setting, dying the city in an ominous red
light and causing the great Hylt trees to cast long, thick shadows over the crimson rooftops. The
demoness was nowhere to be seen, of course. Those demons and their master had a knack for
disappearing and reappearing seemingly out of thin air, which put the Paladin somewhat on edge.
And their reluctance to stick around and deal with the aftermath was quite logical, considering the mess
they left behind.
“Sweet, merciful Nyrie…”
The Paladin couldn’t help but gasp in shock when he witnessed the mark the Sandman had made on
Azurvale. The tremors caused by whatever he had unleashed were felt all the way to the surface,
resulting in a seismic event that had damaged quite a few buildings. Not only that, but there was a
visible dent in the terrain - a 300-meter or so circular indentation where the ground had collapsed in on
itself. The dust cloud kicked up by this event lingered heavily in the air, almost as if a volcano had
erupted.
Thankfully, there seemed to have been little-to-no casualties as a result of this crater’s sudden
appearance, as it had manifested itself immediately south of the city’s boundaries. However, this was
clearly the result of some unnatural tampering, as evidenced by the fog and ice that seeped through the
cracked ground. This scene gave the angelic elf unpleasant flashbacks of Armageddon Day, and the
destruction wrought by both demonic Overlords.
There was no doubt in his mind that the facility they had rescued Keira from used to be beneath that
receded plot of land. Meaning that the Sandman had kept his promise of wiping it off the face of
Terrania. And for once, Lichter was actually glad at how thorough and ruthless that man was. His only
regret was that he didn’t have a deep hole of his own where he could bury the unpleasant things he’d
seen while he was down there.
Not wishing to waste time just gawking at the scenery, he shot off in the direction opposite that bowl-
shaped gash in the ground as he flew towards the Slyth household with all haste. He landed in the
mansion’s front yard several minutes later, only to find Rowana already waiting for him. She watched
with baited breath as the Paladin delivered her beloved Keira to her on wings of light, setting the
unsteady catgirl down on the ground a few meters away from her.
“Keiraaa!”
“Rowieee!”
The two lovebirds immediately dashed at each other, leaping into each other’s hands. What followed
was the standard fare of sobbing, hugging and kissing one would expect from a tearful reunion.
“I’m so glaad! I’m so glad!” repeated Rowana over and over again. “Thank you, Mr Lichter! Thank you
so much!”
“Ah. My pleasure, miss Slyth. However… I feel it may be a bit too early to celebrate.”
“What do you mean?” asked the elf with a look of utter confusion on her face.
Her precious Keira was back in her arms alive and well, wasn’t she? So then what the hell was the
Paladin talking about? The beastkin in her arms was cold, frightened, and unsteady, but she was most
definitely her Keira. The elf hugged her lover even tighter, as if fearing she might slip away again if she
ever let go. And it was through this tight embrace that she was suddenly made aware of the solid object
attached on the girl’s back.
“… Come on, let’s get you inside,” she whispered.
She quickly led the upset girl inside, passing by her surprised parents on the way into the mansion.
Sensing that the two young ones desperately needed some alone time, Lichter stepped forward to fill in
both Doris and Samulus on the day’s events while Rowana led Keira straight into the bath. She of course
had plenty of questions, but her first priority was wrapping the beastkin in warmth and washing away
the stress of the last few days, both literally and figuratively.
The Slyths’ family home had three grand bathrooms, each of them as luxurious as the rest of the house.
The one Rowana and Keira entered together was covered in bright yellow tiles with floral patterns and
was well-lit due to the magical lamps on the walls and ceiling. The large bath that was almost like a
miniature swimming pool was filled with hot water in a matter of seconds, after which the elf urged
Keira to get in. The catgirl put up a little bit of a fight as she was a bit unwilling to part with her sole
piece of ‘clothing’ at first, but in the end the two of them climbed into the bath together.
The elf diligently washed Keira’s crimson hair and tanned skin, even going so far as to shampoo her tail.
Once both of them were thoroughly clean, Rowana drained away all the filthy bath water and refilled it,
allowing the two of them to just sit and soak in peace. With only their upper bodies above the waterline,
Rowana was gently brushing Keira’s damp hair with her right hand in a soothing manner while hugging
her across the chest from behind with the other. The catgirl let herself be pampered in total silence,
which she maintained until Rowana inevitably brought up the elephant in the room.
“… Did they hurt you?”

“… No. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t remember much beyond waking up in a cell with this thing in my
back. I have no idea what they did to me… and that terrifies me, Rowie.”
The catgirl glanced over her shoulder as if trying to look at her new extreme body piercing with a look
of apprehension.
“I’m completely a freak now, aren’t I?”
Rowana responded by hugging the girl even tighter with both hands, pressing her plump breasts against
the hard surface of the blood-red crystal.
“You are not a freak. Never were. Never will be.”
She could tell it had the right effect, as Keira’s tail started brushing against her stomach in a strangely
excited manner. This part of the beastkin at least appeared to still be honest.
“Uhm, Rowie. I appreciate the words and all, but I feel two very hard things poking me from behind…”
The catgirl squirmed a bit in the elf’s lap as she said that. However, rather than it being awkward, she
seemed to be trying to rub herself against her nipples even more. This reaction was hardly Rowana’s
fault, though. And it wasn’t her amped up sex drive that was causing it, either.
“S-Sorry,” she said with a red face. “It’s just that this thing is pretty cold, even though it’s submerged in-
Wait, you can feel those?! Even through the crystal?!”
“… Now that you mention it, yeah, I can.”
The elf abruptly put an end to the cuddling session and lightly pushed Keira way so she could get
another good look at the object in question. Her attention was particularly focused on the skin around the
edges of it.
“Of course!” exclaimed the elf. “It’s a Spirit Stone! Why didn’t I realize this sooner!?”
“I’m sorry, a what?”
“It’s an artificially made material used for magical implants! High-Level Alchemists can make it using a
sample of the subject’s blood to reduce the risk of rejection!”
It was something Rowana had read about as she had been leaning towards becoming a Lifebinder
Alchemist, which was the primary branch of alchemy to make and use the stuff. She just failed to make
the connection at first since Spirit Stones were supposed to be no bigger than a child’s fist, not the size
of a dinner plate.
“That’s… good?” asked Keira in a confused tone.
“Uh… I don’t know, actually. Do you know what this thing did to you?”
“I think… they were trying to control me with it.”

“C-control?”
“Yeah… There was this fat lady that came to visit me every day. She told me to do things and I… I
couldn’t say no.”
“Things?! What things?!”
“I-I don’t know!” snapped back the catgirl while raising her voice. “I remember being asked a lot of
questions and having to do laps around my cell, but it’s all a big blur!”
“Okay! It’s okay, baby. I have you now. You’re safe.”
The two once again embraced each other as the steam and hot water calmed them back down.
“… So this Spirit Stone or whatever, can you take it out of me?”
“That’s… I’m sorry, sweetie. I think it’s fused to your spine. Tampering with it could leave you
paralyzed… or worse…”
This was the professional medical opinion of a senior apothecary, and Boxxy was inclined to agree with
it. Well, it could probably sever the thing and recover from any paralysis or whatnot, but it was
legitimately concerned that doing so would kill it instantly.
“So it’s permanent…”
“Well no, not quite,” said Rowana reassuringly. “Your body has already started absorbing it and
breaking it down, so it will gradually go away on its own. It’s made from your blood so it will gradually
heal over as if it were a super-sized scab.”
“Really?!”
“That’s what normally happens to Spirit Stones, yeah. But one this big… it could be years before it fades
away.”
“Oh… I see…”
Hearing the thoroughly depressed noises coming out of Keira’s throat made Rowana regret her words.
The beastkin probably wanted to put this all behind her as soon as possible, but she just found out she’d
have to carry that constant reminder with her for who knows how long.
“I’m here for you,” muttered the elf reassuringly. “We’ll get through this.”
“Yeah… Thanks…”
There was a 5 minute lull in the conversation before Keira spoke up again.
“Uhm, Rowie? Where’s Fizzy? I didn’t see her around…”

However, that question immediately soured the elf’s mood even further.
“Don’t tell me you’re worried about that traitor!”
“Traitor? What?!”
“We went to look for her to get her help since you’d gone missing, but we couldn’t find her either! I was
worried something might have happened to her, but then I found out she went and skipped town in a
huge rush! She’d fed her guildmates some line about the two of you having a falling out and just
abandoned you to your fate! Is that any way to treat a friend in need!”
“… I see. It’s all my fault then.”
“It… It is?”
“Yeah. She really did leave because of me. And frankly, I don’t blame her.”
She must’ve found out about Boxxy’s death from Ambrosia or one of the familiars and immediately
moved to cover her own ass rather than throw her life away on some pointless vendetta. Honestly,
speaking, if she had actually shown up along with Snack and Claws, then the Mimic would’ve been
quite disappointed in her. After all, those demons are immortal, so they didn’t value their lives in the
slightest, and with good reason. But Fizzy was far too precious to Boxxy. It would never allow that sort
of pointless risk if it had a say in the matter.
Which it shouldn’t, since it would be dead in that scenario.
“So you two really did have a catastrophic argument?” asked Rowie with a guilty expression.
“That’s putting it mildly. It actually happened the day before… you know… so she was probably already
halfway across the country by the time you would’ve needed her help. And I need to find her and make
it up to her.”
“… Do you even know where she went? Nobody I spoke to could tell me.”
“I have a pretty good idea, yeah.”
The two of them had discussed visiting the Horkensaft Kingdom’s capital in order to get her arm fixed
up, so that’s probably where she was headed. The Mimic was sure it could track her down, as it was
impossible for the living embodiment of shininess not to leave a trail of witnesses behind. It wasn’t
worried about her safety or anything, either, as the psychotic Paladin it had single-handedly created was
a fighter. A survivor.
However, she would have to wait until Boxxy settled its domestic affairs before looking to tackle foreign
ones.
“I had no idea she was so important to you. It makes me a little bit jealous,” admitted Rowana.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. You mean the world to me. But… as wonderful as you are, I don’t think
you’ll ever understand what it’s like to have your life spiral out of control while you were forced to just
stand by and watch, powerless to stop it. She’s a kindred spirit, and I owe it to her to make amends.”
“… Okay. Maybe I don’t know the kind of suffering you’ve been through. And honestly, I pray that I
never will. But I’m here for you, here and now.”
“I know. And you have no idea how grateful I am that you are.”
The two continued to comfort and cuddle each in the bath for another half hour before getting out. They
got dressed, had a good meal and then went to bed without speaking much for the rest of the evening.
The next morning Keira found herself in the Slyths’ sitting room, wearing a fancy green dress that
covered up her ‘Spirit Stone.’ She was seated on the couch with Rowana next to her, Doris and Samulus
opposite her, and both Hilda and Lichter off to the side.
What followed was a rather exhaustive back-and-forth as they attempted to piece together what had
happened.
The version of the story that Boxxy fed them started with Keira’s chaos senses tingling, which was why
she had so abruptly left the tea party almost a week ago. She was then captured, experimented on, and
rescued, but couldn’t offer much more than that since her memory was hazy. However, she had also
made it abundantly clear that she wanted to keep the whole thing as much of a secret as possible. She
had only just gotten used to being treated with kindness and respect, and did not want others to think she
was a freak due to the crystal in her back.
Surprisingly enough, both the VIPs and the Slyths had decided on doing just that the night before. It had
become quite apparent that, based on what Hilda and Lichter saw and heard, Keira might have been
captured by some secretive government organization after all. It wasn’t a certainty, but they thought the
chances were high considering how well supplied and well equipped the place seemed to be.
And yet the Sandman had seen to it that the place was completely destroyed. An act that might get him
branded as an enemy of the state. And unless all the people in that room wanted to be considered
accomplices, then this whole thing had to be kept under wraps. Which was why Samulus had already
gotten in touch with the authorities and seen to it that Keira’s missing person report was quietly and
discreetly disposed of.
The topic then turned to Keira’s Soulstone, although none of the people gathered there knew anything
about its true purpose. It was an awkward, long-winded conversation that involved a great deal of
bullshitting on Boxxy’s part, but it ultimately got the result it wanted. Partly because it had its hooks into
Rowana so deeply, that the elf took Keira’s side without question, even if it seemed like a bad idea to
their elders.
The bottom line was that the beastkin would not be sent to be studied like some lab rat, and that they
would let the Soulstone run its course naturally. This was something of a stopgap measure for the
Mimic, however, as it had no idea whether the Soulstone disappearing would lead to its death or not. It
had no idea if the item needed to be renewed or recharged in some way in order to maintain its grip on
life, but given how that Malon guy positively reeked of Taboo, it wouldn’t find the answers it needed
through ‘proper’ channels.
However, Boxxy still had something of a lead in that regard.
During its escape from the Foundation base, it had used Honoka’s stolen memories to plunder as much
sensitive information as it could in as little time as possible. Its intent was to use said intelligence as
leverage against the secretive organization should they ever come after the Sandman. Or Keira, for that
matter. It could either threaten to release these documents to the general public, use the research data as
bargaining chips, or maybe even sabotage their other facilities and endeavors to send a warning.
Unfortunately, while there was a lot it could potentially do with the plundered documents, there didn’t
seem to be anything among them regarding Malon’s research or Soulstones in general. Time had been of
the essence and Boxxy did not have the luxury of scouring every last nook and cranny of that
underground complex, so it wasn’t able to get much. But what relatively little it got certainly had value,
especially the series of reports documenting the progress and ongoing status of an undertaking
codenamed Project Lighthouse. It still needed to examine them more thoroughly, but what it had
managed to sneak a peek of them was already quite promising.
Especially the part that detailed the Foundation’s interactions with one Reginald Namhel and his
underground network of shapeshifting operatives.
*Knock knock knock*
There was a rapping on Reginald’s door, followed by his secretary poking her head inside the room a
few seconds later.
“Excuse me, Mr Namhel, but Mrs Mainus is requesting another urgent meeting. I know you have
company, but-”
“That’s quite alright, my dear,” said the old banker. “I was actually expecting her, and Mr Jensen here
was just leaving.”
The other person in the room, a middle-aged elf with black hair, black eyes and a thoroughly forgettable
face, nodded to show his consent. This was one of Reginald’s doppelganger associates, and the two of
them had been discussing the hostile takeover of a certain human-run smuggling ring for the last 20
minutes. A discussion that would obviously need to wait until later.
Jensen got off his seat and walked out of the room, sharing a courtesy greeting with Mrs Mainus as the
two shapeshifters passed by each other. Once she was alone with him, Xera reverted back to her pretend-
succubus form.
“Hello Reggie,” she said casually while taking a seat.
“Miss Snack,” he responded in kind. “I trust your presence here means your Master is alive and well?”
“Indeed. We hit a small snag when doing you that favor, so we had to go off the grid for a while.”
“Mmmm… Yes, I assumed as much when I heard the Hero of Chaos had vanished from the public eye a
week ago.”
Keira’s abrupt disappearance had made waves within Azurvale, despite the local government’s attempts
to keep her kidnapping under wraps. After all, she was the face of victory against the Empire, so they
couldn’t openly admit they let her be taken on their watch. Their concerns were then validated yesterday,
as the Slyth household had withdrawn their missing person report, stating it was all a big
misunderstanding caused by the Hero’s quirky ability to attract trouble.
But while they were relieved their trophy child was safe and sound, the damage had already been done,
as there was supposed to be a huge award ceremony in Keira’s honor. It was slated to be a very public,
high profile event during which the Exarch - the Republic government’s elected leader - was supposed to
personally recognize the young soldier’s contributions to the war effort. And since the guest of honor
was a no-show, they had little choice but to cancel it, sending the city’s rumor mill into full swing.
“Though I do wish Boxxy wouldn’t do things in such a flashy manner,” added Reginald with a sigh. “I
understand Mr Alexis was a powerful individual, but burning down three city blocks was a bit overkill,
wouldn’t you say?”
“That was indeed an accident, but it couldn’t be helped.”
“And what about this earthquake the day before yesterday, hmm? Was that another accident?”
“Nope. That one was actually intentional. It marked the end of the organization supporting your
mysterious Doppelganger hunter.”
“Really now? So that living nightmare succeeded after all, huh? Then you know who was supporting
him?”
“We do. But then again, so do you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“So you don’t know anything about a Foundation?”
“Which Foundation?” asked the old shapeshifter. “Do you mean Saint Helena’s Foundation for the
Magically Maimed?”
“Alright, let me put it in a different way,” said Xera while leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs.
“Would you kindly tell me what you know about the Foundation, old boy?”
“The Foundation of the Founding Father was created nearly 20 years ago by the previous Exarch. It
exists to further the works of the Founding Father and bring prosperity to elvenkind at any reasonable
cost.”
It was a flawless, smooth answer, delivered in the same tone of voice one might use to describe how
they liked their coffee.
“Founding Father,eh? And who would that be?” asked Xera.
“Again, no idea what you’re talking about,” answered Reginald in an annoyed tone. “Do these pointless
questions serve a purpose here?”
“Would you kindly tell me who the Foundation’s Founding Father is, old boy?”
“Commonly referred to as Tol-Saroth, the Founding Father was the man who laid the groundwork for
the dissolution of the corrupt Elven Dominion and brought about the rise of the Ishigar Republic.”
Xera continued interrogating Reginald, also known as Project Lighthouse, for the better part of half an
hour. He shared everything he knew about the secretive government-funded organization, and even
divulged the secrets of his own network of shapeshifters. And he did this willingly and eagerly, because
he was a sleeper agent of the Foundation. He had been conditioned to carry out any orders or requests he
received, so long as they were framed by the dual code phrases ‘would you kindly’ and ‘old boy.’ And
he would do these things subconsciously, without being aware someone else had told him to do so and
retaining seemingly no memory of the event.
That was why he sent Boxxy to confront Jones Alexis in the first place. He had received standing orders
to send any exceptional shapeshifters he came across to the Foundation’s lackey, who would subdue
them and bring them in as test subjects. He was also supposed to warn Zilla when he was about to get a
new ‘delivery,’ but since Boxxy spontaneously decided to challenge its target, Reginald never had that
information to begin with.
As for why the Foundation had sunk their claws into Reggie in the first place - it was simple. It gave the
shadowy organization their own private spy network, which they used to attack and take over various
crime syndicates. Doppelgangers weren’t much of a combat-oriented species, but they were still
monsters, which made them inherently stronger and faster than regular elves. Not to mention that, with
their ability to infiltrate, these hostile takeovers would often end without a single drop of blood being
shed or anyone realizing their leaders had been silently replaced. And the proceeds from all this
unlawful activity would then either be used as additional Foundation funding, or be funneled through the
Namhel Brothers bank to provide financial support to the government.
In other words, the main reason the fake Reginald Namhel’s little empire had survived for as long as it
did was because it was allowed to.
“Would you kindly tell me what you know about Soulstones, old boy?”
Xera began wrapping up her interrogation of Reggie by asking the last and arguably most important
thing Boxxy wanted to know from him.
“I don’t know anything about Soulstones.”
“I see. Then would you kindly use your spies to find out everything you can about Soulstones, old boy?”
“Yes. I will do that,” he affirmed in a flat monotone.

“Thank you Reggie, you’ve been very helpful,” said Xera with a twisted smile.
“Uhm, you’re welcome?” answered the confused shapeshifter. “What about the matter of Jones Alexis,
though?”
“Oh you don’t need to worry about that. In fact, would you kindly forget everything about Jones Alexis,
Boxxy T. Morningwood, or any of their associates, old boy?”
“Yes. I will do that.”
In the next instant he snapped out of his trance, and found himself staring at an unfamiliar demon in the
middle of his office.
“What? Who are you?! How did you get in here!?”
Xera stood from her seat and walked over to the door while Reginald became more and more aggressive.
“Would you kindly forget you ever saw me, old boy?”
“Yes. I will do that.”
With those final words, she transformed into Mrs Mainus and left his office before he had a chance to
snap out of his trance.
“Are you sure this is okay, Master?” she asked telepathically while making her way out of the building.
“It’ll be fine,” it responded. “At least this way he won’t be able to tell anyone who comes snooping
about my true identity.”
“Shouldn’t we break him free of the Foundation’s control?”
“Why would we? He’s much easier to handle like this.”
“I suppose, but… Doesn’t his condition seem a bit too pathetic?”
“That sorry creature in there is what you would’ve become eventually if we didn’t arrive when we
did…”
“No, it wouldn’t. I’d kill myself before I let someone control me like that.”
“You… would really do that?”
“Of course. My mind, my body and my life are mine and mine alone. I’d much rather see them
destroyed than let someone else take them from me.”
“I see.”
“If you’re all done there, then go deliver Keira’s personal belongings to the mansion.”
“I hear and obey my Master.”
The ‘belongings’ in question consisted of the mithril rapier, casual clothes, jewelry and other things that
the catgirl would’ve had on her when she was captured. The idea was that Snack would present them to
the Slyths as a gesture of good faith from the Sandman when she went to pick up his fee for participating
in the rescue quest. The cloaked mercenary would have come across them when he was cleaning up the
base and decided to do the catgirl a favor by bringing them out. That way the catgirl would officially
have her stuff back, instead of having it magically reappear in her possession even though she was found
butt-naked in a hallway.
Honestly speaking, the Mimic could probably do without the vast majority of that stuff, but four of those
items were vitally important. The jeweled mithril rapier was an obvious one, as getting to carry that
superbly shiny article around as Keira was one of the perks of its Facade. It was also becoming
something of a signature weapon, as she carried it around a lot, so its whereabouts had to be accounted
for.
The other three were the trio of simple-looking iron rings that the catgirl typically wore on her right
hand. These supposedly sentimental items were actually vital to Boxxy’s disguise since they brought its
overall weight down to about third of what it normally was. If it wasn’t for those, then Keira would be
far too heavy for a beastkin her size. Or any size, for that matter. Right now she was wearing them on
the inside of her body to maintain her cover, but this was hardly ideal. Having foreign objects inside
itself got in the way of Boxxy’s shapeshifting, not to mention it was uncomfortable. It was therefore
rather vital that Snack ‘deliver’ them so it could wear them on Keira’s fingers rather than inside her
buttocks.
“By the way, how goes it on your end, Master?” asked Xera as she was making her way back to the
mansion. “Have you managed to convince that vapid cunt to stop being so gods-damned clingy?”
“No. Looks like I’ll have to wait this one out.”
“I could always take her place…” she said in an oddly hopeful tone of voice.
“Maybe, but you can’t take the place of her parents, Hilda and Lichter all at once.”
“Uh… What?”
“It’s not just Rowana - all five of them are telling me the same thing.”
Namely ‘stay put where we can keep an eye on you.’
Following Keira’s rescue, it had been unanimously decided that the catgirl would spend an
indeterminate amount of time on the premises of the Slyth family estate. Her ‘inner circle’ wanted to
keep her somewhere where they could monitor her condition and protect her from any sort of retaliation
from that underground organization’s remnants. They were all very valid concerns from the point of
view of people who didn’t know any better, so the Mimic had no choice but begrudgingly accept if it
wanted to keep its Facade strong.
And it couldn’t just say ‘yes’ and then do whatever the hell it wanted anyway, as it was impossible to
slip away from the mansion without Keira’s absence being found out pretty rapidly. Having Snack take
its place also wasn’t feasible, as she couldn’t recreate the Soulstone lodged in Keira’s back with her
shapeshifting. She could still do it with her Conjure Mirage Skill, but that would come with its own
share of problems. Mainly to do with Rowana, who had become, as Snack herself had so succinctly put
it, ‘gods-damned clingy.’ Which meant that any illusion the djinn placed upon her body would dissipate
the instant that elf touched it, blowing the demon’s cover wide open.
That girl was proving to be something of a headache to Boxxy’s plans yet again, but it couldn’t get rid of
her just yet. Not while it still had Doppelganger Levels to attain. Even if it was just one person, the sheer
degree with which she loved, believed in, and trusted Keira had been a steady source of Doppelganger
XP. Sure, the monster had gotten quite a few Levels from Keira’s popularity among the masses, but that
was going to diminish eventually. Getting rid of Rowana at this point would be like quitting one’s steady
job because they won a small fortune from a lottery. It seemed attractive at first glance as it freed Boxxy
up in the short term, but it had to consider the long game here.
After all, getting those next 15 Doppelganger Levels was going to take a looooong time.
The same couldn’t be said for the next 15 Warlock Levels, though. Or rather, the next 14, as the amount
of death and destruction it and its familiars had caused during their recent escape had boosted it up to
Level 61 of the Job, granting the Mimic access to another Warlock Skill. A Skill that Boxxy had high
expectations of, if the research it conducted on it beforehand was any indication.
Graviton Manipulation
Description: Allows the Warlock to tap into and control the flow of gravity, bending the
natural force to his will through sheer mystic might.
Requirements: Level 60 Warlock, Level 10 Ruin Mastery
Type: Passive
Cost: N/A
Range: Self
Effects: Grants knowledge of a new gravity-altering Ruin Spell at Level 1, 4, 7 and 10 of
this Skill.
Increases the effectiveness of all gravity-altering effects by 3% per Level of this Skill.
Increases resistance to all gravity-altering effects by 3% per Level of this Skill.
The amount of new ‘freebie’ Spells that magic-based Jobs had access to past Level 50 was effectively
zero. Which meant that adventurers such as Pyromancers, Cryomancers, Wizards and Warlocks/Witches
had to use one of two approaches if they hoped to expand their magical arsenal beyond that point. They
either had to learn Spells the hard, manual way, which would take years of time and effort, or rely on
‘Library Skills’ like Graviton Manipulation. And according to what Boxxy had read up regarding the
ones Warlocks had access to, learning this cluster of gravity magic Spells was very much a worthwhile
endeavor.
The first of these magical incantations, and also the only one that Boxxy currently had access to, was
Momentum Anomaly. Simply put, it projected a zone of mystic energy where the faster something
moved, the heavier it got. The magic trick could be used to protect against physical projectile attacks
like throwing knives or arrows as it would throw them off-course, but that wasn’t its core use.
Momentum Anomaly was the perfect tool to trap targets such as Rogues, Rangers and Monks, which
relied on fast and agile movements to survive. And the faster they got, the sooner they would find
themselves pinned to the ground under their own body weight. This aspect made Momentum Anomaly
one of the few Spells that actually rose in effectiveness when used against higher Level opponents.
Unfortunately, it would do very little when used against targets that didn’t move very quickly, such as
most magic users, or individuals that could withstand the added weight, like Warriors or Paladins.
That was fine, though, because the one Boxxy wanted to use it on was definitely not the muscle-headed
type.
The other Spells the Mimic would learn later on were Weightless Space at Level 4, Gravity Well at
Level 7, and then Magnetic Tilt at Level 10. The first of those did exactly what it said on the cover and
rendered everything within its area of effect completely weightless, while the second of those did the
opposite and massively amplified gravity in an area. It was similar in effect to the Ultimate Skill of that
crazy old Warlock VIP that Boxxy met and subsequently murdered during the war, albeit on a much
smaller scale. The last of those was arguably the most interesting, as it would shift the direction that
gravity was pointing in within its effective range.
Overall, it was an extremely flexible array of magic with a good deal of applications both in and out of
combat situations. And since all of those were area effect Spells, they could all be used in conjunction
with Crystallize Magic. Truthfully speaking though, although Boxxy was looking forward to playing
around with them, it was starting to wonder just how many more tricks it needed in its repertoire. While
being flexible and having many options was definitely a good thing, spreading itself out so much was
starting to feel detrimental. After all, it was impossible for a single creature to fire arrows, fight with
swords and cast magic all at once.
Not to mention that if its fight with Zilla had taught it anything, it was that all the trickery and
misdirection in the world was worthless in the face of absolute power. It had ran through its recollection
of that encounter countless times as it sat inside its Foundation cell. And no matter how much it thought
back on it, it just couldn’t see itself winning in that situation. The only halfway acceptable outcome
would have been if it had kept running and made its escape instead of turning around to face the thing in
open combat. However, the sudden burst of reinvigorating energy it got from Chaotic Disposition had
momentarily clouded its judgement.
It was more than a little ironic that if it wasn’t for that seemingly positive random outcome, then the
Mimic likely wouldn’t have died back then. It just went to show how foolish Boxxy had been to rely on
luck and trickery to take down an opponent of that terrifying a magnitude. It needed to keep that in mind
the next time it tried to foolishly tackle something beyond its means. Which was pretty much exactly
what it was planning to do, as it was already making preparations to stand up to one of the original
twelve dryads.
A confrontation that, by the look of things, was not going to end peacefully.
“Arms, Claws,” it called out telepathically. “Progress report.”
“We’re still clearing the way, boss,” answered Kora. “There’s a lot of shit down here so it’ll take at least
a day or two more at this rate.”
“Ugh, ‘shit’ is right, though,” scoffed Drea. “I’m glad I’ve never had to wade through all that muck until
now.”
While the djinn was taking advantage of Reggie’s brainwashing, the Archfiend and the Stalker were sent
to investigate a certain dilapidated sewer tunnel. It was the same one that Boxxy, Arms, and Snack had
used to first gain entry into what would later become the Dryad’s Domain dungeon. However, rather
than the barely serviceable tunnel they were expecting, the Mimic’s familiars had instead found a
completely collapsed ruin. And judging from how the walls seemed to have exploded in a deluge of
loose dirt and stone, the culprit behind that destruction was the dryad herself.
The discovery of her ‘footprints’ at the scene answered how the passage had collapsed, and although
Boxxy wasn’t completely sure, it could hazard a guess as to the ‘why’ of things. After all, either the
dryad was still under the orphaned dungeon core’s influence, or she wasn’t. If it was the former, then she
would most probably perceive Boxxy as an intruder, an imposter, or both at the same time. Which meant
she would likely attack it on sight. On the other hand, if she had broken free, then she would have
realized the Mimic had been manipulating her all this time. Resulting in her most likely attacking it on
sight to get revenge.
And given how she had sealed off all known entrances to her trunk, it was most likely that second
option.
“I dunno boss, are we even sure that hole’s still there?” asked Kora.
“It better be. Otherwise we’re going to have a very hard time getting inside,” said the Mimic. “And by
‘we’ I of course mean ‘you.’”
“Ugh, more manual labor. Wonderful.”
“Tell me about it,” chimed in Drea. “That old hag better appreciate all the trouble the Master’s going
through just to meet her!”
“Uh, not for nothing, bug-breath, but we’re the ones doing all the heavy lifting here,” pointed out Kora.
“And you better do a good job of it, meat-head!” shouted Xera while she was still in-transit. “This is the
Master’s triumphant return to its domain, and you need to make sure my beloved has an unobstructed
path to victory!”
“Shut it, bubble-butt! Just because you got the easy assignment this time doesn’t give you the right to
give me orders! Get your plump ass down here, then you can pretend to be in charge, alright?”
“As if! That place is filthy, untasty, and unshiny - it is entirely unworthy of the Master’s prized Snack!”
“Snack, you’re going down there to help out as soon as you’re done with your delivery,” commanded
the Master in question.
“Yes, Master! This worthless slut shall engrave the humiliation into the eternal darkness that is her heart,
Master!” proudly declared Xera.
“Yeesh, talk about a two-faced hypocrite,” grumbled Kora.
“That must be nice, being able to enjoy this sort of stuff…” lamented Drea to nobody in particular.
“Hey, boss? Not that I wouldn’t enjoy watching the Jizz Tornado try and then fail to lift a rock, but how
exactly is she going to be of use? She’d only get in the way down here with those pathetic wanking
noodles she calls arms.”
“I’ll have you know, my amped-up magic can easily melt stone,” she sneered back. “I can burn a path to
that root way before you can headbutt your way to it. And if the tunnel is sealed like the rest, then I’ll
burn a hole through it, too!”
It was at that point that Boxxy, who was silently reading a book titled Treasures of the Horkensaft
Kingdom in the Slyth household’s library, suddenly had an epiphany.
“Yeah, because that worked out so well for you the last time you tried it, didn’t it?” sneered Kora.
Thinking back on all of the truly formidable people and monsters it had met so far, it realized that each
and every last one of them had a specialization - their own ‘thing,’ as it were.
“I wonder if I can get a bite of the Master’s meal sometimes. It’d be like an indirect kiss…” continued
the Stalker, who was lost inside her own little world.
Hilda fought by honing her unyielding rage into a knife’s edge. Lichter focused on the synergies
between his Paladin Skills and his equipment to get the most out of his gear. Faehorn was an expert
sniper whose target acquisition rate was second to none. Even Zilla seemed to have taken up lightning-
based magic as his main weapon, despite being the amalgamation of over half a dozen monsters.
“Hey, I’m a djinn now! My magic is on a completely different Level from before!”
Even the Mimic’s own familiars were the embodiments of that. Even though they were overall weaker
than their Master, they still surpassed it their own areas of expertise. Snack’s ability to lay waste to her
enemies with her magic was definitely ahead of Boxxy’s. Arms could withstand more punishment and
had a lot more raw physical strength than the Mimic. And Drea completely left the shapeshifter in the
dust when it came to disappearing from sight and getting the drop on her targets.
“I think your Shameless Slut Job was the one that gained the most from your weird-ass Rank Up!”
But Boxxy had nothing like that. It dabbled in a lot of fields when it came to combat, but none of them
stood out as particularly outstanding by themselves. Trying to look at itself objectively, it couldn’t put its
finger on any sort of innate talent or natural gift it could develop into its own ‘thing.’
“Mmmmm… I wonder if Boxxy will want to lick me all over if I smear myself in human blood…”
Sure, it was an above average shapeshifter and could bullshit its way through civilized life without too
much difficulty, but neither of those would help it win in a straight up fight. All the deception in the
world was pointless once its gimmicks were exposed and its back was up against the wall. Which was
bound to happen if it wanted to go up against the Empire’s Spymaster and get revenge on him.
“Just because you became even more of a thick-headed moron with your Rank Up doesn’t mean the rest
of us have to be as unfortunate as you!”
It was also the Hero of Chaos, but the Skills associated with that title were uncontrollable by their very
nature, so they couldn’t be relied upon.
“You weren’t complaining last night when you had both my dicks up your ass!”
And it couldn’t just pick melee, ranged, magic or stealth-based combat to focus on on a whim.
“-and then maybe we’d cuddle in the moonlight and I could get my boobs fondled…”
When presented with so many options, it somehow actually made the decision even harder, as all of
them had their good and bad points.
“Oh puh-lease! As if your tomato sticks could ever hope to compare to the Master’s, hnnng, thoroughly
invasive methods ~?! You barely even qualify as a satisfying fuck anymore.”
That was only to be expected though, as there was no ‘best’ way to fight, as each and every battle had its
own set of unique circumstances.
“I’ll have you know, I get booty calls from the high bitch Teresa herself twice a week! I give her such a
thorough dicking even her clergy can feel it!”
Focusing on just the one thing always felt like playing Rock, Paper, Scissors by always throwing Rock.
“But then we’d be seen on the Boxxy Show, right? Ahh, why does that thought turn me on even more?!”
It was just that some people threw Rock so hard, they were able to somehow crush both Paper and other
Rocks with it.
“And here I thought only Drea had a habit of fantasizing about impossible scenarios!”
But did Boxxy truly not have something like that?
“Fuck you, bitch!”
“… Wait, what?”
“Fuck me?! You wish!”
“Get down here and it won’t be a wish anymore!”
“Did I just think all that stuff out loud?!”
“Are you three just about done?!” mentally shouted Boxxy in an annoyed manner. “Daylight’s burning
out there so quit your pointless bickering and focus on your assigned tasks!”
“Yes, Master! At once, Master!” replied the three demons in unison with what sounded like huge smiles
on their faces.
“I swear, it’s like trying to herd a gaggle of retarded cats,” grumbled the Mimic. “Now, where was I?”
Boxxy slumped back in Keira’s seat as it resumed its mental self-assessment, completely oblivious to the
fact that the fierce loyalty it inspired in its demonic servants was already one for the record books.
Rowana rolled over in her sleep to lay on her left side, causing her right hand to drape over Keira’s
upper back. Or at least, that’s what would’ve happened normally, but the elf’s subconscious registered a
distinct lack of naked catgirl in the bed next to her. Feeling distressed by this lack of luxury, she
gradually began to stir.
“Hmm… Keira?”
Her green eyes fluttered open as she mumbled her lover’s name while patting down the other half of the
queen-size bed. It was warm and the sheets had a bit of a stain from last night’s activities, but that was
the extent of it. Now fully awake, she sat up quickly in a rush of panic, but was soon relieved to find
Keira was still in the room. She was lounging on the plush carpet in the middle of the mansion’s guest
room, basking in the first rays of the sunrise that entered the room through the huge window. A few of
the many fluffy pillows from the bed were stacked up to support her upper back, her legs were crossed,
and Minic was snuggled up to her side while she idly stroked its cover.
“… Hey, beautiful,” said Rowana while leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
“Oh, good morning Rowie,” replied Keira in a casual manner. “Sleep well?”
“Fine. You?”
“Same.”
There was a minute of silence in the room while Keira continued relaxing and Rowana simply watched
her from the side.
“… Aren’t you cold lying on the floor naked like that?” asked the elf after a while.
“The room is magically heated. Besides, Mr Sun gives me plenty of warmth.”
“You missed sunbathing season by a few months, you know.”
“If you say so.”
And there was yet another break in the conversation. One that gradually made Rowana feel oddly left
out.
“… I could give you all the warmth you want,” she offered.
“Uh no offense, Rowie, but if I cuddle with you, you’ll end up wanting to make love all morning again.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t feel like it right now, okay?”
“O-oh… Sorry…”
And yet another bout of awkward silence that seemed to ever so slightly widen the gap between Rowana
and her girlfriend. The elf had noticed Keira was growing steadily more distant ever since she came
back from that wretched hole in the ground. She wasn’t sure what exactly happened down there, nor was
the girl herself willing to talk about it just yet. Her slightly colder attitude was hardly the only thing that
had changed, though.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time silently standing in the sunlight lately, you know that?”
“Yeah? So?”
“It’s just… It’s not very much like you.”
Keira has always been an active, athletic and outdoorsy person, but lounging in the sun, while certainly
catlike, was not one of her habits until very recently.
“Yeah, well… I’ve gained a new appreciation for Mr Sun as of late.”
The girl was, of course, talking about her alter-ego’s newly acquired Hylt Metabolism. Boxxy always
found it strangely relaxing and soothing to soak in the sun ever since it became a plant-based
Doppelganger variant, but now it could quite literally eat sunlight. And it had deemed it to be quite tasty.
Useful, too. It could feel itself gradually regain tiny amounts of its Biomass with every beam of sunlight,
which had been all but depleted as a result of its death and subsequent imprisonment.
“It almost makes me wish I was the Hero of Solus, not Patrick. At least then I’d have a significantly
lower chance of spending my life locked away underground.”
Naturally, the shapeshifter wasn’t just going to admit to that, and fed some made-up sob story to placate
the elf.
“I see…”
Truth be told, Boxxy was actually feeling rather depressed. It had placed its Facade at the forefront of its
worries, but as a result had to put off chasing after the things that belonged to it. That wasn’t to say it
was wasting all this downtime, though. Since the Slyths demanded that Keira remain on the premises for
her own safety, the Mimic had in turn taken full advantage of their hospitality.
It had them arrange for parts and materials to be delivered to the mansion so that it could continue
further its Artificer Job, and had a trainer come in to advance its Blade Dancer Job. It also regularly
perused their library, which was actually surprisingly extensive. Apparently Samulus was something of a
bookworm, so his adventurer wife had collected all manner of exotic books in her wild youth as
souvenirs. The resulting collection was not only impressive, but quite useful too, as it contained a lot of
information that wasn’t available in the Central Consortium’s member-only knowledge base.
However, the more time it spent here, the less it could settle down. Boxxy was a monster, and that meant
it had certain urges. While surviving on sunlight and people food as Keira was more than enough, it still
felt the drive to go kill, maim, and eat something or someone. Anyone, really. So long as it got to
squeeze the life out of their body and feast on their bloody flesh and shattered bones. And the only way
it could do that was if it-
“What you really want to do is go back out there and get back to it, don’t you?”
“… Sorry, what?”
Rowana’s sudden question had left the Mimic momentarily flabbergasted, to the point where it showed a
legitimate reaction of surprise. Had this girl somehow discerned its true motives?
“You want to return to a life of adventuring already, right?”
Okay, that clearly wasn’t the case. Still, that shot in the dark had been frighteningly close to the mark.
Well, since she was the one that brought it up, Boxxy decided it might as well play along.
“Is it that obvious?” asked Keira with a guilty expression.
“Looks like dad was right on the money as usual.”
“He was?”
“Yeah. He told me many times what dating an adventurer was like. How you all had this… drive within
you that demanded you go out there and live dangerously, to get stronger or to make a difference. And
he warned me that if I tried to tie you down, you’d only resent me for it.”
Samulus had been speaking from first-hand experience, which was why his words carried extra weight.
He probably intended to dissuade Rowana from getting too attached to Keira, but Boxxy had made sure
it was far too late for that. The only thing his words of wisdom had done was give the shapeshifter that
had ensnared his daughter a way out of its slump.
“I’d never hate you, Rowie!” insisted Keira. “Sure, being forced to live in this needlessly fancy place is
a bit stifling, but it’s not all bad!”
“See?! You just admitted you think I’m forcing you to stay with me!”
It just needed to utter the right words to set the overly emotional elven woman off.
“I didn’t mean-!”
“Yes, you did! Argh, stupid Rowana! This is all my fault!”
The elf threw herself back down onto the bed and curled up beneath the covers.
“C’mon, Rowie, don’t be like that,” said Keira while standing up from her spot. “You haven’t done
anything bad, you were just worried about me.”
“No… I wasn’t,” came the muffled reply. “Not really. You can handle yourself, I know that already. And
yet I selfishly demanded you stick by my side at all times rather than do the things you want to do. And
you complied not because you agreed with me, but because you felt you had to. Because we’re… lovers.
I’ve been taking advantage of your feelings for me while ignoring your wishes. If that doesn’t make me
a horrible person, then I don’t know what does.”
Boxxy did not hesitate to seize this chance. If the elf herself was offering a way out of this tedium
without compromising its Facade, then all it had to do was take it. Which was why Keira climbed into
the bed and embraced Rowana over the covers. The elf shuddered a bit in surprise, but settled down
without too much of a fuss.
“I love you, Rowie, and nothing can change that. Knowing I have someone wonderful like you waiting
for me back home is what kept me going through the war. It’s what helped me keep my senses when I
was at the mercy of my captors. Sometimes… I wonder if maybe I don’t deserve you.”
The Mimic was laying it on so thick that if Arms were in the room, she’d probably vomit.
“Only sometimes, though,” it continued while stroking her head over the covers. “Besides, you were
right to keep me here. Just because I don’t exactly show it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the break. I
mean my back’s gotten much better and I feel stronger than ever.”
The Soulstone in Keira’s backside was already at about three quarters of its original size, much to the
relief of those around her. Apparently the absorption rate was much faster than they anticipated, which
was lauded as good news. The subject itself was less than reassured, however, as although the
Resurrection Sickness had completely gone away by now, the Soulbound perk was still present in
Boxxy’s Status. This continued to raise the question about what would happen to it once the alchemical
gemstone completely dissipated.
However, the shapeshifter still knew next to nothing about it, and neither did Rowana nor Samulus, so it
was feeling a bit lost in the dark. Thankfully, Reggie had said that his operatives had recently uncovered
a promising lead on the occult item’s origins. If everything worked out, then the Mimic wouldn’t have
long to find out exactly what was going on with its body. But if that plan fell through, then it would have
to take more extreme measures to assure its continued survival. On the other hand, it no longer felt any
weakness or discomfort, so it may all just be pointless worry.
Though whatever was going to happen would still take a month or two more, so the Mimic had some
wiggle room in that regard.
“You-know-who has been really quiet lately too,” continued Keira, “so I’ve been able to relax and rest
up for the first time since that stupid war started. Especially since I don’t have to do any more parades or
speeches for the foreseeable future.”
A puffy-eyed Rowana peeked out from under the covers.
“So you’re really not mad at me.”
“No! Of course not… Okay, maybe a little. I don’t feel right having random servants handle my
undergarments. And I got so bored around here that I had to turn to reading a book called ‘499 Ways To
Prepare A Potato.’ I don’t even like potatoes! Would it have killed you to at least let me take a walk
around town without getting your panties in a twist!? I mean, the only time I was allowed to leave the
estate was for that award ceremony, and even then I was watched at all times! It’s like I was a prisoner
out on a field trip or something!”
There was another break in the conversation while Keira reigned in the torrent of complaints by placing
a hand on her mouth. Like a dam that had burst open, all the grievances that she probably didn’t even
realize she had came flooding out. Or at least, that was the impression Boxxy wanted to leave behind.
“Sorry… I guess I went a bit stir crazy after being confined to this house for two weeks,” added Keira in
a guilty tone.
It was important to validate Rowana’s concerns if she wanted to feel like ending this house arrest was
her idea. Making her feel bad about it would also discourage her from trying something like this again in
the future.
“I know… and I feel terrible for making you do that… Then if you feel you’re up to it, should we return
to our normal lives?”
And it had worked beautifully.
“I would like that very much. To be honest, this place is way too big, and too busy. I’m actually starting
to miss that cozy little shack we shared before. Sure, the bed isn’t as comfy as this one, but at least I
could make you moan all I want without the maids giving me funny looks. Though watching you
awkwardly try to explain yourself to them is kinda fun in and of itself.”
“Keira! You’re horrible!” squealed Rowana while trying to stifle an inappropriate laugh.
“Hehehe! I’ll show you just how horrible I can be!”
“What are you- MMmpf?!”
The catgirl planted her lips on the elf’s and then proceeded to pleasure her so much that she stained both
her reputation and her bedsheets. This was her reward for finally doing something Boxxy agreed with. It
often did this sort of positive reinforcement when training her, as it found out that Rowana was the type
that reacted better to rewards than to punishments. Initially it thought that the tips and tricks contained in
that Monster Tamer manual wouldn’t work on people, but it was glad it tried them anyway. Sure, it had
to use a combination of Keira’s charm, the Charisma (CHR) Attribute and the Pheromone Control Skill
to fill in the gaps, but it was steadily molding Rowana into the perfectly subservient puppet it wanted her
to be. The type that would do the things that were expected of her without realizing she was being
manipulated.
Level up!
And that hard work was gradually paying off, as by her third orgasm Rowana had finally pushed
Boxxy’s main Job over the Level threshold. It had gained about half a Level from that award ceremony,
which combined with the XP it got from murdering Zilla had left had left it with 93% progress towards
Level 36. It had taken 6 days of interacting with the elf since then to reach this new point. This didn’t
seem like much at first, but it was plenty when thinking about the long-term.
Statistically speaking, spending roughly 2 months feeding off of Rowana’s misplaced trust and
affections was the equivalent to being cheered on and applauded by a crowd of at least 4,000 people. It
wasn’t too bad a deal considering public events like those were really damned rare. This was all relative
though, and the Mimic was still a bit peeved at how slow this Job had been Leveling as of late. It
couldn’t be helped though, it was just the nature of its species, so it was simply making the best of it. It
just had to tough it out until it Ranked Up again into a powerful combat-oriented Job, but that seemed to
be far in the future. So far that it felt like it would take lifetimes from the perspective of the less-than-a-
year-old monster.
Meaning that, while it was earnestly working towards the future, its main focus was very much on the
here and now. Which was why Boxxy found itself in the abandoned sewer tunnels deep beneath the city
of Azurvale on that very same afternoon.
“Greetings, my Master,” said Snack with a deep bow. “I have been eagerly waiting for you.”
“You’ve done more than just wait by the look of things,” it remarked as it took in its surroundings.
The spider-chest-shaped Mimic had found itself standing not in a ruined, mostly collapsed sewer tunnel,
but in a well-lit luxurious hallway that looked like it belonged in a palace or a fortress. There was not a
single sign of muck or dirt anywhere to be seen, the polished stone floor was covered in a luxurious
carpet, and the walls adorned with various treasures. Statues of gold, silver and mithril adorned with
countless jewels and gems glistened enticingly as if demanding to be held and caressed. Their combined
radiance was so dizzyingly dazzling that Boxxy did not even know where to look.
“You did this for me?” it asked curiously.
“Yes, Master. Your servant has taken it upon herself to turn this despicable pit into a place worthy of
your presence. I know it may be inadequate, but this is all that that I was capable of.”
Initiative like that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in and of itself. In fact, the potential for this sort of
proactive behavior was why Demonology-focused Warlocks were considered more flexible than
Monster Tamers or Necromancers. Admittedly, having one’s minions be self-aware and have their own
agendas opened up a lot of potential problems as indirect betrayal was a constant worry. Thankfully, one
who had earned their familiars’ respect and adoration like Boxxy didn’t have to fret too much about that
stuff most of the time.
But this wasn’t one of those times.

“You stupid cunt!”
The arachnid box opened its lid and a single tentacle shot out. It pierced the bowing djinn through the
stomach, causing light purple blood to gush out all over the place. It then pulled on her, whisking her
away from where she was standing and slamming her into the stone floor with a wet splash. With the
mirage disrupted, the dazzling environment quickly shimmered out of existence, revealing the shithole
of a tunnel that truly lied beneath the thin veneer of magic.
“I hate being lied to!”
“I’m sorry, Master!” apologized Snack while coughing up blood into the puddle of stale sewer water she
fell into. “I thought it would cheer you up!”
“You thought wrong, you worthless pile of shit!”
While Boxxy definitely appreciated the sight of shiny things, it absolutely loathed the presence of fake
shiny things. And it had instantly seen through the djinn’s Conjure Mirage Skill due to its Mana Locator
Gland, so it was only understandable it would be pissed under normal circumstances.
“What makes you think you have the right to think for yourself!?” it continued yelling at her. “You’re
nothing but a slut whose entire purpose is to serve your master’s wishes! You exist for my pleasure, so
don’t you dare try to get any more of these ‘ideas’ ever again!”
It then speared her in the back with a second blade-tipped appendage, this one puncturing the area where
her heart would be if she had one.
“Aaahnn! Yeesh, Mashter!” wailed Xera with her tongue lolling out of her mouth in an obscene way.
“I’m sshoooryyy!”
“No you’re not! You’re incorrigible! A hopelessly lost cause! The only language you understand is pain
and suffering! Luckily for you, I’m well versed in both, so prepare yourself for a lecture!”
Having said that, the Mimic dragged the heavily injured demon into its open maw. Once locked inside
the living chest, Xera was subjected to all manner of torturous pleasure as it ripped apart her flesh and
invaded her insides through every available orifice. And when it ran out of holes to stick things into, it
made new ones, much to the perverted demon’s delight.
The ex-succubus wasn’t the only one enjoying the act, though. Her Rank Up had made her flesh even
more delectable than before, and even the juices she squirted when she orgasmed were almost as sweet
as nectar. It was like her body - such as it was - had taken on properties that best pleased her beloved
Master upon her Rank Up. Or rather, that was precisely what had happened.
Demons were beings forged out of raw, unfiltered emotion, so the way they felt and their state of mind
had a huge impact on how they developed. In other words, what the summoning contract aimed to do
was to temper their psyche rather than their loaner bodies. And considering the types of thoughts that
dominated Xera’s mind as of late, it was only natural she’d grow into a more sensitive body that was
both tastier and shinier. That way she would not only solicit her Master’s undivided attention, but would
also savor every last drop of it.
“Damn, they’re really going at it in there,” commented Kora from off to the side. “It’s still pretty weird
watching them get so into this roleplay stuff.”
Indeed, this whole ‘disagreement’ was all but an act, part of Xera’s fantasies that Boxxy was knowingly
indulging in. This was her big reward for diligently creating an opportunity where the Mimic could
escape the Foundation with its life and Facade intact. Much like with Rowana, Snack also needed to be
encouraged to do her best for the Mimic’s sake. At least with her it was much more direct and Boxxy
was enjoying the tasty albeit not very filling treat, so it was definitely a win-win. It would’ve done this
much earlier, but there simply hadn’t been a good opportunity to do so until now.
“Grrr, now I wanna do it too!” grumbled Kora. “Hey bug eyes, come here and let me stick it in your silk
hole!”
“Hnn, hnnn, mmmm.”
However, the only thing she received in response was a stream of Drea’s muffled moans coming in from
somewhere in the surrounding darkness. The Stalker had already given into her voyeuristic tendencies
and was pleasuring herself in earnest, focusing on Xera’s ecstatic screams and moans while ignoring the
fiend’s comments. Meaning that while the two of her co-contractors were enjoying themselves, the six-
armed meathead was left with nothing but a pair of uncomfortable boners that she couldn’t take care of.
She could theoretically self-service herself like Drea, but she wouldn’t be satisfied unless she busted a
nut inside someone else’s ass. She was also remiss about asking Boxxy for help, as she would
automatically turn into the bottom bitch, which was very much not on her to-do list.
*Ring ring*
*Click*
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Koralenteprix. Carl from Demons ‘R’ Us here. Listen, you got another one of your, uh, special
assignments waiting. I already cleared it up with your boss, so all I need is confirmation from you and
you’re good to go.”
“Thank you, Alejandro!” she exclaimed in response with arms raised in the air.
“What about me, eh?” prodded the devil on the other side of the line.
“You too, Carl! I swear, you’re the best agent I’ve ever had!”
“I’m the only agent you’ve ever had.”
“Oh, don’t sweat the small stuff! Anyway, you can tell whatsherface I’m all set!”
“Right-o. Standby.”
*Click*
Less than 3 seconds after Carl hung up, Kora disappeared in a flash of light and a small popping sound.
This was the effect of the covenant formed between the Goddess of Justice and Demons ‘R’ Us, which
facilitated the easy and energy efficient transfer of a very specific demonic entity into her divine space.
Where said demonic entity proceeded to double-penetrate the Goddess and fuck her brains out.
Although it didn’t appear to be the case at first, this was actually a very important part of Teresa’s
rehabilitation. If she was the amalgamation of her followers’ prayers, wishes, and thoughts, she was still
her own person. As such, with the strife caused by recent events, she had been accumulating a lot of
stress. Which was released by indulging in the time honored tradition of having her pipes cleaned on a
regular basis. All for the sake of keeping her from relapsing and falling into her old habits.
As idiotic as it seemed at first to Jeoffrey, the God of Extenuating Circumstances, he couldn’t argue with
the results. The Goddess was keeping to the straight and narrow, making sure to properly guide her flock
back onto the right path. She was also being quite honest with herself as well, if the way she moaned and
panted during her sessions with Kora was any indication. She had also recently rescinded the mandatory
oaths of celibacy she formerly required of her servants, obviously as a direct result of the Archfiend’s
twin-headed influence. And once she was done administering her ‘medicine,’ Kora would be sent back
to the physical realm without inconveniencing Boxxy.
Well, other than being away from its service for an hour or two, but judging from how the Mimic was
going at it, it would be a while longer before it needed her for the assault on the Dryad’s Domain
anyway.
(181) Not A Chapter Qa Session
Good news, everyone! Actaully there's no news, I just felt like channeling my inner Professor
Farnsworth. That and I need some extra padding on this post to get over the minimum character length.
Now to the matter at hand - I've decided to open up another round of Q&A for people that have had
questions spring up about this fiction since the last one, or maybe missed it or something. I'll answer
each and every one of them to the best of my ability, though I reserve the right to give you an idiotic
answer if you give me an idiotic question.
Having had their fill of frivolous activity for the moment, Boxxy and its demonic entourage finally set
foot into Ambrosia’s trunk. The hole in the root was oddly enough left open, which the Mimic could
only assume was done on purpose. After all, if the dryad willed it, she could easily patch something like
that in an instant, even without the dungeon core’s assistance. The only reason she had left it open in the
first place was because her body was so huge that it was easy to overlook a few holes here and there.
You have entered the Dryad’s Domain.
Your body begins to feed off the ambient mana. Automatic HP and MP recovery increased
by 100%.
Boxxy had passed through the invisible border of its former dungeon as it and its posse progressed
through the tight, winding cavity of Ambrosia’s roots. Its Hylt Metabolism Skill kicked in almost
immediately, signifying the abnormally high concentration of mana maintained by the crystal core. It
was the Mimic’s first time quite literally eating the ambient mystical energy around it. Oddly enough,
while the feeling flooding into every pore of its skin leaned towards the positive end of the tastiness
scale, it wasn’t quite as tasty as it had expected. Then again, the surprisingly tasty ‘flavor’ of sunlight
had somewhat skewed its expectations.
The Mimic quickly abandoned such idle thoughts when it realized the small passageway had begun to
change. Initially it was so tight that Arms could not physically fit through it, which was why she was left
outside at first. But after entering the dungeon’s territory, it had been growing wider and wider. It was
currently at the stage where Snack could stand upright rather than have to crawl on all fours in front of
Boxxy. She still kept doing it, but that was mostly because she wasn’t right in the head.
It wasn’t just the size of it, either. What was once a random cave tunnel carved out of hungry termites
had rapidly become a proper hallway. It was still made of wood, but had right angles, flat surfaces and
magical glowing crystals adorning the walls. It eventually led to what appeared to be a grand circular
staircase going straight up. It was grown entirely out of wood and bark, with a few errant branches and
leaves poking out of the central column it was coiled around.
This was most definitely not a natural occurrence, nor was it here the last time it checked. Granted, it
had been a while since it had used the sewer entrance, but it was certain it would remember something
like this.
“Did any of you three remodel this part of the dungeon at some point?”
Boxxy’s inquiry was met with a triple unanimous ‘No, Master,’ although it suspected as much. It wasn’t
like those frivolous slackers would try and do anything that seemed like work unless ordered to. Fizzy,
on the other hand, never had the authority to use Terrain Sculpting, which meant that Ambrosia was the
only one who could have done this. However, the real question on its mind wasn’t ‘who,’ but ‘why.’
Why had the dryad gone out of her way to make her innards slightly more accessible?
Proficiency level increased. Hylt Metabolism is now Level 3. END +5. INT +3.
Automatic HP and MP recovery increased by an additional 50%.
Well, the Mimic wasn’t going to complain about it. Rather, since it was convenient, it took advantage of
the extra space and summoned Arms back to its new position. Its MP recovery was through the roof, so
it would only be a few minutes before it recouped the cost of her summoning. Once the monstrous
quartet was back together - and after Boxxy took the time to prepare some extra Spell Crystals - they
began ascending the staircase.
“Master?” spoke up Snack after a while. “Forgive this worthless slut, but isn’t this part oddly familiar?”
“Come to think of it, yeah,” agreed Arms. “It’s a lot like when we were in that black place with
whatsherface. Vagisil or something?”
“Oh! The raid on the Spire of the Jade King with the lich, Valeria!” exclaimed Claws. “That was a pretty
fun episode!”
Indeed, this spiral staircase was oddly reminiscent of Boxxy’s second dungeon conquest. It was too
similar for it to be a simple coincidence.
*Shreeektktktktktktktktktkt*
And judging from the endless chittering that began approaching from both behind and in front, the
Mimic was right. Much like that time, this too was an ambush, only rather than crystal scarabs, the
swarm that descended upon Boxxy and its group was that of giant termites the size of large dogs.
Extremely toxic dungeon born variants by the look of things, as they were putrid green in color, and the
venom dripping from their mandibles was potent enough to eat away at the timber steps when it fell to
the floor.
But even if they were a particularly dangerous type of termite, they were termites nonetheless. Meaning
that when they actually tried to descend upon Boxxy, the insects found themselves suddenly paralyzed
by fear and unable to move. Despite the dungeon core’s influence, they couldn’t help but question
exactly what they were trying to do with their lives. The spider-legged chest in front of them had a
certain air about it that made their instincts scream for them to run away with all their might.
And the reason for that, was because on her first visit here, Xera had killed a generous number of these
things. At least 20,000 of them, to be a bit more accurate. And since she was her master’s familiar, that
feat ended up conferring a little something onto Boxxy.
Natural Enemy of Termites

Description: Repetition is the mother of learning. Especially when it comes to
extermination.
Requirements: Kill more than 20,000 termites.
Effects: Increases all damage dealt to termite monster species by 10%.
Killing a termite invigorates you, restoring 2% of max HP and MP.
Faced with what they perceived to be the annihilator of their very species, there was no way these basic,
mindless insects would not be influenced by it. As for Boxxy, it decided to take advantage of this
opportunity to develop a Job it had been neglecting for a while. The chest’s lid opened up, and a jeweled
mithril rapier rose into the air out of it. By the time the weapon came down, Boxxy had already assumed
Keira’s form and nimbly grabbed hold of it.
It sliced through six of the dumbfounded insects with a single slash of its ice-imbued weapon, turning
them into a dozen abstract ice sculptures. Having been dealt the initial blow, the vermin finally snapped
out of their trance as the dungeon core urged them to repel the invaders. What followed was a one-sided
massacre that saw them all either diced up and turned to ice by Boxxy’s swordplay as it rampaged up the
stairs. Those behind got crushed by Kora’s fists and heels, gobbled up by Drea’s gluttonous maw, or
turned to ash by Xera’s flames.
All things said and done, the ‘ambush’ was stomped with minimal difficulty, letting the Mimic reach
Level 27 of its Blade Dancer Job. It also gained a tiny bit of Warlock XP, but that was so negligible that
it barely passed 1% of the way to the next Level. Afterward, Boxxy and the demonic trio regrouped at
the top of the stairs, where a massive wooden door with glowing golden letters on it blocked their way.
A goblin, a squirrel and a bird are racing up a pine tree. Which one of them will reach the
apple first?
“… Is this a joke?” asked Xera in an indignant manner after reading the words.
“No, it’s a riddle,” replied Boxxy. “Looks like a Puzzle Door.”
“Why would she put one of those up though?” inquired Drea absentmindedly.
“We can ask her after we get through it. Stand aside! … Scorching-!”
*SLAM*
The djinn was about to unleash her magic on it, but Boxxy kicked her in the back of the head, smashing
her face against the Puzzle Door.
“Don’t do unnecessary things, you pathetic idiot,” it snarled. “These things are impossible to breach
with brute force.”
The Mimic vaguely remembered the specifications of it in the dungeon core’s Trap Construction menu.
It was an obstacle that would only open up after giving the right answer or password. Giving the wrong
one or trying to break it down the hard way, on the other hand, would normally spring some sort of nasty
surprise or trap. Boxxy’s MLG didn’t pick anything up in its surroundings, but things were often not as
they appeared in a full fledged dungeon.
“We just have to answer the riddle, right?” confirmed Kora. “Then it’s easy! The answer is obviously the
goblin!”
“Squirrels are faster and more nimble than goblins, though,” pointed out Drea.
“Nonsense,” declared Xera after that brief but enjoyable bout of punishment. “A bird can fly. It doesn’t
have to climb at all.”
“Maybe, but goblins are nasty little buggers,” argued Kora. “It would just kill both of them right at the
start!”
The three of them argued back and forth for a while. Thankfully they were using the mental link
between them and their master, so their bickering didn’t cause any sort of reaction. As for Boxxy, it
quickly determined they were all idiots and stood in front of the door while still posing as a nude Keira,
and uttered three simple words.
“None of them.”
The golden lettering on the double doors glowed intensely for a brief moment. They then began to
slowly open outward while the three demons looked on in confusion. Boxxy didn’t even need to be a
mind reader to tell they were all wondering how that made any sense.
“Apples don’t grow on pine trees.”
After pointing out this rather obvious fact it calmly crossed through the doors while the trio of girls
followed in various states of dissatisfaction. Xera was, as was to be expected of her, getting off on being
shown to be inferior to her Master. Kora, on the other hand, was pissed she got one-upped by someone
and Drea was just plain ashamed she fell for that trick question.
They didn’t have much time to lament on the event, however, as the large chamber beyond that Puzzle
Door was filled with dozens of treants. Bearing the appearance of four-to-five-meter-tall tree-people,
these monsters were known for their high durability and slow, but devastating attacks. They were also
covered by some type of parasitic purple flowers that had encroached on their bodies. These things spat
out poisonous spores that had a severe numbing and muscle-relaxant effect. Anyone that breathed those
in would suddenly find themselves less capable of dodging the treants’ massive attacks and end up as
nothing but a bloody smear on the ground.
At least that was what might happen to an unprepared group of adventurers.
Boxxy and Xera instantly annihilated the lumbering targets with their combined magic, leaving them as
flaming splinters. Xera’s Purify Spell came in particularly useful in this encounter. With it, she was able
to literally burn away all poisons, toxins and diseases from herself and her allies while also cauterizing
their wounds. The purifying flames inflicted a bit of damage on her, but it was well worth the payoff.
From then on, the Mimic’s party was faced with a series of chambers, each with its own challenge.
Some of them were full of monsters with a distinctly plant-like and/or poisonous nature. A few of them
were Puzzle Doors, all but one of which Boxxy was able to solve instantly. That one wasn’t so much a
riddle as it was a history question regarding the Elven Dominion which the Mimic didn’t know the
answer to. Drea was surprisingly enough able to step in and solve it, as she and one of her former
masters had taken part in the ancient war campaign the Puzzle Door was asking about.
The most frustrating of these places, however, were the trap chambers. Giant moving sawblades and
guillotines, spike floors, dart traps, teleportation traps, pitfalls and other nasty things had to be traversed.
They really were incredibly annoying to get past, at least from the demons’ perspective. All Boxxy had
to do was throw the three of them at these booby-trapped corridors over and over until they were beaten
either by Xera’s Mist Form, Kora’s pigheadedness, or Drea’s agility and speed. Most commonly the last
one. After a demon had made it through to the other side, Boxxy just needed to Transfamiliar to the exit
and move on.
Overall, the revamped Dryad’s Domain wasn’t any more difficult than the Spire of the Jade King in
terms of monster strength, but it was quite a bit more annoying. Traps and inane Puzzle Doors aside, the
very layout of the dungeon was an incomprehensible three-dimensional maze. One whose connecting
doors and passages seemed to shift around at set intervals of about 40 minutes, making a mess of
Boxxy’s mental map of the place in the process.
It wasn’t that big a deal, though. With Hylt Metabolism reaching Level 4, Boxxy was enjoying an
overall boost of 250% to its MP recovery rate when combined with Meditation, drastically shortening
the downtime needed between demonic summons. It also didn’t need to worry about sustenance despite
the hours-long dungeon expedition, proving that this Skill was exactly what Boxxy imagined it would be
when it picked it up. Namely an invaluable tool for conquering dungeons and plundering all the loot left
behind by the gods.
And indeed, based on the volumes upon volumes of books it read during its short hiatus, it was able to
grasp exactly why dungeons existed. Simply put, they were places to allow adventurers to get both
stronger and richer. They were a sort of divine proving ground where challengers hoped to show
themselves worthy of being granted obscene amounts of gold and outrageous magic items. It was even
rumored that Axel, the God of War, and Zephyra, the Goddess of Rain, used their personal dungeons as
a means of picking their next Hero.
But the question that kept bugging Boxxy’s mind had nothing to do with some deity’s entertainment. It
just couldn’t grasp why in the world Ambrosia would do all this. Or why she refused to show herself. It
had made a personal appearance in full force with the hopes of getting her attention and opening a
dialogue with her, but the buxom bushel of a broad was nowhere to be seen. Even after the Mimic had
spent so much time ploughing through this maze-like dungeon, it still couldn’t get a reaction from her.
Then, roughly 5 hours since the expedition started, it finally reached the deepest part of the Dryad’s
Domain - the dungeon core platform. What was once an outcropping in a colossal cavern made of timber
was now something more of a balcony. Boxxy and its troupe had made it ‘outside’ the endless series of
chambers, and were able to observe what appeared to be hundreds of giant wooden cubes taking up the
formerly empty space within Ambrosia’s hollowed out trunk. New ones were slowly taking shape along
the edges and up top, suggesting the dungeon was still expanding.
As for the source of all this hustle and bustle, it was currently hovering directly above the spider-chest.
The dungeon core was still in its magically affixed position, where it shone brightly like a miniature sun
and pulsed quietly with reality-warping magic. Seeing nothing better to do, Boxxy leapt up to the
2-meter wide orb and landed deftly on top of it, prompting it to flash for a moment the instant its
arachnid legs made contact with its smooth crystal surface.
You are now the owner of dungeon core PT-5484-BM.

Dungeon core PT-5484-BM will now cease autonomous management of Dryad’s Domain.
As if recognizing its rightful owner had come home, the crystal ball immediately linked up with Boxxy.
The Mimic paused for a few moments, as it hadn’t expected this turn of events. It was also slightly taken
aback by how eagerly the core latched onto it. On the other hand, it had pretty much done the same
when the creature first rolled it out of its former home.
“Dungeon Management!”
Not wishing to waste any more time, Boxxy immediately went to check on its reclaimed hideout.
Dungeon Management
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Dungeon Guardian
Core ID PT-5484-BM Active Ready
Active (Dryad’s
Core Status Item Allocation Active Nexus Access Ready
Domain)
Dungeon Mana Prison

Active Ready
Monster Terrain
Integrity 100% Active Ready
Spawner Sculpting
241/20,000 (+1.6/ Surveillance Trap

MP Active Ready
sec) Net Construction
It would appear that Ambrosia wasn’t the one who was responsible for this dungeon after all. She was
no longer the dungeon master, and had chosen to ignore the dungeon core completely, as evidenced by
how it had apparently been orphaned until just now. With nobody to tell it what to do, the core had fallen
back on some built-in programming that made it generate a dungeon according to certain built-in
patterns. That was why all those rooms looked so… repetitive and uninspired, and also why that
staircase at the start was so eerily similar to the one in the Spire of the Jade King. The core’s
autonomous mode must have dug up the design from its internal records and implemented it here.
Frankly speaking, the fact that it was able to recognize the ‘entrance’ of the dungeon and spruce it up
was quite impressive in its own way.
That still didn’t answer the main question Boxxy had though.
“Ambrooooosiaaaaaa!” it bellowed from atop the core, its powerful voice echoing as it climbed the
empty space overhead. “Where! Are! My! Shinieees!?”
There was no response, almost as if it were trying to talk to a corpse. This was really frustrating, as the
Mimic desperately wanted its stuff back. It knew for a fact it wasn’t where it last left it, as it and the
others had happened upon the place where its secret vault was. Or rather, Boxxy had purposefully
moved in that particular direction as it navigated the three-dimensional maze. And while it was
overjoyed to find the place more or less untouched by the automated renovation, the doors were wide
open and its collection had vanished without a trace.
“Uh, Master?”
“What is it, Claws?!” it snapped back in a frustrated manner.

“Maybe the dungeon collected them while it was in autonomous mode?”
“… Dungeon Management: Item Allocation.”
A gigantic list with hundreds upon hundreds of items suddenly appeared in Boxxy’s consciousness.
“Well, what do you know. Good work, Claws.”
“Ehehehe! I got praised!”
The Stalker bounced in place with her clawed hands on her cheeks from all the excitement. Although
that ‘good work’ seemed a bit too casual to be sincere, it was actually quite significant when considering
the half-assed compliment’s source. In fact, it was among the nicest things Boxxy had ever said to Drea,
so she couldn’t help but feel giddy about it. Xera was a tiny bit jealous of her because of that, but only a
tiny bit. After all, she had gotten plenty of ‘compliments’ during the hours-long ‘punishment’ prior to
entering the dungeon. In fact, it had been so thorough and satisfying, that she still couldn’t walk straight
at times. Not because she was still hurt or injured or anything like that, but because it was still fresh in
her mind and she’d still get unbelievably aroused just by thinking about it. She was actually raring to go
for another round here and now, but the chances of that happening were quite literally zero.
It would seem her Rank Up had not only amplified the sensations transmitted to her, but made her even
more insatiable than she was before.
But even with its possessions and dungeon reclaimed, Boxxy was still left… incomplete. Ambrosia’s
ongoing silence was more than a little disturbing after all. It really did not want to give up on her, and
not only because it had set up camp inside her body. It legitimately missed her. Or, well, it missed the
exquisite cuisine and mouth-watering nectar she fed it on a daily basis, but that was more or less the
same thing. Thankfully, as it idly went over the list of things tucked away in the dungeon core’s Item
Allocation banks, it came across a very special item. One that finally helped it grasp what had happened
in its absence, and also provided the key to getting the reclusive dryad’s attention.
Armed with this epiphany, it then took something out of the dungeon core’s equivalent to its own
Storage, which materialized in front of its lid out of thin air. It was a small orb that was 7, maybe 8
centimeters in diameter. It was made of deep, orange amber with a high degree of transparency and a
flawlessly smooth surface. A single flower with 7 large petals was trapped inside the resin as if it were
suspended in time, and one could just about tell its color was a bright pink.
Boxxy transformed back into its base Hylt Creeper form, plucked the floating amber sphere out of the
air with its right hand, leapt down to the platform beneath the core, and called out in a commanding
voice-
“Mater est opus vobis!”
*FWOOOOM*
The Elder Dryad’s Authority in its hand let out a blinding white light, outshining even the dungeon core
immediately overhead. Unlike the last time, the Mimic had its eyes closed and avoided having to roll
around on the ground while screaming in an unsightly manner. When it felt the object in its hand had
finished fulfilling its function, it opened its eyes back up. But unlike the time at Fort Yimin, there were
no dryads to be found.
Or at least, not quite yet.
*GROOOOOOOOOOHN*
A heavy tone echoed through the cavern as the insides of the Hylt tree’s titanic trunk began to, for the
lack of a better word, bloom. Multi-colored flowers and unreasonably long grasses sprouted out from the
ground. Vines adorned with fresh leaves descended from on high. Branches popped out from the walls,
creating a canopy of their own within the dungeon’s interior.
And then, immediately in front of Boxxy, Ambrosia’s antler-adorned head rose halfway out of the
ground, almost as if she were a mermaid peeking out of the ocean water. Her eyes fluttered open and
took in the scenery before her. She looked up at the Hylt Creeper in front of her, then to the spent orb in
its hand, then to the three demons obediently waiting nearby, before finally meeting Boxxy’s gaze.
Once she had confirmed the parties present, the rest of her quickly rose up from the grass-covered floor.
The lower half of her face was turned into a displeased frown that matched the cold, hateful look in her
eyes. Her arms were crossed in front of her massive bosom, and she had put most of her weight on her
back leg. Toe-to-tip, this was clearly a woman who was not in a good mood.
“Hello, Ambrosia.”
Boxxy took the initiative and spoke first, which prompted the plant lady to momentarily raise an
eyebrow before returning to her frown. The Mimic had taken on the form the dryad preferred the most in
an attempt to appeal to her somewhat, but it didn’t seem to be doing much.
“Thou art supposed to be dead,” she said in a low voice.
“I was.”
“Then how art thou standing before me?”
“I got better.”
“‘Tis a joke to thee?!”
The dryad shouted out in anger in response to the Mimic trying to make light of this situation.
“Thou foul-mouthed slave barged into my home and set mine insides on fire! Then, thy tricked me with
thine promises and made me do things I never would have thought myself capable of before suddenly
getting thyself killed! And then thou still hast the gall to show thy face-thing and act like not a thing has
happened?!”
A torrent of complaints streamed out of the dryad as she steadily drew closer to Boxxy. The overgrowth
around her grew out in an even more rampant manner with every word uttered. By the end of it she
found herself standing in what was a mix between a dense forest and an untamed jungle. All the while
staring at it so hard it looked like she was trying to burn a hole through its head.
“Well?! What does thou have to say for thyself?!”
She had gotten so close to the shapeshifter that their foreheads would collide if she took another step
forward.
“It is good to see you again, Ambrosia.”
But Boxxy didn’t budge. It remained firmly rooted in place, and spoke with a calm voice. Its casual
attitude seemed to enrage the dryad even further, as she opened her mouth and bared her teeth. Her lips
quivered under the strain of emotions welling up within her, until she could bear it no more, and
snapped. She lunged forward wrapping her arms around the creature and pressing it tightly against
herself. She gently kissed its forehead, then proceeded to practically smother its head in between her
pillowy breasts with a sad smile on her face while the shapeshifter just sort of stood there and let it
happen.
“‘Tis good to see thee as well, Boxxy of the Morningwoods.”
No matter how much she wanted to, Ambrosia just couldn’t bring herself to hate Boxxy. True, it did
technically try to enslave her via that dungeon core, but at the same time still treated her with respect. It
helped her out as much as it could, and only asked for seemingly trivial things in return, never
presuming to force her into anything.
That was why even after she had broken free of her role as dungeon master and looked back at the past
several months with a critical eye, she still found an overwhelming amount of joy in the very brief time
she spent with this bizarre creature. In fact, the only blemish on those good times stemmed from the fact
that she had been ‘politely informed’ of the dungeon core’s influence. It was something she wanted to
desperately forget, so that in the future she may freely indulge in the warm feeling of basking in those
fragments of the past. That was why she went to sleep. For the same reason that all dryads slumbered.
To forget, so that they would not mourn.
Ambrosia had done so many times in the past. This wasn’t the first time she had gotten herself attached
to a fleeting mortal existence, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But Boxxy was different from the
rest. For the first time in her timeless existence, Ambrosia had felt she actually connected with another
being. A bond forged through mutual understanding and respect that she did not wish to sever, even if it
meant her heart would have to suffer the sadness of loss.
That was why she had literally engraved Boxxy’s words onto her heartwood. So that she would have a
permanent record of its existence. So that she would remember what mattered most.
Incidentally, that was also why the Hylt Creeper had been so calm this entire time. Because while
surveying its surroundings atop the shiny core, it managed to spot the literal writing on the wall. The one
on the other side of the dungeon core platform. The one that ended in a line of words that were not there
before, which described a certain wish. And although Boxxy was not able to read it completely, it still
managed to grasp its meaning.
‘Rest well, my child, and I pray that thy future lives be as fulfilling as the one thou hath given me.’
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Creeper Blade
(Hylt) Dancer
Hidden
Arrow
6232/6232
(+43.5/sec)
4900/4900
(+21.0/sec)
Skill List
Crystallize Rapid
Assassination 10 MAX 9 12% 2 41%
Magic Riposte
Chant Chaotic
Reduction Disposition
Cadaver Demonic Agent of

9 56% 7 91% 1 MAX
Absorption Insight Chaos
Essence
Biomass 14 12% Despair Aura 5 32% 1 MAX
Concealment
Natural Armor 10 MAX Soul Link 6 45% Vengeance 1 MAX
Metal Enslave
10 MAX 4 36% Shapeshift 13 94%
Mimicry Demon
Graviton
Mend Flesh 10 MAX 2 60% Phytokinesis 5 33%
Manipulation
Adaptive Clockwork
10 MAX 8 30% Stealth 10 MAX
Defense Expertise
Explosives
Acid Spray 10 MAX 6 88% Lockpick 4 10%
Handling
Divine
4 10% Deconstruction 4 65% Pickpocket 3 12%
Attunement
Ruinous Optics
5 12% 2 84% Meditation 5 10%
Reach Expertise
Sword
Feline Agility 10 MAX Tracking 8 67% 10 95%
Mastery
Projectile
Mirror Image 8 29% Marksman 8 89% 10 MAX
Mastery
Pheromone Dagger
10 MAX Whisper Wind 7 80% 10 0%
Control Mastery
Broken Ruin
4 61% Fleet Footed 6 26% 15 21%
Reflection Mastery
Puppet Domination
6 90% Hunter's Mark 5 48% 10 61%
Parasite Mastery
Primal
Spirit Echo 3 55% Eagle Eye 4 51% 5 51%
Mastery
Hylt Shield
4 19% Hornet Style 10 MAX 10 MAX
Metabolism Mastery
Summon Adagio Staff

10 MAX 7 63% 6 5%
Familiar Variation Mastery
Power Winterlich Bow

10 MAX 8 41% 13 52%
Overwhelming Waltz Mastery
Demonology 9 15% Evasion 9 8% Axe Mastery 6 19%
Frostbite Dark Infusion Demonate Multishot
Dark Explosion Mind Blast Blast Arrow
Shadowbind Hysteria Shrapnel Shot

Singularity Mind Control Pinning Shot
True Darkness Snipe
Massive Rejection Chain Shot
Reality Slash
Momentum Anomaly
Perk List
Arcane Assassin Anti-centennial
Monster Magic Nature's Bounty
Grand Theft Arcana (2) Hero Killer
Collateral Damage Soulbound
Butcher of Humanity Hero of Chaos
Rare Golem Dismantler - Jade Usurper of Justice
Natural Enemy of Termites Slayer of Elfkind
Seeker of Redemption
After about 30 minutes of hugging Boxxy and stroking its gangly head, the busty dryad seemed to have
had her fill of skinship for the moment. She released the Hylt Creeper and took a few steps back, taking
on a much more stern expression.
“This profane object in thy back… is how thou were brought back to this mortail coil?”
“Yes. It’s called a Soulstone. Do you know anything about it?”
Ambrosia shook her head.
“I’m afraid not. But I do not like this foul feeling it gives off.”
It made sense that something used to violate a Taboo wouldn’t be of much liking to a semi-divine being
like a dryad. Still, it wasn’t like Boxxy was lugging it along because it wanted to.
“Please bear with it. I think it may be the only thing keeping me alive.”
“Thou can always try bathing in mine Waters of Life…” she offered with a pang of hope in her voice.
“I’d rather not. It may cause some kind of bad reaction.”
Not to mention that using her curative fluids would sap away at the Mimic’s life force and reduce its
lifespan. At least, that’s what it surmised happened with all those ingredients that were kept forcefully
alive and expired of seemingly natural causes all on their own. This reminded Boxxy that it would likely
need to fetch new ones, as the Prison Management module had gone offline in its absence, meaning
those meat donors had all but expired. It would seem the core’s autonomous mode did not understand
the concept of keeping one’s meals fresh.
Speaking of which, the shapeshifter determined it was probably time to address the elephant in the room.
“The dungeon core… I don’t suppose you would be willing to become its dungeon master again?” it
asked.
“No. I do not think that is an option anymore.”
“Are you sure? We won’t be able to communicate over long distances otherwise.”
Ambrosia wavered. She desperately wanted the ability to chat with Boxxy at any given time regardless
of how far away it was. After all, as a tree-bound spirit, she could not join it on its adventurers no matter
how much she wished. She also sorely missed those night-long language lessons. Not only did they
show her the joy of teaching those that wished to learn, but seeing the Mimic’s progress filled her with a
sense of pride and accomplishment.
“Truthfully, I would love to be able to reach out to milord at any time. However, I know now of that
thing’s true nature, and I cannot be put under its spell ever again. Even if I wanted it to happen, mine
inner self would not allow it.”
“That’s alright. We’ll figure something out.”
The Item Allocation module could create dungeon-related items through magic, so perhaps there was
some sort of communicator. Alternatively, finding a subservient monster to use as a proxy dungeon
master was also an option. The Mimic just needed to make sure that said proxy would not follow in the
dryad’s footsteps and suddenly escape the dungeon’s control. Which naturally raised the question of
what exactly Ambrosia did to get out of her contract.
“How did you break free of it in the first place?”
“Once I found out I was being controlled, I simply willed the connection broken, and it snapped with no
resistance.”
Well, this was hardly unexpected. Even if that crystal ball was a marvelous tool with a plethora of
impressive functions, it still had its limits. And keeping an ancient being of Ambrosia’s caliber shackled
against her will was well beyond that. Which was why Boxxy had taken every precaution it could think
of to not let her even suspect she was being influenced in the first place. That strategy had seemingly
failed in its original purpose, but had worked to endear the real Ambrosia to Boxxy’s presence, so the
Mimic wasn’t about to complain too much.
Still, it would be prudent to analyze its mistake and make sure it didn’t happen with Ambrosia’s
replacement.
“How did you realize it was messing with your head?”
“Thine servant Fizzy told me. Right after I denied her access to thine collection.”
“She did, did she? Hmm… Wait, you didn’t hurt her or anything, right?!”
“No, milord. I ended up flushing her out of mine trunk.”
“Oh. Right, of course.”
Keira had heard through word of mouth that the Rustblood Juggernaut had departed for Horkensaft
Kingdom after the two of them had a bad falling out. Which was putting it mildly, as very few friendly
relationships persisted after one party quite literally died. Come to think of it, its death probably
annulled that servantile oath she made way back when, much like how its contracts were severed.
Whatever the case, the important thing was that the shiny golem had survived Ambrosia’s eviction.
However, the expression the dryad was making gave the Mimic pause. Being a millennia-long shut-in
meant that she was never very good at hiding her emotions, so the reluctance and guilt plastered on her
face was painfully obvious.
“There’s more isn’t there?” it asked in a somewhat stern manner.
“… I also ended up flushing the vast majority of thine treasured shinies into the tunnels beneath mine
roots,” admitted the dryad.
“You what?! Why?!”
“I was outraged at thy deceptions and saddened at thy passing in equal measure, and I acted rashly. After
I calmed down a bit, I realized the folly of mine actions and went out to gather milord’s precious
mementos with all haste. I wanted to treasure them and keep them safe for all eternity, but then this
damnable ball swallowed them up.”
She threw the dungeon core behind her a hateful glance for a moment before turning her attention back
to Boxxy.
“Left with naught but sadness and regret, all that was left for me was to sleep, lest mine branches and
leaves wilt as a result of mine sorrow. Which has been all but washed away by the torrent of joy that
flowed within me when I heard thee call out to me, milord. I do not think I have ever roused from my
slumber as quickly as I did.”
The dryad ended her story with a sweet smile and a slightly darker shade of green on her cheeks.
“You don’t have to call me that anymore, you know,” pointed out the Mimic.
“I know. However, milord is milord. It has become a habit, I’m afraid.”
The shapeshifter shrugged its shoulders. It never really cared for that ‘title’ but it didn’t particularly
mind it, either. Not to mention it wasn’t about to argue with a millenia-old sentient tree over something
so trivial.
“Then do I have permission to continue operating my dungeon inside your trunk?”
“I shall permit this, so long as milord lets me pamper thee every now and then for mine own
satisfaction.”
A pampering that would probably include copious cuddling, breast feeding, and incomprehensibly
delicious cuisine. Boxxy found two of those three things to be particularly delicious, so this was really a
no-brainer.
“Works for me!” it declared.
“I would also appreciate it if milord were to clear up all this… clutter.”
Ambrosia gestured towards all the three dimensional maze of rooms and traps the dungeon core had
constructed while it was still orphaned.
“Leave it to me.”
The Mimic then turned its gaze towards the trio of demons who were quietly sitting on standby this
entire time, just as they were ordered.
“And by ‘me’ I of course mean ‘you three.’ Claws, Snack, Arms - I want this entire place to be put back
in the way I left it! You are to listen to Ambrosia’s requests and directions if she feels something needs
to be adjusted. Do I make myself clear?”
Kora raised three of her arms as if asking permission to speak.
“No, Arms, you may not throat-fuck the dryad. Not unless she wants to.”
Only to be immediately shot down by her Master.
“And I most certainly do not,” interjected Ambrosia while shooting Kora a murderous glare. “Actually,
does milord mind if I borrow this unruly child for a bit?”
“Not really. She’s the most irresponsible of the lot anyway. Do what you will with her.”
A half dozen thick, thorny vines shot out from the walls and wrapped themselves around each of the
Archfiend’s wrists.
“Come, vile creature,” said the dryad with a dangerous glint in her eye. “I believe it is time to discipline
you!”
“Oh… Fuuuuuuuuuuuuu-”
Kora was then flung upwards with frightening speeds, disappearing into the darkness high above the
dungeon core as her voice echoed into the distance.
“She… Ktktktktkt, she won’t do anything weird to me, right?!” asked Drea nervously.
Ambrosia threw her a reassuring smile.
“Fret not, jittery one. Thou hast always been a good child, so I have no qualms with thee.”
“Phew…”
“What about me?!” eagerly asked Xera. “Those thorny-”
“Why are you still here?!” roared Boxxy. “I gave you your orders! Do them now!”
“Yes, Master!”
The two demons replied in unison and darted off towards the giant-box-covered part of the hollowed-out
tree trunk. Using their respective Dungeon Management screens, gained through virtue of being their
Master’s soulbound servants, they began demolishing the unsightly structures and getting rid of all the
monsters and traps. As they did that, Boxxy opened up the Item Allocation menu once again while
simultaneously taking a rolled up piece of parchment out of its Storage.
“Milord? What is that?” asked Ambrosia curiously.
“It’s a list of all my stuff.”
“Did thou always have such a thing?”
“No, but I had an annoying amount of downtime recently so I made it to keep myself busy,” it explained
as it unrolled the unreasonably long parchment. “Which is good, because I need to make sure nothing’s
missing.”
“I see. However, art thou certain of this manifesto’s accuracy? I know milord is an exceptional
individual, but the items in thine hoard easily numbered in the thousands…”
“10,269 to be exact.”
It then showed Ambrosia its list, causing the dryad’s eyes to become wider and wider with each line she
skimmed across. Each item had been recorded with its name, a brief description, its estimated GP value,
how many of it the creature had, and even had a ‘shininess rating.’
“By the Goddess!” she exclaimed. “And thou genuinely knew all this from memory?!”
“Of course. Well, I had to do quite a bit of thinking to remember everything, but it wasn’t that difficult.
One should always be able to keep track of the things that are important to them, after all. I mean, I bet
if you tried, you could tell me exactly how many leaves you had.”
“… No, actually. No I cannot. And yet I feel like I should be able to… I must think on this some more.
Excuse me, milord.”
Ambrosia disappeared with a slightly defeated look on her face and focused her attention on punishing
Kora for taking advantage of her muddled state of mind to sexually harass her. Boxxy on the other hand
was left to carry out its impromptu audit in peace. It quickly learned that, to her credit, the dryad had
managed to retrieve the vast majority of its belongings. Unfortunately, not all of them were retrieved in a
pristine state. The crates containing the potions and various Artificer parts were designed to withstand
impact, so the magical liquids and components were still safe.
However, the same could not be said for the statuette known as the King of Beasts, which had shattered
into pieces. Well, False Diamond was roughly about as brittle as glass, so it was no wonder it didn’t
survive its tumble down the sewers. The bits of it still sparkled alluringly even in their smashed-up state,
but it was nowhere near as radiant as the majestic dragon spreading its wings in a triumphant manner.
Bottom line was, some shininess was definitely lost.
On the upside, judging from the combined weight of the 30 or so shards stored within the dungeon core,
Ambrosia had gathered every last piece of it. It showed she had been quite thorough in cleaning up after
her outburst. The sorry state of that sewer tunnel down below was most likely due to her using her roots
to search through the dirt for every last one of Boxxy’s shinies. And considering how the creature’s
MLG had not picked up a single even remotely valuable thing down there, she had done a very
admirable job of it.
And yet she had missed some of them. 3,241 GP worth of coins and gems, to be precise. Not a pair of
old boots, not an errant sprocket that had fallen out of the toolbox, and not any of those tiny False
Diamond shards. The things that were missing amounted to a pile of money, some precious stones, and
one of the small wooden chests that Boxxy had been using as a container. It was a bit odd that these
things specifically were no longer present. Actually no. On second thought it made perfect sense. After
all, there was also one more piece missing. Arguably the most important of them all.
The mithril golem known as Fizzy.
Ambrosia said she flushed her down the drain along with Boxxy’s treasures, so this gap in the creature’s
collection was most assuredly her doing. She must’ve found out about Boxxy’s death through Ambrosia,
and since dead mimics had no use for shinies, she helped herself to a modest sum of it. She then must’ve
assumed that whoever killed Boxxy might come after her, or that she might be implicated in Keira’s
sudden disappearance, and ended up fleeing the country while she still could.
And Boxxy was sure this was what had happened, because that was exactly the sort of mentality it had
beaten into her. The realization that it had been robbed blind stung a bit, but the feeling that dominated
the creature’s assessment of her apparent actions was none other than disappointment. It expected more
from its prized shiny, as the behavior she had displayed in its absence was a complete letdown. In fact, it
would have some very harsh words with her in that regard when they met up.
By the look of things, Fizzy had found herself completely on her lonesome in a tunnel full of a dead
monster’s treasures, yet she took only 3,241 GP?! What sort of weaksauce was that?! If their positions
were reversed, then Boxxy would have secured as much value as it could carry without burdening itself
before making its escape. And it was sure it had taught her at least this much common sense, but it
would appear that had not been the case.
Thankfully, it wouldn’t need to wait too long to talk to her. True, it had been almost a month since they
last saw each other, but it already knew where Fizzy had gone. According to Keira’s sources, or rather,
the kindly old clerk she sweetly asked for a bit of information, the shiny golem had gone to some city
called Steelhead, across the Republic’s eastern border. And since someone of her unparalleled shininess
was sure to grab attention and leave a distinct impression, it wouldn’t take long to pick up her trail and
track her down. Which was why Boxxy had already arranged for Keira to depart for that place first thing
in the morning, as it could not bear to be apart from-
“Ack! What time is it?!” it blurted out suddenly.
The creature had gotten so preoccupied with this dungeon crawl that it completely forgot it had a
schedule to keep.
“‘Tis the hour of the evening twilight, milord.”
Ambrosia appeared next to it in response to its outburst, and kindly informed it of the current time.
According to her, the sun had just set, so it was now around 8 PM. Which was well past the evening
curfew that Rowana had given Keira. Well, it wasn’t too big a deal as all Boxxy had to do was bat the
catgirl’s lashes at the elf a few times and she’d be forgiven in an instant. However, it would probably be
best if Keira didn’t return any later than she already had to.
“Listen, Ambrosia,” said the Mimic. “I need to go now. I’ll be away for a while, actually. Probably
another week, maybe more.”
“… Thou art going to chase after that insufferable metallic abomination?”
“No, I’m going after Fizzy.”
The dryad rolled her eyes, then let out a heavy sigh.
“If this is milord’s wish, then I shall not object. However, I urge thee to be more cautious. This one
cannot bear the thought of losing thee so soon after thy return…”
“Believe me, I have had my fill of life-and-death struggles. If the world could kindly inform me the next
time it tried to kill me, then that would be super. In fact, it would be best if it could just stay out of my
way entirely and let me idly enjoy the tasty and shiny things in life.”
“Indeed,” said the dryad with a nod. “However, methinks such a fantasy shall not come to pass.
Especially considering the unpredictable nature of thy patron.”
The Hero of Chaos attracted great fortune and big trouble in equal measure. That much had become
blatantly clear by now, even to someone like Ambrosia.
“Yeah, well, a box can dream, can’t it?” said Boxxy with a bemused tone.
The Mimic then used the newly reestablished Nexus Access to transfer itself to the dungeon entrance
that led into the sewers. It would normally use the secret access tunnel that went right up to Rowana’s
tiny home, but the autonomous mode had sealed off all alternate paths in or out of the place. To make
matters worse, its MP management had been abysmal, and it didn’t have the spare energy necessary to
rebuild that path right now. Boxxy deemed it would be faster and more efficient to leave the same way it
came in rather than make a new way out, which is precisely what it tried to do.
When it exited into the newly cleared-up tunnel, however, it was confronted by a dark figure. One that
was leaning casually against the tunnel wall some 8 or 9 meters outside the hole in Ambrosia’s root.
Boxxy, which had taken on the guise of the Sandman in advance, was legitimately surprised by this fact.
Whoever or whatever this intruder was had the ability to hide his presence from the Mimic’s MLG, just
like that man Edward, which the creature instantly perceived as a hostile act. It immediately raised its
guard and called for its minions to converge at its position, but it did not make a move to oppose this
stranger directly.
After the experience it went through with Zilla, it was wary of engaging unknown entities in open
combat without confirming the other side’s strength and/or motives. It carefully and silently studied the
figure with its eyes, noticing immediately that he, while obviously male, was not of a species the
shapeshifter had seen before. He was some kind of lizard-man with brown scales, a long and flattened
snout and a muscular tail that thrashed idly between his legs. His hands and feet had three digits each,
his ankles had an extra joint on them, and his chest was much too thick in relation to his waist to belong
to a ‘normal’ person. As for his attire, he had a white skull-like mask hiding the upper part of his face,
and a skintight black bodysuit covering the rest of him, aside from his clawed feet and hands. He also
had a pair of dangerous-looking daggers on the right side of his waist.
“Greetingsss, Boxxy T. Morningwood.”
The intruder greeted what was quite obviously the Sandman with a raspy, slightly hissing voice while
waving at it from a distance.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Accatau of clan Rakka, and I am the current Hero of Death.”
Boxxy’s wariness shot through the roof. As did its irritation. It had barely recovered after being killed,
so how come it had to stare down the Hero of Death all of a sudden? It wanted to complain to life’s
manager about this situation. Maybe burn life’s house down with some combustible lemons.
On the other hand, considering the reputation of the Hero of Death as the Gods’ personal Reaper, the
fact that he was talking instead of stabbing was probably a good thing.
“You know me?” asked the Mimic.
“No, but I know who you are. You may be able to fool those idiotic elves with your innocent massssk,
but you cannot hide yourself from my eyes, Hero of Chaosss.”
Yup, there was no question about it - Accatau clearly knew that Boxxy and Keira were one and the
same. Actually, now that it had a chance to think about it, the Mimic realized what this raptor’s presence
in the city entailed.
“You’re the one who killed Malon, weren’t you?”
“Hee, hee, hee,” he laughed dryly. “It was a good hunt, that one. Sssslipping in and out of that place was
a worthy challenge. Unfortunately, I had gotten caught in the act by his pet abomination. I would not
have sssucceeded in getting out of there as easily as I did were it not for the timely interference of your
followers.”
The timing involved was no mere coincidence, though. The master assassin had stumbled across Claws
and Snack’s attempts at rallying the VIPs to raid the same underground compound he had been looking
to infiltrate. From then on it was a simple matter to match their movements and time his attack so that he
would reach his target before they caused all the alarms to go off. Once they had thrown the place into a
state of panic, it was a simple matter for the amphibious lizard to slip out of the base through one of the
water-filled drainage pipes and into the nearby underground river.
Not that this Boxxy T. Morningwood needed to know any of that, of course.
“But as interesting as these divine Quests are, they sadly don’t pay anything,” he added.
“My heart weeps for you,” said the shapeshifter in a cold tone. “What does any of that have to do with
me?”
“Everything, my despicable friend. You see, my boss is something a ssssore loser, and he wants me to
re-dead you, just on principle, you see. However, I have no intention of pointlessly invoking a Clash of
Fate when I ssstand to gain very little from it. Am I correct in assuming you feel the same way?”
“… You could say that.”
“Then it’s simple! You want to maintain this little ssssecret life of yours, and I want to get paid. I’m sure
you and I can work sssomething out.”
“Oh. So it’s about blackmail. You should’ve just said so from the start.”
Mortimer’s Reaper had a certain reputation to uphold. As the harbinger of Death, he was scarily
effective at his job, and never backed out of a deal once money had changed hands. At the same time, as
a professional in service to the God of Commerce and Trading, Accatau also had a certain duty to secure
profit with minimal risk in every venture he undertook. It was a very practical approach, and Boxxy
could completely understand where this man-lizard-thing was coming from.
It just had one question. Indeed, it was the only question that was worth asking in this situation.
“How much?”
The overgrown lizard blinked showed his sharp, misaligned teeth in a gesture that Boxxy could only
assume as a smile.
“Right to the point. I like that. This is where it gets tricky though. Unless you can offer me ssssomething
that would appease both me and my patron, then I cannot guarantee I won’t be forced to come after you
eventually.”
“I see… So I’m basically bidding for the contract on my life against the God of Death?”
“Hee, hee, hee… That is a good way of putting it.”
“… I think I may have just the thing. However, it is rather cumbersome. Would you rather follow me
inside or wait out here for a minute?”
“I will wait for you out here. But do be prompt about it.”
“Understood. Then, if you will excuse me.”
Having said that the figure of the Sandman crept into the hollowed-out root from before, back into what
Accatau had deduced was its lair. Agile assassins and tight spaces like those did not mix very well, and
he wasn’t about to give this creature the opportunity to lure it into an ambush. Out here in this decrepit
tunnel was another story. He had already swept the place for traps and possible ambush locations while
his newest client was inside, and even prepared three separate escape routes. Should the creature try
anything, then he would vanish in an instant before begrudgingly doing as Mortimer wished.
After a few minutes, he heard shuffling from the interior of the hollow root, and the cloaked humanoid
figure reappeared shortly after. According to the name and HP total that the Hero of Death saw floating
above its head, it was definitely the same creature, and not one of its body doubles. However, while its
identity was not in question, its motives most definitely were, as it had returned seemingly empty-
handed.
“Where issss your tribute?” asked the raptor with a hint of displeasure in his voice.
“Right here.”
Saying that, Boxxy opened up its Storage portal. Accatau reacted at this sudden event by leaping
backwards and unsheathing his blades.
“… Right, of course,” said the Mimic in a dull monotone. “Nobody would trust a backstabbing,
treacherous monster like myself, hmm? Then, I will just leave this here, and I’ll be on my way.”
The shapeshifter then reached into the portal and after straining a bit with effort, pulled out one of the
crowning jewels of its collection - the solid gold skeleton it had created through heretical means. It took
a few slow steps forward while carrying the macabre treasure, leaned it against a particularly large
boulder that had been left lying around, and then slowly backed off.
“I trust this will do,” it said in a proud tone.
That was pretty much an understatement considering how the raptor’s eyes practically sparkled at the
sight of it.
“Would you look at that…” he mumbled despite himself.
He couldn’t help but be in awe of it. These gilded remains were the embodiment of everything Mortimer
and Accatau stood for. Even in this near pitch-black darkness it gave off the sort of sheen and radiance
one would expect from pure, polished gold. And considering how easily its bony feet sank into the soft,
moist ground underneath, it wasn’t hard to imagine that the precious metal made up the vast majority, if
not the entirety of its construction. The value of the gold itself was likely in the neighborhood of several
hundred thousand GP, and that was just the raw material. Accatau could not even begin to imagine how
much it would cost to have a sculptor shape it in such a precise and frighteningly realistic way.
Then again, he wouldn’t really have to.
*SHU-SHU-SHUNK*
A total of seven spears made out of highly compressed Ironbark shot out of the ground, walls and ceiling
all at once, piercing the momentarily distracted Hero’s body and ending his life in an instant.
“Thanks, Ambrosia,” called out Boxxy. “I appreciate the assists.”
The dryad’s widely smiling face emerged out of the ground in front of Accatau’s propped up corpse.
“T’was my pleasure, milord.”
She then retracted her spring-loaded needle-roots, allowing the humanoid crocodile to fall into a pool of
his own blood with a wet plop. The Mimic walked over to the hole-riddled corpse, picked it up with one
hand, and gave it a thorough inspection. Whatever Skill was obscuring its MLG seemed to still be in
effect, so it had to check the insides the old fashioned way. Thankfully, it would appear Ambrosia had
done a good job of leaving the heart and brain as undamaged as possible. All things considered, her no
longer being confined to the insides of her tree trunk really worked out in its favor.
“Alright,” mumbled the Mimic as it stared into Accatau’s lifeless eyes. “Let us see if my lucky streak
will hold up!”
(184) Not A Chapter A Mimics Hoard
Shininess GP GP
Item Description (out of Count Value Value
10) (each) (total)
A huge coin of pure mithril, stamped

Divine
with the image of the Goddess Teresa
Piece 8 4 500 2000
on one side and a gryphon crest on the
(Empire)
other.
A large golden coin stamped with the

King Piece
profile of the founding Emperor on one 5 85 50 4250
(Empire)
side and a gryphon crest on the other.
Duke A golden coin stamped with the profile 5 253 20 5060

Piece of some bearded guy on one side and a
(Empire) gryphon crest on the other.
A small golden coin stamped with the

Knight
profile of a knight in full armor on one
Piece 5 1942 5 9710
side and a gryphon crest on the other.
(Empire)
Subpar gold purity.
A tiny golden coin stamped with a

Serf Piece
shield crest on both sides. Low gold 4 520 1 520
(Empire)
purity.
A huge coin of pure mithril, stamped

Divine
with the image of the Goddess Nyrie on
Piece 8 12 500 6000
one side and the image of a tree on the
(Republic)
other.

King Piece
profile of the first Exarch on one side 5 204 50 10200
(Republic)
and the image of a tree on the other.
A golden coin stamped with the image

Duke
of the last ruler of the Elven Dominion
Piece 5 387 20 7740
on one side and the image of a tree on
(Republic)
the other.
A small golden coin stamped with a

Knight
wolf's head on one side and the image
Piece 5 2859 5 14295
of a tree on the other. Subpar gold
(Republic)
purity.
Serf Piece A tiny golden coin stamped with a leaf

4 1235 1 1235
(Republic) shape on both sides. Low gold purity.

Counterfeit
profile of the first Exarch on one side
King Piece 4 34 21 714
and the image of a tree on the other.
(Republic)
Criminally low gold purity.
A large golden coin stamped with a

King Piece
crown on one side and a crossed 5 150 50 7500
(Kingdom)
waraxe and hammer on the other.
Duke A golden coin stamped with a tower on

Piece one side and a crossed waraxe and 5 125 20 2500
(Kingdom) hammer on the other.
King Piece A large golden coin that has been

4 18 230 4140
(Ancient) weathered by time, making it
impossible to tell what was originally
engraved on it.
Duke A golden coin that has been weathered

Piece by time, making it impossible to tell 4 3 100 300
(Ancient) what was originally engraved on it.
A tiny golden coin that has been

weathered by time, making it
Serf Piece
impossible to tell what was originally 3 214 25 5350
(Ancient)
engraved on it. Higher gold purity than
modern Serf pieces.
A heavy hexagonal coin believed to be

Iron Piece
of ancient dwarven make. Heavily 0 12 112 1344
(Ancient)
rusted.
A golden coin that is completely

Blank smooth on both sides, obtained as a
7 841 18 15138
Coin result of a random Chaotic Disposition
effect.
Coins
8894 97996
(Total)
Shininess GP GP
10) (each) (total)
A square cut pink gem that absorbs

Mysterious magic like a sponge. Bequeathed to
10 1 N/A N/A
Pink Gem Keira by Faehorn. Origin and purpose
unknown.
Ruby
A brilliant red gemstone with a square
(Princess 7 3 350 1050
shape.
Cut)
Ruby A brilliant red gemstone with a round,

8 5 320 1600
(Oval Cut) elongated shape.
Ruby
A brilliant red gemstone with a
(Emerald 8 2 500 1000
rectangular, elongated shape.
Cut)
Ruby
A brilliant red gemstone in the shape
(Heart 7 4 480 1920
of a romantic heart.
Cut)
A brilliant red gemstone in the rough
shape of an actual, anatomically
Ruby
correct heart. I'm not very good at
(Heart? 6 1 200 200
working with gems so it came out
Cut)
looking scratched up and a bit
cracked. Tasty shape though.
Raw, unprocessed gems that haven't

Ruby
had the honor of being transformed 4 7 160 1120
(Uncut)
into treasure by a jeweler.
Emerald
A brilliant green gemstone with a
(Emerald 7 5 465 2325
rectangular, elongated shape.
Cut)
Emerald
A brilliant green gemstone with a
(Round 7 7 280 1960
circular shape.
Cut)
Emerald A brilliant green gemstone with a

6 2 300 600
(Oval Cut) round, elongated shape.
Sapphire
A billiant blue gemstone with a
(Trillion 8 1 300 300
triangular shape.
Cut)
Sapphire A brilliant blue gemstone with a pear

6 4 325 1300
(Pear Cut) shape.
Raw, unprocessed gems that haven't

Sapphire
had the honor of being transformed 5 2 200 400
(Uncut)
into treasure by a jeweler.
Diamond
A brilliant translucent gemstone with a
(Asscher 10 3 500 1500
regular octagon shape.
Cut)
Diamond A brilliant translucent gemstone with a

9 1 740 740
(Pear Cut) pear shape.
Black An ominous black gem, perfectly

7 6 450 2700
Pearl round and smooth.
Midnight A magical red gemstone that glows

Ruby with an inner light. It has an elongated
9 1 650 650
(Emerald rectangular shape. Intended for magic
Cut) item crafting.
Midnight A magical red gemstone that glows 3 1 825 825

with an inner light. It hasn't been cut,
Ruby
faceted, or polished yet. Useable as an
(Uncut)
alchemical ingredient.
A magical blue gemstone that glows

Star
with an inner light. It hasn't been cut,
Sapphire 5 1 1300 1300
faceted, or polished yet. Useable as an
(Uncut)
alchemical ingredient. Very rare.
A magical multi-colored gemstone

Rainbow
that glows with an inner light. It has a
Emerald 10 3 960 2880
pear shape. Intended for magic item
(Pear Cut)
crafting.
A magical white gemstone that glows

with a serene, soothing light. It is
Pure Pearl 8 2 800 1600
perfectly round and smooth. Useable
as alchemical ingrredient.
A collection of peridots, opals,

Common
citrines, garnets, and other shiny 5 51 50~215 6206
gems
stones of lesser value
Gems
113 32176
(Total)
Shininess GP GP
10) (each) (total)
Decorative
Porcelain dishes with a glossy finish
dinner 3 23 17 391
and painted with various flowers.
plate
Spoons, knives and forks made from

Silver
silver. Intended for official dinner 4 34 22 748
cutlery
parties rather than everyday use.
Spoons, knives and forks made from

Gold
gold. Intended for predominantly 6 7 120 840
cutlery
decorative purposes.
Steel tea Ordinary cooking utensil that has been

5 19 15 285
kettle polished to a mirror-like finish.
Consists of one kettle, 4 cups, 4

Silver-
saucers, and 4 tiny spoons. All of them
plated tea 5 1 250 250
have been decorated with vine-like
set
carvings. The craftsmanship is
exquisite.
Tableware
84 2514
(Total)
Shininess GP GP
10) (each) (total)
Moonstone A brass ring with a milky-white

5 2 215 430
ring gemstone.
Diamond A luxurious golden band faceted with a

7 1 725 725
ring small, heart-cut diamond.
Jeweled An elegant silver headband adorned

9 1 415 415
tiara with a single ruby and four amethysts.
A simple golden band with no

Gold ring 6 12 110 1320
gemstones.
Sapphire A golden earring studded with a single

9 4 560 2240
earring blue gem.
Amethyst A silver necklace decorated with

6 2 210 420
necklace amethysts.
A collection of decorative rings,

Plain
earrings, pins, broches, and cufflinks
silver 3 37 10~30 444
made of silver. No gems or engravings
jewelry
of any description.
Jewelry
59 5994
(Total)
Shininess GP GP
10) (each) (total)
Medium
A block of pure mithril weighing 500
Mithril 9 5 1500 7500
grams.
Ingot
Large Gold A block of pure gold weighing 1

8 2 1800 3600
Ingot kilogram.
Small Gold A block of pure gold weighing 200

8 6 400 2400
Ingot grams.
Large Silver A block of pure silver weighing 1
5 4 220 880
Ingot kilogram.
Medium A block of pure silver weighing 500

5 2 110 220
Silver Ingot grams.
Small Silver A block of pure silver weighing 200

5 2 45 90
Ingot grams.
Large Steel A block of weapons-grade steel

1 14 190 2660
Ingot weighing 1 kilogram.
Large Brass A block of weapons-grade brass

3 7 120 840
Ingot weighing 1 kilogram.
Large
A block of weapons-grade bronze
Bronze 0 2 165 330
weighing 1 kilogram.
Ingot
Large
A block of industrial-grade copper
Copper 0 5 75 375
weighing 500 grams.
Ingot
A collection of springs, sprockets,

Artificer panels, powders and widgets
0 450 5~40 6240
Components necessary for creating various
gadgets, gizmos, and bombs.
Raw
materials 499 25135
(Total)
Shininess GP GP
10) (each) (total)
A Masterwork-quality mithril rapier

with jewels decorating the handle.
Feathersting Enchanted with self-repair, 11 1 1500 1500
increased durability and added
sharpness.
An ominous-looking staff with a

horned four-eyed skull ornament on
Voidcaller one end and a large red gem on the 2 1 100000 100000
other. An Artifact infused with
demonic essence.
Profanus A cursed golden goblet created by a 10 1 2700 2700

demonic ritual. Anyone who drinks
of its contents will have their bones
Gloria
turned to gold. Violates the Taboo of
Goroth.
A perfectly smooth sphere of highly

Elder transparent orange amber with a 7
Dryad's petaled pink flower encased inside. 7 4 5000 20000
Authority Bathes the user in the magical 'scent'
of an elder dryad.
Ring of
A plain-looking iron ring that
Mass 0 1 260 260
reduces the wearer's mass.
Reduction
Ring of
Weight 0 1 300 300
reduces the wearer's weight.
Reduction

Ring of
renders the wearer more resistant
Lightning 0 1 210 210
against lightning and electrical
Resistance
attacks.
Ring of A gold ring with a red gem that

Lion's increases the wearer's resistance to 6 2 260 520
Courage fear and panic effects.
Ring of A magic silver ring that increases

3 3 150 450
Intelligence the wearer's INT.
Ring of A magic silver ring that increases

3 1 120 120
Agility the wearer's AGI.
A magic silver ring with a blue

Ring of the
gemstone that increases the wearer's 3 6 200 1200
Boar
STR and END in equal measure.
A magic silver ring with a blue

Ring of the
gemstone that increases the wearer's 3 2 630 1260
Bear
STR and END to a greater degree.
A plain-looking dagger enchanted

Steel
with the essence of ice. Its magical
Dagger of 0 1 140 140
charge has faded and needs to be
Frost
replenished.
Fork of A soup spoon made out of mithril

9 1 300 300
Truth and enchanted with self-cleaning
and self-repair. Holding it causes the
wielder to become inexplicably
angry. Origin and purpose unknown.
A pair of heavy-duty leather boots

enchanted to reduce stamina
Boots of
consumption and slightly boost 0 19 250 4750
Travel
movement speed. Mandatory gear
for long treks in the wilderness.
A steel blade meant to be used with

two hands. Enchanted with
Greatsword
increased durability and/or superb 1 15 220 3300
of Cleaving
sharpness. Standard-issue Imperial
army equipment.
A steel blade meant to be used in

conjunction with a shield. Enchanted
Shortsword
with increased durability and/or 1 23 180 4140
of Cleaving
superb sharpness. Standard-issue
Imperial army equipment.
A set of heavy metal armor with fur

padding. Enchanted with increased
Soldier's toughness, reduced weight, reduced
0 3 930 2790
Plate Armor stamina consumption and increased
END. Standard-issue Imperial army
equipment.
180cm tall carved oaken staff

Staff of studded with silver. Raises INT and
0 5 180 900
Channeling Spell damage. Standard-issue
Imperial army equipment.
A steel shield large enough for a

man to hide behind it in a crouching
Steelheart
position. Enchanted with increased 1 18 245 4410
Greatshield
durability and toughness. Standard-
issue Imperial army equipment.
A blue woolen robe. Wearing it

improves MP recovery and slightly
Conjurer's
reduces the cost of Spells and Skills. 0 2 650 1300
Robe
Standard-issue Imperial army
equipment.
Teresa's A breastplate made out of a mithril

4 1 820 820
Charge alloy and adorned with religious
symbols. Enchanted with increased
durability. Also raises the wearer's
END and fire resistance.
A left-handed gauntlet made out of a

mithril alloy and adorned with
Teresa's
religious symbols. Enchanted with 4 1 280 280
Left
increased durability. Also raises the
wearer's AGI and INT.
A right-handed gauntlet made out of

a mithril alloy and adorned with
Teresa's
religious symbols. Enchanted with 4 1 270 270
Right
increased durability. Also raises the
wearer's STR and WIS.
A set of leg plates made out of a

Teresa's religious symbols. Enchanted with
4 1 650 650
Rush increased durability. Also raises the
wearer's HP recovery and resistance
to all magic.
A helmet made out of a mithril alloy

and adorned with religious symbols.
Teresa's
Enchanted with increased durability. 4 1 350 350
Guise
Also increases the wearer's MP
recovery and provides night vision.
A pair of greaves made out of a

Teresa's religious symbols. Enchanted with
4 1 600 600
Path increased durability. Also greatly
reduces the wearer's stamina
consumption.
Magic
Items 117 153520
(Total)
Shininess GP GP
10) (each) (total)
Instantly heals open wounds and

Healing
restores HP. Comes in several 0 36 30~250 5400
Potion
variants. Low-to-medium toxicity.
Instantly invigorates the mind and
Mana Potion restores MP. Comes in several 0 20 50~300 3700
variants. Low-to-medium toxicity.
Restores all HP over the course of

Rejuvenation 3 seconds. Can regrow lost limbs.
1 12 700 8400
Potion Reduces lifespan. Very high
toxicity.
Quadruples MP recovery while out

Clarity Potion 0 4 80 320
of combat. Very low toxicity.
Attempts to purge poisons, toxins

All-purpose
and other harmful substances out 0 10 90 900
Antidote
of the bloodstream. No toxicity.
Gillsprout Allows underwater breathing for 3

0 2 50 100
Elixir minutes. Low toxicity.
A wooden cask containing 30 liters

Keg of of first-class dwarven-made ale.
Thunderbrew Said to be so strong every drink 0 5 700 3500
Ale feels like a lightning bolt to the
head. Extremely flammable.
A spring-loaded trap that when

triggered fires numerous petal-like
Bladeblossom 1 2 20 40
blades that shred soft targets to
pieces.
A handheld explosive device that

discharges a flash of light bright
Flashbang 3 16 105 1680
enough to stun and/or temporarily
blind anyone looking at it.

Fragmentation sends metal shrapnel in all
2 41 80 3280
grenade directions, shredding soft targets to
pieces in the process.

Incendiary covers an area in a highly
2 32 95 3040
grenade flammable substance while
simultaneously igniting it.
An explosive trap that when

Landmine triggered explodes into a geyser of 2 7 120 840
shrapnel and flames.
A bag filled to the brim with
Satchel
explosive powder. Detonates when 3 85 200 17000
Charge
exposed to an open flame.
Consumable
272 48200
Items (Total)
Shininess GP GP
10) (each) (total)
Fizzy The one and only. 15 1 Priceless N/A
A roll of white cloth with delicate

Bolt of
golden thread woven into the silk.
golden 3 1 850 850
Excellent for wedding dresses,
cloth
rituals, or as an alchemical reagent.
A golden tooth pulled out of some

Gold tooth poor soul's jaw. The bloodstains 4 7 11 77
have been lovingly cleaned up.
A long thrusting dagger. This

weapon was forged out of pure
Mithril
mithril by the dwarven smiths of 7 2 550 1100
dirk
Einharvel. It boasts superior
sharpness and durability.
A glass container full of the

addictive substance known as
Jar of
Honeydew. Illegal outside the 6 8 350 2800
Honeydew
Republic. Usable as an alchemical
reagent.
A dragon statuette hewn out of a

single block of alchemically
The King synthesized False Diamond. It
10 1 459 459
of Beasts sparkles and glitters almost like the
genuine article. The workmanship
is exquisite.
A set of gold-plated armor. Not

Ceremonial
much use in actual combat, and 8 1 2900 2900
Armor
pretty gaudy overall.
A brass scepter inlaid with platinum

Decorative
and polished to a mirror-like shine. 5 1 470 470
scepter
Perfect for ordering people around
and then bludgeoning them if they
disobey.
Oaken A mundane shortbow. Standard

0 1 50 50
Shortbow gear for rookie adventurers.
A mundane chainmail shirt.

Chainmail
Standard gear for rookie 0 1 70 70
Armor
adventurers.
A metal plate strapped to the wrists.

Can be used to deflect incoming
Iron Bracer 0 2 30 60
attacks with some skill, but
protection offered is quite minimal.
The skeleton of a homeless person

turned to solid gold through the
Golden
heretical powers of the Profanus 9 1 510750 510750
Skeleton
Gloria. Weighs in at a staggering
283 kilograms and 752 grams.
A collection of mundane clothes

Clothes procured through various means. 0 77 15~50 1920
Mainly used as disguises.
A collection of mundane weapons

Looted
looted from the bodies of countless 1 94 80~160 8936
weaponry
victims.
A collection of mundane armor

Looted
looted from the bodies of countless 1 31 50~200 2184
armor
victims.
Misc items
229 532626
(Total)
Shininess GP GP
10) (each) (total)
All 10269 898161
In a small wooden cabin in the woods, some 30 kilometers northwest of the elven capital of Azurvale, a
woman was pacing around the sole table in the living room. The place was covered in dust, and the only
source of illumination was the lantern in the middle of said wooden table. Normally the sun would peek
through the gaps in the boarded up windows, but it was now the dead of the night. Yet sleep was the
farthest thing from the woman’s mind.
The look on her dark-skinned face was a complicated one, filled with both dread and joy, both brought
upon by the same event. The human rolled up the left sleeve on her red jacket and stared at the underside
of her wrist, but saw nothing but dusky skin covered in goosebumps. The chalky white skull-shaped
tattoo that had been there for years was still nowhere to be found, just like the last 30 or so times she
checked. It had been a ritualistic symbol, a brand that marked her as someone destined for great things,
and its sudden disappearance could only mean one thing.
That Accatau was no more, and that she would soon become the new Hero of Death.
This was the source of her joy. Frankly speaking, she never liked that overgrown frog, though that was
putting it mildly. She actually hated his guts on both a professional and a personal level. He was good at
murdering things, but that was about the nicest thing she could say about him. As for their relationship,
she was the one who was supposed to become his inevitable replacement, and the only reason she put up
with him at all was for the sake of one day becoming a Hero.
The raptor naturally did not appreciate her attitude, but her appointment as his heir was not something he
had a word in. The rumor that the acting Hero of Death chose who inherited their title was actually a
piece of deliberate disinformation that had been spread long before Accatau’s time for reasons known
only to his patron. This hearsay was still half-right though. The one who would become the next Hero of
Death was indeed determined well ahead of time, except that the one who did so was Mortimer himself.
Honestly though, Leanne couldn’t help but belittle anyone who seriously fell for that ridiculous story.
After all, Heroes wouldn’t be the known as the chosen of the Gods if said deities let mortals decide such
things.
Which was for the best, in the woman’s probably unbiased opinion. She dreaded to think who that
greedy bastard might appoint as the next Hero of Death if it were truly up to him. Knowing him, he’d
probably sell off the right to it if he could. Mortimer apparently respected the lizard’s knack for making
money hand over fist, but Leanne disapproved of both the methods and motivations of her predecessor.
Much like the rest of his damned species, he thought himself to be much cleverer than he actually was.
And she should know, she’d spent much of her childhood being bullied around by them, and then a good
deal of her teenage years stabbing them in the eyes.
So to say she was relieved to find out that the scaly bastard finally bit the big one would be an
understatement. With him out of the way, she would be able to claim the Hero title for herself, and
finally bring it back to its roots. There was a reason why Mortimer’s chosen was called the Hero of
Death, not the Hero of Profit. She would dedicate herself to making the world a better place one death at
a time, rather than using her gifts to simply get rich off of the suffering of others. True, it would be a
dirty, thankless job, but she would do it readily if it meant she could keep at least one little girl from
turning out the same way she did.
The only problem was that she didn’t know when it would actually start, and it was driving her mad. It
had already been 20 minutes since she realized the mark on her wrist had disappeared, yet nothing had
happened. She was steadily growing more and more impatient, as evidenced by the fact that the room
was thick with smoke from her pipe. It was a habit that would normally have a calming effect on her, but
it wasn’t working this time around as she was just far too agitated. The moment that would change her
life forever was steadily approaching, and she knew it was night, but the wait was killing her.
Leanne suddenly found herself not in an old rural shack, but standing in the middle of a seemingly
endless graveyard. Startled with the inexplicable change in scenery, her eyes darted around registering
nothing but countless rows of tombstones, each one engraved with a different inscription. Some were
larger than the others, but they all seemed more or less identical. There were also a number of standing
torches strewn about that burned with a pale green light, but the overall visibility was abysmal.
Before she could finish getting her bearings, a thin slab of obsidian suddenly erupted from the ground in
front of her and rose rapidly upwards as if trying to pierce the infinite black void above. It stopped
suddenly when it reached a height of about 6 or 7 meters, and a series of dimly glowing white letters
started appearing on its smooth surface.
Accatau du Rakka
He died as he lived - with money on his mind.
A small smile spread on Leanne’s chocolatey lips, as she felt oddly vindicated by this memorial.
“Hack! Koff! Koff!”
She immediately reacted to the coughing noise from behind her by turning around abruptly while taking
a step away from the source. She had unsheathed the dagger on her hip with her left hand, grasped a trio
of throwing knives with her right, and assumed a coiled crouching stance that could propel her into any
direction at the blink of an eye. All before the pipe she dropped clattered against the floor.
The human-sized cloaked figure that now stood in front of her reached down and grasped the still
smoldering piece of carved wood with a bony hand.
“This stuff will kill you, you know?” said Mortimer in a calm tone. “Trust me, I should know.”
He tried to hand it back to Leanne, but she was already on her hands and knees with her forehead
touching the dirt on the ground.
“It is an honor to stand before you, great one.”
“Come now, let us dispense with the formalities,” urged the God of Death. “We both have things to do,
so get up from there already.”
“B-B-But I would not dare to presume-”
“I said stand!”
Leanne’s body shot upright against her will, and she found herself unable to move a single finger.
“I’m not big on flattery, young one,” said Mortimer in a displeased tone. “I respect results, and while I
expect great things of you, you have yet to provide me with any. You may think yourself morally
superior to Accatau, but at least he understood that time was money and wasted neither mine nor his
own on pointless ceremony. You would be wise to learn from his example.”
“… Understood,” came the sheepish reply.
“Good. Now then, I’m sure you know why both of us are here, so I shall proceed immediately.”
Saying that, Mortimer lifted the rune-engraved scythe in his hands above his head. A dark mist almost
like a swarm of flies expanded from the void that was the scythe’s blade, which enveloped Leanne in an
instant. It then seeped into her body almost as quickly as it had appeared.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Hero of Death.
Proficiency level increased. Eyes of the Dead God is now Level 1.
Proficiency level increased. Fatal Promise is now Level 1.
“There, all done,” declared the hooded skeleton while slamming the bottom of his divine armament into
the ground. “Now, I’m sure you have many questions, so I shall answer as much as I can before sending
you back.”
‘Many questions’ was an understatement. Now freed from her invisible bindings, Leanne was eager to
learn about a plethora of things. But since her patron deity obviously despised having his time wasted,
she decided to limit herself to the two most pressing issues.
“I have only two questions, actually,” she said while graciously accepting her snuffed-out pipe from
Mortimer. She then pointed to the item in her hand and asked, “Will smoking this stuff really kill me?”
The act of setting ablaze the dried leaves of the Eofore plant and then inhaling the fumes through a
wooden apparatus was something that had never caught on in this continent. Both the plant and the
practice were indigenous to the jungles of Aldpine, which lay across the Shimmering Ocean to the south.
It was the place where she grew up, though the dominant race of enlightened beings in that region were
by far the raptors. In fact, they were the ones she picked up the habit from in the first place.
“Oh, it will,” confirmed Mortimer. “Accatau’s kind can huff and puff the stuff as much as they want, but
humans like you will eventually have their lungs turned to charcoal from it and choke to death. I get at
least 500 of those a year.”
Leanne had to admit, she had noticed an odd shortness of breath lately. Plus, this was the God of Death
she was talking to, so if anyone knew whether the stuff was actually fatal, it would be him. The 500 a
year figure was quite worrying as well, considering the human population on her home continent was
much less prevalent than it was here.
“I see. In that case, I shall stop partaking of the Eofore leaves,” she declared with a respectful bow of her
head.
“Good, see that you do. I really hate the smell of that stuff.”
Mortimer waved a bony hand in front of his bleached skull as if to disperse any lingering smoke. Come
to think of it, he did cough and sputter earlier, so he definitely did not enjoy it. Questions regarding why
a skeleton in a bathrobe needed to breathe or whether he even had lungs in the first place flashed across
Leanne’s mind, but she chased them away. She had another, much more important query on her lips.
“Is it true you want the Hero of Chaos dead?”
That was most probably the thing that killed Accatau, and she did not want to challenge it if she could
avoid doing so. Thankfully that wouldn’t seem to be necessary considering the God of Death and
Commerce drooped his shoulders and let out a disappointed sigh at her words.
“Not in the slightest,” he declared. “Well, that’s not quite right. I mean, I want it dead on principle, but
there’s nothing really in it for me. Kilroy already has claim over that soul, you see, which just takes the
fun out of reaping it.”
Meaning that the sleazy lizard had been lying through his teeth yet again when he said he was off on
some divine mission. He probably wanted to blackmail the creature, assuming he wasn’t lying about it
being a shapeshifter hiding among the elves. Extortion, threats, kidnappings and all kinds of other
underhanded methods was how he made a good deal of the money he was so proud of, so it definitely
sounded like something he’d try to pull, like the irredeemable scumbag he was. Even after he got paid he
would then either kill the other party off to cover his tracks, or send Leanne to do the job for him. She
hated cleaning after him, but she was bound by the Oath of the Deathwalker to follow his orders.
That was one part of Mortimer’s Hero selection process that she could really do without. Thankfully the
Oath also meant Accatau was sworn to ensure her survival, otherwise he’d probably have gotten her
killed off already. Then again, she’d have already slit his throat in his sleep if it didn’t work both ways,
so that was a moot point.
“Is that all?” asked the deity in question.
“Yes, that is all, great one,” said the woman with another respectful bow.
“Very good. I’ll contact you when you have an assignment for you. Off you go then.”
He waved a bony hand at Leanne, who felt the ground beneath her open up and swallow her whole. She
had the distinct impression of falling faster than seemed possible, before ‘landing’ back in her physical
body that had been left behind in the mortal realm. She had fallen over onto her face while Mortimer had
called her consciousness into the Aether, so her first order of business after waking up was to get off the
filthy floor.
Except that she couldn’t. When her senses finally came back to her in full, she was made aware of a
massive weight on her back, which was pinning her to the ground. She opened her eyes and looked
upwards in a panic, only to see Accatau’s brown-scaled body holding her down.
“You… You’re supposed to be dead,” she shouted in surprise and disbelief.

“Oh. Don’t worry. Your ‘friend’ is most certainly dead.”
However, the voice that came out of what looked like an adult raptor male clearly didn’t belong to it. It
was deep, clear, and surprisingly eloquent. Leanne’s heart was gripped with horror as she slowly
realized just who- what the thing on her back was. She began struggling on instinct, but in doing so
reciprocated the creature’s hostility, triggering an event that sealed her fate.

The Hero of Chaos will now face the Hero of Death on the field of battle!

Boxxy then bit into the girl’s neck with the raptor’s powerful jaws. She struggled and gushed blood all
over the place, but she was ultimately decapitated, and her head was spat out onto her lifeless body.
Clash of Fate has been resolved!

The Hero of Chaos has defeated the Hero of Death with a flawless victory!
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Usurper of Death
Proficiency level increased. Eyes of the Dead God is now Level 1.
“OH, COME ON!”
The Mimic then heard an incredulous and strangely familiar voice, but it couldn’t quite determine its
origin nor its owner. If it still had memory of meeting Mortimer, then it would have deduced that this
was merely Mortimer screaming in frustration all the way from the Aether. But it didn’t remember that
event, so the most the creature could determine was that it had come across some sort of disembodied
voice in a cabin that was completely deserted. And it was quite certain it was alone out here, because it
had searched this place top-to-bottom while waiting for the human woman to wake up. It was bizarre to
be sure, but it decided this wasn’t something to fret over too much.
All things considered, compared to the last time it killed a Hero, this much was nothing. After one-
sidedly deciding that, it then checked on the tasty new treat it had managed to get its tentacles on.
Eyes of the Dead God

Description: None can escape the gaze of death itself.
Type: Toggled (OFF)
Cost: 0 MP
Range: 5 kilometers
Effects: Reveals the name and HP of all targets within direct line of sight.
Targets that possess any Level of the Taboo Skill will be highlighted.
Targets that possess Level 10 or higher of the Taboo Skill will be visible through walls and
obstacles.
Well now, this was going to be useful. Wanting to try it out right away, the Mimic stepped away from the
corpse, looked at its reflection in the old mirror on the wall and turned the Skill on. It saw the visage of
Accatau staring back at it while it stood there stark naked and covered in fresh blood. Above its head it
saw two lines of mirrored text in red-and-orange lettering. The first one read ‘Boxxy T. Morningwood,’
while the other was simply ‘6232,’ denoting its current HP.
This was going to be very useful indeed. Being able to instantly gauge the HP of its opponent was a
good way to determine how strong they were. Admittedly, knowing the HP alone was not enough to
accurately assess how dangerous an opponent was, but it was much better than the big fat nothing it had
when facing off against Zilla. This alone made the creature extremely glad it decided to use Broken
Reflection on Accatau’s corpse, rather than Cadaver Absorption. It was a gamble that had paid off in
spades.
Speaking of which, there was still the matter of the fresh body it mutilated just moments ago. It returned
to the woman lying in a pool of her own blood and placed one clawed hand on her head, and another on
her back. It then mumbled ‘Broken Reflection’ under its breath, causing the woman’s flesh to get sucked
into its hands as if it was liquid being forced through a straw. Its body then immediately took on the
woman’s shape, in accordance to the Skill’s function.
It didn’t have to remain in this form, though. Nor did it necessarily need to use Accatau’s, either.
However, it had found that rifling through the stolen memories of the deceased was much easier while
using their likeness. And it needed to actively check on what that raptor knew about this hideout in order
to actually find it.
This rickety old house was actually handed down from one Hero of Death to the next, and Accatau had
no idea who the original owner was. Leanne, on the other hand, suspected it may have been someone in
the Elven Dominion. A fair assumption considering the queer magic that permeated this place. It was a
strange type of enchantment that would cause random people, monsters and animals to unwittingly
avoid this place while they were passing by. Heck, even if that Spell wasn’t in place, they’d still
probably get lost in the dense woods surrounding it.
In short, unless someone knew exactly where and what they were looking for, it was more or less
impossible to find it.
And since Accatau had this information in recent memory, it now belonged to Boxxy as well. Along
with the knowledge of a number of other safe houses across not only this continent, but also the southern
one. Very little of that was actually stored inside those two dead Heroes’ heads though. Accatau had left
behind a ledger containing all sorts of information useful to an assassin perpetually on the run from the
law. It was an old book that had definitely passed through many pairs of hands before it ended up in
Boxxy’s, and the Mimic was already eagerly listing through it. Hideouts, black market contacts, supply
caches, money deposits - all kinds of tasty goodies lie in wait, waiting to be picked up as needed.
Truthfully speaking, this information was the real reason it had come here. The fact that it saw the next
Hero of Death unconscious on the ground and decided to take advantage of it had been a happy little
accident. It knew of her, of course, but had expected her to vacate the area immediately, but it would
appear she felt safe in her little hidey-hole and decided to stick around until Mortimer contacted her.
An event that was now part of Boxxy’s memories. Through her, the creature had been given a rare
glimpse at Mortimer himself and was able to learn much about the deity on a more personal level. Not to
mention it was able to finally deduce the origin of that vocal complaint from earlier. Well, the God might
complain, but ultimately it was his own fault for picking such a terrible Hero like Accatau in the first
place. Boxxy just hoped that he wouldn’t reconsider his stance on wanting to claim the Mimic’s soul
now that it killed two of his Heroes in a single night. Or, more precisely, that he wouldn’t act on it and
lay down the divine smackdown on the impudent little box.
That was unlikely though, as Mortimer seemed a lot more level-headed than a certain blonde bimbo. But
even were he to try something, the Mimic was certain that Luigi would step in. Gods seemed to have
their own rules and regulations, and pulling stunts like what Teresa did was definitely against them. And
it also looked like the God of Misfortune was some sort of enforcer who took it upon himself to keep the
other deities in line. In other words, so long as Francis was Boxxy’s patron, then the Mimic had ‘the
law’ on its side.
Sort of.
Probably.
Hopefully.
Rowana and Keira walked hand in hand while stretching their legs around the plaza containing one of
Azurvale’s Forest Gates. It was still early morning and the winter season was already upon them, so the
weather was quite chilly to say the least. There was no snow just yet, but their warm breaths were
clearly visible in the cold air. The low temperature was also why they were wrapped up snugly in
matching fur coats, with the elf wearing a dark green one to accentuate her eyes while the catgirl’s was a
deep red to go with her signature hair color.
“I wish you didn’t have to go…” muttered Rowana for the upteempth time.
“I’ll be fine, Rowie,” said Keira while hugging her tightly from the side. “Mr. S will look after me, so
you have nothing to worry about, okay?”
The tall, cloaked figure of the Sandman flashed across the elf’s mind. She still a bit felt nervous about
his shady way of doing things, but it was impossible to argue with his results. Not only had he been
subtly looking out for her girlfriend throughout the war, but he was also instrumental in bringing her
back after she had gone missing for nearly a week. To doubt someone who’s done so much for her
sweetheart would only make her seem like an ingrate. It was beyond rude, especially considering the
girlfriend in question trusted him so much.
Still, even with his track record Rowana couldn’t feel completely comfortable with that hired killer
lurking around her Keira. The fact that he took some of her parents’ money for this job did not help
warm her up to the Sandman, either. Her rational mind told her that he was a trained professional doing
dangerous work, so expecting compensation for his services was the most natural thing in the world. In
fact, as Keira herself had pointed out last night, it would have been far more suspicious if he had offered
to do it for free, and the elf couldn’t help but agree with her.
“I know, I know. It’s just… I’ll miss you terribly.”
“I’ll miss you too, but it’s something I have to do. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”
The two then shared a short, sweet kiss on the lips while Keira continued to rub the elf’s shoulder
reassuringly. Rowana sighed contently, deeply grateful she no longer had to feel ashamed about her
being in a romantic relationship with another woman. She still came across bigots that gave her mean
looks every now and then, but none of them were stupid enough to actually harass them. She had to
admit, dating the Hero who brought about the end of that horrible war certainly had its perks.
“Ah, excuse me, miss Morgana?”
An unfamiliar voice called out from behind the pair, and they turned around to see a man in a long
brown coat. He was pushing around a wheelbarrow with a large wooden cask the size of an average
dwarf in it. Upon closer inspection, it was actually some sort of beer keg judging from the brass spigot
on one end of it. The words ‘Thunderbrew Prime Ale’ were burned onto its surface in large blocky print,
and it sloshed audibly from being moved around. Interestingly enough, Boxxy’s MLG had difficulty
peering into it, as for whatever reason the container seemed to have been lined with bronze plating.
“Yes? Can I help you?” responded Keira, sweet as honey.
“Ah, uhm, y-yes. I have a delivery for you, care of a miss Hilda. Oh, I was also told to give you this.”
He set the wheelbarrow carefully on the ground, pulled an unmarked envelope from inside his coat
pocket and handed it to her. The catgirl broke the wax seal on it, pulled out the folded piece of paper and
gave it a once over.
Heya, kitty-face!
Heard you were going after that trophy wife of yours and wanted to give my cute pupil a
little help. Unfortunately I’m not allowed back into Horkensaft for another year or so (long
story), so I got you the next best thing - a little social lubricant to help with the search.
Trust me, one cup of this stuff will turn any dwarf worth his stones into your best friend. I
know it seems like a bit much, but you shouldn’t underestimate how much drink we can put
away! Have tall, dark and gruesome carry it around for you if it’s too heavy.
Good luck out there,
Hilda
P.S. I’d appreciate it if you could get me a few dozen bottles of Firebrand whiskey on the
way back. Just make sure you don’t drop em or anything, stuff’ll go up like a bonfire.
“Yeesh, she really outdid herself this time,” muttered Keira. “Guess I have no choice but to accept,
huh?”
Of course there was no way Boxxy would turn down free booze. This stuff was basically liquid gold in
terms of value, so it could definitely rake in a good amount of profit by reselling it later.
“Uhm, excuse me, but could you load it up on that cart over there with the rest of the luggage?”
“Sure thing, miss Morgana.”
“Thanks, mister. I really appreciate you doing this!”
“Haha! Leave it to me!”
The delivery man went over to do as he was asked with a goofy grin on his face.
“You are the worst,” commented Rowana with a wry smile.
“What? That thing looked heavy! What’s the point of being famous if I can’t have other people carry
heavy things for me every now and then!?”
Keira was pretty much a celebrity these days, so her taking advantage of people like that had become
surprisingly commonplace for her. It was only concerning small and seemingly insignificant things, but
it was quite obvious from the elf’s point of view that the fame had gone to her girlfriend’s head
somewhat. Which was exactly what Boxxy wanted her to think. After all, it would be weird for a young
girl in her teens not to pick up some bad habits under these circumstances.
“Uh-huh. Just make sure you draw the line at delivery boys and restaurant bills, okay?” said Rowana
with her arms cross and a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, yeah…”
“What was in that barrel, anyway?”
“Ah, just a present from miss Hilda. See?”
Keira shared the letter with her, but the elf adopted a somewhat jealous expression when she started
reading it.
“What does she mean by trophy wife?”
“It’s just what she calls Fizzy to tease me,” said the catgirl with a bit of a pout. “She keeps calling me
‘Merry Popper’ and ‘kitty-face’ too. It’s honestly starting to get on my nerves.”
“What, you seriously get mad at kitty-face?”
“Of course I do!”
“It’s cute, though!”
“It’s offensive! That’s like me going around calling your people, y’know… twigs.”
The catgirl practically whispered that last part so as to avoid anyone overhearing her utter a racial slur in
public.
“S-sorry, sweetie,” apologized the elf awkwardly. “I had no idea.”
Truthfully speaking though, Boxxy had been in the same boat up until about 10 days ago when it came
across a rare book titled ‘The Desert Nomads’ in the Slyth family’s library. It was a comprehensive
study on beastkin customs, mannerisms and traditions. According to that book, it was considered
extremely rude within beaskin culture to reduce them to their animalistic features. Doing so implied they
were lesser beings undeserving of being treated as people, and was therefore regarded as an insult. The
Mimic was planning on using useful tidbits like these to make sure there were no gaps in its Facade.
Keira would probably have to meet with and talk to actual beastkin at some point or another, and she
needed to behave accordingly when the time came.
“And I take it ‘tall, dark and gruesome’ is your escort?” continued the elf in an effort to change the
subject.
“Yeah. Probably.”
“Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him all morning.”
“Mr. S said he’d meet me on the other side. He’s not much of a… people person.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” said the elf while rolling her eyes.
It was then that the nearby Forest Gate began its activation sequence, and Keira had to go attend to her
luggage on the communal cargo wagon. She and Rowana exchanged another few sets of goodbye hugs
and kisses before Boxxy was finally on its way to reclaim Fizzy. That was an important undertaking in
and of itself, but the fact that it finally got a break from that clingy elf was just another reason why it
was secretly eager to leave. After three solid weeks of wearing that mask, it was actually looking
forward to being itself for a while.
A notion that started pretty much the instant after it passed through the Forest Gate and found itself in
the town of Blackperch. Without wasting any time, Boxxy discreetly stowed away Keira’s luggage and
Hilda’s gift inside its Storage. It found a suitably secluded spot, called out its favorite Snack and sent the
djinn to go on ahead while it began asking around after Fizzy.
The Mimic was able to almost immediately catch wind of a mithril golem that had passed through here
about a month ago. As expected, there was no way the shiniest of shinies would fail to leave a lasting
impression. It even managed to find the adventurer escorts that she had hired for the trip. Something she
had probably done to keep up appearances rather than to actually have them serve as bodyguards. The
mere idea of her needing protection from weaklings like them was quite laughable, to say the least.
Not that it would say that to their faces, of course.
After talking a bit with them and applying some of Keira’s own brand of ‘social lubricant,’ it learned
that they were actually not too fond of Fizzy. She had apparently gotten one of their companions killed
during an improvised and unprovoked bandit subjugation expedition, so they were none too pleased with
having her as a client. Boxxy also confirmed that she had a travelling companion with her in the shape
of the blonde gnome with a thing for landmines that it met at New Whitehall. It was a lead that the
shapeshifter would be sure to follow up on once it reached its next destination - the city of Steelhead that
lay across the border.
The Mimic continued collecting information as best it could under the guise of Keira, but didn’t learn
anything else that was of particular relevance. With its business here concluded, it used Transfamiliar to
swap places with Xera, who had already flown out to about a distance of 80 kilometers away. That was
the current maximum range of the body-swapping Spell, as dictated by the size of the Mimic’s MP pool.
It was also a distance that the djinn could cover easily in just over two hours thanks to her ability to soar
through the sky. Once its MP had recharged somewhat, it summoned her back and sent her ahead once
again while it mostly just lazed around and idly hunted monsters for sport.
Proficiency level increased. Demonic Insight is now Level 8. INT +3. MNT +3.
You have learned a new Spell: Pandomenium.
Repeating the process a few more times caused the relevant Skill to finally advanced to the next Level.
The additional 1% increase to the effects of the Intelligence (INT) Attribute was welcome, though not
particularly noticeable. The subtle increase in the Mimic’s maximum MP pool and Spell damage paled
in comparison to the main point of the Demonic Insight Skill - the acquisition of another tasty Spell
from the Beyond.
Pandomenium
Requirements: Level 8 Demonic Insight
School: Other
Type: Area Effect
Cost: 35% of current MP
Range: 20 meters
Effects: Creates a 5-meter wide dome of chaotic energy from the Beyond, which will
persist for up to 10 seconds.
Non-demonic Spells that pass through Pandomenium will have their forms and elemental
alignments reversed.
The number and magnitude of Spells that can be altered in a single cast are proportional to
the MP consumed during casting.
Unfortunately, the Mimic was having a hard time wrapping its head around exactly what this Spell was
supposed to do. It would have probably grasped what it meant to have a Spell ‘reversed’ if it had studied
up on general magical theory, but it never saw the point in doing that. All the relevant knowledge
regarding a Warlock’s magic flowed into its mind automatically by virtue of simply Leveling Up its Job
and Skills, so it saw that sort of stuff as nothing but pointless trivia. After all, one didn’t need to know
the ins and outs of a horse’s anatomy in order to ride one.
But then again, horses didn’t burst into flames if you happened to put the saddle on backwards, so that
comparison wasn’t really apt.
Not to be perturbed, Boxxy decided the best way to confirm what this awkwardly-sounding
Pandomenium did was to simply test it out. The cloaked figure of the Sandman stepped off the
international highway and headed towards what looked to be a pine forest in the distance. Snack was
doing all the actual ‘legwork’ so it wasn’t like moving to a place well away from any potential prying
eyes would be a waste of time. The Mimic had judged it had gone far enough away from the main road
once it reached the outskirts of the forest. It picked a relatively flat clearing to use as a proving ground
and unleashed its newest Spell.
“Pandomenium!”
A highly transparent dome suddenly appeared in front the creature with a barely audible popping sound.
Boxxy could faintly see various colorful smudges crawl along its surface as the afternoon sun’s rays
passed through that seemingly thin film of magic. It looked pretty much like the top half of a gigantic
soap bubble, but the Mimic knew better than to trust appearances. Especially when it came to things that
hailed from the Beyond. Remaining firmly outside the range of the Pandomenium itself, the creature
unleashed the simplest, most basic Spell it knew into it.
“Shadowbolt!”
The mass of darkness and shadow flew out of Boxxy’s hand like normal.
Chaotic energies swirl around you. You will be unable to see green for the next 60 seconds.
Well, apart from the Chaotic Disposition Skill making its presence known. The trees and grass
surrounding the Mimic suddenly turned a dull, lifeless gray, with some slight hints of blue mixed in.
Before Boxxy could begin to silently complain about this thoroughly useless and distracting effect, its
magical projectile made contact with the edge of the magical bubble. It burst open on the spot, releasing
a beam of pure white light that continued along the path the projectile would have traveled. It passed
through the other side of the Pandomenium and hit a young pine tree that happened to be there. The
altered Spell enveloped the sapling in the blink of an eye, causing it to explode into a million splinters
with a loud bang.
Boxxy was struck momentarily speechless, as it had neither seen nor heard of a Spell like that. After
several seconds the magical bubble disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, and the Mimic
cautiously approached the remains of that tree. It inspected the wood chips thoroughly, comparing them
to the debris normally left behind by a Shadowbolt Spell.
Normally when that mass of darkness hit something, it tried to rip it to shreds from the outside, creating
a mess not too dissimilar to this one. However, that beam of light hadn’t pulled the sapling apart, but
rather forced it to burst open from the inside. It was a subtle difference that was difficult to tell from the
debris alone, but Boxxy was able to spot it. The Mimic handled explosives of both a magical and
physical nature on a regular basis, so it was quite fluent in the language of wanton destruction. It was
also worth noting that, although warm to the touch, none of the remaining splinters seemed to have been
burned or even singed.
Intrigued by this curious discovery, Boxxy decided to try a different Spell. It backed away from the blast
site and used it as its target for experiment number two. It threw up a Pandomenium over the field of
splinters and leaves, then unleashed one of its favorite Spells right in the middle of it.
“Dark Explosion!”
Rather than a surge of darkness that scattered everything about, what manifested instead was a flash of
semi-solid light that pulled everything around it towards the point Boxxy was aiming at. Grass, dirt and
stone were ripped out of the ground and compressed into a single ball of compact dirt, which then fell
into the newly created crater with a heavy thud. Once the magical inversion field had dissipated, the
Mimic unleashed a regular Dark Explosion next to it. The resulting destruction created a much messier
crater, but one that was quite similar in size to the first one, suggesting that the power involved was
roughly equal.
With its curiosity piqued even further, what Boxxy needed next was a live target. Luckily, it knew just
the woman for the job.
“‘Sup, boss?” asked Kora in a casual manner. “What are we gonna brutalize today?!”
The freshly summoned fiend slammed her fists together while sporting a toothy grin, clearly anticipating
a healthy dose of physical violence.
“You.”
However, the answer was not exactly what she was hoping for.
“… Come again?”
“I have a new Spell I need to try out. Stand still.”
It was at that moment that both color and enthusiasm began to drain from the fiend’s face. Repressed
memories of her being repeatedly used as a test dummy over and over flooded into her mind, causing
her to reevaluate certain things about her current life. Even if she was an Archfiend that could handle
taking punishment better than any other demon, her pain tolerance still had a threshold. And being
ripped apart, exploded, and otherwise smeared on the ground dozens of times in rapid succession was
well beyond it. She dreaded what was about to happen so much that she began to wonder if maybe she
should’ve taken Carl up on that dungeon mid-boss gig he offered a while back.
“Pandomenium!”
She didn’t get much of a chance to daydream though, as she had suddenly found herself enveloped by an
oddly familiar feeling. It was almost as if someone had brought a piece of the Beyond into the physical
realm, which made her feel comfortable and at ease, almost as if she was ‘home.’ Not the worst feeling
in the world, to be sure.
“What’s all this, Boss?” she blurted out while looking around in a confused manner.
“How do you feel, Arms?” asked Boxxy.
“Fine, I guess.”
“Any physical abnormalities or difficulty moving around?”
The fiend stretched and twisted her body around, but found nothing strictly out of place.
“Nope, not that I can tell.”
“Your sight and hearing are okay?”
“Mostly. I mean there’s this sort of oily filter over everything, but all it does is make things a bit blurry.
There’s also this funny smell, but I think that’s just general foresty stuff.”
“Okay. Try using a Martial Art.”
“Right. War Stomp!”
The two and a half meter tall mountain of muscle smashed the sole of her boot against the ground,
causing it to tremble furiously and split open here and there, but that was the end of it.
“I see,” said Boxxy thoughtfully.
There didn’t seem to be any adverse reactions to her actions, suggesting that this inversion field did not
have any effect on physical objects and did not interact with Martial Arts. This was kind of to be
expected considering the description window from earlier specifically said ‘Spells’ rather than just
‘magic,’ but this was good confirmation. On the other hand, it was also possible that Pandomenium
simply didn’t affect demons, so Boxxy was still wary about actually putting any part of its body inside
the Spell’s area of effect.
“Alright, let’s move onto the next phase.”
“N-next phase?”
Watching the cloaked figure become engulfed in the crackling arcane energy that followed the activation
of the Power Overwhelming Skill made Kora realize her Master was about to go all out. She sighed
depressingly as the Pandomenium was erected around her, followed by one of the most destructive
Spells in a Warlock’s arsenal.
The supercharged invisible guillotine flew out of Boxxy, then disappeared when it made contact with the
chaotic event horizon. Kora, who was still gritting her teeth in anticipation, felt something crash into her.
Her head screamed out in pain as if it was being split open, and she felt herself being blown back and
tumbling head-over-heels. Disoriented beyond belief, she looked down at herself in an effort to check
her condition, but saw nothing but grass gently swaying in the wind. She then looked up to see her own
body standing upright with its back towards her. The seemingly lifeless husk then tipped over backwards
and fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes as she looked on in both shock and horror.
This sort of trippy shit was most definitely not in the contract.
She then felt her world spin around once more as her body pulled her consciousness back into itself. She
immediately stood up while screaming, then began dry heaving from the overwhelming sensation of
vertigo. With Boxxy’s urging, she then described the bizarre out-of-body experience she had just gone
through, noting that her flesh was completely unharmed. This was very informative for the Mimic,
because from its perspective it just saw the demon’s eyes roll up into the back of her head before she fell
over for seemingly no reason. It didn’t even get a notification of damage done or a status effect being
inflicted which did not serve to alleviate its confusion.
Actually, ‘confusion’ might have been an understatement. Boxxy had absolutely no fucking idea why or
how that had happened, nor did it have the foggiest what ‘that’ even was. This was a huge problem in
and of itself, as it realized this new Spell was much trickier to use than it initially thought. While
Pandomenium had the potential to essentially double the amount of Spells it could use, the same could
be said for any magic users it could potentially be fighting against.
And therein lied the biggest problem - uncertainty. It was impossible for the current Boxxy to predict
how a given Spell would react to being reversed, which was a huge risk considering the sheer variety of
magic available to adventurers and monsters alike. Observing and recording all the possible Spell
interactions through trial and error was only asking to get a ball of lightning teleported into its head and
fry it from the inside out.
Admittedly that was something of an extreme example, but Boxxy still made the probably wise decision
to stop messing around with powers it did not understand. At least, not until it had a firm grasp on the
fundamentals of magic. It groaned somewhat at the thought of having to do all that ‘pointless’ studying,
but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, that knowledge might come in handy later when it decided to tackle
the mystery of the pink gem it inherited from Faehorn.
Boxxy began wandering through the forest going due east-by-southeast while pondering how it would
attain said magical education. Snack was still in-flight so it had quite a bit of time before it had to use
Transfamiliar again. Speaking of which, couldn’t it get the former succubus to tutor it? She was
surprisingly well versed on matters of magical theory and was a centuries-old Spell-slinger, so her
qualifications definitely seemed apt. Then again, that demon was not the best choice of teacher in the
world. Even if she was knowledgable, her personality was like that, and the Mimic couldn’t trust her to
keep her mind out of the gutter long enough to teach it properly.
Thankfully, Boxxy knew just where to find a good instructor, though that would have to wait until after
it had reclaimed Fizzy and returned to Azurvale. For now, it continued following along a forest trail
while keeping an eye out for any meat it could munch on while it waited for Snack to travel her route.
Kora, on the other hand, had been allowed to run wild and smash up anything she wanted for the time
being since the Mimic no longer needed her. As it idly traversed the pine forest, however, Boxxy
suddenly remembered what those adventurers back in the town of Blackperch had said concerning a
certain gang of bandits.
The one that Fizzy had reportedly wiped out for no other reason than ‘they were there.’
The Mimic had recalled this piece of information because it had happened upon what was left of that
criminal gang’s hideout during its walk. It was an overgrown stone ruin that had been some sort of fort
or temple long ago, with its own fortifications and walls. Some basic repairs seemed to have been
carried out by its latest residents, as there were some relatively new wooden ramparts and scaffolding
running along the outside and on top of the rectangular structure. Even though the walls had mostly
collapsed and everything of value had been looted, it definitely seemed like it could be used as a
halfway decent shelter against the oncoming winter.
At least it would be, were it not for the curious gnome-sized hole in the side of the large stone building.
Boxxy investigated the opening and went through it into some kind of large hall, which had been the
scene of a massacre. Dozens upon dozens of dried up corpses were strewn about. Some had been picked
at by the local wildlife, but the majority of them were left to rot. While thinking it was a horrible waste
of good meat, Boxxy then began to recognize certain patterns among the bodies.
Almost all of them had either their arms, knees, skulls, pelvic bones, or any combination of those
smashed up into dust. The wide-pattern dried-up blood splatter told an unspeakable tale of the sheer
viciousness with which their lives had been ended. What few pieces of furniture were present at the
scene had been smashed up into splinters by having either a weapon, a dead bandit or a very enthusiastic
golem plough through them. There were also various cracks along the stone floor and walls doubtlessly
caused by Fizzy’s dense body jumping around all over the place in order to keep her opponents off
balance. The various scorch marks left behind here and there were evidence enough of just how many
offensive Spells she had avoided while one-sidedly slaughtering her prey.
As someone who could teach a university course on the subject of murder, Boxxy could easily tell this
was not the scene of something like an extermination or a subjugation. It was not a mission carried out
for the sake of punishing criminals or collecting bounties - it was far too messy for that sort of thing.
This kind of visceral violence could only be the result of a pissed off golem taking her frustrations out
on a bunch of squishy meatbags. The Mimic could practically see Fizzy’s radiant mithril form moving
from victim to victim, pummeling them into a thick paste while caked in delicious blood and brains. All
while smiling wildly with that manic spark in her eyes, all because they happened to be there.
She had attacked them without warning and for seemingly no reason, just like a real monster would.
This wasn’t like her, though. Even though Fizzy was certainly a psychotic murderer that felt no remorse
or guilt, she had never run wild to this extent before. She normally maintained a certain degree of
composure and control over herself, but the golem that had ploughed through this place was not like
that. The monster that had happened upon these poor sods was an unbridled monster that was no longer
even trying to keep up the pretense of being a person for the sake of Boxxy’s Facade. It somehow made
the Mimic rather pissed off, as it felt like it had missed out on a one-of-a-kind performance that could
only be described as art in motion.
With its mood suddenly turning a bit sour, Boxxy decided to scour the place for any shiny things that
might have been left behind. However, it seemed like the golem had already beaten it to the punch and
taken everything of value. The store room had been ransacked, all the corpses had been searched over,
and some of the presumably better quality weapons and armor were taken. Some of the victims even
seemed to have had their teeth pulled out, most likely because they had gold on them.
The Mimic was honestly impressed at how thoroughly the place had been looted. It had been somewhat
disappointed in Fizzy after finding out she had abandoned an entire treasure trove back in the tunnels
beneath Azurvale, but this was a lot more encouraging. One area that she seemed to have more or less
ignored, however, had been the partially caved-in wine cellar. Probably with good reason, too, as Boxxy
found very little of value among the rows of rotten wooden casks.
Nevertheless, the Mimic did discover something of value while it was inspecting that basement. Tucked
away in a corner of this confined space was an odd thing that looked like a makeshift altar or shrine.
Someone had taken a bunch of displaced stone bricks from the ruins above, stacked them up to about 80
centimeters high, and then draped a suspiciously clean white cloth over them. A row of six candles were
lined up on top of it, all of which had completely burned out and were left as nothing more but lumps of
wax with no wick.
Using the Ranger’s Tracking Skill, Boxxy was able to determine that whoever made this place had been
here up until 2 or 3 days ago, and haven’t returned since. This mystery person also seemed to have been
obsessed with a certain image. One that looked like a caricature of a laughing face with a pair of bulbous
horns on either side of it. It looked like some sort of laughing demon at first glance, but Boxxy couldn’t
help but think it was actually intended to portray the Mimic’s shiniest shiny.
This odd graffiti had been carved a grand total of 64 times into the surrounding brick walls, wooden
casks and stone floor. About half of those illustrations were found around the altar itself, while the
others were placed seemingly at random throughout the cellar. While combing the area for any more
clues regarding Fizzy, the Mimic had come across an old leather-bound journal tucked away beneath a
loose brick in the floor.
Boxxy broke off the small lock on it and started listing through it out of curiosity. It seemed to have
belonged to an adventurer called Mark Millhouse, a name that the Mimic had heard several hours ago. It
was the Rogue that had went missing during Fizzy’s detour to this place. Apparently he had been sent
with her as a guide and a scout, and was presumed dead by his former teammates when he failed to
return. Those fools were actually still mourning him back in Blackperch, completely unaware that he
was alive and well.
Though perhaps ‘well’ was too strong a word. He was probably still of sound body, but what he had
written here made it clear his mind was in bad shape. The first sign of his mental decline was the fact
that he had apparently been using his own blood instead of ink to write this journal. Not just the latest
entries, but the earlier ones too, going as far back as three years ago.
According to his writings, something about witnessing all of the horrible things that Fizzy had done to
those people had captivated him. He had become strangely enamored with the ‘whirlwind of pure
violence,’ as he called her, and ended up carelessly approaching the rampaging golem. Which was when
his head had been cracked open by what he initially believed to have been a stray wrench swing.
The journal then details how he woke up an unknown amount of time later while covered in his own
blood and laying face-down in the wine cellar, with no idea how he had gotten there. From that point on
both the words and the handwriting become erratic and disjointed as he described living in that basement
for the better part of the month. At some point he had changed over to using monster blood for ink,
because his own bodily fluids had, in his own words, run out.
It was at this point that Boxxy realized this Mark Millhouse had died by Fizzy’s hand, and had later risen
as an undead being, though he himself seemed somehow unaware of that fact.
His second-to-last entry rambled incoherently about spreading ‘the truth’ among the populace and how
he hoped to attain the ‘ultimate beauty’ that the ‘divine maiden’ had shown him. The next 50 or so pages
were filled with bloody variations of the Fizzy caricature he had also etched into the walls and floor. The
very last page was filled with yet more crazy talk about blood, violence, and death, punctuated with a
rather ominous ‘It’s time.’ That was the last thing he had written before he had moved on from this
place.
Even a monster as twisted and devious as Boxxy was able to recognize this creature was a danger to all
living things. It wasn’t hard to imagine he’d go on to become some sort of serial killer or infamous
monster, which would mean he’d get a bounty and Boxxy would be able to claim it. As amusing as that
thought was, however, the Mimic was far more intrigued by something the oblivious undead dwarf
called his ‘final treasure,’ which he apparently buried somewhere outside.
Elated that its search had finally paid off, the Mimic instantly left the filthy cellar and neglected ruins as
it scoured the surrounding area for ‘the holy mark.’ It found said mark, which was really just another
crude image of a laughing Fizzy, carved into an old pine tree. Boxxy eagerly inspected the surrounding
soil for anything out of place, finding a large drum-like container buried nearby.
The creature’s enthusiasm disappeared instantly, as it had a pretty good idea what the ‘treasure’ was. It
still dug it up though, only to confirm that the object in question was indeed a bronze-lined wooden keg
with the words ‘Thunderbrew Prime Ale’ burned into it. This one looked slightly older and was
significantly lighter than the one Hilda had given it, which did not help the situation at all. Feeling a bit
cheated after getting its hopes up, Boxxy kicked the alcohol container in a fit of rage, sending it
careening into a nearby tree. The old barrel cracked open from the impact, and a trickle of brown, frothy
liquid began leaking out of it and spilling across the ground.
The thoroughly annoyed Mimic calmed down a bit as it watched the perfectly good drink waste away. It
then realized it never even once thought of tasting this Thunderbrew stuff, which struck it as a bit odd.
This was, after all, a creature whose first response to encountering something new was to inquire
whether it was tasty or not. But it hadn’t actually done that this time around, because it had already
dismissed it purely because it was an alcoholic drink.
Frankly speaking, Boxxy hated the taste of alcohol. It had tried various kinds of drinks, including ale,
whiskey, bourbon, rum, even that weird gnomish liquor called vodka, but found all of them to be
particularly nasty. It couldn’t even get buzzed let alone drunk, as it had way too much Endurance (END)
for that sort of thing to happen.
At the same time, however, dwarven liquor was said to be the best across the continent, and was widely
considered to be in a league of its own. Yet Boxxy had never even tried it, preferring instead to sell it for
a tidy sum and expand its collection of shiny things. And since nobody in their right mind would buy a
ruptured keg like this, it thought that it might as well give it a shot. After all, it wouldn’t want to miss
out on something tasty because of some preconceived notions. Worst case scenario was it would be
unbelievably nasty, in which case Boxxy could just cleanse its palate by indulging in its favorite Snack.
With that in mind, the Sandman-shaped shapeshifter approached the cracked keg, lifted it up off the
ground and took in a small mouthful of the frothy liquid that was pouring out of it.
Boxxy woke up the next morning in the wilderness with no recollection of where it was or how long it
had been out. It immediately leapt to its feet in a panic, only to realize that it had at some point reverted
to its base form. It then quickly donned the Sandman disguise, but was then shocked to find out that a
bunch of its shinies were no longer in its Storage. Thankfully, it didn’t have to search for its missing
goods for long, as a simple look at its surroundings revealed their location.
Snack was on the ground in the face down ass up position, with a belly that had been stretched out to
seemingly impossible proportions. She was licking up the mud her face had been buried in and letting
out muffled moans while gently swaying her posterior left to right, grinding her nipples into the coarse
dirt below in the process. Her hands were holding onto her plump butt cheeks and were spreading apart
the pliable flesh as her exposed rectum expelled gold coin after gold coin from her overstuffed bowels.
Claws was also nearby for some reason, except that she had been stabbed through the chest by Keira’s
mithril rapier and pinned to a nearby tree trunk some 5 or so meters up in the air. The Stalker blushed
fiercely and tried to cover her face with her arms when she and her Master momentarily locked eyes.
She also began chittering and squealing to herself while fidgeting around, although she failed to produce
any meaningful words.
Turning around, the utterly confused Mimic then spotted what should have been the old ruins it had been
investigating before it blacked out. Except that the stone structure had been razed to the ground, and the
resulting debris had been rearranged into the crude shape of a giant treasure chest. The dessicated bodies
of the bandits that used to be inside were now arranged along the upper part of the rounded lid, spelling
out ‘SUCK MY DICKS.’ The whole thing was being held together by copious amounts of Stalker
webbing, and Arms was standing on top of it while laughing maniacally without any clothes or armor
on.
That was the day that Boxxy learned two very important things about itself. The first life lesson was that
consuming an alcoholic drink that had been alchemically imbued with its Bane was a bad idea. The
second one was that the Mimic was the type of drunk that thought everything sounded like a good idea,
regardless of how idiotic it truly was.
Gun Tarum was the capital of the Horkensaft Kingdom. It was an ancient dwarven city, built before The
Great Unification brought the gnomes and dwarves together under the same banner over a millenium
ago. It had been situated on the mouth of a long-dormant volcano known as Blackthroat Mountain, at an
altitude where the air was much thinner than one might expect. The entire city was surrounded on all
sides by a roughly 60-meter tall ring of solid black rock with countless tunnels dug through it in order to
provide ease of access.
The various stone buildings oozed of traditional dwarven architecture, categorized by having six walls.
The streets themselves were arranged in a hexagonal pattern, making it quite easy for visitors to get
turned around and lost if they weren’t careful. Then again, if that were to happen one needed only look
towards the Obsidian Palace where the king lived in order to get their bearings. The pitch black castle
stood in the middle of the bowl-shaped city, towering over any and all structures in the surroundings,
making it stick out like a sore thumb at a pinkie convention.
Another easy-to-spot landmark was the infamous Gun Tarum Foundry District. It was so dense with
forges, workshops and refineries that the combined cloud of black smoke they belched out blocked out
most of the sunlight over that part of the city. Looking over the capital also made it easy to spot a large
coliseum with numerous colorful tapestries adorning its outer wall. This one was without a doubt much
fancier and larger than the one in Azurvale, making it look like a cheap knock-off by comparison.
However, none of those things interested Boxxy. The Mimic had come here following Fizzy’s trail,
which as expected was quite noticeable. It barely even got the words ‘mithril golem’ out of Keira’s
mouth before it was bombarded with rumors of her passing through the gnomish border town of
Steelhead. The most prevalent story had her cut off some poor boy’s arm off and then went to beat his
friend into a bloody pulp, all because they looked at her the wrong way.
It seemed like something she’d do, but Boxxy somehow doubted that was what happened. Rumors like
those had a tendency to get distorted quite fast, and it heard various versions of that particular rumor.
The most ridiculous of which was the one claiming she had apparently befriended a pickpocket who
tried to steal from her. Still, it managed to work its way through all of that nonsense and get its tentacles
on a solid lead that was impossible to distort through word of mouth. According to a cargo manifest it
‘appropriated,’ a one-armed mithril golem had been loaded onto something called a ‘mag-rail’ and then
eventually brought here, to Gun Tarum.
However, the Mimic didn’t ride on that mysterious snake-like vehicle to get to the capital like Fizzy had
done. Apparently it had just missed its departure, and the next one was not scheduled to arrive for
another few days. Riding on one was supposed to have been a fun and pleasant experience, but Boxxy
had been separated from its prized shiny far too long and was already growing impatient. Therefore, it
had ended up covering the entire thousand kilometer or so distance from Steelhead to the capital the
hard way.
Which basically boiled down to having Snack do all the actual legwork while it sampled the local
wildlife. It had taken a day and a half to do all that, which was roughly twice as fast as Artificer-made
train anyway. Now that it was here, however, it was at a bit of a loss. It stared aimlessly over the city
from its perch atop the wall of volcanic rock, wondering where to start. The coliseum seemed like it
would be worth a look, as Fizzy absolutely loved being an arena fighter back in Azurvale. Being able to
indulge in her violent side while thousands of people cheered her on definitely made her satisfied as a
golem, so it went to reason she’d try that again.
Unfortunately, it would seem Boxxy’s guess had been off the mark, as nobody in the coliseum knew
anything of a mithril golem. The same went for any of the inns and shops it visited, and even asking
around the Foundry District where she would have gone to repair her arm had proven to be a bust. A few
of the smiths there seemed to recall seeing a shiny gnome walking around a few weeks ago, but that was
the extent of it.
It would appear her passage through Gun Tarum had been much quieter compared to the uproar she had
caused back in Steelhead.
The Mimic kept walking around town aimlessly under Keira’s guise. The sun had already ducked behind
the volcanic wall surrounding the city, and was just about to set if the red sky overhead was any
indication. The shapeshifter had spent the better half of today working its charms on the local
population, but it had all been for naught. It had also been a long while since it last slept, leaving it both
mentally and physically exhausted. Under those circumstances, it decided to pack it in for the day and
get some rest, then return to the search tomorrow.
That being said, the question of where to actually sleep came into mind. Being in this new place
surrounded by all this new stuff made it feel a bit uneasy, as it didn’t want to just pick an inn at random.
A pretty girl in a strange town all on her own - it wouldn’t be strange if some unscrupulous individuals
tried to make a move on Keira while she slept. They would fail miserably and be eaten, of course, but
Boxxy hated having its rest interrupted, and it needed to be sharp and on its toes if it was to have a
productive day.
Which was when it remembered the ultimate safe haven for any drifters, travelers and shady individuals
alike - the Mercenary Guild. Sure, the price of a room for non-members was rather steep, but it was well
worth it given the level of security they had over there. Soundproof walls, sturdy locks and even guards
patrolling the hallway all served as deterrents to keep small-time scum away.
Having made up its mind, the creature ducked into a dark, secluded corner where it changed back into
the Sandman. The tall brooding figure was much closer to a mercenary than a bubbly catgirl, so it was
sure this Facade would invite less trouble. It could have just come up with a temporary persona, of
course, but it was far too tired to bother with that.
After asking some directions from people almost half its size, Boxxy was able to find the Mercenary
Guild’s Gun Tarum branch office. It was probably the only four-walled wooden building in the entire
city, so it wasn’t all that difficult to track down. It slowly opened the front door and stepped through it,
though it had to bend down quite a bit to fit inside. This building had been built mostly with dwarves
and gnomes in mind, so giants like the Sandman had to hunch over to avoid banging their head against
the ceiling. The Mimic was already regretting being too lazy to come up with a new Facade, but that
feeling was momentarily forgotten when it laid eyes who was behind the counter.
At the bar stood a wrinkled old dwarf wearing a long-sleeved off-white tunic and slightly baggy dark
gray pants, ending in a pair of town shoes that were beige in color. He had a thick brown beard with
streaks of gray in it and his head was almost completely bald. The face was extremely familiar, as
Boxxy has had dealings with him before. More importantly, the barman/receptionist also knew of
Boxxy.
Or rather, he knew of the Mimic’s first ever Facade, which bore a striking resemblance to the Sandman.
“Ah, Mr Morningwood I presume?” called out Grog while putting way the glass he was pretending to
clean. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”
The one behind the bar was the same man that had serviced the creature many months ago, back when it
was killing other monsters for gold in Erosa - the same city where Boxxy and Fizzy first met. The
Mimic was barely able to contain the urge to cringe as it recalled how socially inept it was back then. It
was now much sharper and capable of picking up on certain social cues, which was why the dwarf’s
tone of voice struck it as a bit odd.
The cloaked figure shuffled silently over to the bar, then sat cross-legged on the ground in front of it.
Even like this it could maintain eye contact with the much smaller receptionist, which was much more
comfortable than having to crane its neck down at people. The other adventurers in the restaurant stared
at it for a while but, as was Mercenary Guild tradition, quickly resumed minding their own goddamned
business.
“You don’t seem surprised,” said the Sandman.
“Yeah, well, what can I say,” said the old dwarf with a crooked smile. “When I heard tale of a cloaked
giant fighting in the Cataclysm Conflict, I couldn’t help but think it was you. And when I saw a certain
someone drop by a few weeks ago, I got a feeling you might show up.”
The Sandman’s yellow eyes instantly lit up, just as Grog had expected.
“Fizzy was here?” it asked eagerly.
“Yup. Though if you want to know-”
*Clack*
The dwarf had barely even begun to request payment when a bag of gold was dropped onto the counter.
He smiled to himself as he pocketed it, quite happy with the amount of money inside, as well as the total
profit he’d made from selling information regarding Fizzy up until that point. Mr Morningwood had
made the largest deposit by far, though, so he would be sure to provide him with the appropriate level of
service.
“I assume you want to know everything?” he asked for confirmation.
“Yes,” came the immediate reply. “As much as you can tell me.”
The dwarf then began divulging everything he knew about the shiny golem. The first thing she’d done
after coming here had been to do a bunch of Quests in order to afford getting her arm fixed up. Grog
testified to having personally seen her restored to pristine condition, cursed shield-gauntlet and all,
which made Boxxy feel rather ecstatic. It had to admit, it liked the golem much better back when she
had both arms attached, so it was looking forward to their reunion even more.
Surprisingly enough, Fizzy had also managed to acquire two pawns of her own. One was a gnomish boy
with a prosthetic arm, the other was a dwarven Shaman and Bard that was a full member of the guild. It
was a move Boxxy approved of, as no matter how powerful or shiny an individual was, fighting as part
of a group drastically raised one’s chances of survival. The Mimic itself would have died long ago if it
didn’t have Snack to rely on after leaving the dungeon it was born in.
Nevertheless, while there was safety in numbers, that only applied if the group actually worked well
together and respected authority within the party. And judging from how Fizzy’s new posse was able to
kill multiple cyclopi without suffering any injury, their teamwork definitely seemed to be on point. Their
loyalties also weren’t in question since it would appear that both Moss the gnome and Drummir the
dwarf owed their lives to her. If they had been monsters it would have been another story, but it was fine
since those two were people, and as such respected things like life debts. That didn’t mean they’d never
betray her, but it would at least make them much more hesitant to stab her in the back.
The least surprising piece of information was the fact that Fizzy had gotten herself renamed off the
books by abusing a legal loophole concerning golems. Her new name was now officially Fizzy
Rustblood, though Grog himself seemed quite puzzled as to why she would do something like that.
Boxxy knew, though. Fizzy absolutely despised her old self, to the point of getting borderline violent
when someone called her by her given name rather than her nickname.
The only mystery here was why she waited this long to have the label of ‘Cornie Fizzlesprocket’ purged
from her Status.
As for where she was right now, the only thing the dwarf could say was that she went north to a place
called Dragunov, which was within spitting distance of the Vault Beneath the Mountain. It was painfully
clear to Boxxy she had gone to try and open it in order to claim whatever shinies were inside, much like
the two of them had talked about. The Mimic had to admit, this Fizzy was much more proactive than the
one that was bound to its service, which was definitely a good thing. Having minions that could think
and decide things for themselves was most assuredly a tasty thing, as orders were not infallible.
“So then if I go to this city called Dragunov, I can find Fizzy?” asked the monster for confirmation.
“Possibly. However, there’s been a troubling lack of news from that place as of late. The mag-rail
express running from here to there hasn’t come back for a little over two weeks. It could be the train had
broken down and people are just waiting for it to be fixed rather than risk traversing the old monster-
infested highway. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it’s never taken this long before. I can’t help
but worry that something terrible has happened.”
“Sorry, but the most I can offer is baseless speculation,” said the dwarf with an apologetic shrug. “We
haven’t gotten any news from our sister office over there since the break, so your guess is as good as
mine.”
“I see,” stated the Sandman thoughtfully. “Is there a finder’s fee for finding out what’s going on over
there?”
“Heheheh,” chuckled Grog while shaking his head. “It is good to see you are as business-oriented as
always, Mister Morningwood, but I’m afraid I must disappoint. There’s been no such Quest issued to us,
nor to any other major guilds. At least, not to my knowledge.”
Boxxy wasn’t actually looking to make money this time around, though. It was simply curious whether
other adventurers had been sent to investigate, which didn’t seem to be the case. It would appear the
people of the capital were just now starting to get worked up over Dragunov’s silence.
“We do, however, have a rather rich selection of commissions available if you’re interested.”
The old dwarf gestured at the Quest Board near the bar in an expectant manner.
“No, thank you,” it declined. “I’d just like a room for the night. A quiet one.”
Part of it wanted to depart and rush to Fizzy’s side at once, but showing up in a sleep-deprived and
catatonic state to a potentially volatile situation was not a smart decision. Besides, whatever was going
on in the city of Dragunov had started at least two weeks ago. It was highly unlikely that blindly rushing
over there right away would make any sort of difference. Resting up while it could and challenging the
mystery of what, if anything, had happened over there on a clear head was definitely the call here.
Not to mention that it also had a loose end to tie up in this city first.
After paying for the room, the Sandman briskly walked upstairs and locked the door. It then summoned
Snack, causing the voluptuous demon to appear before it in a flash of light.
“Greetings, my Master,” she said with a respectful curtsy. “How may your Snack assist you tonight?”
She looked around the modest room, her eyes lingering on the bed. It was painfully clear she was
imagining all sorts of naughty things and pointlessly getting her hopes up, but Boxxy was too exhausted
to deal with her perversions.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, I have a very important mission for you,” it stated bluntly. “I want you
to tail that Grog person on the ground floor discreetly, find out where he sleeps. Then purge his
memories of me and Fizzy from his head, both recent and long-term.”
That dwarf was a security risk that the Mimic didn’t want floating around. Considering the Inquisition
stuff going on in the Empire right now, it was actually a stroke of luck he was way over here. Needless
to say, it wanted to eliminate any possible connections that could be established between the Cataclysm
and the Sandman.
“Be as thorough as you need to be, but try not to kill him if you can help it,” it added. “Too many people
saw us talking and I don’t need the Sandman needlessly becoming a murder suspect. Once you’re done,
head north along the rail so I can get a head-start on the trip tomorrow. Now hop to it.”
The djinn was obviously disheartened she wouldn’t be getting boned tonight, but still managed to reign
in her supernatural libido long enough to respond accordingly.
“… If that is my Master wish, then as your genie it is my duty to see it fulfilled.”
The actual ‘mission’ would be a walk in the park for her current self. Her Mist Form combined with her
Invisibility allowed her to bypass virtually any physical security measures. An ability she demonstrated
immediately by turning into a highly transparent cloud that left the room silently through the gap under
the door. Her particular method of infiltration would fail to bypass magical wards and such, though it
was unlikely some lowly bartender would have those in place.
Boxxy then summoned Drea once its MP had recovered a bit, and ordered her to guard it while it slept
and make sure its rest wasn’t disturbed. The Stalker demon was very much overjoyed to hear her
assignment, as watching Boxxy sleep for a whole night was one of her favorite things to do. With
everything in place, the Mimic curled up into the chest-bound form it was most comfortable with and
fell asleep almost immediately afterwards.
It woke up the next morning at the crack of dawn, feeling extremely refreshed and full of energy.
“Good morning, Master! Did you sleep well?”
“Good morning, my Master. That vile baldy has been quietly relieved of his memories as per your
orders.”
Drea greeted it with a huge smile from the upper corner of the room while Xera reported she’d done her
part without a hitch. Boxxy went out of its room and checked downstairs to inspect her handiwork. It
saw Grog nursing a killer headache over at the bar while hunched over a bowl of warm soup,
presumably a homebrew hangover cure of some kind.
The Sandman passed through the restaurant nonchalantly to see what sort of reaction Grog would have.
The bartender threw the shady mercenary a curious glance, he didn’t seem at all interested in calling out
to him. He obviously failed to recognize the hooded figure, and his body language seemed to imply his
head hurt way too much to deal with some gigantic stranger prancing about. Frankly speaking, it was a
wonder he hadn’t been reduced to a babbling idiot considering how much information had been ripped
out of him last night.
The Mimic would likely return to permanently silence him later on, but had more important things to
worry about right now.
Having concluded its business in the dwarven capital, Boxxy immediately began going north along the
train tracks Grog had mentioned last night. It traveled in much the same fashion as it had done over the
past few days - by letting Snack do all the actual traveling while it eagerly hunted for breakfast. The
distance between Gun Tarum and Dragunov clocked in at about 300 kilometers, which the Mimic could
cover in about 7 hours by using this leisurely method. It was actually even less considering it had
ordered the djinn to go on ahead while it slept.
“Master, there is an… obstacle in my path.”
However, Snack had delivered a rather questionable report shortly before what should have been either
the last or second-last Transfamiliar jump before reaching the city.
“Then fly over it!” it snarled in response as it was ripping apart some kind of monstrous tortoise.
“I don’t think I can fly that high, Master.”
“Why not? What is it that’s in your way?”
“It’s… hard to describe. I guess you could call it a wall of ice, snow and thunder that reaches up into the
heavens.”
“… What kind of ‘obstacle’ is that?”
“This worthless slut has no idea, my Master. I have never seen anything like it before.”
“Alright, I’ll take a look for myself. Land in a secure spot and standby for Transfamiliar.”
A long chant, an interdimensional hop and a puff of green smoke later, the cloaked figure of the
Sandman appeared on top of a small plateau. Once the customary moment of disorientation passed,
Boxxy was made instantly aware of how much colder it was around here. Chilly weather was to be
expected considering winter was about to go into full swing, but the difference between its previous and
current position was like night and day.
As for the source of this thermal discrepancy, it was so painfully obvious that Boxxy could spot it even
with its eyes closed.
A snowstorm of unimaginable proportions was swirling roughly a kilometer away due north. Looking
left, right or up made it impossible to tell where it began and where it ended. Thick clouds of white and
gray surged back and forth at unimaginable speeds, blotting out both the sky and the horizon. Numerous
flashes of lightning could be seen within the massive storm, drowning the Mimic’s surroundings in
thunderous echoes. The howling tempest was so intense that it almost seemed like the entire pantheon of
gods had gathered together and unanimously declared ‘fuck this place in particular.’
A dreadful chill ran down Boxxy’s spine as it stared at this unspeakable storm front. However, it wasn’t
due to the frigid winds that could be felt all the way over here, nor was it a byproduct of the sheer awe it
felt at witnessing the unbridled fury of this clearly unnatural phenomenon. It wasn’t even the grim
realization that not only was this colossal whiteout showing no signs of abating, but it actually seemed to
be growing ever-so-slightly larger.
No, what the Mimic was worried about was something far more personal, though not something quite as
mundane as the very real threat of being struck by lightning. It was a possibility that had no evidence or
facts to support it, and would make very little logical sense. At least, not until one considered the timing
involved, coupled with the nature of the patron deity that Boxxy and a certain mithril golem had in
common.
It was the nagging feeling that Fizzy had caused a Calamity of her own.
The clockwork heartbeat of the city of Dragunov had gone silent. It was just a few weeks ago that the
sound of factories, foundries and workshops working at peak efficiency had dominated these streets. The
cacophony of it all had been so extreme that living in the city was impossible unless one used a set of
special noise-filtering earplugs to dull the war cry of industrial revolution. And yet the ongoing march of
progress had been stopped dead in its tracks, turned into a frozen wasteland that no longer saw the sun.
That wasn’t to say that all life had been extinguished, however. Although the various machinery, golems
and automata throughout the town had iced over and broken down completely, the citizens were still
very much alive. They had huddled together into several huge camps, using whatever Spells, magic
items and alchemical supplies they had on hand to stave off the cold. The gnomes and dwarves of
Horkensaft were a hardy people, so they wouldn’t let a little whiteout break their spirit.
Unfortunately, that sentiment was already 17 days old. With food dwindling and the storm showing no
signs of abating, the citizens naturally grew more and more desperate. Whatever adventurers,
mercenaries and guards were around had their hands full keeping the peace, but it was only a matter of
time before the volatile situation came to a head. The grim future of neighbor killing neighbor over stale
bread or two-year old canned beans seemed all but inevitable.
Those were the thoughts of one Sergeant Frostbrand. The aptly-named dwarven soldier had been
stationed at a small outpost about thirty kilometers due west of the city prior to the appearance of this
damnable whiteout. He and his men were forced to relocate to Dragunov when the storm hit, and were
currently responsible for maintaining the security of one of the civilian camps on the southern edge of
the city.
The officer had been tossing and turning in his bedroll for the past six hours or so, though he was hardly
the only one. At least a dozen other men were in the room with him, drifting in and out of sleep much
like he was. They were all huddled around a metal heater, which burned with alchemically-treated coal
normally reserved for refining stubborn ores like mithril and orichalcum. The stuff gave off a steady
flame and lasted for a long while, so it served as a decent enough heating element of which the city had
copious amounts of.
Unfortunately, while heat wasn’t exactly a worry, almost everything else was. Having to ration food and
drink meant that everybody was always hungry and constantly thirsty. Admittedly this was the ‘aching
for a pint’ kind of thirst rather than straight up dehydration, but it still contributed to the overall feeling
of misery and put people on edge. To say that morale was in tatters would be a gross understatement.
“Sarge! Sarge!”
The gloomy atmosphere was suddenly pierced by a loud and strangely energetic voice coming from just
beyond the former storeroom’s door. Frostbrand grumbled under his breath as he crawled out of the
relatively warm confines of his bedroll dressed only in his underclothes. He hurriedly put on his beige
trousers, crawled into a gray sweater and finally put on a black coat with frightening speed. He hopped
into his boots and stood up just in time to see the one who had been calling for him open the door.
“Sarge!” shouted the baby-faced dwarf with all his might.
“Keep it down, you idiot!” barked Frostbrand. “What did I tell you about conserving your energy?!”
“But Sarge! The lookouts spotted someone approaching the perimeter!”
“What, is it a runner from the other camps? Or a straggler who’s just now coming in?”
“Neither! It’s a stupidly tall figure coming in from the south, along the rail line! We think he’s coming in
from outside the storm!”
Those words lit a fire under the Sergeant’s arse. As dubious as it was, this was still the best news they’d
heard in over two weeks. Frostbrand ordered the men to get in gear while he followed the private out of
the room and out into the cold outdoors. He hurriedly dashed through the streets and climbed up the
city’s perimeter wall, all while ignoring the people that were calling out to him. He ran over to where the
lookouts were gathered, who greeted him with a curt salute when they saw him approach.
“Where is he?!” asked the dwarf in a borderline desperate manner. “Where’s our visitor?!”
“Over there, sir. Right on the mag-rail track.”
Frostbrand peered over the icy wastes in the direction his subordinate was pointing at. There was a thick
gray cloud covering up the entire sky, a raging snowstorm in full swing off towards the horizon, and the
ground was dyed almost completely pure white by ice and snow. This bleak scenery was more or less
unchanged ever since this mess started, which was why the newcomer stood out like a sore thumb.
Unfortunately he appeared as little more than a black speck surrounded by an aura of bright flames that
completely obscured his features. The only thing that could be discerned about this stranger was his
height, which was much greater than any dwarf, human or elf the commanding officer had seen.
“Send him a signal!” he ordered. “Let him know we’re here!”
Someone behind him shot out a Fireball high into the sky in accordance with his orders. It seemed to
have worked, as the stranger changed their course and headed right for them. It was almost like a
flaming boulder that left behind naught but steam and melted snow, moving at speeds easily matching
that of a galloping horse. It reached the base of the wall in seemingly no time flat, at which point it
jumped up into the air. The flaming figure easily leapt the 8 meter tall wall in a single bound, landing
squarely in front of Frostbrand with a heavy thud and a painful groan.
It was then that the dwarves got their first real glance at the mysterious visitor. What they saw was a red-
skinned fiend that was carrying a blue-skinned woman with unbelievably huge tits in her many arms.
Both of them were naked and covered with sweat, with the former eagerly double penetrating the latter
from behind and from below. Loud slaps seemed to echo in the otherwise silent surroundings as Kora
continued to relentlessly pound away at Xera’s lower end, making her whorish tits bounce up and down
in an almost hypnotic manner. An obscene bulge appeared on the djinn’s stomach with every thrust,
making this pornographic scene so surreal that none of the soldiers gathered there knew how to react to
it.
Kora then suddenly let out a primal roar as she bottomed out on the former succubus, unloading
everything she had left into her. The deluge of seed that had been built up during her two hour long run-
fucking session was eagerly swallowed up by Xera’s lower ends. Her anal and vaginal muscles clamped
around the twin intruders so hard that not a single drop was allowed to escape her fleshy confines. This
caused her belly to balloon out until she looked like she was pregnant before the fiend finally ran out of
HP and collapsed out of exhaustion. The insatiable slut fell on the ground with a wet plop shortly
afterwards, mewling and moaning to herself in ecstasy while the Kora’s body evaporated into
nothingness.
“Uh… S-s-s-arge?” called out one of the soldiers. “What do we… do?”
Frostbrand never got the chance to muster a response as, much to his relief, the slutty demon suddenly
disappeared in a puff of green smoke smelling vaguely of brimstone. What appeared in her place was a
cloaked figure, easily as tall as the fiend that was there until moments ago. The soldiers would’ve
normally put up their guards and surrounded him, but they were far too hungry, tired, cold, and confused
to actually give a damn about protocol.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” spoke the masked man. “I apologize for my familiars’ antics, but desperate
times call for desperate measures.”
The two demons’ fuck-a-thon had been Boxxy’s improvised solution to traversing the frozen wasteland
by proxy. Snack’s flames could ward off the ice, but her weak body was unable to endure the harsh
conditions for long. Arms, on the other hand, had so much stamina that she didn’t know what to do with
it, but even her seemingly endless reserves were sapped dry by the impossibly harsh weather.
Individually they were unable to cross the horrible snowstorm, but together they could cover each
other’s weaknesses. All it took was to have the djinn shield both of them from the worst of the weather
with her fire magic while the fiend provided her with a steady supply of energy and stamina. And since
Snack was originally a succubus, the only way to do that was through lewd acts, leading to their
perverse marathon.
Not that either of them complained, of course. In fact, they were secretly hoping to do it again, as the
rush of it all had added a new layer of excitement to the act. It was without a doubt the best fuck they’d
shared in a long time, and the final climax had been so explosive that it left their unwitting audience
wondering if it was all a dream.
“Uh, okay?” muttered the dwarf in charge. “Whatever you say, stranger. Ah, I’m Sergeant Frostbrand,
the one in charge of this sorry lot.”
In fact, they seemed more than willing to forget they saw anything at all.
“You may call me the Sandman,” said Boxxy with a bow of its head. “I’m a mercenary.”
“A mercenary? Did the capital send you here to look for survivors?”
“No, I am here for another matter entirely. I’m afraid your colleagues in Gun Tarum don’t even seem to
be aware of your plight.”
“… Damn. We sent six parties into that blasted whiteout to get help, but to think none of them made it to
the capital…”
“Why not just teleport outside its range? It shouldn’t be all that difficult.”
“Aye, you’d think it would be that simple, but something about this storm is messing with the Wizards’
spatial magic. No matter how much they try, their Gates always end up in areas that are completely
white. I’m surprised you managed to arrive like you did, to be honest.”
“Hmmm. Then perhaps we should go inside and compare notes?”
The Sergeant readily agreed and invited the Sandman into the temporary base of operations they had set
up. He sent a runner to the central camp to inform them of the new arrival, then the two of them sat
down over a cup of hot water and began exchanging information. The dwarf used a chair like normal,
but his guest had to sit cross-legged on the floor due to his extreme height.
“As I’m sure you’ve probably noticed,” started Frostbrand, “we’re in a bit of a crisis. The thing that’s
causing this is the Regulator that sits at the center of the city.”
“Is that the strange spire I saw shooting a beam of light into the clouds overhead?”
“That’s the one. Normally it maintains comfortable spring-like temperatures around here year-round,
and also controls when and where we get rain. It’s a predictable weather pattern that’s pretty enjoyable
once you get used to it. However, 17 days ago it went haywire and has been throwing snow at us ever
since.”
“I see. Then the reason why the weather is relatively calm around here is because this is the eye of the
storm.”
“Seems that way. How bad is the storm, exactly?”
“It stretches out to about seventy kilometers around the city in every direction. The outermost fifteen
kilometers are like being attacked by a legion of angry Cryomancers. The next fifty or so are a bit better,
but not by much. My minions would have lost their way a hundred times by now were it not for the
rail.”
“Right, the mag-rail. Do you know what happened to the train itself?”
“I’m afraid I do. My familiars passed it on the way here. From what they told me, it seemed like the
storm had caught it unawares and knocked it off the rail, wrecking it completely.”
“By my father’s beard…” muttered the soldier as he held his head in despair.
“My familiars didn’t have the luxury to check for survivors, but all things considered I judged it would
have been a wasted effort anyway.”
“No, you’re right. It was foolish of me to hold out hope anyway. Even with the relatively calm weather
around here it’s still been bloody cold. Had at least 400 people freeze to death in the first 2 days. 300
more the following week. Total death count’s probably over a thousand by now, though it would’ve been
a lot worse if we weren’t this close to the Palace.”
“I’m sorry, the what?”
“The Palace of the Crystal Maiden. It’s a hardcore dungeon in the mountains north of the city. It’s
covered with ice and filled with cold-attuned monsters and traps, so the local guilds and shops had a
stockpile of medicines and magic items meant to help tackle frigid environments. We’ve been able to
save a lot of lives thanks to those.”
“Interesting. Is the dungeon somehow linked to this Regulator?”
“Some folks seem to think so, but I personally doubt it.”
“And you can’t fix it or turn it off?”
“Doesn’t seem like we can,” said Frostbrand with a heavy sigh. “An entire city full of them twitchy
Artificers and none of them can figure out how that century-old piece of shit works. They say the
Original Artificer’s designs are way too advanced for them. Fucking disgrace, the lot of them.”
“Have you tried knocking it down, then?”
“Aye, we’ve thought about it. However, we’re none too sure what might happen. You know the Vault
that’s near here?”
“I am aware of it, yes,” nodded the Sandman.
“It has some incredibly deadly automated defenses. They pop out of nowhere and completely decimate
anything in their path should someone be stupid enough to try and force the door open. We’re worried
that blasted tower might have those and decimate our troops before we can even make a dent. Not to
mention we’ve no idea what would happen if we actually topple it. Ideally everything would go back to
normal, but it may also wipe the city off the face of the map. As such we’ve put off on assaulting the
place for the moment and waiting for outside help. However…”
The Sergeant took a sip of his hot water and stared at his cup blankly.
“With the response from the outside being this slow,” continued the Sandman, “there might not be
anyone left by the time they finally get here.”
“… Yeah.”
“I see. This is definitely a tough decision. One that I will be taking off your hands.”
The Sandman abruptly stood up and left the room in a hurry, slamming the door behind him. It took
Frostbrand a few seconds to realize the mercenary had one-sidedly decided to go topple the tower, after
which he got up and ran up to the door. He placed a hand on the handle and was about to throw it open,
but stopped himself dead in his tracks. He confirmed the hunger in his belly, the fatigue in his chest and
the chill at his fingers, after which he casually walked back to the table and sat down.
He stared absentmindedly at those two mugs of hot water. Melted snow heated with magic. The mere
notion that this was what passed for a drink these days suddenly seemed incredibly poignant. He
honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at how fucked things had gotten in such a short amount of
time. Just like he didn’t know if he had the right, authority or even the desire to stop that mercenary
from running off like that. This situation was so far out of his hands that the only logical course of action
seemed to be to give up and just sit there and wait for either salvation or destruction to come knocking.
What ended up visiting him next, however, was neither of those.
*SLAM*
The door was opened loudly and a very irate Lieutenant Highstone walked into the room. He was the
highest ranking officer in the city, as denoted by how his pitch-black armor had actual war axe blades
stuck onto his helmet and shoulder pads. Those always struck Frostbrand as strange, as he couldn’t help
but think they just made the armor far less practical.
“Sergeant! The hell do ye think yer doin’ out here?!”
“W-well, I, uh…” he stuttered.
Being broken out of his stupor by the Lieutenant's voice had momentarily made him unable to answer.
What was he doing just now? How long had he been just sitting here? The formerly hot water in front of
him was literally starting to turn to ice by now, so it must have been quite a while. He didn’t get much of
a chance to recollect his thoughts, as his superior immediately started demanding answers.
“Yer outpost received an actual outsider, who ye proceeded to casually invite fer a chat and a drink! And
then just let him walk out on ye?! Are ye fookin daft or sumthin?!”
“S-sorry, sir! I just- I don’t think I was thinking straight!”
“Damn right, ye weren’t! Now I got a rogue element walkin’ around this god-forsaken city! As if I
didn’t have enough shit to deal with! Do ye even know what he was here to do?!”
“I’m not sure, sir! However, he seemed really determined to bring down the Regulator!”
“Oh, now that’s just peachy. And who was it that gave him that brilliant idea?!”
“I apologize, sir! He said the capital had no idea about our predicament, so I just-”
“They what?! Then what happened to all those parties we sent out?!”
“… I don’t know, sir. He said the mag-rail’s been totaled by the storm, too.”
“Fuck! … Alright. Gear up, Frostbrand. Let’s see if we can’t find our… guest.”
“Yes, sir!”
The Sergeant quickly changed into his armor and met the Lieutenant out in the street. He followed him
and his armed escort through the densely packed camp, wincing underneath his helmet at all the glares
he was getting from the civilians. They were accusatory stares that seemed to put the blame of this entire
incident squarely on his and Highstone’s shoulders. The fact that the soldiers were getting preferential
treatment when it came to food and shelter did not help ease the citizens’ resentment, despite that being
the most logical course of action.
As they were about to leave the perimeter of the camp, however, they heard a commotion from up
ahead. It didn’t take long to see the cause of the disturbance, as the Sandman was quite literally towering
over the crowd of people, who parted before him as he strode towards the armed contingent of troops.
The soldiers raised their guards as if expecting an attack, which only served to put everyone on edge.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” said the towering man with a polite bow of his head. “Forgive the intrusion, but
I am here to see Sergeant Frostbrand.”
“My name is Lieutenant Highstone of the Horkensaft Royal Army,” said the commanding officer in an
authoritative voice. “Ye the mercenary who arrived from beyond the storm?”
“Indeed. I am known as the Sandman. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant.”
“Enough with the chit-chat! Why have ye come here?!”
“I am here on business, my good Lieutenant. My task is to track down a valuable item and return it to
my client without incident. I have followed the trail here, but I am afraid it has grown, ahem, cold. As
such, I must demand that you help me find my target.”
“Ye daft, mate? What makes ye think I’d jeopardize the safety of the citizens just to look for yer
master’s baubles or whatever?!”
“Because you owe me for services rendered, Lieutenant.”
“Oh? And what ‘services’ might ye be referrin’ to?”
The Sandman pointed at the malfunctioning Regulator in the distance, its upper half easily visible over
the rooftops due to its absurd height. He then snapped his fingers, and a total of five black spots
appeared all over the massive structure. Those were all instances of the Singularity Spell, augmented by
a combination of Power Overwhelming and Crystallize Magic. Each of the resulting Spell Crystals cost
a whopping 3,000 MP and a magic focusing crystal to produce, and were then set in place and remotely
detonated through virtue of the Warlock’s familiars.
It had taken a bit of doing, but the effects were immediate and devastating.
The five miniature black holes pulled out piping, bricks and wires from the spire’s midsection, quite
literally ripping it apart. The people in the small square could only stare in disbelief at the destruction,
watching as sporadic explosions engulfed the source of their misery. The tower became engulfed in
flames and smokes as the purple light shooting out of its top flickered and died with a whimper. There
was a particularly big explosion near its base, after which the century-old weather machine collapsed in
on itself, the sheer scale of it making it appear like it was falling in slow motion.
The clouds overhead began to part almost immediately afterwards, bathing the city in the first traces of
sunlight it had seen in over two weeks. The civilians and soldiers alike were flabbergasted. They were
all pinching themselves and slapping their cheeks as if to confirm this wasn’t a dream. Just feeling the
warm sunlight on their cheeks was enough to bring tears to their eyes. It would probably still be a day or
so before a storm of this magnitude completely dispersed and possibly months before the climate truly
stabilized, but nobody gave a rat’s ass about such things.
“Yeaaaaaah!”
“We’re saaaved! The light of Solus shines down upon us once again!”
“Hail the stranger!”
“All hail! All hail!”
“Sandman! Sandman! Sandman!”
They were too busy cheering and chanting the mercenary’s name out of joy, applauding loudly all the
while. Boxxy simply stood there, letting their praise (and Doppelganger XP) wash over it. It had initially
gone to destroy that blasted tower because this snowstorm was a nuisance, but this outcome was pretty
tasty all the same.
“Well, Lieutenant,” spoke up the Sandman. “What say you to my request?”
The dwarf-in-charge let out a long sigh. He would have plenty of time to lament his own incompetence,
but for right now he was just glad that not all his work had been for naught.
“Very well. Follow me to the central camp,” he said with a jerk of his head. “I’ll hear ye out on the
way.”
The mercenary and the armed escorts left the encampment as the cheers continued to rain down upon
their savior. The good Sergeant remained behind, mostly to keep people in line and remind them that
they weren’t out of the woods yet. The group walked the desolate streets, which were encased in varying
levels of ice. Boxxy was then made thoroughly aware of the frozen remains of countless golems and
automata that had been caught out by the vanquished whiteout. Fearing that Fizzy might have ended up
like them, the Mimic decided to get down to the matter at hand right away.
“So, about the thing I’m looking for.”
“Aye, I did say I’d hear ye out, so lay it on me. What is it ye’re after?”
“A golem forged out of the purest mithril you’ve ever seen. Looks like a cute gnomish woman in her
early twenties, extremely lifelike. Carries a huge wrench and answers to Fizzy. Ah, she should also be
accompanied by a gnome called Moss and a dwarf called Drummir, both male.”
“… I see. Well, the good news I’ve already met Fizzy.”
“You have?! Where?!”

Unable to restrain itself, Boxxy dashed out in front of the dwarf and bent over at an almost impossible
angle until they were face-to-face.
“Woah, there! Watch it, ye creepy-!”
“Answer me, meat!” insisted the shapeshifter.
“I will! I will! Just hear me out, right?!”
“…”
The Mimic didn’t say anything, so it merely rebuilt its composure and pulled its head out of the dwarf’s
personal space.
“Sheesh! I gotta say, yer the most excitable giant I’ve ever seen. Anyway, as I was saying, I met Fizzy
over at the Vault Beneath the Mountain, where I was originally stationed. The shiny lass not only got the
blasted thing open, but also managed to slip inside. However, it closed up behind her and we couldn’t
follow. Next thing we knew, the Regulator was acting funny and we were getting ice pellets for
breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
It would appear that, just as Boxxy had suspected, this entire debacle had been her doing. Whether
directly or indirectly, she was definitely the one that set these catastrophic events in motion. It probably
wasn’t intentional though, which was a good thing. Otherwise the environmental damage she caused
would have resulted in her violating the Taboo of Zephyra, Goddess of Rain and Travel. The Lieutenant
himself didn’t seem to blame her either, if his tone of voice was any indication.
“One of her companions - this Moss you were talking about - managed to dash into the Vault after her.
The other one seemed to have been driven somewhat mad by the unnatural weather. We had him locked
up for his own good, but he-!”
“I don’t care about the extras,” interrupted Boxxy. “All I want to know is where I can find Fizzy.”
“Yeah, well… this is where the bad news comes in. We tried to get into that Vault once the security
system calmed down, but we didn’t get the chance. By the time we returned from our cursory
investigation of the Regulator, the mountainside had been reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble. The
Vault, my base, my… men. All of them - gone. We picked through the rubble looking for survivors, but-
”
Highstone reached into the Bag of Holding on his waist and pulled out what appeared to be a warped
mithril plate.
“-this is all we could find.”
Boxxy stared intently at the piece of precious metal as it glimmered in the recently restored sunlight. It
took it out of the Lieutenant’s hands and flipped it around several times until it finally realized what it
was looking at. The thing in its hand was Fizzy’s faceplate, which despite being badly bent from some
extreme impact, still bore her trademark manic grin.
“I’m afraid yer pal Fizzy’s scrap metal.”
“… So where are the other pieces?”
“Like I said, that’s all we could find.”
“Then how can you say Fizzy is no more?”
“Look mate, face facts. Ain’t nothin’ that would’ve survived destruction like that!”
“You don’t know Fizzy like I do, meat. So either go out there and find my shiny, or I will crush your
head like a grape.”
“I’d like to see ye try ye cocky-”
The Sandman delivered on its threat and grasped the dwarf’s head with its left hand, then simply
squeezed.
*SPLAT*
The head quite literally exploded in the next instant, as brain, skull and helmet alike were crushed into a
fine paste. The horrifically decapitated Lieutenant’s corpse then slid down to the ground, followed
closely by the mangled remains of the other soldiers. Weakened by hunger, and the cold as they were,
they were completely unable to react to having their commander murdered in front of their eyes before
their lives were taken as well. The Mimic then gobbled up their corpses and disposed of their armor,
making sure almost no evidence of its wrongdoing remained behind.
It then remembered that back at the southern camp, both the good Sergeant and hundreds of refugees
had seen it depart with the Lieutenant and his team. It was also only a matter of time before the officer’s
subordinates over at the central camp came looking for their leader. That was a lot of people that needed
to be silenced, and the Mimic lacked a good way of doing so.
That wasn’t to say it didn’t know of a bad way to shut them up, though.
“Perhaps I should just slaughter them all…”
It was the first genocidal thought Boxxy had had in a long while, and it really wanted to act on it. It
didn’t have to wipe out the city of Dragunov, but it certainly wanted to. After all, it went through all that
trouble of saving them, yet they tried to weasel out of their payment. Not to mention that this had been
the first time ever it had even entertained the idea that its prized shiny might have been blown to bits. It
was a notion that somehow made it even angrier than the time it realized it had lost its life. Indeed, just
hearing that ridiculous meatbag insinuate that Fizzy had blown up seemed to fill with with a violent
rage, almost as if he had uttered the foulest of blasphemies.
*Ring-ring*
However, just as Boxxy had all but decided to give the people of Dragunov something to really worry
about, it had gotten a call from Demons ‘R’ Us. It didn’t want to answer it, but past experiences had
taught it that keeping them on hold was a bad idea, so it decided to get this over with and get to
murdering A.S.A.P.
*Click*
“What is it, Carl?!” it snarled in a clearly hostile manner.
“Woah! Who shat in your breakfast?”
However, the voice that flowed into its mind was definitely not Carl’s, though it was definitely a familiar
one.
“… Jonathan?”
“Yup. Just your friendly neighborhood God of Chaos here. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate being soul-
yanked without warning, so I borrowed Katorolomaongott’s line for a bit instead.”
“Ah. Uh, thanks for the consideration?”
“You’re very welcome. Now then, here’s the thing. I got Mortimer here with me, and he’s been whining
at me about how you curb-stomped two of his Heroes in a single night. Morty’s got a high standard
when it comes to choosing his people, you see, so he’s not at all pleased you’ve left him without a
worthy candidate.”
“Oh. Well, I was just trying to secure my own life against a bunch of assassins. It’s not my fault one of
them lied to me and forced my hand.”
“Maybe not, but he’s still pretty mad. At the same time he’s also kind of impressed you managed to pull
it off. All things considered, he’s willing to forgive you on two conditions.”
Boxxy wasn’t sure what being on the God of Death’s shit list entailed, exactly, but it was a safe bet to
assume nothing good would come of it. Getting off said excrement manifesto was not the worst idea in
the world, but whether or not the Mimic would try to do that depended on what Mortimer actually
wanted from it.
“What conditions?”
“First of all, you have to do a bunch of jobs for him,” explained Betsy. “He’s even promising some kind
of reward in exchange for your services, so you won’t be working for free or anything like that.”
“He’s not going to ask me to kill myself or something, right?”
“Uh, that’s a good question, actually. Hold on.”
“…”
Boxxy wanted to complain. Surely that would be the first thing to inquire about when dealing with the
literal God of Death, right?
“Okay, he says it’s nothing like that,” said Philip after a while. “The things he needs done are more or
less at the level of errands. Mostly about killing the right people.”
“So it’s just mercenary work, but from a god?”
“More or less.”
“Hrm, I guess I could agree to that so long as he’s paying. What about the other condition?”
“That one’s a lot more immediate. Y’see, we’ve been sort of watching you deal with that freaky weather
situation for a while, and he’d rather you not wipe out that city just on a whim.”
“Huh?! Why not!?” complained the Mimic. “He’s the God of Death, not the God of Life, so why does he
care?!”
“Because you’re about to pointlessly bloat his workload. He’s still sour at me for that Monotal thing and
I’d rather not hear him bitch at me about Dragunov, too. So do me a solid and help me get this bony
bastard off my back, will ya?! If you do, I’ll let you know where your precious Fizzy is!”
“… Fine. I’ll leave the snacks-on-legs alone.”
“Yes! See, I told you my Hero could be reasoned with!”
Howard’s voice suddenly grew oddly distant, almost as if he were in another room.
“Ah, you heard that? … Well, it is technically true. … Are you or are you not a fatherless cur who is
comprised entirely of bones?”
It would appear he was speaking to Mortimer, who was presumably right next to him.
“That’s what I thought, bony bastard,” grumbled the Goddess of Instabilities as she turned her attention
back to Boxxy. “So anyway, thanks for that. Mortimer says he’ll get in touch with you through this line
when he has the deets on your first job, but it won’t be for a while.”
“What about Fizzy?”
“You square things out with Morty, and I’ll tell you where your shiny is. Don’t worry, she’s very much
alive, just as you, uh, deduced. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say ‘hoped,’ wouldn’t it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you don’t. Well, good luck out there. And keep up the good work. Toodles!”
*Click*
The Sandman-shaped Mimic sat down on the bloodied ice, letting out a sigh of relief. Hearing that Fizzy
was merely missing and not actually dead had taken a tremendous load off its back. Now that it could
think clearly again, it regretted for lashing out at those dwarves earlier. Not much though. The blunder in
question was only at the level of a ‘whoopsie daisy,’ really. The important thing to take away from the
past few minutes was that it seemed like it would be some time before it was reunited with its shiniest of
shinies.
The Mimic decided that it would be far better to do something productive rather than sit around moping
while it waited for Mortimer to get in touch. And nothing said ‘productive’ like gaining Levels,
obtaining shinies, and securing a foothold in a foreign nation. It could accomplish all these things not
only at the same time, but also at the same place, which just so happened to be conveniently nearby.
It was time to see just how ‘hardcore’ this Palace of the Crystal Maiden truly was.
(189) Interlude House Call
A lone tree stood in the middle of an endless field of wheat. The golden stalks, heavy and plump with
grain as they were, swayed groggily in the gentle breeze. They looked as if they would fall under their
own weight, but their stems outright refused to bend beyond a certain point. The sunlight that fell upon
them bathed them in a radiant glow that made one question whether this was actually a literal sea of
gold. The sky itself was completely blue with not even a single hint of clouds, though the passage of
time seemed to have ground to a halt, as the sun would never move from its assigned spot.
And yet the tree that stood in the middle of this serene scenery was perhaps the oddest thing of them all.
It was situated atop a small hill, almost as if a king overlooking his kingdom. Its size alone was mind
bogglingly vast and oddly reminiscent of the great Hylt trees, though unlike them, this one was much
wider than it was tall. Its branches were heavy with fruits of all kinds, ranging from apples, pears and
peaches to things that didn’t actually grow on trees, like grapes, strawberries and even watermelons.
The fertile soil that stood in its massive never-moving shadow was populated by lush green grass and
beautiful wildflowers rather than cultivated grain. Woodland critters like rabbits and squirrels could be
seen darting all over the place, while butterflies and bees frolicked among the colorful blossoms. Their
natural predators were also present. Snakes with bright patterns lounged in the few sunny spots beneath
the countless branches and leaves overhead, while small spiders weaved webs with intricate patterns
within the vast canopy.
And yet this entire miniaturized ecosystem lived in perfect harmony. Despite food being abundant in
every possible direction, none of the creatures actually ate anything or attacked one another. Not only
that, but despite the constant sunlight and there being no water or rain in sight, the fruit did not wither
and the leaves did not dry out. Overall, it was an impossible scenario that would never happen in reality
and could only exist by the whim of the gods.
Or rather, it was exactly by the will of one deity in particular that this space was allowed to exist, for all
of this was merely the decoration within her divine area. It was a space that no mortal would ever see, let
alone set foot in, which was exactly how the Goddess Nyrie liked it. Not because she hated people or
anything like that. Quite the contrary, in fact. However, this separation was the natural order of things.
The Aether where the gods resided was separated from the mortal realm for a reason, and the Goddess
of Fertility did her part to keep it that way.
She was the only one who took such a stance, though. The other members of Terrania’s pantheon did not
share her views, and readily welcomed their chosen Heroes or Hero candidates into their respective
abodes. Which wasn’t to say that she lived like an outcast. Quite the contrary, in fact. She was one of the
more sociable ones among her peers, and genuinely enjoyed it when her fellow deities paid her a visit or
invited her over.
Yet despite all that, she found herself somewhat apprehensive when preparing to accept her next guest. It
was a meeting she’d both been expecting and dreading, and now that the time was upon her she made an
effort to avoid stalling and simply get on with it. The air itself seemed to break with a loud crack,
causing a glowing white spiderweb pattern to appear out of nowhere. It burst open in the next instant,
and a woman entered Nyrie’s domain. She had flowing gold locks, piercing blue eyes and an
exaggeratedly attractive body.
“Welcome, Teresa.”
A soothing song-like voice permeated throughout the entire pocket dimension. The recently reformed
Goddess of Truth and Justice responded by bowing her head towards the central tree while offering her
own greeting.
“Thank you for having me, Nyrie.”
Just then, a face began to appear on the massive tree’s trunk. Bark gave way to sun-kissed skin as the
colossal visage of a woman emerged from it. She was rather easy on the eyes, though it would be hard to
call her beautiful or pretty, especially when compared to Teresa. Instead, she exuded a more mature,
dignified charm that was punctuated by a kindly smile and soft, amber eyes. A pair of elfin ears poked
out of the sides of her head to reflect the image of her most devout followers, and she had voluminous
green hair dotted with colorful flowers draped over the left side of her face.
“You seem… shorter than the last time I saw you.”
Nyrie was the painfully obvious with that remark, as the once 20-meter tall Teresa now stood at merely a
tenth of the size she had the last time the two saw each other. She was still significantly taller than the
average human, but it was well within their natural height range.
“I have been too full of myself for far too long,” said Teresa with a solemn smile. “Recent events have
humbled and weakened me greatly, so this appearance is merely a reflection of that.”
“Ah, I see. I suppose it is only natural considering that debacle that unfolded recently.”
“Indeed. Which is precisely why I have come here today.”
The naked goddess knelt down on the grassy ground and touched her forehead to the soil as she
prostrated herself in front of the other deity.
“I apologize profusely for my incompetence,” she half-shouted. “For allowing a pointless war grounded
in false accusations to make both our followers suffer for naught - I can make no excuse. I vow to do
everything in my power to avoid making the same mistakes as before, and beg for your forgiveness!”
“Hahahaha!” laughed Nyrie in a refreshing manner. “Well, look at you! Little Teresa’s being all
responsible and grown up! It seems like just yesterday you were this little scamp who couldn’t make her
mind up whether caterpillars were good or evil!”
“I’m being serious here!” protested Teresa while raising her head and pouting. “Please stop ridiculing
me just because you appeared earlier than I did!”
The fledgling civilizations of the past had to worry about procuring food and leaving offspring far before
concepts such as justice and crime, or indeed society as a whole had begun to emerge. That being the
case, it was not surprising that Nyrie would be among the first gods to come into existence. She saw
herself as something of an older sister and mentor to those younger than her, which was half the
pantheon. In fact, she was more or less tied for second oldest with Solus, the God of Life and Sunlight,
and Zephyra, the Goddess of Rain and Travel.
The only one that was undeniably more ancient than her was Karzak, the God of Gambling, who was
older than the world itself. Hardly surprising, considering that chaos predated everything in existence.
Or at least, that’s what he told the other Gods. Well, he wasn’t going to openly admit he went a bit mad
and destroyed his old world, was he?
The bottom line was that Nyrie was quite soft on her fellow deities, as she personally saw them as
family, even though not all of them mirrored her sentiments.
“Do not fret, Teresa,” she said with a beaming smile. “I have already forgiven you for your blunders.”
“What? Really?”
“Of course. After all, this is hardly the first time our flocks have warred, nor will it be last. I had long
ago accepted the fact that elves and humans will never truly get along.”
There were, of course, plenty of examples of individuals having friendly and even romantic cross-
species relationships, but the two civilizations seemed fated to clash over and over. There was just way
too much bad blood for there to be any meaningful peace between them.
“I suppose that’s true,” consented Teresa as she sat cross legged on the grass. “Still, I feel like you’re
being too easy on me. I honestly expected you to actually yell at me for once, all things considered.”
This was where Nyrie’s face took on a more stern expression.
“I will admit, willingly allowing your people blame my own for the cataclysmic actions of an old coot
and his maniacal box really rubbed me the wrong way. However, I couldn’t stay mad at you once Nero
explained your… circumstances.”
“So then why the fuck did that bastard make me come here and prostrate myself!” complained Teresa.
“‘Rehabilitation’ my ass! He just wants to see me on my knees!”
The older of the two deities let out another soft chuckle to what she saw as a spoiled child’s tantrum.
“Even if he acts the fool and the prankster, Oliver truly cares for all of us. He’s almost like the
rambunctious grandfather we never had. Surely you understand that better than anyone by now.”
“… I guess, but I can do without the ‘rambunctious’ part,” said Teresa with a pout. “That’s why I
promised I’d follow his program, but it’s starting to grind on my nerves a bit. I’m especially dreading
having to apologize to Axel after this. That stick-in-the-mud will probably lecture me for three days
straight, just like Mortimer did.”
“They are firm because they have to be, Teresa. Both of them are also your elders, so you should show
them the respect they are due.”
“We’ll see about that. This whole seniority thing always rubbed me the wrong way since everyone
thinks they can just tell me what to do. Being the youngest sucks.”
“It is up to the elders to guide the youngsters. This is merely the natural order of things.”
“You can only say that because you’re not Axel and Mortimer’s junior.”
The God of War and Combat was the fifth deity to come into existence. He had appeared once society as
a whole no longer worried about food or shelter and began engaging in conquest. It was just a good
thing that the enlightened of the distant past were far more focused on subjugating monster-infested
territories rather that turning on one another. Otherwise Axel might have developed into some
bloodthirsty warmonger who only desired pointless conflict for the sake of it, rather than the honorable
paragon of strength he was today.
And as the fledgling kingdoms expanded their territories, they inevitably gave rise to the God of Death
and Commerce. After all, both money and life had to be spent in order to successfully wage war,
regardless of who the opponent was. It was only relatively recently that civilizations had begun to focus
on more complex concepts, such as the study of magic, artistic craftsmanship, and the pursuit of law and
justice. These were the endeavors that would end up respectively giving birth to Lunar, Goroth, and
Teresa.
“It also doesn’t help that my aspects are so subjective,” said the nude Goddess with a tired sigh. “It’s not
bad enough that justice and evils are merely different perspectives, but even the truth is not as
straightforward as I wish it were.”
“Is it?” asked Nyrie with a raised eyebrow. “I understand that there are moments where stating the truth
would do more harm than good, but it even a white lie is objectively false, isn’t it?”
“That’s not what I mean,” answered the blonde with a shake of her head. “For example, you know that
Jamal’s Hero is a shapeshifting monster, right?”
“I am… aware of it, yes. Come to think of it, I imagine a creature that thrives on deception would be
quite infuriating to one such as yourself.”
“Oh, it is. Unbelievably so. But at the same time I can’t help but almost admire it in some weird way.
Because while it does lie, cheat and steal at every turn, it is at the same time being true to itself.
Something I have been struggling with lately, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Teresa buried her face in her knees as she said that, seemingly ashamed of herself for having such
conflicting views.
“I wouldn’t fret too much over the Hero of Chaos if I were you,” suggested Nyrie with an understanding
nod. “Its very existence seems to breed ambiguity, which was probably why it was chosen by Alfonso in
the first place. Truthfully speaking, I also find myself with similarly complicated feelings towards that
particular monster.”
“Oh? I thought you’d actually be glad it showed up, seeing as how it’s the main reason your followers
won the war and all.”
“That’s not necessarily a good thing for me,” said the elder Goddess with a sigh. “The fact that my
people are hailing a Hero of Chaos as their savior has shaken their faith in me somewhat. It has also
somehow won the heart of one of the dryads I had personally blessed, and uses her like some sort of
tool. Not only that, but it also engages in sexual acts with one of my people quite frequently. The mere
thought of that last one makes my skin crawl.”
Nyrie shuddered, causing the whole tree to rustle and shake, and even making a few of the godly fruits
drop to the ground.
“But it mainly does those things because they are within its devious nature. Much like you said, it is
being true to itself, and as such I cannot truly bring myself to despise it.”
“Wow, you really are too soft,” said Teresa. “I’m surprised you let it get away with messing around with
one of your dryads.”
It was a known fact within the divine community that Nyrie thought of those tree-bound spirits as her
own daughters. It was her holy blessing that had truly given life to them all those many years ago, so it
was only natural that she would be excessively protective of them, much like any parent would be of
their own offspring.
“That’s just the thing though. It treats her with a certain measure of respect, keeps her company, and
even takes care of her,” she explained. “They’ve established a symbiotic relationship that brings her
great joy, and I cannot bring myself to interfere in her happiness. Especially since I promised I’d stay out
of her life ever since that one time with that satyr.”
“So you’re saying the box is actually good to her?” asked Teresa with a pang of disbelief.
“Indeed.”
“What about the lewd acts you mentioned? Isn’t that violating your Taboo?”
“Well… technically what the two of them engage in only brings pleasure. There’s no actual attempt
made or even a chance for them to conceive a child, so it doesn’t quite qualify as mating. Even if it is
rather disgusting.”
“Wow. Your job’s just as complicated as mine, huh?”

“All of our divine callings have their burdens and shortcomings, Teresa,” said Nyrie with a serious tone.
“It is different for each God, but we have all hit low points in our existence, much like you have. Except
that for some of us… we never truly recover.”
The branches and leaves above began to part, allowing the sunshine to fall on Nyrie’s face unobstructed
as she gazed up at the sky solemnly. Teresa followed her line of sight, only to realize her colleague was
staring at the sun. She began to wonder what was so special about some illusory ball of light until she
ignored the discomfort of her eyes and stared directly into it.
“Is… Is that Solus?!”
“It is,” answered Nyrie with a worried expression.
“What’s he doing up there?! Or here, for that matter?!”
“Not much of anything, really. His following has dwindled so much in recent years that he struggles to
stay awake. I’ve been keeping an eye on him for the past while, but I fear what will happen if something
isn’t done soon.”
“I see… I hope he gets better as well…”
Even if the Gods bickered over who had the strongest following and tried to compete for the people’s
faith, none of them truly wished for their fellow deities to suffer. Which was exactly what Solus had
been going through ever since the fall of Percepeia 48 years ago. This was the name of the continent that
lay across the ocean to the northeast of the Kingdom of Horkensaft, and had once been the home of the
giants. At least that’s how it was until the Boneshaper and his undead hordes laid waste to them. It had
taken the unholy being but a few short years to completely decimate their civilization and cover the
entire continent in the Blight.
The rest of the world was naturally shocked to hear of this unprovoked act of aggression, and recognized
the threat such a force posed to all of them. But at the same time, every expedition they sent ended up
failing, quite miserably at that. Failure was only to be expected, though. Even if the giants were a gentle
and all-around easy going people, they were still some of the most powerful enlightened around. They
stood at a height easily double a human’s and over three times a gnome’s, and could wield both swords
and magic with equal force. And yet even they couldn’t overcome an enemy that grew in strength every
time one of the living fell.
Thankfully, the Boneshaper seemed content to simply rule over his newly established domain, and
hadn’t made an attempt at invading the other continents. Or at least, not quite yet. As such, the nations of
the world had no choice but to tacitly agree to stop throwing their people’s lives away on what seemed
like a lost cause.
But the damage had already been done. The giants were left devastated to the point of becoming an
endangered species, and the faithful of Solus had diminished to what was essentially a cult following.
There were still chapels and temples dedicated to him throughout the Lodrak Empire and Ishigar
Republic, but it would not be long before he was completely forgotten.
At which point the God of Life and Sunlight would die.

“Hrmm… Huh?”
Both Nyrie and Teresa knew this, which was why they were suddenly elated to hear his youthful voice.
“Where am I?” asked the confused deity as he took in his surroundings. “Nyrie? And is that… Teresa?!
Wait, why in the blazes are you naked, girl?!”
“There’s more important things to worry about than that!” shot back the young goddess.
“Like you! Nyrie just told me you’ve been out of it for a while, so what gives?!”
“Ah… Right. Hmm… I’m not completely sure what’s going on, to be honest,” answered the sentient
fireball. “Hold on, let me check real quick.”
He then went silent for a few moments as he began to sort through the sudden influx of faith that was
currently flowing into him.
“It would appear that there are several thousand gnomes and dwarves suddenly offering me their
gratitude.”
“… That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” asked Teresa.
“Well yeah, it is for me.”
“Then how come you sound so concerned?”
“Because these people are praising the sun with such fervor that it’s almost like they hadn’t seen it in a
full month. I can’t help but feel some horrible tragedy had befallen them. Interestingly enough, a good
number of these prayers wish for me to watch over a… Sandman? Isn’t that one of yours, Nyrie?”
“Hah! How about that?”
The Goddess of Nature and Fertility couldn’t help but chuckle when she heard that monicker.
“It would appear that Omar has done it again,” she added with a bemused smile.
“The God of Disorder?” asked Teresa with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that old fart have to do with this?”
“Well, you wouldn’t know this, but the ‘Sandman’ is one of the aliases his Hero goes under.”
“Wait, what?” exclaimed Solus. “That guy has a new Hero?! Since when?!”
“About seven or eight months, I think.”
“Seven or eight mon- How long was I out?! What else did I miss?! No, nevermind, I’ll catch up later! I
need to see if I can ride this wave and secure myself a foothold in Horkensaft! I’m sure Goroth won’t
mind too much. Ah, by the way, thanks for keeping an eye on me, babe! You’re the best! It was good
seeing you too, Teresa - especially the twins - but I gotta go! Later!”
Solus then disappeared with a loud pop, presumably back to his own divine area. This left Nyrie and
Teresa submerged in darkness, which was promptly dispersed when the former willed a fake sun to take
the Sun God’s place. Its light wasn’t as gentle as the genuine article’s, but it was better than nothing.
“I told you so,” declared the Goddess of Fertility with a silly grin. “Madeline looks out for us, even if we
don’t always see Her hand.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Think Solus will be ok with this much?”
“I think he’ll be fine, at least for a while. He sounded quite energetic, didn’t he?”
“Right, right. Something just occurred to me though. How come Mandy’s just fine even though she has
an even smaller following than Solus?”
“I am not too sure, to be honest,” admitted Nyrie. “But I feel like those demons of his are supplying him
with all the faith he needs.”
“Really? Those selfish assholes?”
“They recognize him as a father, Teresa. And as such, they will respect and believe in him no matter
what. That has to account for something, right?”
“I suppose. I just can’t imagine any of their sorry lot praying, though.”
“Oh, but you’ve been in their tender mercies for a while now, haven’t you?”
“Wh-what?”
“A chatty little monkey told me you’ve been getting… conjugal visits. From an Archfiend. Who just so
happens to be in service to-”
“AAAAAARGH!” screamed Teresa in frustration while her cheeks were dying red with embarrassment.
“That fucking loudmouth! I can’t believe he’s going around telling the others about that!”
“Maybe he’s trying to indirectly keep you from making any more lies of omission.”
“Keeping silent about my private life isn’t the same as willingly not correcting a convenient
misunderstanding!” insisted the blonde bombshell. “I mean, if you asked me what day it was, all I’d
need say to do to provide an honest answer was to say ‘it’s Tuesday!’ Not ‘it’s Tuesday, also I love
taking demon dick up the ass!’”
“So you do like it then? Taking demon dick up the ass?”
“Oh, very much so! It’s such a good stress reliever that it makes me feel bad for keeping my followers
from enjoying it for so long!”
“Just don’t overdo it, okay? I’m not sure if that’s good for you considering your… condition.”
“Hey, I have centuries’ worth of my clergy’s repressed sexual desires to sort through, so this is actually
part of the rehabilitation. Or at least that’s what Darren told me. I honestly feel stronger and a bit more
level-headed after each session, so I can’t argue with the results.”
“Oh? Then that somewhat explains why you look so good.”
“… Huh? I do?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if you noticed it yourself, but you’re definitely more beautiful than before. I must
say, this demon dick diet is certainly doing wonders for your appearance.”
“Ugh…” groaned Teresa. “Could you please stop saying ‘demon dick’ so much? It’s making me feel
uncomfortable.”
“Even though you love it so much?”
“Please don’t say such scandalous things. You make it sound like I’m some shameless slut that’d be
satisfied with anyone.”
“Oh my! So this demon is somehow special to you, is she?!”
“W-well… Yeah. She is, after all, my first…” said Teresa with a beet-red face. “She was also there
helping me during the worst of the rehabilitation, and doesn’t even try to mix her words. She lets me
know precisely what she thinks of me without sugarcoating anything. Which is nice, even if her words
are harsh. I do genuinely enjoy our time together.”
“Huh. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve fallen for that demon.”
“Actually, yeah. I have, haven’t I?”
“… What?”
Hearing a stupidly honest answer to what was intended to be a tease threw Nyrie for a loop. Especially
since Teresa had just confirmed something completely unprecedented.
“No, no, no, no! That’s impossible, isn’t it?!” she spoke in a panic that made her leaves and branches
shake as if she were waving her arms around.
“Apparently not,” came the much-too-casual answer. “I mean I haven’t really thought about until just
now, but yeah. Since I can no longer afford to lie to anyone, especially myself, I can’t help but admit
I’ve grown to like Kora beyond our romps.”
“But this is a violently homicidal rapist we’re talking about!”
“Hey, I never said she was perfect. Besides, she’s just being herself. Which just so happens to be this
powerful being with the sort of stamina and endurance that no human could hope to match. She’s really
confident and assertive too, which I find strangely attractive.”
“I don’t believe this! Are you sure you didn’t hit your head or something?”
“We’re gods, Nyrie,” stated Teresa matter-of-factly. “We don’t get concussions. Besides, aren’t you
making a big deal out of this?”
“You’re the one taking it too lightly!”
“No, you’re definitely misunderstanding something. This is just one of those flings that mortals have all
the time, not some timeless romance. I mean it’s not like I want to spend eternity with her or anything
like that. I’ll probably get bored of her eventually, but I’m still going to enjoy this fuzzy feeling while it
lasts. That’s all there is to it.”
“… Oh,” exclaimed Nyrie after calming down a bit. “When you put it like that, I guess I did overreact a
bit. I still feel like I should protest on principle, but that doesn’t seem to be necessary considering you
yourself realize this is just a pointless distraction.”
“It’s not pointless, though. Like I said-”
“I know what you said. Doesn’t change the fact that I don’t understand people who waste their time on
intercourse when there are no hopes of conceiving a child.”
These thoughts were only to be expected of a Goddess of Fertility. Ploughing a field and then failing to
plant seeds in it almost seemed like a crime in her book.
“So does that also mean the rumors I hear of you hating same-sex couples are true?” asked Teresa,
causing Nyrie to furrow her brows.
“That’s a complicated subject, dearie. ‘Hate’ isn’t really the word I’d use. Such people are born a certain
way, so they can’t really help it. If I had to narrow down my thoughts on the matter, though, I’d say
they’re rather pitiable.”
“Pitiable? How come?”
“Failing to leave offspring behind would make them failures as living creatures. Not only that, but
they’d never get to experience what it means to become a parent. Wouldn’t you say the mortals’ ability
to create life just by mashing their ugly bits together is a miracle in and of itself?”
“Huh, I guess it kind of is, now that you mention it.”
“Not only that,” continued Nyrie, “but raising the child is its own reward as well. Caring for it, watching
it grow, teaching it of the ways of the world - it is not an experience I can describe with just words.”
It was one she had personally gone through with the original twelve dryads. Even if their ‘births’ had
been unintentional, she still loved and doted on them for a long while, even if she didn’t show herself
directly. That was a long time ago, though. These days her daughters were more than old enough to take
care of themselves and she was happy to let them live their own lives and make their own mistakes.
Especially Ambrosia.
“So tell me,” she continued, “how fares this Inquisition of yours?”
“They seem to be making good headway, actually. You see-”
The two Goddesses continued making what ultimately amounted to small talk for a while more, as they
moved from one topic to the next. During this time, Teresa was able to grasp exactly why Morton was
making her apologize to her fellow gods in person - it was to start a conversation. It wasn’t like she’d
never spoken with Nyrie before, but this was the first time they’d had an actual back and forth. It was
equal parts insightful and annoying, but overall she found the talk to be not only enjoyable, but quite
refreshing as well.
When she finally left Nyrie’s divine area, however, Teresa had unwittingly picked up on a certain
question. One that she could not help but consider after speaking with someone like the patron Goddess
of Nature and Fertility - whether having kids was really as great as Nyrie made it out to be. It was an
innocent seeming quandary, really. One that would normally not mean much of anything.
Unless, of course, one happened to be capable of blurring the lines between imagination and reality.
(190) Winters Bite 1
Boxxy was steadily climbing the mountain to the north of the once bustling city of Dragunov, atop
which the Palace of the Crystal Maiden was said to reside. Although it had been a full day since the
Regulator fell, the treacherous storm’s remnants had only just begun to clear up. As such there was still a
frigid wind blowing that carried a heavy amount of sleet with it, but it was nowhere near as bad as it
used to be before. Assuming that Xera and Kora’s estimations were accurate, of course. After all, it
wasn’t Boxxy that had personally risked life and limb to traverse the icy tempest while it was in full
swing, and now that it was out here it was glad it didn’t even attempt to do so.
Even if it was winding down, the weather was still cold enough to numb the Sandman’s limbs, though
the fact it was wading through waist-deep snow was hardly helping. Boxxy was only mildly
inconvenienced by this, as it had spent the better part of yesterday preparing for its assault on the
freezing dungeon. It mostly did this by imitating the dwarven Lieutenant it killed in a fit of anger and
infiltrating the various refugee camps. Then, it used the dwarf’s status to procure as much information
and supplies it could get its tentacles on.
The info it had gathered was rather pitiable, however, since many of the city’s veteran adventurers had
lost their lives in their futile efforts to break through the storm. That being the case, it was still able to
learn precisely three things, which was rather impressive considering the situation. The first tidbit was
that the dungeon was under the domain of Goroth, the God of Earth and patron deity of artisans and
artists. The second piece of information stated that traps were almost as common as monsters, so one
needed to be wary of their surroundings at all times.
The third and probably most useful tip it had managed to hear related to the Crystal Maiden herself.
Apparently she took an active role in confusing, taunting, disturbing and generally messing with any
would be invaders. Even though she didn’t attack them directly, the combination of her interference and
the dungeon’s many traps worked together grind their progress to a halt at every opportunity. These
stalling tactics would then allow the frigid environment and extremely durable enemies to steadily wear
them down both physically and mentally.
In short, challenging that dungeon boiled down to a war of attrition that could last days or even weeks.
Overall it was the sort of place that would be impossible to challenge without the right preparation and
supplies. Which was why Boxxy had spent the time ‘securing’ a crate full of alchemical elixirs that
would help stave off the cold, as well as copious amounts of drinking water from melted snow. It didn’t
necessarily need to bring any food along since its Hylt Metabolism would convert the dungeon’s
ambient mana into nutrients anyway.
The other thing of note Boxxy had gotten its tentacles on were a trio of shield-shaped golden badges,
each of which had a bright yellow gemstone faceted into them. These were all instances of a somewhat
uncommon magic item called a Sun’s Crest, which also doubled as a religious icon of Solus. Exactly
why or how a place like this had symbols of the Sun God’s faith remained something of a mystery to
Boxxy, but it didn’t really care too much about such trivia.
After all, the Mimic had liberated these medallions from the confines of a ‘secure’ storage room for
reasons other than their religious symbolism.
Pinning one of these to someone’s chest would cause the circular gemstone to glow like a miniature sun,
providing both light and warmth to the wearer. The downside was that the enchantment consumed MP at
a steady pace in order to remain active, though that was hardly a problem for Boxxy once its Hylt
Metabolism kicked in. All things considered, it was an extremely useful adventuring tool that would
prove instrumental when challenging the Palace of the Crystal Maiden. Which was precisely why the
local guilds had a ready stockpile of these in the first place, and also the reason why the shapeshifter
sought them out.
Boxxy definitely didn’t steal these things just because they were excessively shiny, okay?
The Mimic stopped pondering its questionable business practices when it came across a rather
anomalous patch of terrain. From a distance it looked as if someone had used a colossal spoon to gouge
out a part of the mountainside, which was then covered in a thick layer of ice and snow. It thought back
on what that dwarven Lieutenant had said the day before, and realized this must have been the site
where the Vault Beneath the Mountain used to reside. More importantly, it was also the last place where
Fizzy had been seen alive and well.
The creature immediately darted towards the crater and began sifting through the frozen rubble. Even if
that soldier had claimed the golem’s faceplate was the only thing they could find, Boxxy was skeptical
as to how much they had actually searched. It began scanning over the area while using its trusty MLG,
and just as expected discovered something of interest hidden 6 meters beneath the surface. This sort of
thing was precisely why it had opted to personally make the trek up to the summit rather than rely on its
familiars for transportation.
Even if they were proficient in several fields of violence, none of its contractees were particularly
observant. On the upside, they had gotten rather experienced at excavation lately, so it had them help out
with unearthing its find. Xera’s fire first melted through the layer of ice. Kora’s brute strength and many
arms were then utilized to dig through the pieces of stone and metal, while Drea’s webbing was used to
make sure the rubble didn’t shift while the fiend did her thing.
Under Boxxy’s guidance, the demonic trio quickly and efficiently unearthed the thing that had caught
their master’s interest. It was a small mithril plate that was about the size of a business card. However,
the Mimic couldn’t help but be somewhat puzzled by it, as it had many questionable aspects. The metal
had an absurd degree of purity and a somehow nostalgic feel to it. Boxxy would almost swear it was
another piece of Fizzy’s hide, but hesitated to do so since it was nowhere near as warped or malformed
as her detached face.
It then decided that worrying about her was pointless. Hikari had given her word that its shiniest of
shinies was still very much alive, and it was inclined to believe her. Although the Goddess of Dice Rolls
was hardly the aspect of truth, she had no reason to deceive her chosen Hero on this. If anything that
excuse he used about sparing the citizens because Mortimer would complain was far more questionable,
but the real reason behind that act wasn’t all that important.
What truly mattered to Boxxy was what it would get from that deal.
With that in mind, the Mimic and its followers stopped moping around and resumed climbing the
mountain towards its original destination. It had some trouble navigating since visibility was limited to a
few dozen meters at best, but this wasn’t much of an issue since it just needed to go ‘up,’ towards the
summit. Its simplistic approach had proven to be the right one, as it wound up on the dungeon’s borders
within the hour.
And indeed, a ‘border’ was the only way to describe it. The waning snowstorm it had endured for the
last while had come to an abrupt halt, but an entirely different phenomenon awaited further ahead. It was
a surreal scene where sleet and wind continued to rage on behind it while an impenetrable fog of white
loomed overhead in front, yet there was a three meter gap between them where the weather was
impossibly calm. It was even relatively warm, most likely due to the sliver of sunlight was somehow fell
on this strip of land alone.
However, perhaps the most vital part of this calm zone was its soil. Unlike the rest of the region, the
ground here seemed like it was capable of supporting plant life, which was something the Mimic had
been looking for a while. It even dug one of its legs into it and sprouted a root, confirming the soil
underfoot was indeed fertile. Admittedly it was at the rate where all but the hardiest of plants would
struggle to survive, but it was still the best place to plant a seed on this strangely dead mountain.
Which was precisely what Boxxy wanted to do. It opened up its Storage and retrieved what appeared to
be a large pine cone, but something was clearly ‘off’ about it. The way its scales opened and closed in a
rhythmical, cascading manner made it look like it was actively breathing. Which, all things considered,
was not a trait one commonly associated with pine cones. The Mimic then took its root-foot out of the
ground, gouging out a good chunk of the soil in the process. It then buried the squirming seed inside the
newly formed hole and poured out a large bottle of holy water it had gotten from a temple of Nyrie
before leaving Azurvale.
A patch of lush green grass then abruptly sprouted from the soggy soil, followed immediately by a series
of green vines. They climbed resolutely upwards, twisting and coiling around each other while growing
thicker and longer at a rapid pace. The growth spurt began to slow considerably once the plant reached a
height of about 80 centimeters, at which point its surface began to harden into a layer of rough brown
bark. Most peculiar of all, however, was its shape, as it looked eerily similar to a woman that had been
buried waist-deep in the ground and had her arms crossed in front of her chest.
Which was pretty much the case, as demonstrated by how her hollow eye sockets opened up. Her arms
peeled away from her torso and her hands pressed against the ground. The petite-looking feminine plant
then lifted her lower half out of the ground, showing that her roots had formed into a pair of slender legs.
Once she had completely removed herself from the soil and was able to stand up properly, the newly-
born monster looked dumbly at the cloaked figure of the Sandman. She then began to shake violently
while a shimmering green light steadily began to emerge within her vacant eyes. Her mysterious seizure
stopped a few seconds later, at which point she bowed politely in front of the Mimic with a grace
entirely unbefitting of a newborn monster.
“Greetings, milord,” she spoke with Ambrosia’s voice. “It brings me great joy to see thou hath decided
to use this child after all.”
The pine cone Boxxy had been given was the manifestation of the dryad’s Ultimate Skill, called Vessel
Sapling. When planted and fed blessed water, it would sprout into a spriggan, a type of plant monster
related to treants. They normally only appeared in deep, lush woods with a high concentration of mana
and were deceptively intelligent. They also fancied themselves as forest guardians that did not hesitate to
use their wind, water and soil magic to fight off anything they saw as a threat to their habitat. Which,
under normal circumstances, meant pretty much any non-plant lifeform they laid their eyes on.
This one was anything but normal, of course. It was nothing more than an empty shell which had been
grown with the express purpose of serving as a host for Ambrosia’s consciousness. That was why, even
if it lacked the generous proportions and hair-like vines of the dryad, it still had a beautiful face and
antler-like branches identical to hers. The ancient tree would be able to remotely control her and
experience the world through her body, though it only lasted for two or three days at a time. This meant
that she had to rely on a courier to actually transport and plant the magic seed, otherwise she would not
get very far from Azurvale.
Suffice it to say, there really had not been too many opportunities to do so in the past.
“How are you feeling?” asked Boxxy.
“… Malnourished,” answered the tree-woman with a slight pout. “The soil here, ‘tis quite poor.”
“I know, but believe me, it’s the best I could find around these parts.”
“I can see that,” came the annoyed answer as she looked around. “I must say, milord, I hath never once
imagined I would be callout to a place nestled between two storms. Or that it even existed. ‘Tis a
phenomenon most bizarre.”
“Tell me about it,” said Boxxy while rolling its eyes. “This entire trip has been one weird thing after the
other, not to mention a colossal waste of time.”
“Mmm. So why is it that milord hath called me out at this time?”
“Ah, we’re about to invade a dungeon. It’s supposed to be quite challenging so I will likely need your
help.”
“Oh! How wondrous!” exclaimed Ambrosia while clapping her hands. “Entering dungeon means there
will be a lot of mana for me to feast on, yes?!”
“You sure seem excited by that prospect.”
“Well, eating the same thing for millennia can get quite dull. That is why I am eager to sample new
things, even if they are not necessarily, as milord would put it, tastier.”
“I can respect that,” said the Mimic with a nod. “But if you were really that bored with Azurvale’s mana,
then why didn’t you ask me to bring you out with me sooner?”
The spriggan shot Boxxy a rather sharp glare.
“Need I remind milord it was thou who chained mine mind to a dungeon?!”
Even if she were technically capable of ‘leaving’ the city - and indeed the dungeon - through her Vessel
Sapling ability, the influence from the dungeon core had kept her from even considering that option.
And since she never mentioned the Skill, nor did Boxxy think to ask her about such things, this part of
her arsenal had simply laid forgotten until her recent liberation and subsequent reunion with the Hylt
Creeper.
“Oh, right. Please forgive me, Ambrosia. I’ve said something insensitive.”
Ambrosia’s copy let out a small sigh and relaxed her stance.
“‘Tis alright, milord. I did not intend to lash out at thee, but I get ill-tempered when I am hungry since
I’m used to being a lot more well fed.”
“Oh great, another glutton to deal with,” chimed in Xera from the side.
“Hey! Don’t roll your eyes at me!” complained Drea, who was hiding behind Kora for some reason.
“Fuck,” cursed the fiend under her breath. “I was hoping to stay away from that spiteful bitch for a while
longer.”
It would appear that Ambrosia’s punishment for her promiscuous behavior had left Kora with some
mental scarring. Or at least that was what her body language suggested, especially the way she was
unwittingly covering her crotch with her lowest pair of arms. Luckily for her and the others, their
complaints were reserved for the telepathic channel between them, well out of the dryad’s earshot.
“What would thou expect of me during this endeavor, milord?” asked Ambrosia.
“You can use support-type magic, right?”

“Indeed. This body knows several Spells that can cure wounds or shield allies. I am a bit out of practice,
however, so mine chanting may be a bit slow.”
“That’s fine, just focus on supporting us and keeping as many of us alive as possible. My survival is top
priority, of course, followed in order by yourself, then Snack, then Claws, then Arms.”
Even if they were immortal beings, a demon would be of little to no use if their bodies were to expire.
Should that happen, though, they could be re-summoned after or even during the battle, unlike
Ambrosia’s Vessel Sapling. Her Ultimate Skill was limited to producing only one seed at a time, so if
that spriggan were to fall then replacing it would be impossible without returning to Azurvale.
As for the demons, even though the Soul Link Skill would distribute damage equally between them,
Xera was doubtlessly the most fragile of the three. She was the one most likely to get hit since she
couldn’t block or dodge attacks like the others, and also the one who would die first since her maximum
HP was the lowest. On the other hand, she also boasted the strongest destructive power, so prioritizing
her safety somewhat was only a logical course of action.
“As thou commands, milord,” said the spriggan with another bow. “However, I have a request of my
own I wish to impose upon thee.”
“Oh? What would that be?”
“Should this body fall, and if the situation permits it, please try to secure its head and return it to my
main self. It will… ease the pain of the separation.”
“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. But in order to make sure that doesn’t happen, you should probably have
one of these.”
Boxxy walked up to the strangely excitable spriggan and wedged a Sun’s Crest between her rigid
cleavage. The round yellow gemstone embedded in its center immediately began to shine with a gentle,
soothing light.
“Just feed mana into this if you feel cold,” it explained as it pinned a second one onto the left side of its
chest. “The more you channel into it, the more intense it will get. Just don’t overdo it, its liable to break
if you overload it.”
“I am grateful for thy consideration, milord. Will thou other servants be getting one of these as well?”
“No. Arms is an idiot that sucks at anything to do with magic, Snack can conjure flames at will, and
Claws wouldn’t be much of an assassin if she shone like the sun. Entrusting one of these to any of them
would be pointless.”
The Stalker was definitely getting the short end of the stick here, though. Kora would be more or less
fine in the cold since her species were naturally hardy and resilient, but someone like Drea had to endure
it as best she could. It wasn’t all that bad though, as Xera had been fed an Elixir of Greater Cold
Resistance while the group waited for the spriggan to grow. And thanks to Boxxy’s Soul Link Skill, it
meant that all three of its demonic familiars got the same 20% increase to cold resistance for the next 2
hours.
“Everyone form up!” commanded Boxxy after preparations were complete. “We’re going in!”
The party of monsters took a basic formation, with Kora at the front, Drea at the back, Boxxy in the
middle, and Ambrosia and Xera on either side of it. The Stalker would later move ahead of the group to
serve as the scout, but it was better to have the toughest one of them take the lead until they had some
idea what it was they were dealing with. With their preparations out of the way, the group then crossed
through the freezing fog wall that served as the dungeon’s threshold.
You have entered the Palace of the Crystal Maiden.

Flight is now restricted.
Spatial travel is now restricted.
Your body is no longer bathed in sunlight. Automatic HP and MP recovery reduced by
80%.
Your body begins to feed off the ambient mana. Automatic HP and MP recovery increased
by 200%.
Almost immediately the Hylt Creeper felt like it was being assaulted by the air itself. The lingering
mystical energies around here were so thick that moving its limbs around almost seemed like it was
wading through soup. A tasty, rich, abundant soup that its body wanted to slurp up on the spot, but the
onset of it had been so sudden and borderline hostile that the creature had instinctively wanted to reject
it.
“Mmmmmm… So good!”
Ambrosia, on the other hand, had no such reservations. She had her hands up in the air above her head
and moaned in an almost sensual manner while she eagerly slurped it all up. The very air around her
seemed to twist and bend as her body pulled in as much mana as it could into itself. Her appetite was so
voracious that the white fog surrounding the group began to visibly thin out as it drifted into the gaps
between her bark, never to be seen again.
The spriggan’s body then reacted to the sudden influx of energy by plumping up considerably, giving her
slender figure the sort of exaggerated motherly curves all dryads seemed to have. Admittedly she was
still smaller than her original voluptuous self when it came to the hip, thigh, and chest areas, but that
didn’t seem to bother her too much. In fact, if the flowers blooming from her antlers were any
indication, she seemed to be quite content with this situation.
Following her lead, Boxxy decided it too would sample the surrounding miasma, and took in a huge
lungful of the mana-enriched air.
“Hmm, not bad,” it remarked, “not bad at all. The sheer volume is quite satisfying, though the flavor
leaves something to be desired. Overall, I’d say Ambrosia’s is still tastier.”
“Oh, milord! Thou need not flatter me so!”
“What are you talking about? I am simply stating the facts.”
The Mimic’s straightforward answer made the spriggan feel even more flattered, as she realized this
creature never minced its words when it came to its food. The fact that this was its honest opinion only
made its words seem all the sweeter. In fact, it was one of the nicest things it had ever said to her, which
made her cup her cheeks as if she was trying to hide her blushing face. Not that her current species was
even capable of such a feat, though.
“Let’s not get too distracted here, though,” called out Boxxy. “This is enemy territory, be ready for
anything!”
The others responded in the affirmative, after which the group began to make their way inwards with
Kora at the front. The Hylt Creeper and the spriggan both siphoned off the mystic fog as best they could,
but it didn’t seem to improve their visibility. They didn’t have to worry about that for long, though, as
the party soon broke through it and entered what seemed to be the Palace’s gardens. It was a wide open
area filled with various trees, flowers and hedges that had been frozen solid to the point where they
looked like ice sculptures.
The Palace of the Crystal Maiden itself was visible far off in the distance, looming over everything from
its perch atop the mountain’s highest point a few kilometers away. As one would expect, it too seemed to
have been sculpted out of ice, which made it sparkle beautifully in what little sunlight it managed to
catch. That was the only place where natural light was actually allowed to enter this place, as the rest of
the sky had been blocked off by thick, gray clouds. Not only that, but the cliff it was resting on was
shrouded in a thick mist that made it impossible to tell how one would actually approach that ethereal
place.
However, Boxxy and company had more pressing matters to consider rather than some fancy far-off
frozen architecture.
“Well, well, well! What have we here?!”
A female voice echoed around them, accompanied by a sudden gust of wind. The small tornado-like air
current lifted snowflakes out of the air and ground, pulling them together into the figure of a human
woman in the blink of an eye. She had pale pink skin, a youthful face on the cusp of adulthood and a
body to match. Her black hair had been done up in an obscenely long ponytail that hung down to her
waist while her eyes shone with a brilliant white light that made it impossible to see her irises. She also
had a pair of cute glass-like horns poking out of her forehead, denoting her demonic lineage.
Her modest breasts were bound by an azure tube top with a golden rim, and she had a similarly colored
scarf covering her neck, shoulders and collarbone. The ensemble as a whole seemed to be designed to
emphasize her cleavage, but it was failing miserably since there was very little for the outfit to work
with. Her long poofy pants and pointy shoes seemed to be made of the same stuff as her top and
completely hid her lower body in cloth.
She also seemed to have a rather obscene amount of jewelry. Her fingers all had rings, jewel-encrusted
golden bangles and bracelets adorned her biceps and wrists, and a brilliant sapphire amulet hung off her
neck and nestled between her breasts. She also seemed to have a pair of silver hair pins keeping her
ponytail in place, and her ears, lip, brow, and nose were all pierced with yet more golden decorations.
“Greetings, travelers. I welcome you to-”

Her introduction was suddenly cut short when Drea attempted to cut her face open. It had taken merely a
split second for her to throw a piece of her thread to Kora, who had used it to swing her around like a
flail at this pompous stranger. The surprise attack had worked and the stalker’s scythes found their mark,
but ultimately proved to be a futile effort. The thing in front of them turned out to be just an illusion of
some sort, so the only thing the Stalker’s blades did was slightly disturb her face as if it were but a puff
of smoke.
“Hey! Watch it!” she complained while her distorted visage reassembled itself. “I got a job to do here,
shit-for-brains!”
This display, combined with her exotic appearance and prideful attitude, led Boxxy to a single
conclusion. Their opponent - most likely the Crystal Maiden for which this place was named after - was
actually a djinn like Snack. Well, not exactly like her. The Mimic doubted this one used to be a succubus
before her Rank Up, considering how lacking in sex appeal her body was.
“Are you the dungeon master of this place?” it called out to her.
“Hmm? Oh me, oh my! You are rather sharp for a brainless oaf too ugly to show his face, aren’t you? I
guess you must be the leader of this circus troupe. Are you sure you’re in the right place, though? No
offense, but I doubt you and your traveling whorehouse of a carnival actually intended to be here. Or
were you so lost in your adolescent fantasies that you actually thought yourself capable of challenging a
dungeon?”
Rather than respond to her blatant attempts at provocation, the Mimic simply ignored her and continued
on its way. The djinn continued her verbal harassment as she tried to get a rise out of it and its
entourage. To her credit, even if her insults were puerile and superfluous, her high-pitched voice and the
cocky way she spoke as if she were better than everyone were objectively annoying. However, she
didn’t manage to get any sort of satisfactory reaction out of them. The demons were ordered not to
respond to her taunts, while Boxxy and Ambrosia were both quite good at ignoring pests.
And yet she still didn’t stop trying to belittle her guests. Which was the right move, as persistence was
key if one hoped to get under someone else’s skin. Boxxy was actually learning a good amount from her
on the subject of annoying others, though how useful such a skill would be was questionable at best.
“You must think yourself so clever just because you’re a Warlock,” she continued in a spiteful tone.
“Fucking slave drivers, the lot of you. Can’t wait to hear you scream when your ‘pets’ finally turn on
you! Surely you understand they’re plotting your demise even now, you tiny-dicked loser!”
It became evident at this point that this djinn had never seen any of Jorge’s broadcasts of the Boxxy
show, as she clearly had no idea who it was she was talking to. Otherwise she’d know she was just
wasting her breath. Her ignorance as to the Sandman’s identity as the Hero of Chaos was likely due to
her spending an obscene amount of time in the physical realm. Which, considering that she was the
caretaker of a centuries-old dungeon, really wasn’t all that surprising.
In consideration of that, the Mimic decided to give her a bit of her own medicine. Pissing others off was
something it was pretty good at as well, so it rescinded its previous order and instructed all of its
familiars to give her pitying looks. Which they did flawlessly and genuinely, for they truly thought her
attempts to get their monstrous master riled up were laughable at best. It was a small gesture, but one
that seemed to have the intended effect, as her cocky smirk disappeared almost instantly.
“D-Don’t look down on me!” she lashed out. “You think you bitches are hot shit just because your tits
are big or something?! And what the hell’s the deal with that walking tree anyway?! You people should
all just drop dead and become imps!”
Boxxy personally continued ignoring her as best it could as the group approached to be an open
gatehouse in the middle of a castle-like wall. When it and the others stepped in front of it, however, the
djinn’s face suddenly warped into a twisted grin.
“Gotcha!”
You have been caught in a teleportation trap.
A rectangular section of the mossy ground suddenly lit up, and the five invaders disappeared from their
spots in a bright flash of light before any of them could react.
Boxxy found itself standing alone in a jail cell of solid stone with a steel grate blocking the exit. The
creature snarled on reflex as it was reminded of the time that hateful human had captured it. It then
turned that awoken animosity inwards, silently chastising itself for not spotting that teleportation trap.
That didn’t last long, however, as it quickly shifted the blame for that slip-up onto the environment
messing with its magical perception.
The overabundant ambient mana had filled the perception range of its Mana Locator Gland with what
was essentially white noise. That was why the teleportation trap, which was a magical formation rather
than a physical mechanism, had been rendered near-invisible against the background of the dungeon’s
magically-charged air. Boxxy’s MLG could still make out solid objects without much difficulty, but
detecting magic in this environment was going to be much harder than it had originally anticipated.
Ultimately, it had simply trusted the overly-sensitive sensory organ a bit too much, and as a direct result
was now in a position whereby it was cut off from its allies.
You are in an anti-magic zone. The use of Spells and Caster Skills is restricted.
And if this alert floating around inside its mind was any indication, it meant it would have to stay this
way for a while. It was as if the Warlock Job had been reduced to just a lump of Attributes and nothing
more, effectively neutering its mystical abilities. It couldn’t summon any of its familiars to its side, nor
could it even reach out to them telepathically. Attempting to view their Statuses only flooded its
consciousness with a stream of incomprehensible gibberish, and even a cursory attempt to contact
Demons ‘R’ Us proved futile.
This ‘anti-magic zone’ was not a feature the shapeshifter was familiar with. Even now when it remotely
accessed its own dungeon core, it failed to find anything even remotely close to it. It did, however,
notice that certain plant-based monsters, constructs and traps it had access to previously had
mysteriously disappeared. It never had much interest in running its base of operations like an actual
dungeon, so it rarely if ever bothered with those sections of the Dungeon Management screen.
And that was when it realized that the key difference between then and now was that Ambrosia was no
longer the dungeon master. It would seem that special options and features not normally available would
be unlocked if the right curator was ‘employed,’ and would be lost if said overseer was ‘fired.’ And this
place was overseen by a djinn, who were supposedly the most talented in the mystic arts among all of
demonkind. So, all things considered, Boxxy concluded that it wasn’t all that strange that an anti-magic
zone could be established in a place like this.
“Welcome to the Glacial Gallows.”
The nagging voice of the dungeon master in question echoed through the prison’s halls, heralding the
appearance of her mist-like illusion just outside of the Mimic’s cell.
“I hope it is to your liking,” she said with a shit-eating grin. “It’s a special ‘time-out room’ for naughty
little Spell-slingers who rely too much on their tongue-twisters and mystical mojo. Go on - just try to
get out of here with those noodly appendages of yours.”
The Mimic walked up to the steel cage and grasped one of the bars with the Sandman’s oversized hand.
Realizing that her script made no sense in this particular situation made the djinn droop her shoulders
and roll her eyes, but she didn’t seem all that bothered by this minor slip-up.
“Okay,” she continued, “admittedly you’re a freak of nature that’s a bit more heavy-set than I’m used to,
but you’re still not getting out of there. Your only hope is to wait for your whores to come and rescue-”
*Click*
Her monologue was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the cage lock being unlocked, followed by the
loud creaking of the steel door as it swung open. The Sandman stepped out of the jail cell in a casual
manner, stood before the djinn’s floating illusion and practically loomed over her as it stared into her
glowing white eyes.
“You were saying?” he asked mockingly.
“Th-this doesn’t mean jack shit! So what if you can pick a lock?! You think a prison like this doesn’t
have guards!?”
The djinn turned put her index finger and thumb in her mouth and let out a sharp whistle that echoed
slightly in the stone brick hallway. The flames of the lit torches on the walls began to twist and deform
as a gust of cold air washed over Boxxy. A chorus of scraping and rattling emanated from a nearby
corner as a trio of creatures about as large as the Sandman crept into view.
The monsters were all of the same reptilian species, which Boxxy had never laid eyes on before. They
had a humanoid torsos, arms and heads, but their lower bodies were long and serpentine like a snake’s.
Their heads had protruding jaws lined with needle-like teeth, and a plethora of spikes and fins adorned
the sides, top and back of their heads almost like hair. Their facial features were somewhat reminiscent
of that Hero of Death the shapeshifter killed a while back, but they had a distinctly more feral edge to
them.
In terms of equipment, they had black leather shoulder pads, elbow guards and vambracers attached to
their upper bodies and limbs. However, those seemed to be more for ceremonial or decorative purposes
rather than personal defense, as they were laughably frail compared to the scales that lay underneath. As
for weapons, they had none save for the sharp claws at the tips of their four-fingered hands and the
spear-like spike at the tips of their tails. Both of which were sturdy enough to puncture through
unenchanted armor like it were paper.
“Better start running,” said the djinn with a smirk. “These boys haven’t been fed in a while.”
As if on cue, the ‘guards’ let out loud hisses while baring their pointy teeth. They lunged at Boxxy, with
the one in front using his muscular tail like a spring to launch himself forward. Rather than sit there and
take the charge head on, the Mimic also rushed forward straight through the djinn’s illusion, making it
scatter like a cloud of smoke. Her mental projection didn’t even attempt to reconstitute itself, as the
dungeon master had gone off to attend to her other ‘guests.’
The Mimic produced a two-handed broadsword from its Storage and swung it at the airborne lizard-man,
smashing the blade into the side of its head and sending it careening into the wall. It was a solid hit
strong enough to daze it, but did not slice its head in half like a ripe melon as Boxxy had intended.
Admittedly the sword itself was a bit dull, but the fact that it couldn’t break through the creature’s scales
and shatter its skull spoke volumes of how tough these things were. It was a clear demonstration of how
high-end enchanted equipment was mandatory if adventurers were to stand up against high Level
monsters.
Luckily, Boxxy had just the thing to resolve this situation. After side-stepping the second lizard and
batting away the third, it discarded the worthless sword and pulled out its favorite mithril rapier. It
rushed one of its dazed opponents, stabbing it through the eye socket and driving the beautiful weapon
deep into its skull. It then used the shiny weapon as a lever as it abruptly grabbed hold of the creature’s
shoulder and twisted its head around until it heard a loud crack.
The lizard-thing began twitching and writhing uncontrollably within Boxxy’s grasp, but with its brain
pierced and its neck snapped, it was already dead.
Level up!
+1.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Legendary Endurance.
And through its demise it had unwittingly provided its killer with the last bit of XP it needed to reach a
very important milestone.
Legendary Endurance
Description: A being whose vitality and constitution are the stuff of legends.
Requirements: Reach 1,000 Endurance (END).
Effects: Increases poison and disease resistance by 75%.
Increases stamina recovery rate by 50%.
This came as a pleasantly tasty surprise to Boxxy, as it had no idea a thousand Attributes awarded a
significant Perk like this. Granted it was never particularly worried about tiring out in combat or
succumbing to things like poisons or toxins, but now it could more or less put those quandaries out of its
mind completely. Assessing how tasty this new Perk truly was would have to wait for later, however, as
it had yet more bundles of XP to reap.
Quite a bit more, actually, as dozens of the slithering creatures began swarming it from all sides before it
was done dealing with the initial three. They were hardly anything for Boxxy to worry about, though, as
it had already devised a method to quickly and cleanly deal with them. Using a combination of its MLG
and the Blade Dancer Job’s Adagio Variation and Hornet Style Skills allowed it to make pinpoint strikes
to the swarming monsters’ weak spots.
It used finesse rather than brute strength to gouge out eyes, slit open throats and, on a few rare
occasions, skewer hearts. Trying to wedge the tip of the slender blade in between the gaps in their scales
was a fresh experience, one that the Mimic found strangely fun and therapeutic. Even by itself it
outclassed these things so completely that it wound up treating this encounter like a game rather than the
life-or-death struggle it was supposed to be. Realizing that such a casual attitude was ill-advised in a
place such as this, Boxxy then stopped toying with its food and concentrated solely on wiping out the
enemy.
Its killing spree only sped up once the Blade Dancer Job reached Level 35, at which point it picked up
Flamenco de Fuego, the second Deadly Dance Skill. Rather than the sweeping slashes of Winterlich
Waltz that chilled enemies to the bone, this one used quick step-ins and rapid thrusts to riddle them with
burning holes. It was pretty much ideal for taking on its current adversaries, as fire seemed to be the
Bane of these serpentine monsters.
The Mimic felt that was a bit unfortunate for them, as it was frightfully common for adventuring parties
to have someone capable of using fire magic among them. Then again, this entire area was an anti-magic
zone, meaning that Pyromancers, Wizards and the like would normally be powerless and unable to
conjure flames. There was also the matter of the various traps that littered these hallways. Things like
spikes, darts and water-based contraptions would make life difficult for any would-be invaders, as it
would either injure them severely or otherwise slow down their progress. At the same time, they did no
harm to the thick-skinned monstrous residents.
Boxxy had to admit, having the dungeon’s environment compensate for the monster’s weaknesses as
much as possible was a smart decision on behalf of the dungeon master. It was actually learning quite a
bit about proper Dungeon Management from her, which would surely come in useful in the future. Said
dungeon master would probably end up picking up a few lessons herself if she were to review the
Mimic’s trail of carnage. The most important of which was that good judgement alone was wholly
incapable of containing the walking cataclysm that was Boxxy T. Morningwood.
The Mimic’s rampage continued until it had fought its way out of the prison’s insides and into its main
yard. The ground here was made up of hard-packed dirt that had been frozen solid, making it as hard and
coarse as a rock. The open space was surrounded by four tall stone walls covered with ice, apart from
the massive gatehouse barring the exit on one side and the prison building itself on the other. The mist-
shrouded mountain peak loomed over the walls, making it clear that this dungeon within a dungeon was
built at the base of the cliff upon which the titular Palace of the Crystal Maiden could be found.
The fact that the prisoner had made it this far was precisely why the djinn suddenly made an appearance.
However, when her projection materialized out of thin air and relayed what it saw back to her, she was
struck completely dumb. At least thirty of the Icescale Naga she’d placed in the Glacial Gallows lay on
the ground either dead or dying, their purple blood smeared across every conceivable surface. The
bodies were still being steadily reclaimed by the dungeon, which had allowed the Sandman to sit himself
atop what was essentially a throne of corpses. His mask and cowl were both off, revealing a grotesque
bald head, riddled with burn scars and old cut wounds.
It was a horrific face to be sure, but what really got to the dungeon master was the fact he was casually
eating one of her subordinates’ lopped off tails as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Was wondering when you’d show up,” he spoke after swallowing his mouthful. “You got any more of
these tasty things? I’m running out of snacks!”
He then proceeded to take another bite out of the tail, letting out a series of disturbing crunching noises
as bone, scale and meat were ground to a fine paste within his massive jaw. Incidentally, the comment
regarding the flavor wasn’t part of an act, but rather Boxxy’s honest assessment. The scales were
arguably the best part, as they became delightfully crunchy once their owners had lost their lives,
allowing the monster to snack on them with earnest gusto. The fact that its Hylt Metabolism allowed it
to digest mana also meant that the meal was much more filling than it would be otherwise, which only
made it that much more satisfying.
“What in the fuck are you?!” bellowed the dungeon master. “There’s no way a mere human would be
able to, ugh, eat them! They have poisonous blood for crying out loud!”
“Ohhh!” exclaimed the mercenary. “So that’s where that spicy tang is coming from!”
It made sense considering most of these snake-men had tried assaulting it with their venomous breaths,
but those too had done very little against someone with Legendary Endurance.
“Oh, God! I can’t look at this!”
It would appear that for all her self-confidence, this floating lady demon was surprisingly squeamish.
Either that or her acting skills were top-notch, but Boxxy didn’t care either way as it just kept eating to
pass the time while it rested up after that prolonged skirmish. The fact that its behavior was visibly
unsettling the djinn to this degree was only a bonus, really. And ‘unsettled’ was certainly the way to
describe her current emotional state, as she desperately tried to wrap her head around this situation. The
dungeon core’s Invader Analysis had told her that this guy was a Level 61 human Warlock named Hugh
Mungus, so this scene made absolutely no sense to her. Unless, of course-
“… You’re a Hero?!” she blurted out.
There was no way other way to fool the Invader Analysis function of a dungeon core. Even if the
information it provided amounted to nothing more than a Basic Appraisal, it was able to bypass any and
all trickery that would normally fool a Scribe’s check. Except for the Essence Concealment Skill, which
was exclusive to those chosen by the gods.
“What, you realize this just now?” responded the Sandman after swallowing audibly. “What sort of
shitty dungeon master are you? You sure you’re actually qualified for this job? Maybe teaching little
kids how to read would be a better fit for you.”
The djinn’s spiteful expression and seething glare were telltale signs that the Mimic had managed to
strike a nerve by questioning her competence. It may have been unintentional at first, but Boxxy was
now deliberately messing with her in an attempt to goad her into doing something rash and/or stupid that
it could take advantage of. Unfortunately, what followed next was not at all what the shady shapeshifter
had expected, as the curator’s expression turned from one of utter disgust and disdain to one of violent
delight.
“Well, that changes things, doesn’t it?” she said in an oddly chipper voice. “Looks like I get to put you
and your freaky sex slaves through the Hero-only course! Oh, what fun!”
She quickly accessed the Guardian Assignment section of the Dungeon Management screen and turned a
few things ‘on.’ She then floated up into the air and yelled up towards the roof of the tower-like Glacial
Gallows.
“Ohhhh, Timmy! Lunch time!”
A loud roar fell on top of Boxxy as a massive shadow passed over it. The creature overhead seemed to
be of the same variety as the others it faced so far, except for several key differences. It was a few sizes
large and it had a pair of massive bat-like wings that let it fly around, well out of reach. It was also better
armed than the ground-bount grunts in every sense of the word, as it had four arms, each of which held a
fancy-looking crystal weapon. The upper, longer set of limbs wielded a crystal spear and kite shield,
while the lower pair were gripping a short sword each.
The Mimic wanted to complain about this thing’s three-dimensional movement, as this dungeon was
supposed to be a no-fly area. That was why Snack was forced to walk on the way in, as any attempts at
floating above a certain height were met with her being slammed into the ground by an unseen force.
And yet this thing, which according to its Eyes of the Dead God was indeed named Timothy, was
blatantly ignoring that rule. Then again, it wouldn’t make sense for a dungeon to impede its own guards,
so the residents were likely excluded from such limitations.
Which probably went double for the uniquely powerful creatures, such as this one. It had more than
double the HP of the fodder Boxxy had been slaughtering for the past half hour or so and was clearly of
a higher species, probably also a rare variant. Not to mention that the djinn said this was part of a ‘Hero-
only course,’ suggesting it would take an exceptional individual to take this thing down. All things
considered, it was quite obvious this was the area guardian of the Glacial Gallows.
“Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!” The demoness let out a haughty laugh as she looked down at the Sandman’s
gruesome visage. “Better prepare your anus, scrotum-face! Because Timmy here’s a Drakeling Alpha of
the Icescale Naga tribe, and he’s going to-! Going to… Err… ”
Her words began to trail off the more she looked into the invader’s yellow eyes. They were not at all the
eyes of fearful awe she was expecting. They were, in fact, quite the opposite, as they seemed to be sizing
up Timmy as if he were a full-course gourmet meal that was about to be served. Worst of all, at least in
the djinn’s eyes, was the thoroughly creepy half-crescent grin that this weirdo’s bloodstained lips had
curved into.
“Wuh-why are you smiling?” she stammered aloud.
“This thing is an area guardian, right?!” asked the Sandman without averting his gaze.
“Uhh…”
“This means I’ll get a treasure chest when I kill it, right?!”
Without even waiting for a response, Boxxy immediately dropped all pretense of being a person. It
formed its legs into a long serpentine tail, similar to the one it had been munching on until a few
moments ago, complete with a set of bark-like scales. It coiled and tensed up the muscular appendage, as
it mimicked the same move the fodder had used multiple times to try and lunge at it from afar. The
organic spring then unfurled in a sharp snapping motion as the Mimic’s ridiculous Attributes sent it
flying straight upwards like a confused meteorite.
No, ‘flying’ wasn’t the right word. In actuality, what the shapeshifter was doing was ‘jumping,’ so the
dungeon was powerless to stop its ascent towards its target. Timmy wasn’t the boss of this area for
nothing, however. As expected of a high-tier monster, it didn’t even question how something was able to
leap over 20 meters into the air and simply thrust its spear at the incoming shiny-seeking-missile.
The glimmering weapon found its mark and pierced clean through Boxxy’s chest as the two monsters
collided into each other. Or rather, it was more the case that the Mimic had willingly impaled itself upon
its weapon. It was a calculated risk it deemed was worth it, as these Icescale Naga were the type of
monster that excelled in endurance and defense, but their offensive capabilities left something to be
desired.
And this one was no different. Even if it was three times stronger than the average lizard, it would have
been impossible for it take away more than a third of the Mimic’s maximum HP in a single blow. But
even that had proven to be an overestimation, as Boxxy was left with more than three quarters of its life
force intact. It wasn’t until Timmy slashed at its massive body with its swords several times before the
shapeshifter’s HP fell to about half.
Which was exactly what Boxxy was aiming for.
The shapeshifter grasped the spear shaft with one hand for leverage, took out one of the best longswords
it had in its Storage and invoked the Skill it had pilfered from Teresa’s Hero.
“Vengeance!”
Vengeance
Description: Those who dare lay their hands on the champion of justice shall feel the fury
of the Goddess herself.
Type: Active
Cost: 5% of max MP
Range: Self
Effects: Imbues the next non-Martial Art melee attack with divine power.
Increases the damage dealt by this Skill by 10% for every 5% of maximum HP lost over the
last 10 seconds.
Damage dealt by this Skill bypasses 50% of enemy defenses.
This Skill may not be activated more than once every 10 seconds.
The sword was wrapped up in a radiant white glow, which produced a trail of light as the weapon was
swung through the air. Infused with divine energy as it was, the blade easily split open the alpha naga’s
chest, leaving behind a massive gash and making the creature howl with a shrill cry of pain. However,
even if it looked like a grievous wound, the area boss still had most of its HP remaining and refused to
fall to the ground.
But Boxxy was not quite done with it yet, though. It sprouted a pair of tentacles out of its right shoulder
while its left arm continued to cling to its opponent. One of the newly grown appendages reached into its
Storage and pulled out a 20-centimeter long metal cylinder. The other fleshy tendril then skillfully pulled
the pin out of it, after which both limbs worked together to stuff the object as deep into the naga’s open
chest wound as it would go.
The Mimic then forcefully kicked away from its opponent and began to fall like a rock. It sprouted a pair
of demonic wings out of its back and glided down to the ground. It landed a bit sloppily onto the same
pile of corpses it was resting on before, making a disgusting squelching sound while also sending spurts
of blood flying everywhere. After that, it picked up the half-eaten tail it had discarded earlier and bit
right into it.
It was at that point that the incendiary grenade it had stuffed into the naga’s body exploded, wrapping it
in an intense chemical fire that it had no hope of putting out. Being enveloped by its Bane so suddenly,
the creature had no choice but to flail around in the air for a few moments before going into a spiraling
nosedive. It smashed head-first into the Glacial Gallows building, and then crashed into the blood
soaked ground behind Boxxy with a satisfying thud. The flaming pile of lizard continued to writhe and
whine for a while longer before the persistent flames robbed it of its remaining HP and ended its life.
The area guardian of the Glacial Gallows has been slain.

The Glacial Gallows can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
A loud grinding noise came out of the nearby gatehouse as it began opening up its massives gates and
metal portcullis, all while the djinn looked on with a look of utter disbelief. It was the same expression
she had ever since Boxxy launched itself upward. She even seemed to have forgotten to breathe as her
mind was still parsing the events of the last several seconds. Her mental buffering come to an abrupt end
when the exit to the Glacial Gallows finished opening up with a loud clang, revealing a golden treasure
chest that lay immediately beyond them.
“… What?” she let out weakly. “But that’s not… But Timmy was… The anti-magic zone… Where did
the fire… And since when could Warlocks… WHAT?!”
“LET ME MAKE ONE THING CLEAR, PUNY WEAKLING!”
“Eeeep!”
The pink-skinned woman let out a tiny scream entirely unbefitting of her status as a centuries-old
Ranked Up demon. Her reaction wasn’t caused by the gravelly, authoritative voice that came from
behind her, nor was it the foreboding shadow that suddenly loomed over her. It was the fact that she
recognized both of those that truly gave her pause. Shaking profusely, she turned her head around, only
to behold Boxxy’s 3-meter tall impersonation of Nagnamor. She didn’t even have time to process the
fact that this was just a copy before the Mimic thrust its charcoal-colored draconic skull into her face
and howled at her-
“YOU ARE NO LONGER IN CONTROL!”
“Aaaaarh!”
The djinn known as Setre suddenly leaped atop her throne in a fit of shock and panic. She panted heavily
while looking around the frozen throne room she resided in, feeling as if she had just awoken from a
nightmare. Which was a surprisingly apt comparison, seeing as how she was suddenly confronted with
her old boss yelling at her. She was so thoroughly terrified by that unexpected scene that she had
instinctively undone her Mistborn Projection, causing her consciousness to snap back to her real body.
Once she calmed down somewhat, she realized that there was no way that was the actual Overlord of the
Flaming Legion, much to her chagrin.
“Argh, I’m such an idiot!” she screamed angrily while flailing around like a spoiled child. “His head
wasn’t even on fire or anything! That fucking bastard! How dare he get the better of me! I don’t care
who or what he is, I’m gonna kill him, bury him, and piss on his corpse for good measure!”
In a fit of spite, she quickly accessed the dungeon’s Item Allocation menu and took a peek inside the
chest her adversary had been awarded with. It would seem he was randomly allotted a sapphire-laden
diadem that had excellent effects for a Spell-slinger. He hadn’t opened it up just yet, so she took this
opportunity to try and swap it out for another item. She couldn’t give him complete trash, though, no
matter how much she wished she could. Her contract with Goroth mandated that hard-working
adventurers were entitled to their proper rewards, and defeating an area guardian was worthy of a
substantial prize indeed.
However, she could still swap the item out for one that would be practically useless to that asshole. But
what would that something be? Caster items were obviously right out, and she hesitated to opt for a
piece of armor or something like a heavy sword or axe, as he was obviously much more proficient in
martial combat than she had initially assumed. As she listed through the catalog of Artifact-grade items
available, she suddenly came across the perfect thing - the Winter’s Bite. It was a crystalline longbow
that had a bunch of features, but the most notable one was that it produced its own ice-imbued
ammunition when the string was drawn.
“This will do! Take that, dickface!”
Declaring thusly, she switched out the golden chest’s contents just as the invader was about to open it,
and she leaned back in her chair with a smug smile on her face. It was something of a rash decision, but
she was sure her petty revenge had been worth it. Sure, it was technically a more valuable item than the
one that was originally in there, but it would be completely useless to a creature like that. Even if that
absurd being was somehow able to use the weapon, it wouldn’t help it conquer the dungeon in the
slightest since ice-based attacks were meaningless against its monsters.
“Alright, let’s see if I can get one of the other-”
The area guardian of the Menagerie has been slain.

The Menagerie can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
Her scheming was then rudely interrupted when a dungeon-wide notification informed her that another
one of its bosses had been defeated.
“… Okay. I guess I underestimated that tree as well.”
She really should’ve known better considering how that spriggan was soaking up mana like nobody’s
business, but she never imagined a walking twig could take down the Menagerie guardian by herself.
Then again, this was a Hero’s party, so it was natural she’d be some absurd existence in her own right.
Well, it wasn’t that big of a problem, as all Setre needed to do was offer that Warlock’s familiars the
right deal and she was sure she could win them over to her side. Her ‘meetings’ with them didn’t go over
too well, but at the very least they had no reason to go above and beyond to protect their summoner. In
fact, considering that they’d been cut off from receiving new orders, they were probably just lazing
around doing nothing.
The area guardian of the Torture Chamber has been slain.

The Torture Chamber can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
It was at that point that Setre realized that not-Nagnamor was right, and that she truly was no longer in
control of this situation.
Ambrosia strode down a marble hallway the likes of which any ruler would be proud to have in their
castle. The area was bathed in the serene yellow light that came from the Sun’s Crest that Boxxy had
given her, which bounced off of her surroundings and further strengthened the opulent atmosphere. The
square floor tiles had been brought to a mirror-like polish that perfectly reflected the six meter tall
ceiling, as well as the walking plant’s underside. The walls were four meters apart and were just as
impeccable. They were so smooth that they even created an optical illusion whereby there seemed to be
an infinite number of spriggans whenever Ambrosia’s gaze wandered to the left or right.
And yet, as incalculably expensive as these surfaces were, they were also very far from bare. The floor
bore a number of colorful patterns that almost seemed like carpets, while the walls were dotted by huge
stone doors with no apparent handles or hinges. Numerous murals depicting everything from terrifying
creatures to the gods themselves covered every last millimeter of the ceiling overhead. All of this
extravagance combined into a feast for the eyes that was more than worthy of the patron God of Artists
and Artisans.
Ambrosia was not at all impressed, however. Her lovely face had been twisted into a scowl ever since
she had come here, and her apparent discomfort with her surroundings had only deepened in the few
short minutes since then. Sure, the workmanship involved was undoubtedly of superb quality, well
beyond anything a dungeon core could produce on its own. But as a being that personified the
stubbornness and vitality of nature, the dryad couldn’t help but feel out of place in such a lifeless, sterile
space. Even the air itself was completely dry and hopelessly stale to the point where ice did not form on
any of the surrounding surfaces, despite the intense cold.
“Welcome to the Menagerie.”
The dungeon master’s Mistborn Projection appeared in front of the dryad while giving her greeting. She
was frowning much like Ambrosia, which was mostly because of that infuriating Warlock she had just
finished talking to. Well, the cocky bastard would soon get his anyway, so she quickly focused her
attention on what was, in her opinion, one of her more unpredictable guests.
The Invader Analysis had pegged this tree-woman called Ambrosia as a Level 50 Tree Spirit and a Level
50 Spriggan. Her HP and MP totals were easily worthy of Ranked Up adventurers, so she was sure to be
quite powerful in her own right. At the same time, however, her age of thirty or so minutes was…
unsettling to say the least. Even if Setre knew very little regarding the plantlife side of the monster
spectrum, she was still pretty confident such an extreme disparity between age and power was not a
common thing among the spriggan.
“Art thou the one who has dared to separate me from milord?”
And judging from her way of speaking, this tree-woman was definitely not behaving like a freshly-born
monster. Not only did her words betray an allegiance to what was presumably her owner, but she also
carried herself with a sort of natural grace. Even the creaking of her joints and the scraping of her roots
against the stone floor failed to detract from her mystifying elegance. It seemed like she was the spirit of
an ancient being bound to a temporary vessel, though she was definitely not of demonic origin.
This would make determining where her true allegiances lied quite difficult, which was why she decided
to take a jab at Ambrosia’s boss rather than the spriggan herself.
“Mm, well, you could say that,” admitted the djinn, “though it’s more the case of your ‘lord’ being
thoroughly incompetent. What sort of idiot just walks around casually in a dungeon like that? It’s like he
wanted to be gutted and turned into lizard shit.”
Whatever reaction she offered would certainly reveal something of the nature of her character. Even the
lack of a response could be used to get a read on her. After all, Setre had centuries’ worth of practice
pushing people’s buttons, so she was sure she could use whatever answer her ‘guest’ made to discern her
motives.
“Ah, the confidence of youth,” said Ambrosia with a nostalgic smile. “‘Tis a rather enviable thing.”
Well, except that one.
“… What?”
“Thou seem’st to believe milord will be easy prey for thy servants. ‘Tis quite humorous. Adorable,
even.”
Even though Ambrosia had never seen Boxxy fight directly, her confidence in its abilities were hardly
baseless. After all, this was the creature that conquered death itself to return to her side. Okay, maybe
their reunion wasn’t the primary reason it came back to her, but she liked to think it was certainly at least
part of it.
“I suggest clinging to and enjoying thy fantasies while they last,” she added, “for milord is sure to
shatter them into nothingness.”
“Haaah. So it’s like that,” said the djinn with a disappointed sigh.
The queer way in which the tree-woman responded had caught Setre off guard, but her follow-up
comments placed her squarely in the ‘mindless follower’ category. It was the type of person that latched
onto and trusted in someone else’s abilities to a frankly unhealthy degree. They relied upon said person
to the point of being unable to solve their own problems by themselves. Such leeches would crumble
and despair once their ‘fearless leader’ had been proven to not be as invincible as they imagined them to
be, which Setre thought was only a matter of time. Therefore, she decided this animate shrub wasn’t
worth personally attending to, and disappeared abruptly without another word.
The moment her mental projection vanished, the heavy doors lining the walls suddenly sprang to life.
They receded down into the ground with soft grinding noises, revealing that what lay behind them
weren’t rooms or passages, but cages. Various monsters of all shapes and sizes suddenly filled the
formerly silent hallway and descended upon Ambrosia from all sides.
A white furred wolf with two tails and about as large as a horse. An albino hydra with a quadruped
lower body and four snake-like heads. A stupidly tall silver spider with legs that were several times
longer than its slender body. A swarm of angry black wasps each the size of a human fist. A white-
maned bear with sharp bone spikes jutting out of its spine and massive fangs protruding from its
powerful jaws. A gray boar with three horns on its head and a bloodthirsty look in its eye. A tortoise
with a glacial shell that seemed to have actual cannons sticking out of it.
The sheer variety of the hodgepodge of magical beasts surrounding the spriggan was truly befitting of an
area called the Menagerie. The only two things they had in common was that they all hailed from frigid
regions, and that they were quite eager to rip Ambrosia to shreds. They attacked her simultaneously
from all sides with no rhyme nor reason. Their natural aggression had only been amplified by the
dungeon core, to the point where they practically tripped over one another as they tried to dismember
her.
‘Tried’ being the operative word.
Even if it was a loaner, the dryad’s current spriggan body was still a Hylt variant, and as such shared
certain aspects of her tree. Like the incredibly tough Ironbark, which easily deflected tooth, nail and
claw without suffering any significant damage. Or things like the core strength of its heartwood, which
allowed her to use a lot more power than one would expect from her.
And use it she did. Every time a creature or another showed up to attack her, she would strike back at it
with her nail-like fingertips, then greedily suck out whatever nutrients and bodily fluids it had. The first
customer to receive her tender care was a big cat-like monster that had pounced at her, only to have its
neck and eyes pierced. She then swatted the wolf away with a backhand while the bear swiped at her
midsection, sending her off-balance. The various insects and tiny birds then began pecking away at her
face and assaulting her eyes, but did little since nearly her entire being was comprised of bark.
“Blade Vortex!”
Realizing she needed a bit more space, Ambrosia used a Spell that created an intense whirlwind around
her. It may have been calm in the eye of it where she was, but the magical wind around her was so
severe that it covered anything caught in its wake in countless cuts while also blowing it off balance.
Some of the heavier creatures could withstand it, but most of them were forced to back off. The dryad
threw off whatever beasts were still clinging to her, tossing them into the swirling hurricane.
Now that she had some breathing room, she focused her attention on that Dire Tundra Bear, which was
currently rearing back on its hind legs. It let out a loud roar that easily overpowered the howl of her
Spell and swung its front paws at her. Worried her body might snap under its weight, the dryad didn’t
even try to block it and stepped backwards. It proved to be the right choice, as the claws that grazed her
arm on the way down actually managed to carve a trio of divots into her Ironbark.
“Air Guillotine!”
She then used another Spell, this one dropping an invisible vacuum blade directly on top of the beast’s
neck. It left a deep gash, but failed to pierce much beyond its thick hide and solid muscles. Howling with
pain the Dire Bear tried to attack once again, only to have the spriggan leap over its claw swipe and land
on its back. She then drove one of her leg roots into the open wound and left a small gift inside it before
leaping off.
The seed the spriggan had deposited reacted to the bear’s blood and instantly sprouted from the
creature’s neck. Realizing what was going on, the predator attempted to grab the rapidly growing stem
and rip it out of its body, but couldn’t quite reach the back of its head. As a result, the parasitic plant was
allowed to wrap its bramble-covered vines around its body in a matter of seconds, binding its limbs and
jaws as it greedily sucked away its blood.
This horrific creation was the product of a combination between two of Ambrosia’s Skills - Blood Vine
and Rampant Growth. The former created the magical life-devouring seed, while the latter ensured it
would ensnare its victim three times faster than it would have otherwise. As for the vine’s ‘mother,’ she
had already left the bear to die a slow, painful death and moved onto her next target.
The Trihorn Boar she spotted earlier had charged through the Blade Vortex at her. It was much smaller
than the bear, so Ambrosia had no reservations about blocking it and took the charge head-on. She
stopped it in its tracks by kneeing it in the snout when it approached, then smashed its head against the
floor with an overhead double-handed strike. The impact was strong enough to crack the ground, though
the boar’s thick skull remained mostly unphased. The same couldn’t be said about its neck, as the
follow-up Air Guillotine very nearly decapitated it in one shot. Ambrosia embedded a Corpse Flower
seed enhanced by Rampant Growth into its body, and then moved onto the next critter.
She continued to use a combination of her wooden body’s innate strength and offensive wind magic to
control the battlefield, leaving as many Blood Vines and Corpse Flowers behind as she could. But no
matter how many she killed, the monsters just kept pouring out of the doors around her seemingly
without end. The ground had become littered with corpses to the point where she had to move up and
down the marble hallway constantly, lest she trip over something.
And yet, despite all the violence and death around her, the spriggan’s face never once deviated from the
look of bored indifference she had since the start. Strictly speaking, Ambrosia saw this whole thing as
nothing more than a bothersome chore on the level of tidying up a messy room or taking out the trash.
Sure, there were some annoying creatures in this so-called Menagerie, but nothing that was outwardly a
threat to her. At least, not when she was able to constantly replenish her MP by soaking up the
surrounding mana with her Hylt Metabolism. This also allowed her to freely use the Mending Shower
Spell on herself, which doused her in curative waters that instantly healed her wounds.
After several minutes of this, the Corpse Flowers she had been planting the entire time finally started to
blossom. Pitch black petals sat atop thorny stems began opening up, letting out an ominous purple mist.
It was barely noticeable at first, and with all the wind magic Ambrosia was throwing out would normally
dissipate into nothingness. However, the mist had nowhere to go in this relatively confined space,
allowing it to steadily grow thicker as more and more Corpse Flowers began to bloom.
The poisonous miasma grew denser and denser until it began profusely affecting the endless stream of
monsters. The tougher ones grew sluggish and disoriented, while the weaker ones collapsed and passed
out while foaming at the mouths, and it only got worse from that point on. A total of fifteen or so
minutes since the fight began, the entire hallway had become a desolate field of death. Everything that
drew breath within a hundred meters or so would succumb to the airborne toxin and drop dead in a
manner of seconds.
However, just as the waves of monsters began to die down, Ambrosia started picking up on a sound. Or
rather, it was precisely because this place had gone literally dead-quiet that she was able to hear it at all.
It was a grinding, crunching noise coming out of her own limbs, and something she was intimately
familiar with.
“AAAAAHH!” she screamed. “Get them out! Get them out! Gettemout gettemout gettemooouuuut!”
As it would appear, those hornets were not the only insects in this menagerie. Termites that were
originally intended to sabotage adventurers by targeting their bows and staves had burrowed into her
bark. She was so disturbed by this sudden development that she didn’t even consider that this body was
not her real body and desperately clawed at her own hide.
But even if they were, objectively speaking, not life threatening, the sheer disgust she felt at the thought
of them crawling inside her had gotten the better of her. She’d been so used to Boxxy’s excellent pest
control services that she had completely forgotten how infuriating being infested with termites was. She
had done so on purpose, actually, as willingly repressing unpleasant memories was one thing all dryads
were very good at. This selfish act had backfired on her, as the sudden reminder that termites were
indeed a thing had momentarily clouded her rational judgement.
It was during her panicked flailing that her fingers brushed against the Sun’s Crest lodged between her
rigid breasts that she had an idea. It was an idiotic idea that would never work due to a number of very
good reasons, but she failed to consider any of those due to her disturbed state of mind. She grabbed
onto the Sun God medallion, pulled it out of its spot, turned it around so that its light shone on top of
her, then started flooding it with as much mana as she could muster.
The yellow gem in the middle of the shield-shaped badge converted the mystical energy into imitation
sunlight as best it could, resulting in a much more intense and also hotter glow. And since Ambrosia was
bathing in it, she naturally began to heat up as well. She knew termites were vulnerable to strong heat, so
she was trying to quite literally smoke them out of her body. Overcharged with magical energies as it
was, the enchanted jewel could no longer take the burden and burst open like a glass balloon.
*FHWOOOOOM*
The sparks that came out of the broken Sun’s Crest set the very air itself ablaze, producing a massive
fireball that instantly engulfed the marble hallway. Poisonous gasses, parasitic plants, and arctic
monsters alike were purged in the blink of an eye, reducing everything in the vicinity to naught but ash
and cinders. Even the impeccable marble tiles and intricate murals were not spared as they were covered
in a thick layer of black soot, though the dungeon core was already working to restore them.
As for Ambrosia, her body had narrowly avoided being set ablaze. Her Ironbark was a fire-retardant
material, so the most she suffered was having her body covered in sizzling embers. After recovering
from the shock of that flash-fire, she calmly used a few Mending Showers to both douse herself and heal
her wounds.
She then proceeded to walk down the scorched hallway with a spring in her step and a smile on her face.
Her pleasant mood was, surprisingly enough, not due to the fact that the termites that had invaded her
had gone silent after being cooked inside her by the blaze. Or at least, not entirely. The main source of
her elation was the fact that she had just learned something new about her spriggan self, which was a
surprisingly refreshing experience.
As it turned out, heavy concentrations of the toxic fumes released by the Corpse Flower blossoms were
highly flammable. She just hadn’t had the opportunity to experience it for herself since those conditions
could only be possible in a dungeon like this. She wouldn’t have had anything to ignite them with either
if Boxxy hadn’t given her that magic tool, either, so she quietly gave it partial credit for this discovery.
“Oh no! Milord’s gift!”

She then suddenly remembered that the Sun’s Crest she was still holding onto had been ruined. The
flames weren’t hot enough to damage the golden body, but not even shards remained of the focusing
gem that produced both light and warmth. Thankfully illumination didn’t seem to be much of an issue as
the walls themselves gave off a faint luminescence that had so far been overpowered by the religious
icon’s glow. The cold would probably get bothersome after a while but it was hardly anything someone
like her had to worry about.
Besides, she had a much more pressing problem on her hands - she had broken Boxxy’s shiny. She was
actively dreading their next reunion, as she was sure that creature would resent her for her rash,
thoughtless actions. It was something she wanted to avoid doing if at all possible, but what could she do
in this situation? Repairing the Sun’s Crest was beyond her abilities, so she began to wonder if there
were any other ways to appease the Mimic. Perhaps a replacement trinket of some sorts? But where
would she find such a shiny thing in a place like this?
“Hello, Ambrosia!” she exclaimed while smacking her forehead. “I’m currently in a dungeon! I need
only eliminate this area’s guardian and claim its riches in milord’s name!”
It was a rather obvious solution, really. After all, this sort of thing was precisely why Boxxy was in here
to begin with, so she was quite sure it would work. With that in mind, she stopped moping about and
broke out into a run. Yet more monsters began to leap out of the walls at her, but she for the most part
barreled through them by using her wind magic to sweep them out of her path. Or, in cases where that
proved impossible, hastily restrained them with Blood Vines before moving on.
The marble hallway soon gave way to a staircase, which she climbed until she arrived at a nearly
identical passage. She sprinted to the other side of it as best she could, where she found yet another set
of stairs that led upwards to a third hallway. After climbing a total of six floors in this manner, she
finally made it out of those windowless corridors and onto the roof of the Menagerie.
A carnival of monsters were still chasing after her, but she dealt with them by using the narrow doorway
to render their numbers meaningless. She then built up another field of Corpse Flower gas to keep them
at bay, allowing her to continue exploring this new area without being disturbed. It was only a temporary
solution, but would still give her plenty of time to do what she needed to.
Now that she had a moment to relax, she began to soak in her surroundings. It would appear that this
Menagerie had been built adjacent to the frozen palace that stood at the heart of the dungeon. In fact, its
spires towered overhead while its walls were so close that she could probably touch them if she leaned
over the edge. Except that, to her great disappointment, this wide open space was not actually as open as
it first appeared to be. The entire space had been covered by highly transparent sheets of ice that served
as walls and ceiling, turning the rooftop into a sort of colossal greenhouse.
Or rather, that was exactly what this place was intended to be, if the huge number of pots and planters
strewn about were any indication, but it had failed miserably at its task. All the grasses, bushels, trees
and flowers Ambrosia could see had been frozen into a glass-like state, much like the ones she saw
before being separated from Boxxy. The cold here was also much more intense than it was on the lower
floors, allowing a thin layer of frost to form on the spriggan’s body.
And yet, there was a place that seemed untouched by the frigid atmosphere.
Situated at what was probably the center of this dubious greenhouse, Ambrosia had come across a rather
spacious crystal dome. Within it she could see a planter filled with fresh, moist soil, completely unlike
the rest of the frozen dirt in this place. And within that oddly hospitable environment was a single man-
sized flower. It had a thick and short, almost stump-like stem, and tall tulip-like petals that had closed in
on themselves, creating a shape somewhere between a wine bottle and a vase. They were vibrant purple
in color and occasionally shifted slightly as if swaying in an imaginary wind.
Seeing this thing, Ambrosia was inexplicably drawn to it. Those mural-covered ceilings she passed by
may have failed to stir her soul, but this display of natural beauty was another case entirely. She found
herself pressing her face and her hands against the dome, her sharp fingertips scraping at it lightly as if
they were demanding to go in there and touch it.
Interestingly enough, the purple flower actually responded to the noises she was making. The petals
unfurled to reveal the body of a woman growing out of it. She had cream-colored skin and silky purple
hair that matched the color of her petals. She even had a smaller version of her flower growing out of
her scalp, which was currently in full bloom. Her face had an undeniable charm to it, which was only
amplified by her innocent, sleepy expression.
Her body proportions were such that she could would give even someone as well-stacked as Ambrosia a
run for her money. The outrageous chest size, impossibly tiny waist and wide hips gave her the sort of
hourglass figure no person could ever hope to achieve. The way she arched her back while stretching her
slender arms would really not be possible if she had something like a spine. Her bubble-butt and the rest
of her lower body were stewing in some type of honey-like nectar within the base of the flower. She was
also, as one might expect, completely naked.
Overall, it was an aggressively sexualized figure that one would expect from a succubus, not a
vegetable.
The flower-woman yawned and rubbed her purple eyes as if she had just woken up from a deep slumber.
Her lazy stare immediately livened up when she eventually saw the spriggan leaning against the
confines of her ‘room.’ Her beautiful face immediately lit up with a smile and she eagerly waved at the
stranger, who waved back at her without even realizing it. She then tried to call out to Ambrosia, but her
voice did not penetrate the thick glass dome she was currently under.
After getting visibly embarrassed by her own forgetfulness, the nectar-covered woman clapped her
hands thrice, causing a rectangular part of the crystal dome to swing open like a door.
“Come on, then!” she beckoned with a sweet voice. “Get in before all the warm air escapes!”
The spriggan happily accepted the offer and entered the greenhouse-within-a-greenhouse. As advertised,
the temperature here was indeed much more comfortable than the rest of this gloomy dungeon.
“Welcome to my humble abode!” said her host with an oddly enthusiastic tone of voice. She then
pointed at a patch of fresh soil directly opposite her. “Please, make yourself at home.”
“Hmmm, I suppose I shall take thee up on thy offer.”
Ambrosia dug her leg-shaped roots into the soil, sinking comfortably into it until just her upper body
was poking out of the ground. She practically purred with delight when she found out it was much
deeper than it looked as her roots failed to reach any sort of bottom even after she extended them several
meters downard. The soil quality was also much, much better than anything she’d ever felt before,
overshadowing even the blessed ground her real body had spent millennia in.
“Oh my, this is quite the rich soil, isn’t it?” exclaimed the dryad.
The other plant-woman sat down inside her flower as if it were a miniature bathtub and hugged her
knees, putting her on roughly the same eye level as Ambrosia.
“I know, right?! It’s suuuuper comfortable! Just a shame I never got to share it with anyone else until
you came along. You’re the first plant-based life I’ve ever seen, you know! Well, other than myself, of
course.”
“Thou lives inside this glass bubble, then?”
“Yup. Been here all my life. Not like I have much of a choice, all things considered.”
She patted the base of her flower, suggesting she couldn’t stray far from it despite having what appeared
to be fully functional legs.
“Indeed? Tell me, what sort of creature art thou? ‘Tis my first time seeing thy kind.”
“Ah, I’m an alraune,” she explained. “My kind normally grow in the jungles to the far south, you don’t
see us in this continent because the climate’s way too cold during winter. I mean I can handle a bit of
cold since I’m a Mountain Alraune, but I still prefer it when it’s nice and warm.”
Ambrosia nodded in understanding. Just because some plants were hardier than others didn’t mean they
enjoyed living in the harsh conditions they were forced to adapt to just so they could survive.
“Name’s Emi, by the way,” continued the alraune. “What about you?”
“This one is called Ambrosia. Though I am currently inhabiting this spriggan vessel, mine real identity
is a dryad.”
“Sounds complicated. Still, a dryad, huh? Can’t say I’ve heard of your kind.”
Then again, she probably hadn’t heard about much of anything considering her isolated environment.
“‘Tis not surprising. We dryads live in the northern reaches of this continent, so ‘tis only natural our
species would not run into each other.”
“Mm, that’s one way to put it. Especially considering I can’t run at all. These things are only for
decoration, really.”
She then slapped her exposed thigh for emphasis, causing her soft plant-flesh to jiggle obscenely.
“Normally us dryads do not get around much either,” responded Ambrosia. “To my knowledge, I am the
only one of mine sisters capable of using a spriggan vessel like this. Even then I spend the vast majority
of my life rooted in the same spot. My kind would normally never have the desire nor the opportunity to
stray too far from the trunks of our Hylt trees. I guess thou could say I am a bit of a deviant in that
regard.”
“Oh. Well, you’ll forgive me if I’m still a bit jealous of you. I mean even if you say that, you’re still
capable of going out there and seeing the world, right? I’m sure you have plenty of stories about-”
The two women’s small talk was abruptly ended when the glass dome around them suddenly exploded
into countless shards. The jagged pieces floated around in the air for a bit before flickering out of
existence.
“What was that about?” asked the dryad.
“Ah. It would seem my boss is trying to give me orders again,” said Emi with a heavy sigh. “She can go
choke on a rock for all I care, though.”
“Oh? Do you not get along with the dungeon master?”
“Not in the slightest! She thinks she’s so great just because she’s a demon or whatever! Even the
mindless beasts that occasionally roam around here are better company than that stuck up know-it-all!”
This slew of slander made Ambrosia giggle delightedly in response.
“What’s so funny?” asked Emi with a raised eyebrow.
“Forgive me, my dear. ‘Tis just that, at least in mine humble opinion, thou and thy master are more alike
than thou might care to admit.”
“Huh? How do you figure?”
“Well, for starters, thou art both naughty, ignorant children that fail to show the proper respect to their
elders.”
“What are you- Guh! W-what?!”
The alraune suddenly felt strangely dizzy to the point where simply shifting her weight around slightly
nearly made her fall out of her flower pot. It was then that the flower-woman realized the smile on
Ambrosia’s face had changed. It was no longer the bemused smile of warm acceptance she had until a
moment ago. What she sported now was a vicious smirk of a monster with a grim purpose in mind.
“What are you doing?!”
“Nothing much,” said Ambrosia with a small shrug. “Just adhering to the natural order of things. If thou
hast any complaints, then thou need only blame the one who thoughtlessly invited a Hylt into thy
garden.”
Hylt trees were the living embodiment of nature’s vitality and persistence. If grown in a suitable
environment, they were without a doubt one of the hardiest plants around. Be it fire, flood, drought or
cold, a Hylt tree would survive through anything, and would produce fruit to spread its seeds all year
round. However, such powerful life force did not come without a price.
Magically-charged soil was necessary for a Hylt to even take root, and once it did it would greedily hog
all of the nutrients within its reach. As a side effect of that voracious appetite, they would actively choke
the life out of anything that could be considered competition, including other Hylt saplings. That was
why only the simplest of grasses and weeds could ever hope to grow beneath the shadow of these titanic
trees.
In other words, Ambrosia’s kind could easily be seen as the apex predators of the plant world.
“Gah! Hnnnngh!”
A notion that Emi was starting to understand firsthand, as she felt the spriggan’s roots coil around her
own beneath the soft soil. They squeezed around her lower end as if trying to strangle it as they eagerly
sucked the life out of her, making her groan and writhe all the while.
“Whyyyy?! What did I ever do to you!” she wailed.
“Like I said, ‘tis merely the natural order of things. Did thou honestly think I would not notice thou art
the area guardian?” asked Ambrosia in a pitying tone.
“But-! I never-! I was willing to just let you be!”
“We both know ‘tis not true. Even if thou pretended to be hospitable and innocent, I know very well the
sort of animosity towards outsiders that a dungeon core breeds within its… subjects.”
The monsters in a dungeon would be compelled to attack invaders without fail, regardless of how
intelligent they were. This was one of the ways the world worked, and Ambrosia was no longer a
stranger to this undeniable truth. This alraune was probably a creature whose instincts were to lure a
potential target closer to her, then subdue and then feast on it. Like a Tascuna flytrap that lured prey into
its open jaws with its sweet-smelling nectar, except that this one preyed on people and animals rather
than insects.
Unfortunately for her, she was completely unprepared to tackle someone like Ambrosia.
The area guardian of the Glacial Gallows has been slain.

The Glacial Gallows can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
“Ah! It would appear milord has already gotten busy!” exclaimed the spriggan with a soft smile. “In that
case, I should not keep it waiting!”
Dozens of thorny vines sprouted from the ground around Emi, wrapping around her arms, shoulders,
chest and neck. They then began to viciously pull on her humanoid part, lifting it out of its perpetual
nectar bath and into the rapidly cooling air. Now that her lower body was completely exposed, it became
apparent that her left foot was attached to the base of her flower with a vine-like growth. Her ‘human’
side really was nothing more than a succubus-like lure after all.
Nevertheless, Ambrosia continued pulling on her. Emi tried to fight back by releasing poisonous spores,
hallucinogenic pollen and powerful pheromones meant to unbalance a person’s mind, but such things
were useless against a spriggan. She also tried to lash out with thorny, spear-tipped vines of her own and
even tried using some ice-based magic, but her opponent was way out of her league.
Her physical connection with her flower was severed with a loud snapping noise, followed by a fresh
batch of the alraune’s screams and wails. Her ripped-out body was thrown out of the planter’s bounds,
whereby it tumbled across the cold stone floor. She weakly lifted her head back up, only to stare in
abject horror as her beautiful purple flower wilted into a lifeless husk. It didn’t take long for the rest of
her to then follow suit, as she collapsed on the ground and almost immediately began to crumble into
dust.
The area guardian of the Menagerie has been slain.

The Menagerie can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
Ambrosia let go of what was left of her prey once she got the confirmation she needed. The glass
covering the gigantic greenhouse broke apart much like the guardian’s confines. The thick clouds
overhead also parted, allowing the sun to shine down upon the victor. The frozen plants that took up
most of the space on this rooftop garden then began to thaw out and miraculously come back to life.
The dryad had to admit that whoever designed this dungeon certainly knew how to put on a show. She
then unrooted herself somewhat regretfully and went over to the treasure chest that had sprung out of the
loose soil as if it had always been there. She opened it up without hesitation, allowing five golden rings
to float out of the magical container. Red, white, blue, yellow and green - each of them was adorned
with a different colored jewel, though they all seemed to be part of the same set.
Ambrosia clapped her hands excitedly a few times at having fulfilled her immediate goal, then plucked
the valuable objects out of the air, gripping them tightly within her palm. She didn’t even consider
putting them on, as the concept of wearing jewelry on one’s person was still somewhat foreign to her.
Not to mention that she was far more concerned with presenting them to Boxxy as soon as possible, so
the thought of trying them out for herself had never even crossed her mind.
“Come to think of it, where exactly is milord?” she mused aloud.
The dryad went over to the waist-high edge of the rooftop and looked around in an attempt to get her
bearings. She had a spectacular view over the rest of the dungeon since her vantage point was built atop
the very peak of the mountain. If she were a scout, such a Rogue or Ranger, she would probably be able
to very easily spot her allies, or at least traces of them. Unfortunately she was neither of those, so all her
peering amounted to was sightseeing.
At least that’s what it seemed like, until she saw a gigantic meteorite crash into what were now the
flaming ruins of an abandoned village.
The area guardian of the Torture Chamber has been slain.
The Torture Chamber can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
“Well… I guess that’s a good a place to start looking as any…”
The area of the Palace of the Crystal Maiden that was officially known as the Torture Chamber had a
rather misleading name. The zone was actually a stupidly tall tower with 10 floors, as opposed to a
single room. Although it would be difficult for anyone to tell that at this point, as the structure had been
reduced to a pile of rubble. The tower was designed to collapse in a dramatic fashion once the area
guardian was defeated, so this amount of property damage didn’t bother the dungeon master too much.
However, the fact that everything was on fire was another story altogether. Both the tower’s remains and
the decrepit old houses that surrounded it had been set ablaze, which was very much outside the original
spec. The area was supposed to represent a ghost town with creepy, rickety houses, tight alleyways,
rattling chains, chilling drafts and lethal surprises. And right in the middle of that was an ominous tower
from which the screams of the damned emanated at irregular intervals.
It was a place designed to put even the most experienced adventurers on edge, straining the limits of
their nerve and testing the strength of their character. A more pragmatic being might deem these
surroundings as nothing more than pointlessly dramatic decorations, but Goroth thought otherwise. As a
patron deity of the arts, it was in his nature to do things with a certain degree of flair and fanfare. In his
eyes, dungeons were nothing more than a form of theater. The stage had to be properly set and the actors
needed to be sufficiently motivated, otherwise the audience would not enjoy the show.
A notion that was more or less lying in flames, as Xera’s magic had completely turned Goroth’s scene
into a burning wasteland. Keeping the place in a truly decrepit and ruined state meant that the dungeon
wasn’t tasked with maintaining their structural integrity. As such, the raging inferno was allowed to
spread from one house to the next, causing them to collapse one after the other as it raged on.
As for the one responsible for this mess, she was currently reforming her body out of the smoke and dust
that hung over the area. She was using her Mist Form Skill to avoid getting crushed by the rubble, while
her Fire Affinity protected her from the collateral damage of her own flames. That was why when she
materialized out of seemingly thin air, her body was completely spotless and unblemished. After which
she was slammed into the soot-covered ground with a solid thud, since she was violating the dungeon’s
no flying rule.
“Fuck,” she cursed while face-down in the ash. “I almost forgot that was a thing.”
She then flipped over onto her back and sat up with a somewhat displeased look on her face, which
reflect her thoughts on her visit to this woefully inadequate Torture Chamber. The whole thing started
off with that cocky dungeon master completely underestimating her. It was as if she didn’t even bother
inspecting Xera’s Status with the dungeon core and simply assumed she was a succubus based on her
skin tone and breast size.
Granted, she wasn’t completely wrong, but she wasn’t entirely right either.
She then proceeded to have the ‘succubus’ strapped to a stretching rack with mana-sealing shackles, and
left her alone with an entire room full of sadistic orcs. These creatures were all gray skinned humanoids
with tall muscular builds, massive underbites, yellow tusks and a mean streak that rivaled that of most
fiends. This lot seemed like a subspecies accustomed to living in colder climates, as the orcs Xera knew
of had green skin and were indigenous to the tropical rainforests of the southern kingdom. They were
also completely hairless, whereas this bunch had thick black body hair that was almost like fur.
However, they were still very much orcs, as demonstrated by their unique pack mentality. Once a group
of orcs collectively decided on doing something, all of them would follow suit without fail, even if it
meant literally walking to their deaths. It was so pronounced that things like individual thought more or
less didn’t exist as far as they were concerned. This meant that trying to incite or influence any single
one of them was a lost cause, but on the other hand made them much more susceptible to ‘persuasion’
tactics aimed at groups.
And last but not least, each and every last one of this lot were male.
All things considered, Xera had little difficulty turning the situation into what was essentially a hundred-
on-one gangbang within a few minutes. The mindless brutes kept having their way with her without
pause, despite the fact that she literally sucked the life out of them in the process. A normal succubus
would not have survived the barbaric acts, but Xera’s body was a lot more... accomodating when it came
to multiple large insertions. She played along the entire time, acting as if she were somehow the
unwilling victim all the time. This goaded her ‘captors’ into also abusing her physically and verbally,
though their attempts at the latter were so inept and pathetic she had to struggle not to laugh.
Strangely enough, despite getting boned non-stop for almost half an hour, Xera was still left feeling
acutely dissatisfied and unfulfilled. A bunch of faceless mooks having their way with her and passing
her around like a cheap sex toy had its perks, but they just lacked Boxxy’s personal touch. She even
started wishing Kora was there just so she could demonstrate what proper murder-rape techniques
looked like.
Looking back on it now, Xera’s little orgy had ended up amounting to little more than idle distraction.
She still enjoyed it more than not, though, which was why she took her sweet time playing and toying
with them. More out for her own amusement rather than trying to satisfy her twisted desires. Another
way to interpret her behavior would be to say that she was slacking, as she could’ve blown through this
place in half the time if she actually tried. It wasn’t until she got the notification that an area guardian
had been defeated elsewhere in the dungeon that she decided to expedite things.
Being intentionally lazy was a sure fire way to miss out on a ‘reward’ from Boxxy.
Thankfully the area guardian of the Torture Chamber was eagerly stuffing himself in her rear end at the
same time she decided to actually get serious. Or at least, that’s who she had assumed he was, as the orc
in question was about the size and girth of an actual fiend. He probably wasn’t a leader or a commander
or anything like that since such positions were pointless in a group of orcs, but he was definitely the
strongest individual present.
Either way, since Xera had already depleted a good chunk of his HP and stamina through intercourse, all
that was left was to blast him in the face with a point blank Fireball. Except that she had underestimated
just how tough that bastard actually was. With that clear act of aggression now in the open, the mood
shifted from ‘romantic’ to ‘murderous’ in but a fraction of a second. It wasn’t until a second guardian
was taken down elsewhere that Xera finally finished him off with a Meteor to the face.
Which, considering their location at the time, struck the top of the massive tower and caused the whole
thing to go down in a much more spectacular fashion than what Goroth had envisioned.
But now that that was over with and she had the benefit of hindsight, all she was left with were feelings
of disappointment. Not only at how lacking the facilities and staff in this so-called ‘Torture Chamber’
were, but also at how easily she had allowed her selfish desires to dictate her actions. Even if it was a
natural thing to do as a demon, it was something Boxxy would probably not approve of. The whole thing
was really a demonstration of why she needed to be kept under her Master’s heel at all times, else her
perverted thoughts would cause her to lose sight of her long-term goals.
Which, incidentally, revolved entirely around earning Boxxy’s favor.
“Can anyone hear me?”
“Master!”
Xera involuntarily cheered after hearing her Master’s voice echo through her skull once more.
“Oh! W-welcome back, Master!”
“Thank fuck you’re here, boss!”
Drea and Kora seemed equally enthusiastic to have their mental links re-established as well.
“Good, looks like the interference is gone,” stated Boxxy. “Now then- Snack, give me a brief summary
of your situation.”
“I just toppled a tower and killed a boss. I am unharmed and completely available for anything you may
wish to use me for, Master.”
“Which one was yours?”
“The Torture Chamber.”
“I see. And the loot? How is it?”
Beads of cold sweat began to form on Xera’s forehead. How could she forget about the actual reason she
and the others were in here to begin with? Thankfully it took merely a moment for her to catch glimpse
of a silver-plated treasure chest out of the corner of her eye. The way it glimmered against her dusty,
ashen, or flaming surroundings made her wonder why she didn’t notice it sooner.
“Just a moment, Master. I am opening the chest now.”
She ran over to the container and threw open the lid, allowing a half-transparent garment with ever-
shifting colors to float out of it. It was an article she was able to immediately recognize.
“Oh my!” she exclaimed in delight. “It’s a Prismatic Cloak!”
Prismatic Cloaks were a type of extremely rare magic item, typically of Masterwork quality. The item’s
main feature was its ability to render the user invisible to the naked eye so long as the metal clasp was
fastened and the hood was pulled over their eyes. The effect would end if the user either made or was hit
by an attack, as with most other forms of invisibility. The cloak was also enchanted to alter its size to fit
the wearer, meaning that both the Sandman and Keira could potentially use the same one. Finally, it also
provided a minor boost to magic resistance, which was a bit of a waste since the whole purpose of this
item was to avoid battle.
“Nice!” cheered Boxxy. “I’ve been wanting one of those!”
Creating a Prismatic Cloak was a time consuming process that required two things - an individual with
considerable expertise in both the Enchanter and Tailor Jobs, and copious amounts of Demon Silk. And
since both the qualified artisans and the necessary materials were hard to come by, it was no surprise
that there were not many of them in circulation. The Mimic was planning on buying one using Demon
Silk harvested from Claws, but the hefty price tag and year-long waiting list had dissuaded it.
“Where shall I bring it, Master?” asked Xera with a goofy grin on her face.
“Make your way towards the front of the palace and wait for me there.”
“At once.”
“Arms, how are things on your end?”
“It’s fucked, boss,” came the annoyed reply. “I’ve been stuck in this shithole called the Endless Library
or some shit like that. I can’t make any progress because of these- *Khhhht*”
Kora’s words were cut off mid-sentence by what amounted to white noise, followed shortly by a very
bothersome notification.
Telepathic communication is now restricted.
It would appear the dungeon master had not given up yet, and was actively trying to keep Boxxy’s group
from reorganizing themselves.
“That blasted cunt!” shouted the fiend at the top of her lungs. “I’ll rip her tits off and shove them so far
up her ass she’ll choke on her own nipples!”
In her rage, Kora kicked the wooden Puzzle Door in front of her with as much force as she could muster.
However, the violent act had failed to do much beyond making her foot ache from the recoil, much like
the last twenty or so times she lashed out at it. And much like before, the door had interpreted her words
and actions as a wrong answer, which triggered a summoning trap that dropped a trio of humanoid ice
golems on top of the intruder. The Archfiend, frustrated as she was, instantly smashed them into dust
with way more effort than was actually necessary.
‘Restraint’ was not a word normally found in a demon’s dictionary, but literally grinding their heads into
dust beneath her heels was definitely excessive, even among her kind. Then again, her being infuriated
beyond reason was only to be expected once one considered her surroundings.
The Eternal Library was an indoor area that seemed to go on forever, much like the name implied.
Literature-filled bookshelves acted as walls, and its dimly lit corridors worked together to form a
devious maze to confuse and befuddle invaders. There were no monsters to be found here, but
teleportation traps and Puzzle Doors aplenty would ensure that any unfortunate soul trapped within was
kept perpetually lost. It was a place meant to test an adventurer’s wits and intelligence, and was
impossible to defeat with brute force.
Which meant that Kora, a Pit Archfiend whose main solution to all of life’s problems was to hit them
really hard in their face analogue, was struggling to progress. Setre may have made the same mistake
with her like she did Xera and failed to confirm her species, but Kora’s case was different. Archfiends
and fiends were much more alike than djinn and succubi, so the dungeon master’s countermeasures had
still checkmated the red-skinned muscle-head right from the start. It had been over half an hour since she
was dropped in this cold, eerily silent place, and she had only managed to bypass one Puzzle Door so
far. And even that was solely because she got lucky, as the riddle on it had been one of the trick
questions she and the rest of Boxxy’s group encountered while reclaiming Ambrosia’s trunk.
But that had been where her luck had run out, as the riddle that stood before her was something she just
couldn’t wrap her head around.
A man asked his daughter to buy a few things he needed for a trip and told her she would
find an envelope on his desk with enough coins to make the purchase. She found the note
with 98 written on it, put it in her pocket and left the house. When she got to the store she
bought 90 GP worth of items, but when it was time to pay she found that she did not have 8
GP left over and was instead actually short on money.
How much GP was in the envelope?
Seriously - how the fuck am I supposed to know that?! she complained internally. Fucking piece of shit
bastard cunt bitch fucking… Alright, now where was I?
“Errr, eighty-four?”
The glowing letters etched into the door flashed red a few times, after which another trio of golems
dropped down from the ceiling and were then summarily broken. The door reset itself after a few
seconds, after which the Archfiend tried again.
“Eighty-five, then?”
Since she was unable to determine the answer using her wits, Kora had decided to try and brute force it
in typical fiend fashion. All she needed to do was start counting up from zero and she’d reach the right
answer eventually. It seemed like a good idea at the time since there were a very finite number of
possibilities, and the punishment for getting it wrong was trivial to her. It may have been a simple and
crude solution, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. In fact, she was actually rather
proud of herself for thinking up of such a clever trick.
Except that she had underestimated just how annoying it was to be told she was wrong over and over
and over again. By a fucking door, no less. So by the time she had worked her way up to 85 she was
positively fuming. Being so rudely cut off from Boxxy was also quite the infuriating blow. That shiny-
obsessed box would have solved any riddle in under half a second if it involved money.
Taking a few deep breaths after pummeling the latest trio of victims, she turned towards the door for the
umpteenth time.
“Eighty. Six,” she growled through gritted teeth.
*Ding*
However, much to her surprise, she had finally gotten it right. The letters flashed green instead of red,
and the door swung open on its own while letting out a low-key bell chime. It was so anticlimactic that it
very nearly pissed her off even more, but the catharsis of it all had won out and made her throw her
hands up in the air in both triumph and exasperation.
“Fucking finally!” she yelled out. “I hope the boss lets me have a go at wonder-tits after this, I’m gonna
have a lot of stress to work through!”
Kora went through the opened door and proceeded down the maze-like corridors while muttering
profanities under her breath. She was walking around blindly, taking turns at random without adhering
to use any sort of pattern or logic. She also stumbled into a few short-range teleportation traps, which
only made matters worse. If Boxxy had been around, it would have probably given her some tips. Such
as using the ‘keep left’ trick to make sure she wasn’t turned around, or mark her surroundings somehow
to ensure she doesn’t go down the same hallway twice.
But since she was left to fend for herself, Kora had no choice but to wander aimlessly. She had been so
used to relying on either Xera or Boxxy for intellectual support that she never even considered
developing her mental faculties before. Archfiends like her were supposed to be smarter and more
cunning than their lesser counterparts, but that was only because they had made an effort to make it so.
After all, not even a Rank Up could make things like insight, critical thinking and analytical judgement
appear overnight. Such skills had to be fostered
And now that Kora was in this situation, she began to realize she’d need to start practicing those things
as soon as possible. Which was convenient, as she had just happened upon her third Puzzle Door. She
briefly considered avoiding it and looking for an alternate path, but she had to willingly face her
shortcomings if she hoped to overcome them.
“Ah, buttnuggets.”
The only problem was that this riddle made even less sense than the last.
What can run but never walks,

has a mouth but never talks,
has a head but never weeps,
has a bed but never sleeps?
The fiend groaned long and hard. She looked around at the countless books surrounding her as if
searching for an answer, but she already knew they didn’t hold one. They didn’t hold much of anything,
actually. All of them were completely blank, just useless props in a library scene. Kora’s vacant eyes
drifted upwards along the polished wood bookshelves, which extended all the way up to the ceiling. She
found it rather odd at the stone tiles above her and the ones below her were completely identical. They
made it seem like it would be impossible to tell which side was up if it wasn’t for gravity pulling down
on her.
“… They’re upside down!” she exclaimed suddenly. “The fucking numbers on the envelope were upside
down!”
It was only well after the fact that she realized the answer to the last riddle. The envelope with the
money actually said 86, but the girl would have confused it for 98 if she wasn’t looking at it from the
right angle. The nearby Puzzle Door interpreted her epiphany as an answer and summoned another trio
of ice golems to assault her, which were absentmindedly swatted aside with a triple backhanded punch.
“That’s it!” continued the excited fiend. “I just need to look at things at a different angle!”
Kora then immediately grabbed onto the bookshelves and began climbing. They were easily 5 meters
tall, but someone of her stature was able to make it to the top in a manner of seconds. Once she had
changed her perspective in a very literal sense, she then looked down at the puzzle door. She blinked at
it a few times in total silence, then climbed back down to the floor.
“Like fuck that will do anything!”
Raging at her own idiocy, the fiend slammed her right fists into the wall of books to the right of the
Puzzle Door. The bookshelf shuddered, shook, and groaned from the sudden impact, but settled down
soon afterwards.
“… Wait a minute, what?”
She pulled her fists back and delivered another massive impact to the bookshelf, watching with great
interest as it recoiled.
“A trap is only as strong as the structure it’s built on.”
Boxxy’s words echoed in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure where or when the Mimic had let out
this insightful line, but it definitely sounded like something that devious bastard would say. It was a
nugget of wisdom that was infinitely more useful than that angle bullshit she had conjured up earlier, as
it hinted at this maze’s weakness - the walls themselves. Puzzle Doors may have been magically
fortified to the point where breaking them down was nigh impossible, but the same couldn’t be said
about the rest of it.
Even if the walls in a dungeon could be made every bit as impenetrable as the doors, that only applied to
actual walls. Not so much to flimsy-looking bookshelves that served purely decorative purposes.
Grinning madly to herself, Kora went to stand right next to the wall with legs astride and heels planted
firmly on the floor. She bent her knees, lowered her waist, and tensed up her arms.
“ORRRAA!”
With a mighty yell she struck the confines of the maze, hitting it right at the vertical border between two
of the massive shelves. It was a blow on a completely different level from the lazy punches she’d thrown
previously, as it had her entire body weight behind it. It caused the entire wall of books to recoil from
the force of the blow, which was transmitted down the corridor as a visible wave.
She may have been an idiot when it came to riddles, but Kora certainly knew how to throw a mean
punch.
“ORRA! ORRA! ORA! ORA! ORA! ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!”
She kept pounding away at the bookshelf as if it were Teresa’s ass, gradually raising the tempo of her
strikes as she shifted her body into high gear. The wooden frame rattled and groaned as cracks started to
appear and the blank books began to fall down to the floor. The dungeon core did its best to repair the
damage, but the spacious shelves it had to work with were not capable of withstanding this level of
abuse. The fiend’s onslaught kept slowly but surely overpowering the autonomous repair function, right
up until she broke through.
The bookshelf suddenly gave in under the mounting strain, quite literally exploding into a cloud of
splinters and paper. It was as if all the kinetic energy the Archfiend had been pouring into it burst open
like a balloon, resulting in a rather violently spectacular event. The hole that opened up as a result of that
was so big that Kora could walk through it without having to bend down. On the other side of it was yet
another bookshelf that was identical to the one she had just pulverized into submission, but she didn’t let
that tiny detail take away from what she had just accomplished.
“Yeaaaah! Fuck you, riddles! Imma make my own doors now!”
Not wishing to waste any more time, the fiend charged through the opening and leapt into the air, hitting
the next wall with a drop kick to soften it up. In the next instant, a piercing sound like glass breaking
echoed through her surroundings, and all at once the dungeon around her went strangely dead. It wasn’t
as if it was ever alive to begin with, but there was no other way Kora could describe the way the colors
around her suddenly became much bleaker. The candelabra lining the shelves and the sparse chandeliers
hanging from the ceiling then suddenly went out, plunging the area into total darkness.
It was almost as if the fiend’s excessive violence had broken this part of the dungeon.
Kora rose to her feet and stumbled about blindly for a second or two. All demons could see in the dark
without too much issue, but it took a while for their eyes to adjust to low-light conditions. Once her
vision was back, the Archfiend went over to the place where her heels made contact with the polished
wood shelves, noting that the horrible dent she’d left in them was not recovering. She then leaned on it
with her hands and, after putting in a good deal of effort, actually began to tilt the bookshelf. It moved
only a tiny amount, but it was more than enough to offset its center of gravity and tip it over.
The massive piece of furniture then fell against its neighbour, pushing it over and sending it crashing
into the next one, which in turn smacked right into the one after that. The domino effect was allowed to
propagate freely, resulting in a catastrophic cascade that toppled nearly every bookshelf in the Eternal
Library. A name that would have to be reconsidered now that Kora had managed to completely wreck
the place.
It was then that the dungeon master’s Mistborn Projection appeared amidst the destruction. She looked
around the toppled piles of books and timber as her disbelief grew to truly legendary proportions. It was
so bad that she failed to produce any meaningful sentences, despite letting her voice leak out while her
jaw opened and closed repeatedly. It wasn’t until she saw a head of green hair punctuated by a trio of
metallic horns poking out of the debris that the djinn was finally able to find her words.
“What! The! Fuck?!” she screamed at Kora. “You just literally broke the zone, you fucking psycho!”
She wasn’t sure what this meathead had done, but her actions had triggered some kind of failsafe within
the dungeon core, causing it to disconnect the entire Eternal Library from itself.
“Woohoo!” cheered the demon with a fist pump. “Koralenteprix - one! Dungeon - zero!”
“This is no laughing matter!” insisted Setre. “Do you have any idea how much work it will take to put
this all back in order! Goroth’s gonna yell at me for sure! I might even lose the gig after today’s fiasco!”
The djinn kept complaining while Kora simply pulled herself out of the debris and dusted herself off.
“I refuse to go back to that asshole Nagnamor, you hear me?!”
“Oh, cry me a river!”
*Ding*
The fallen over Puzzle Door that Kora had last encountered sprang to life when she uttered those words.
The riddle that was etched into it glowed momentarily with a pale green light as the object used up what
little magical charge it had left. The luminescent letters then flickered and died out with a pathetic
hissing noise, allowing darkness to claim the environment once more.
“A river?” asked the fiend indignantly. “How the fuck does a river sleep?!”
“You what?!” squealed Setre in frustration. “Did you even read the fucking riddle?!”
“… I skimmed over it.”

“ARRRGH! This is why I can’t stand you fucking fiends! It’s like that thing on your shoulders is good
only for bashing against walls!”
“Well, duh. They wouldn’t be called ‘heads’ if they weren’t used in headbutts.”
Setre’s left eye began to twitch after hearing that utterly brainless statement being uttered as if it were
common knowledge. The sheer volume of stupidity oozing from this six-armed demon made her want to
slam her forehead against a wall over and over until she either passed out or her skull split open. She
was fully aware that her kind weren’t too bright - that was why she stuck her in here to begin with - but
this particular demon was taking the stereotype way too far. The way she was struggling with that
envelope question in particular was almost physically painful for her to watch. Surely even freshly born
demons were more mentally developed than this, right?
It was then that a sense of dread crept up on Setre. She swallowed audibly as she somewhat hesitantly
activated Invader Analysis and appraised this titanic twit’s Status.
Koralenteprix
Caonthioxxaa
Species Archfiend (Pit) STR 1586 MNT 1322 Fiend 57 75%
Sex Female DEX 661 Archfiend 16 56%
Age 312 years AGI 934 Berserker 43 81%
Guild END 1586
9991/9991
HP INT 132
(+15.8/sec)
462/462(+1.3/
MP WIS 132
sec)
Setre was… surprisingly less shocked than she thought she’d be. The revelation that Kora was an
Archfiend had a much lesser impact than the other shit she’d seen today. On some level she more or less
expected something like this after witnessing that literal monster of a Hero and the rest of its big-
breasted entourage. The only saving grace was that, despite her outrageous Attributes, Drea was still
very much a Stalker, and not some incomprehensible piece of flora or a succubus-turned-djinn. That last
one in particular made so little sense that the dungeon master briefly wondered whether the core had
broken and was giving her faulty data.
Well no, looking at the blackout around her made it abundantly clear that something had definitely
broken. Or was on the verge of breaking, at the least. It actually made sense now that she realized this
one was an Archfiend. An oppressive existence like that would have access to the Siegebreaker Skill,
which would allow them to unravel the defensive magic permeating a fortification just by attacking it.
An actual wall would have probably held up, but Goroth insisted on choosing form over function for the
maze’s corridors, so something like this was bound to happen eventually.
Worst of all, however, was the fact that the Archfiend in question didn’t seem to realize this application
of her Skill at all, and had simply started smashing things up out of spite.
“Ahh, whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore,” said the djinn in a somewhat nihilistic tone. “Just go beat
the shit out of the boss or whatever, I’m done with you assholes.”
“Boss? What boss?”
The dungeon master’s projection disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving Kora’s question unanswered
until a focused beam of light hit her from the back, punching a tiny hole clean through her torso.
“That would be me,” said a deep voice from above and behind.
Kora turned around while clutching her wound with one hand and assuming a fighting stance with the
others. She looked up at the source of those words, which turned out to be another demon. His species
was obviously that of a Gazer, which was the natural Rank Up for beholders. His spherical body was
comprised entirely of a flying eyeball a little over a meter wide. It had a multi-colored triangular iris
floating amidst a sea of black, all wrapped up in a layer of gray skin that served as an eyelid. He didn’t
have a mouth - or any other orifice for that matter - and communicated by broadcasting its thoughts to
those around it. At least twenty smaller eyes of various sizes and colors floated around him, almost as if
they were a school of fish following a whale.
“Shall we?” offered the Gazer while his orbiting ocular orbs picked up in speed.
“Oh man, you better believe it!” responded Kora with a vicious grin. “My fists have been itchin’ for a
smashin’!”
She then leaped directly at the floating eyeball with the intention of punching a hole clean through him
as payback. Her opponent naturally took action to avoid that attack. He and his orbiting eyeballs
suddenly flickered out of existence and reappeared on Kora’s right side.
“Freezing Ray!”
He then fired a massive eyebeam at her, which traveled much slower than the precision one he used
earlier. Well, relatively speaking at least. It was still fast enough that the Archfiend only had a split
second to react. She couldn’t dodge in midair, so she instead raised all six of her armored forearms and
lined them up horizontally in front of her upper body while also raising her knees to touch the lowest
one. The Gazer’s attack slammed against the resulting wall of steel and sent her flying away from it, but
failed to get past Kora’s Demonic Armaments.
The demoness somehow managed to land on her feet, sending timber and blank books flying
everywhere. She uncurled from her turtle-like stance, brushed off the thick layer of ice that had formed
on her body and rushed towards the Gazer at full speed.
“Lichtspeer!”
The eye-demon was having none of it, and hurled three spears of solid light right at her. He was
intending to make his opponent dodge, thereby causing her to lose momentum and slow her advance
until his Illusory Warp Skill could be used again. The short-range teleport would not be given a chance
to recharge, however, as Kora took the magical projectiles head on. They pierced her shoulder and upper
body, but still completely failed to alter her course even a single millimeter.
She closed the distance in an instant and leaped through the air again, only to be blasted by the invisible
force of a Massive Rejection Spell that smashed her into the ground. She stood up immediately, only to
see that her opponent had conjured up six copies of himself, all of which shot their own Freezing Ray at
her. She rolled to the side to avoid the converging attacks, but one of the beams still hit her center of
mass.
Or at least that’s what it looked like, but she then realized it was just an illusion. Meaning that five of
those flying eyeballs were fake. And if they were anything like the mirages conjured up by that whorish
co-contractor of hers, they would probably dissipate once any sort of force was exerted on them. And
she knew just the Martial Art to do it.
“Thunderclap!”
Kora slammed all three pairs of palms against each other, producing a powerful shockwave that radiated
in every direction. The sudden explosion of sound and air was so severe that it sent the top layer of
collapsed library bits around her feet flying away from her. The Gazer was forced to put up a magical
barrier to avoid being pushed back by the Martial Art while his illusions had no choice but to be
forcefully dispersed. The Archfiend then reached down into the crater-like hole she dug out for herself
and grasped a piece of debris in each hand, which were promptly hurled at her opponent. Even if they
were nothing more than blank books or shattered pieces of timber, the sheer velocity behind each object
could not be underestimated.
The Gazer wasn’t the least bit worried by them though, as physical projectiles had no hopes of reaching
him. The two dozen or so ‘assistants’ he had came to his defense, repelling each of Kora’s shots with a
precise telekinetic burst that knocked them off-course. The fiend kept launching salvo after salvo at him,
but the enemy had literally four times as many defenders than she had arms. Her chances of
overwhelming her opponent through numbers were quite literally mathematically impossible.
“Alright then!” she shouted. “Then how about something bigger?!”
She then dug her hands into the trash heap underfoot and tore out a massive six-meter tall piece of
timber once belonging to a bookshelf. She swung it around like a club, but all it did was smash against
the Gazer’s Mana Shield. Meanwhile his swarm of eyestalks had surrounded the Archfiend and were
blasting her with small eye beams that tore up her red skin while the main body drifted out of reach of
her ‘weapon.’
Kora simply ignored those small fries, as their pathetic attempts were like mosquito bites to her. She
instead spun around and hurled the wooden pillar in her hands at the Gazer, who was forced to intercept
it with a Fireball that blew it to smoke and splinters. A few of his orbiting eyeballs got caught up as
collateral and were squashed, but it wasn’t too big of a deal.
What he needed to deal with was the fiend that was trying to leap through the smoke cloud.
Unfortunately for her, a Gazer still retained a beholder’s MLG, and was therefore able to easily see her
coming. The impact he took on his Mana Shield earlier was impossibly heavy, so he was quite eager to
avoid taking a direct hit from this woman if at all possible. Thankfully, his Illusory Warp had become
available again, and he was able to disappear and make the Archfiend pass through empty space once
more.
When he repositioned himself to her right, however, he suddenly realized that the Archfiend was
clinging to the ceiling as if she were the world’s most musclebound spider. She had used the force of her
jump to dig her armored fingers into the stone slabs, which were creaking and cracking as they struggled
to hold her weight. They wouldn’t have to do so for long, though, as she immediately launched herself at
the Gazer’s new position.
The eyeball demon did his best to conjure up his defenses. A Mana Shield, a Frost Barrier and a
Lichtschild were conjured up as a form of layered defense, but all but the last one were shattered in an
instant when Kora collided fist-first with him. She clung to his last remaining bubble and forced him
closer to the ground with her sheer body weight, but she was intending to deliver a decisive blow before
either of them hit the ground.
She raised a pair of arms upwards, intertwined her fingers, and swung her fists downwards. The
hammer-like blow smashed through the last barrier of solid light as if it were made of glass and made
contact with his squishy body. With all of his defenses broken, the Gazer was sent smashing into the
debris-filled ground, after which Kora fell on top of him and crushed him with both heels as if he were a
massive ball of mud.
He wasn’t quite dead yet though, as what was left of his floating eye satellites converged their respective
eye beams into a single blast that threw her off. The demon landed on her back, but used her momentum
to flip over so she would stop on her hands and knees. She was already raring to go for another round,
but her opponent had not moved from his spot. It was then she realized he couldn’t actually do so, as he
had been impaled on a shattered piece of timber. His extra eyeballs, on the other hand, merely floated
around and stared at her without even trying to attack.
“Magnificent,” he spoke into her head. “Truly well done, young one.”
Although it was extremely short, the Gazer was still able to witness something rather extraordinary
during this fight. It had nothing to do with her absurd strength, however. A demon’s power in the
physical realm was directly proportional to the mana that went into their summoning, and her body was
simply more powerful than his. If he had been on the same level as this fiend, she wouldn’t have been
able to withstand any of his ranged attacks as well as she did. He had already determined that he’d lose
the instant he was caught, but it was the process leading up to that moment that made him respect this
woman.
The projectile barrage forced him to focus on her alone. That massive wooden beam then made him drift
away from her and closer to the ceiling without realizing it. And then she took advantage of the dungeon
core no longer functioning properly in this area to dig her nails into it and use it as a secondary platform.
All things considered, that sequence of events would have likely resulted in his defeat at least ninety out
of a hundred times. It was the first time he had been outsmarted to this degree by a fiend, Ranked Up or
otherwise.
No, perhaps ‘outsmarted’ wasn’t the right choice of words.
“It would appear that you yourself don’t seem to be aware of what you had accomplished,” he mused
after witnessing her confused expression. “Most curious indeed. Was it battle instinct, perhaps? Or
maybe it was just dumb luck, hmm?”
“… No idea what you’re talking about, old fart,” she said dismissively while warily approaching his
mangled body. “I just went at you from a different angle, is all.”
“Heh,” he chuckled dryly, before continuing in a more serious tone. “The name’s Khurpath Sordazzurr.
Do visit me in the Beyond when you have the time, young Koralenteprix. There is much I wish to know
about you.”
Normally Kora would have dismissed the uppity know-it-all outright, but her experiences and
frustrations in this place made it abundantly clear she was severely lacking outside of combat. Even if
she did manage to get out of her predicament through brute force, that was only possible because of her,
as Khur called it, dumb luck. And if she were to let this opportunity to forge a connection with a Gazer
demon slip away, then she truly would be the brainless moron with zero foresight that the world thought
she was.
“I’ll have my agent call your agent,” she said with a smirk. “We’ll do lunch.”
She then proceeded to finish him off by booting him like a deflated kickball.
The area guardian of the Eternal Library has been slain.

The Eternal Library can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
Yet another in a series of dungeon-wide notifications passed through Drea’s head, and the Stalker sighed
dejectedly as a result. This meant that she would be the last one among Boxxy’s group to complete
whatever challenge that annoying dungeon master had forced onto each of them. And that was assuming
she would be able to survive this place at all.
Drea had been teleported to an area called the Howling Chasm, which was an extremely fitting name. It
was some sort of narrow crevasse or canyon that had a harsh wind blowing through it non-stop. The
frigid air current whistled ominously as it passed through the iced over passageway and wrapped around
the protruding rock formations. It also carried with it a good amount of snowfall, resulting in what was
essentially a localized blizzard.
The topography of the area was so rough that even mountain goats would find it ludicrous. Any invader
who felt brave or stupid enough to try to scale the sheer cliffs surrounding them would have their work
cut out for them, to say the least. Even if they were to somehow maintain their grip on the ice-covered
rocks and make actual headway towards scaling the cliffs, they wouldn’t get far. A violent gust of air or
a foothold suddenly giving way would make sure to send them tumbling down to the bottom, sometimes
accompanied by a rockslide or avalanche.
These occurrences were not at all random, but rather the dungeon’s not-so-subtle way of forcing ‘guests’
to traverse the Howling Chasm by following it down its length. Which was a challenge in and of itself,
as the terrain at the bottom was every bit as treacherous. Various obstacles such as glaciers, boulders and
pitfalls would force invaders to clamber up and down constantly to the point where merely being able to
take three steps on level ground was a luxury. This, when combined with the oncoming freezing winds,
made it so that they’d rapidly run out of energy just by trying to move forward.
In short, the Howling Chasm was a place where the environment itself was the greatest enemy.
But, even if freezing to death was a very real threat even for the hardiest adventurers, it was by no means
the only one. Ice elementals, aberrations of nature that only appeared in extreme environments such as
this, could be seen skittering around. They looked like boulders of ice with jagged shards jutting out of
them at random, a few of which had grown into needle-like legs that helped them move around in an
insect-like manner.
Overall their appearances were rather similar, but by no means uniform. The shape and size of their
main body varied wildly, as did the number of appendages. They also had limited shapeshifting ability,
which they demonstrated by growing various bladed limbs when the need demanded it. They could
attack at range as well, mostly by firing a barrage of deadly ice shards that could easily pierce through
rock and stone. The complete and total lack of any sensory organs, on the other hand, implied that they
relied on some sort of Mana Locator Gland to perceive their surroundings.
It was this last bit that made them truly troublesome opponents for someone like Drea who relied on
sneak attacks to be effective. They would detect her presence without fail once she got within five or so
meters of them, rendering her Assassination Skill completely useless. Being literal blocks of living ice
also meant they had no weak points she could strike at, such as tendons, necks, or hearts. Binding them
with her webbing was also quite useless, as the elementals could just sprout blades of ice from their
bodies and rip it to shreds. They truly were an assassin’s nightmare, and Drea could see why the
dungeon master would leave her in a place like this.
The Stalker demon was currently huddled up in a small outcropping of rocks that provided some
measure of shelter from the frigid winds. Her mandibles chittered without end while her practically
naked body shivered uncontrollably as it desperately tried and failed to warm itself up. Her limbs had
gone completely numb by this point, and she frequently felt the need to check whether all of them were
still attached. It wasn’t like they were going to freeze up and snap off in the wind, but they could still be
hacked or ripped off in a scuffle, and she probably wouldn’t even feel it.
And those animate lumps of frozen water were quite the troublesome bunch indeed. The big ones that
were tall enough to give Kora a run for her money were so tough that attacking them felt like digging a
tunnel through a cliff with just a needle. Their attacks were slow, clumsy, and easy to avoid, but the
sheer amount of time and effort it took to bring them down took its toll on her. There were also small
ones that did not reach a height of even a meter, but those were arguably worse. Even if they were easily
dispatched in one or two hits, they had a tendency to swarm her from all sides, resulting in seemingly
trivial yet also unavoidable injuries.
But no matter how shallow the cuts were, each wound she sustained was permanent. Her body was
suffering from the initial stages of hypothermia, which resulted in her automatic HP recovery being
completely halted. But even if her cuts and bruises would not recover, it could have been much worse.
She imagined she’d be actively losing HP right now if she wasn’t still under the effects of Boxxy’s cold
resistance potion. Not to mention that, even if this place was able to deplete even a demon’s stamina, she
was still able to rest up and recover some of it. That was why she was currently hiding away in this dark
corner to begin with, as every fight she went through felt like running a marathon underwater.
One might argue that all she needed to do was avoid fighting the elementals altogether, but that was
easier said than done. Even if a bunch of them could be seen wandering around aimlessly and could be
easily sidestepped, there were many more of them hiding in her surroundings. Their natural camouflage
was so good, that it was impossible for her to tell whether an object buried in the snow was a harmless
rock or a dungeon monster taking a nap until she was right on top of it. Meaning that no matter what she
did, she still ended up being ambushed and forced into a fight.
And yet she had been making relatively good progress in spite of all those obstacles. The demoness
poked her head out of her hidey-hole, wincing a bit as her face was pelted with snow and her hair was
whipped back by the vicious wind. Visibility was terrible, but she still managed to make out what
seemed to be the canyon’s exit up ahead. The passage had gradually been growing wider and flatter for a
while now, and seemed to open up completely about forty meters further ahead.
However, even though this seemed like the home stretch, she couldn’t help but worry about crossing it.
She only had about half of her 5,153 HP remaining despite her best efforts, and the road ahead was filled
to the brim with agitated ice elementals of all sizes. It wasn’t impossible to fight through them, but it
would be extremely difficult to say the least. Not to mention that, even if she won, it would leave her in
a much-too-injured state to properly deal with whatever guardian awaited her at the end. The upcoming
boss battle was also why she was currently doing her best to recuperate, as it was sure to be yet another
test of endurance.
Truthfully speaking she was already as well rested as she could be under the circumstances, yet she
ducked her head back in and curled up on the cold ground. She clenched her eyes shut and gritted her
teeth as she was thoroughly reminded of how miserable she was and how pathetically weak she felt.
Surely her Level advantage meant that she should be blowing through this place with little to no
difficulty, right? And yet here she was, struggling to even deal with the small fry properly. It was a
feeling so frustrating that it made her bite her own lips until they began to bleed.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
The dungeon master’s voice made the Stalker open her compound eyes and stare at the djinn’s Mistborn
Projection. The shimmering apparition was being distorted by the howling winds, but it was still easy to
tell she was smiling maliciously.
“It seems the poor little bug has hit a rough spot, has she?” she began gloating. “I was a bit worried
since all of the other ones were absurd, cheat-like anomalies, but you’re not like them at all! You’re not
some mysterious tree spirit, an incomprehensible Hero or an abnormally Ranked Up demon. You’re just
a Stalker, an itsy bitsy cowardly little spider who’s completely helpless once she’s out of her comfort
zone!”
“Hrrktktktktktktktktktkt…”
Setre’s words felt like they stabbed through Drea’s chest. Those were the same worries and doubts that
the spider-girl had been trying to ignore for the longest while, well before she even come here. They
probably started rearing their ugly heads at around the time where she failed to take down that bald
Psionic during the war, and were only amplified further following the Rank Ups of her co-contractors.
The depressing feeling that maybe she wasn’t good enough to serve as Boxxy’s familiar after all was
now rapidly boiling to the surface due to her sordid circumstances.
“Oh me, oh my! It seems like I hit a nerve, did I?” added the djinn.
Seeing that her venomous remarks were finally having some sort of effect on one of her guests made
Setre’s smile even wider. The fact that she, a demon, was the custodian of the Palace of the Crystal
Maiden meant that the basic ‘no teleportation’ restriction available to all dungeon cores had been
upgraded to ‘no spatial travel.’ The difference between the two was that the latter was much broader in
scope and was able to block both a Warlock’s Summon Familiar Skill, as well as the Transfamiliar Spell.
In other words, if this Stalker were to die here or be otherwise rendered unwilling to continue, then her
shithead of a master would be weakened for the final confrontation.
“Can’t say I blame you. I’d feel useless too if I couldn’t even beat a bunch of literally brainless ice
cubes!”
Which was why she decided to keep pouring it on, so that the seeds of doubt may take root inside the
demon’s wavering spirit. She wasn’t sure how, why or when these familiars had grown attached to their
summoner, but it was hardly an unprecedented state of affairs. The important thing to take away here
was that this Stalker clearly had some sort of emotional attachment to her master. And Setre would not
fail to use that connection to pressure her into submission.
“I bet he’d just discard you and replace your sorry ass with a much more capable demon. Face it, you’re
only holding your master back.”
“Ktktktktktktkt…”
And it seemed to be working wonderfully if the way her mandibles’ chittering was increasing in
frequency was any indication.
“I’d suggest you kill yourself to spare everyone the trouble of your pointless existence, but not even that
would work on a demon like you, regardless of how pathetic a bug you are.”
“Tktktktk-!”
However, Setre had pushed too far. Something in her words had suddenly lit a fire under Drea’s butt.
Her eyes snapped wide open and her mouth stopped producing noises for the first time since she was
deposited in this damnable chasm.
Why am I so afraid of death?! she exclaimed inwardly. Ah, right, it’s because I’ll fail if I die… but what
am I going to fail, exactly? It’s not like I was told to survive at all costs or make sure I clear the zone!
Indeed, those goals were just things she had somehow decided for herself. Being cut off from her Master
had made her unconsciously shift into total self-preservation mode, which was unnecessary. She could
just be called back to Boxxy’s side should her physical shell be destroyed. In fact, that may actually be a
good thing in and of itself, as she could relay important information back to her master. She might have
thought differently if she knew the Summon Familiar Skill would not work in this dungeon, but that
simply wasn’t the case.
That’s right, I just need to be ‘shiny’ in my own way!
Brimming with newfound determination, the Stalker stood up and crawled out of the small alcove,
eliciting another snide comment from Setre.
“What now? Finally decided to go back to the Beyond where it’s nice and warm?”
Well, the Beyond wasn’t really ‘warm’ so much as it was ‘not bone-chillingly cold,’ but Drea did not
wish to argue semantics with the djinn. She did not even want to see her face, so she idly sliced up the
apparition as she walked by it, forcing the magic to disperse. She then lowered her stance to the extreme,
allowing her bladed limbs to carry her weight while she tucked her hands and legs closer into her torso.
She then waded straight into the sea of monsters at full speed without even trying to sneak through them.
Almost immediately she saw a wall of blades and spears strike out at her, which she avoided by leaping
through a small gap in between them. She landed on the frozen uneven ground with an awkward
cartwheel and resumed dashing ahead. The elementals ahead of her kept trying to intercept and block
her advance while the ones she left behind gave chase while shooting frozen darts at her back.
This sort of scenario was why she couldn’t allow herself to just dash past the elementals she’d faced
earlier. Once they had acquired a target, these elementals were relentless in chasing it down. She might
have been able to lose them if she went out of the range of their MLG, but simply running away like that
was much too risky. Not only would it leave her open to ranged attacks, but would also invite the
monsters hiding in the ground to strike at her and make things even worse. That was why she had
decided to slowly but surely clear a path through the Howling Chasm by engaging groups of two or
three of them at a time whenever giving them a wide berth was not an option.
This very clearly wasn’t her goal this time around, though, as she just kept relentlessly moving her
limbs. Her body was cut up by razor-sharp edges, but she just kept running. She had to leap over a giant
club swing that clipped her dangling knees and made her fumble her landing, but she got up and
resumed running. Jagged shards of ice flew at her from almost all directions, yet she did not allow
herself to stop running. She ripped open whatever minor elementals she could with her hands, but only if
she was sure her attacks would not interfere with her running.
And the more she ran, the more she heard the sounds of ice clashing against ice.
This area was so thick with elementals that they couldn’t even walk around without bumping into one
another. It was only natural they’d end up hitting their own allies when they just mindlessly attacked the
intruder in their midsts. They weren’t just getting in their own way, though, as the ‘brainless ice cubes’
would lash back at each other on reflex whenever they were hit. They were so simple that not even the
dungeon core’s influence was able to reign them in before the whole thing devolved into a massive
brawl.
Which was precisely the sort of chaos Drea had been aiming for. She already knew full well that these
things were way too dumb to understand concepts such as ‘friendly fire’ or ‘teamwork,’ and that they
moved more like machines than living beings. The large ones were especially useful to that end, as their
huge swings and massive range meant they caused the most collateral damage. They also pulled double
duty as improvised cover, as the Stalker was able to duck under or behind them to avoid being skewered
by the constant barrage of icy projectiles.
However, even that small comfort came to an end when Drea cleared the unruly mob and found herself
out in the open. She may have passed through the danger zone, but she wasn’t out of the woods quite yet
as a good chunk of the horde of pissed off monsters were still on her tail. Not only would they have a
clear shot at her retreating back, but there was also no telling what sort of nasty surprises awaited her
ahead. But the time for hesitation was over, and the Stalker forged on ahead without even considering
the consequences.
Except that, as it turned out, there were no more elementals or traps or anything of the sort beyond that
point. Nothing popped out of the ground or leaped at her from the walls, no matter how much noise she
made or ground she covered. Even the stampede behind her was growing quieter at a much more rapid
pace than she thought possible. The Stalker hid behind a particularly big boulder and allowed herself to
peek back at the path she’d covered. To her great relief, she saw that the lumps of living ice were
shambling back to their original locations, where the free-for-all she’d started was already winding
down.
“Yessss!” she shout-whispered to herself with a fist pump. “Also, owww!”
Now that the rush of her mad dash was wearing off, she was steadily being made aware of her aching
body’s complaints. Well, at least it didn’t feel as numb as it did, so that was a start. She quickly looked
herself over, only to find that she had barely 1,600 HP left and that the topmost pair of her back-
mounted scythes had been chopped off in the confusion. Still, it was clearly a much better outcome than
if she had actually tried to fight her way through that mess the hard way. It was obvious she lucked out
hard to achieve such a favorable outcome, but she didn’t let that take away from her feeling of triumph.
The realization that she was now two limbs short had already squashed that sliver of joy anyway.
Once she confirmed her body’s condition, she proceeded cautiously down the path. Much like she had
seen earlier, it opened up to a wide, completely flat space that was entirely unlike the damnable canyon.
Even the wind had died down somewhat, but this only allowed her to realize that what she had perceived
as an exit was actually an entrance to some sort of arena. It was a generally circular space that was about
fifty or sixty meters wide and was surrounded on all sides by yet more of those blasted unscalable cliffs.
As the Stalker got closer to the center, she couldn’t help but feel more and more on edge. Even though
she was initially glad to see this flat space, right now she couldn’t help but feel strangely exposed. The
ground beneath her feet also felt weirdly solid, prompting her to shovel the snow around a bit with the
sole of her foot. Once she removed the top - and indeed only - layer of fresh white powder, she found
herself staring down at a corpse. One that had been encased in a layer of impossibly clear ice that had a
vibrant blue hue to it.
It would appear the Stalker was standing on top of some sort of frozen body of water, like a lake or
pond. It was impossible for her to tell how deep it actually went, as the ambient light wasn’t strong
enough to penetrate more than a few meters beneath the surface. She wasn’t sure what the dead body
was doing in there, but it was by no means the only one. Every time she brushed the fresh snow aside
she was greeted with another person’s corpse. They were all overwhelmingly dwarven, but humans,
elves and gnomes could also be seen here and there. She also couldn’t help but notice how remarkably
well preserved they were. They looked so unblemished and untouched by time that she felt it wouldn’t
be at all surprising if they suddenly sprang to life.
“Ktktktktkt?”
Or at least that’s what she thought, until one of them opened its eyes and stared into her own.
*CRASH*
“Hraaaaah!”
“EEEEK!”
It then suddenly burst from the ice with a loud noise while hissing, eliciting a rather girlish scream from
Drea as she leapt a few meters backwards. She watched in pure shock as the corpse climbed out of its
icy prison while some sort of black mist began to seep out of its pale skin and drape over its body. When
the dreadful miasma dissipated a second later, what was left was a creature very different from the
human soldier that rose from the ice.
It still retained a humanoid shape, but the flesh had become extremely lean, gangly and decomposed.
Overall, its appearance was closer to that of a malnourished doppelganger than a person, with only the
minimal amount of meat covering its bones. It had blue skin and claws instead of fingers and toes - two
on each foot and three on each hand, much like Drea. It had a head of shoulder-length black hair, a
complete and total lack of anything resembling a nose, and eye sockets that glowed with an eerie white
light.
Whatever clothes and armor were on the original body were now gone, transformed by the strange mist
much like its flesh. The clearly undead thing wore a pair of weathered leather braces that covered its
wrists and forearms and a matching pair of greaves rested on its shins and calves. Its shoulders, collar
and the lower half of its face were all wrapped up in a rough brown fabric that was much too big to be
called a scarf, and dangled over its protruding spine like a short cape.
“Blood…”
A low voice like a thousand whispers washed over Drea from all sides.
“Maim… Kill… Destroy…”
The undead creature shambled around aimlessly in a drunken manner as it kept spewing threatening
words. The way it acted made it seem like it had forgotten the Stalker was even there. The demoness
didn’t miss this opportunity and immediately circled around its back and pounced at it. The
Assassination Skill had went off without a hitch, allowing her to decapitate the vile thing while also
ripping its body to pieces in the blink of an eye. It didn’t even let out a sound as it collapsed to the snow
and dissolved into a weird black sludge that began seeping into the ice.
“SKREEEEEEEEEE!”
Once the last of its liquefied remains disappeared, however, the area was bathed in a high pitched
scream that could only be described as ‘angry.’ There was a sudden eruption of ice and snow near Drea
as another body already wreathed in a black smog leaped out of it. It charged straight towards her as the
miasma fell off its flesh, revealing a creature identical to the one she had just executed. It leapt through
the air directly at her, only to find its head, torso and shoulder impaled and then ripped apart by the
claws and scythes on the Stalker’s left side.
A third corpse then popped out of the ice and rushed her in much the same manner, but was just as easily
defeated. Then a fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh followed suit one after the other, all of which took on
the same appearance as the first one. And then, surprisingly enough, the eight one actually managed to
avoid being skewered on the first hit. It still died immediately afterwards, but each subsequent attempt
lasted that little bit longer against the Stalker. And then, on the fifteenth try, one of them actually
managed to get a clean hit on her, ripping out a sizable chunk of her left thigh with its claws.
It was at this point that Drea’s suspicions were confirmed. Rather than multiple beings of the same
species, what she was faced with was the same creature that came at her again and again, no matter how
many times she defeated it. And the reason it had managed to injure her wasn’t because opponent had
suddenly gotten faster or anything like that. Even if it was surprisingly spry for its bony build, it was still
objectively slower than her.
The reason why it managed to land a hit her was because it was learning and adapting to her attack
patterns, movement and all around fighting style. At a rather frightening pace, too. Once Drea realized
this, she began to vary her attacks as much as possible. This approach kept her from sustaining any more
injuries for a while, but it became apparent it couldn’t last. She wasn’t too worried, though. Her extra
limbs still gave her a biological advantage that was impossible to overcome, no matter how skillful at
dodging her opponent got.
It was a notion that was shattered somewhere around the 30th time that it emerged from the ice, as the
undead being appeared sporting a new appendage. It was a slender limb poking out of its upper back that
had two elbow joints and was tipped with a blade made out of bone. It was at this point that Drea
realized this thing wasn’t just getting used to her movements, but was actively studying them and
making them its own. That was probably also why it had claws and black hair strangely similar to hers,
as it had somehow or another decided to copy those parts of her first. The Stalker had never seen or even
heard of such a being, but the eerie features, body-snatching habit, shapeshifting ability and battle
mimicry led her to a singular conclusion.
She was fighting some sort of undead doppelganger.
Or to be more precise, it was an Icebound variant of a Mirror Wraith. This type of malicious being was
born of doppelgangers that either practiced necromancy or led what other members of their species
would deem excessively violent lives. Boxxy actually had a high chance of coming back as one of these
after its death if Mortimer didn’t personally show up to collect its stubborn soul. That was assuming, of
course, that some shadowy government-run organization didn’t make the mistake of bringing it back to
life in some misguided attempt to further their own agenda.
Unfortunately for Drea, she had no idea what this thing truly was, nor did she know of a method that
would make it stay dead. This was hardly surprising, as Mirror Wraiths had become all but extinct after
the Silent War very nearly wiped out the raw materials needed for their creation. This was a completely
new opponent for her, and it was adapting to her faster than she was to it.
As the fights dragged on, Drea found it harder and harder to land a decisive blow on her opponent. That
would’ve been bad enough in and of itself, but the prolonged duels also meant that the wraith was
starting to land hits on her. Admittedly they were only at the level of scratches or gashes, but any wound
received from an undead being carried with it a deadly consequence - the undead disease known as the
Blight. The plague was gradually making her grow weaker and more lethargic, to the point where the
wraith was actually starting to match her in terms of speed.
At around the 45th time it emerged from the ice, the Mirror Wraith and the Stalker were more or less on
equal footing. The undead being had grown four scythes and a sturdy carapace of its own by this point,
resulting in what was essentially a twisted reflection of Drea’s partially crippled form. It even had a pair
of gigantic mandibles jutting out of the sides of its head as if it were trying to mock her nervous ticks.
The two of them then engaged in another exchange of blows that was more akin to dancing than
fighting, with neither one landing any clean hits. Or at least not until Drea was able to seize an
opportunity to rush in and decapitate her opponent for the upteempth time. However, what she perceived
as an opening turned out be bait for a trap. The wraith had taken advantage of its pseudo-immortality
and had willingly offered up one of its bodies to create an opening in the Stalker’s defenses. This
allowed it to slice clean through her right arm at the same time that its own neck was severed.
Drea screamed in pain and surprise and reflexively leaped backwards. Her amputated limb rolled around
on the ground while dripping with viscous blood for a few moments before rapidly evaporating into thin
air. Another explosion of ice and snow later and her hated opponent was already back to full strength
while she was left in a clearly disadvantageous position.
This made the Stalker very rapidly reconsider her approach. Initially she planned to fight this thing until
it ran out of bodies. She was making good progress up until now, as by her estimation the stubborn
zombie had already used up somewhere between half and two thirds of the available corpses. It had also
more or less reached the limit of what it could copy from her, yet she was still more or less decisively
overpowering it. Under the circumstances she couldn’t help but feel confident she could outlast it, so
long as her stamina held out.
It was a plan that was proven to have been so optimistic it bordered on the naive.
Her opponent charged at her much like it had done until then, but it was painfully obvious that
confronting it would not be a smart decision. With that in mind, Drea began running from and actively
evading the wraith in an effort to buy herself some time to think. She was inwardly glad she decided
against trying to use her webbing against it, as it would have probably found a way to copy those as well
and use them to entrap her.
But the more she tried to rethink her approach, the more it became apparent her skillset was terribly ill-
equipped to deal with this undead, completely unlike those she considered her allies.
For example, if Fizzy were here, she’d instantly purify this entire lake with her holy magic and rob the
body-hopping specter of any suitable vessels, perhaps even destroy it outright. Xera would just burn
away both ice and corpses with her flames, while Kora would be able to outlast it with sheer endurance
and physical force. Drea wasn’t sure exactly what Ambrosia’s spriggan body was capable of, but it was a
fair assumption that some uppity graverobber wouldn’t be much of an issue.
Boxxy, on the other hand, was so flexible that this wouldn’t even register as a challenge. That Mimic
could produce a near-infinite number of attack variations through its world-class shapeshifting skills.
The rotten wraith would never even get the chance to get used to so many methods of murder before it
ran out of fuel. That was assuming the Mimic didn’t just annihilate it over and over from afar with its
Warlock magic without giving it a chance to get close. Or that it didn’t simply blow the whole place to
smithereens with its explosives.
But Drea could do none of those things. Sure, she was better at stealthy assassinations than anyone else
in Boxxy’s inner circle, but this Howling Chasm was specifically designed to counter such a skillset.
Perhaps… she had already done enough? Surely even her master would understand her predicament and
not inflict some kind of punishment for her incompetence if she were to fall here and now. The only
thing the Stalker could do at this point was return to her master’s side and relay the information she had
gathered. After that, Boxxy could easily find its way to this place and gobble up that detestable wrath
like it was nothing.
… Huh. I guess I could try that, couldn’t I?
The Stalker suddenly stopped giving her opponent the runabout and turned on her heel to face it. She
wasn’t sure whether her new idea would work. Just the opposite, in fact. It was a notion so idiotic and
reckless that it made that desperate dash through the field of elementals seem like a pleasant stroll
through a garden. But at the same time, it was one more thing she could try, and she felt like she
couldn’t face her master with her head held high unless she really did give it her all.
Well, she was far too shy to face her master at all unless she was ordered to, but that was besides the
point.
The Mirror Wraith sensed that something was up and skid to a halt. It lowered its body and circled
around the Stalker, its own set of mandibles chittering to mirror Drea’s own. The undead was ultimately
the more aggressive of the two, so the staredown didn’t last long before it made a move. It approached
her with a light footed zigzag pattern, completely unlike the blind charges it attempted during the initial
series of duels.
Drea turned her left side forward in preparation to receive the incoming attack. She wasn’t sure whether
she could pull this off one handed, but this thing was rather inept at dealing with things it saw for the
first time, so her odds were definitely good. She also had only about 200 HP remaining after having her
limb torn off, meaning this would likely be her last chance. She needed to make it count, which was why
she was quietly proud of herself for holding her webbing back for so long.
She raised her good hand towards the incoming wraith and let loose a spray of sticky spider silk from
her palm. As expected, the creature had no idea how to deal with it and was wrapped up in it in the blink
of an eye, causing it to fall and skid across the ground. It tried to cut through its bindings with its
imitation scythes and claws, but the Stalker quickly moved in and secured all of its limbs by tying them
together. She then applied a liberal coat of webbing, wrapping her opponent up completely until it
resembled the world’s most repulsive bagworm.
It struggled, hissed, screeched and writhed around, but Drea would not give it the opportunity to break
free. She mercilessly stabbed it over and over through the white cocoon until it stopped moving and its
body began melting into sludge yet again. The viscous liquid began to soak clean through the webbing
as it attempted to return to the frozen lake underneath. The Stalker half expected something like this to
happen, but it wasn’t a problem. Or rather, it was precisely what she hoped would happen.
Drea then screwed up her courage, picked up the sloshing lump of spider silk and, in an act that would
surely make Boxxy recoil in horror, poured the black sludge into her own mouth. The scent hit her first,
followed closely by the horrible taste. She now understood firsthand why her master had nicknamed the
lich Valeria ‘Nasty’ back in the day.
When the stuff hit the back of her throat, however, her body immediately reacted. It was actively
rejecting this bizarre stuff, which it displayed by convulsing violently against her will. Drea had to use
every ounce of her remaining strength to swallow even a single mouthful, but that was her limit. She
dropped the rest of it on the ground, and bent over while retching, gagging and dry-heaving from the
horrific aftertaste.
Now freed from her grasp, what was left of the black sludge returned to the ice and sought out another
host. The Mirror Wraith emerged from the ice once more a while later, but it became immediately
apparent that Drea’s stupid idea had paid off. The decomposing humanoid still had the same arachnid
shape as before, but it actively struggled to maintain its balance and stay on its feet. The manner in
which it was stumbling around was much more severe than the first time the Stalker saw it, almost as if
she were watching a newborn doe learning to walk.
Seeing this, the demon immediately attacked it, wrapping it up with her webbing much like she had
done before. She guessed she could only get away with this technique a few more times before her
adversary devised a counter of it, but that would be enough. Her first attempt at devouring her opponent
may have failed since she had underestimated how vile this thing tasted, but she knew its flavor now.
By the Gods, she knew it so well that she doubted she would ever be able to forget it.
That was fine though. This amount of suffering was a small price to pay if it meant earning Boxxy’s
approval. If she overcame a challenge specifically tailored to counter her way of fighting, then there was
no way that endlessly pragmatic creature would fail to be impressed. And so, with such optimistic
thoughts in mind and a silent prayer for her soon-to-be-dead tastebuds on her lips, Drea resumed her
meal with only the slightest bit of hesitation.
The area guardian of the Howling Chasm has been slain.

The Howling Chasm can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
Several minutes later the only things left of the prolonged confrontation was a corpse-and-crater-filled
frozen lake, a few piles of soppy webbing, a tightly shut golden treasure chest.
Well, that and one violently convulsing Stalker who could do nothing but writhe around on the ground in
agony while stubbornly clinging to the last few digits of her HP.
The Palace of the Crystal Maiden, which shared a name with the dungeon it resided in, was a fortress in
its own right. It had been built atop a mountain summit, with only one path leading to it and six separate
gatehouses protecting it. The battlements themselves were manned by a small army of golems, which
looked to have been made out of enchanted ice.
They only looked the part, though. Actual ice may have been a suitable host for elementals, but made for
extremely poor golem material. Therefore, the guardians that protected the Palace were actually crystal
golems whose bodies had the appearance of frozen water. They had mostly humanoid forms, but their
skin had the aesthetic of polished gemstones, which involved a lot of complex geometric shapes, clearly
defined angles and flat surfaces. The way the sunlight was spread about as it passed through and
reflected off their faceted bodies cast their surroundings in a beautiful radiance that almost made them
too shiny to attack.
‘Almost’ being the operative word there.
“Hmm, seems there’s at least sixty of them up on that wall,” reported the Mimic as it peered over the
snowbank it was hiding behind. “Only about a quarter of them seem to be carrying weapons, the rest
must be Spell-slingers.”
“Forgive me, milord,” butted in Ambrosia, “but doth golems even know any arcane incantations?”
“Fizzy can use Holy magic, remember?” it pointed out.
“That may be so, but even I realize thy… glistening companion is most anomalous.”
“All crystal golems can use magic, it’s what separates them from the metal and stone variety,” explained
Xera. “Well, they also break easier, but the ability to melt faces from afar typically more than makes up
for it.”
“And since we’ll have to assault those gates,” chimed in Boxxy, “it means we’ll be on the receiving end
of their magic.”
“I see. So it is to be a siege, then?”
“That’s the plan.”
This was the reason why Boxxy, Ambrosia and Xera were currently hiding behind a snowbank about
fifty meters away from the first gatehouse protecting the sole pathway to the Palace. The spriggan was
able to meet up with the djinn thanks to the former’s pyrotechnics display. The two of them then
proceeded towards the palace in accordance to the last order Xera had received from her master,
allowing the three of them to reunite at the base of the summit.
“Then are we waiting for the rest of thy servants?” asked Ambrosia curiously.
“Yeah,” confirmed Boxxy. “Ideally we’d want Arms here with us. Her Siegebreaker Skill will be very
useful against those stone fortifications.”
“Art thou sure milady Koralenteprix is even coming?”
“She should be. You did see the notification about the library being cleared, right?”
“That is not what I meant, milord. I am merely wondering if someone as mentally challenged as her is
capable of anticipating milord’s desires.”
“She raises a good point, Master,” butted in Xera. “That moron probably hasn’t realized she’s supposed
to convene here with the rest of us since it wasn’t a direct order.”
“Hmm… Now that you mention it, it has been over twenty minutes since the Eternal Library was
conquered.”
One could argue that she might’ve just gotten lost, but the big hulking blue palace that loomed over the
area was literally impossible to ignore. Distance also shouldn’t be a problem since, even though this
dungeon was literally kilometers wide, someone of that fiend’s stature would easily be able to cross it by
now. It wasn’t like she was being held up by monsters or anything either, as neither Boxxy, Ambrosia
nor Xera encountered any hostiles after defeating their respective bosses.
Traps were another story, though. Both the Mimic and the djinn-spriggan pair had to get through quite a
few of those, but they were able to get through those without much hassle. Boxxy had some of its Mirror
Images run ahead of itself and set off any snares or ambushes in its path. It was a brutish method, but
more reliable than trying to detect them through all the background ‘noise’ of the dungeon’s ambient
mana. Xera and Ambrosia, on the other hand, were able to avoid them by following the djinn’s Guiding
Light.
However, Kora had neither disposable body doubles nor access to clairvoyance magic. It wasn’t hard to
imagine her being displaced by another teleportation trap even if she did somehow figure out where she
was supposed to be headed.
“Let’s give her another hour or so,” declared the Mimic. “It’s not like we’re in a rush or anything.”
“As thy wishes, milord,” said Ambrosia with a polite curtsy. “In that case, I shall make myself
comfortable.”
The spriggan then proceeded to burrow into the snow underfoot in search of soil, while Xera’s eyes
shone with a rather ravenous glint.
“Master!” she called out in a loud voice. “Since we’re not going anywhere, could you please turn my
filthy pussy and vulgar asshole into a sopping mess?!”
Needless to say, the prospect of downtime had gotten her more than a little excited, especially since she
was still hot and bothered from that Torture Chamber business. And since her Master was extremely
pleased when she presented it with the Prismatic Cloak, it only stood to reason it might be willing to
reward her hard work. And if that wasn’t the case, then it would shut her down with a slew of verbal
abuse, which would be a fitting consolation prize in and of itself.
However, her beloved Boxxy didn’t answer, and instead stared directly overhead. Xera was caught a bit
off guard by this total lack of reaction and followed its eyes with her own. It took her a few moments,
but she was suddenly able to tell what had caught the Mimic’s attention. It was a tiny speck shooting
across the partially cloudy sky. She squinted her eyes at it, but was barely able to make out anything
beyond a mixture of red and green colors. The realization of what she was looking at failed to hit her
until she could just barely pick up on a string of distant profanities being carried on the wind.
“Is that… what- who I think it is?” she muttered dumbly.
“Yep,” confirmed Boxxy. “It’s Arms.”
Using the Ranger Job’s Eagle Eye Skill, the Mimic was able to zoom in on and very clearly track the
flailing Archfiend as she soared through the air. No, perhaps ‘soar’ was too strong a word. ‘Hurtling
uncontrollably’ would probably be a much closer description of her current state.
As for the cause of her airborne aspirations, they likely stemmed from her footwear, which wasn’t her
usual set of armored greaves and sabatons. She had replaced them with a pair of plain-looking brown
boots that had a pair of white feathery wings on each ankle. Their appearance made it seem like they
were supposed to bestow flight upon the user, but that very clearly wasn’t the case.
After all, the dungeon would never allow such a trajectory if this were a controlled flight.
Boxxy didn’t get to ponder the fiend’s situation for long, however, as it realized she was headed right for
the palace that rested at the summit. Except that she didn’t actually hit the ground, at least not right
away. She collided headfirst into the outer wall of the frozen chateau, resulting in two of her horns being
broken off. She then smashed through a balcony of some description, broke a flagpole jutting out of the
building and then bounced off of some golem-filled battlements. Her trainwreck of a landing ended
outside the Mimic’s field of vision since she crashed into the ground behind some walls, making it
unclear whether she survived or not.
The flashes of magic and the sight of glistening crystal body parts being launched into the air put that
question to rest almost immediately afterwards.
*HAHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHM*
A deep horn echoed in from the top of the summit. It seemed to be a call for reinforcements, as the
crystalline soldiers and mages atop the nearest gatehouse began to vacate the walls and moved towards
the palace. They still left some troops to man the gates, but it was a skeleton crew of barely even ten
golems. Needless to say, this was a development that suited Boxxy just fine.
“Snack. Hit them.”
“At once, Master!”
Following the Mimic’s order, Xera broke out of cover and approached the first gatehouse while gliding
low over the ground. The remaining guards noticed her approach and let loose a barrage of
predominantly ice-based magic, but they failed to hit their target. Not because she dodged or anything,
but because a Sandman-shaped Mirror Image had appeared in front of her and body-blocked the
incoming projectiles. This allowed Xera the precious few moments she needed to finish chanting her
own Spell.
“Meteor!”
A massive ball of flames and molten rock fell towards the gatehouse, prompting the defenders to raise a
massive magical barrier. They seemed to be using a Skill similar to Synchronous Chanting to pool their
mystical energy, but there were far too few of them to repel the djinn’s magic. The Meteor smashed right
through their defenses and landed directly on top of the gatehouse, engulfing the entire thing in crimson
flames. The structure itself was left standing and mostly unphased through the dungeon core’s efforts,
but the sentries on top of it had been instantly annihilated.
With the paltry defenders dealt with, Boxxy moved up the path in its wheeled treasure chest form while
Ambrosia rode side-saddle atop its lid. The road leading to the central Palace was extremely flat and
relatively straight, so it was sure it could build up a lot of speed even though it was uphill. Well, wheels
weren’t very suitable to scaling walls, but that wasn’t really much of an issue.
“Hang on tight, Ambrosia!”
“As thou wishes, milord!”
The spriggan complied with the Mimic’s request and lied face-down on top of it, hugging it as best she
could with her branch-like arms. She also took this opportunity to rub herself against its wooden surface
in a rather unnecessary manner, but Boxxy was too focused on the task at hand to notice. The quartet of
wheels on its undercarriage suddenly split up into eight spider legs, allowing it to quickly climb over the
wall. As for Xera, she had simply used her Mist Form to pass through the closed portcullis without much
issue.
Once on the other side of the wall they resumed going up the path at high speed and caught up to the rest
of the golem force just as they were passing through the second gatehouse. The Mimic produced another
Mirror Image, which had the same half-box-half-cart form as the original. Boxxy then reached into its
Storage and pulled out a Spell Crystal containing a Dark Explosion augmented by Power
Overwhelming. It tossed the ‘Big Bang Ball’ to its body double, which was easily caught with a fleshy
tendril.
It then put all of its efforts into accelerating, pulling ahead of Boxxy, Xera and Ambrosia. The guards at
the checkpoint noticed its approach, but the sheer speed at which the thing was moving towards them
made it hard for them to react in time. The Mirror Image abruptly changed into a gigantic steel wrecking
ball and plowed through their ranks. It reverted to its base Doppelganger form once it lost momentum
and tossed the volatile lump of magic squarely in the middle of the open gates. It landed where the
enemy was thickest, at which point it cracked open and released its payload.
The ensuing detonation shattered over twenty golems at once, sending shards of ice-colored crystal
flying in every direction. The deluge of glittering shrapnel was so severe that it mowed down another
dozen or so more of them. Even the ones atop the wall were not left unscathed since the shockwave had
penetrated through the stone. The sheer force behind the explosion was strong enough to cause huge
cracks in their bodies, leaving them crippled and in pieces.
Boxxy, Ambrosia and Xera slipped through the confusion before the golems could close the door, taking
out a few more of them as they passed by. The djinn then dropped another Meteor on them as a parting
gift before the trio proceeded towards the next gate. There were probably survivors left in their wake,
but the Mimic couldn’t afford to waste time on mopping them up.
It had already found out that its summoning magic was being nullified within the dungeon so it wanted
to make sure Arms survived whatever mess she had gotten herself into. She was far too valuable a war
asset to lose at this juncture. The same could also be said about Claws, but Boxxy had more pressing
concerns than a Stalker whose status and whereabouts were still unknown.
The trio reached the third gatehouse in no time flat and found it in a state similar to the first one, so they
went through it in much the same way. They then caught up to a marching golem platoon on their way to
the fourth checkpoint and barreled through them without wasting any time. This bunch actually
managed to hit the invaders more than a few times with their magic, but it was nothing that Ambrosia’s
healing Spells didn’t immediately fix. The next gatehouse was dealt with in a similar way to the last, and
the one after that was also caught with its gates open.
Coming up on the sixth and final barrier along the path, Boxxy was finally able to spot Arms. The fiend
had fought her way up to the battlements and was currently dealing with a small army of golems. The
harsh fall and constant barrage of ranged attacks seemed to have worn her down considerably as her left
leg was encased in ice and she was having trouble breaking free of it. Not only that, but two of the arms
on her right side hung loosely like a pair of wet socks with broken bones poking out of her red skin.
It was quite obvious she wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer, but she wouldn’t have to now that
she was in range of the Soul Link Skill.
“Snack! Come closer!” commanded Boxxy as it came to a sudden stop.
“Yes, Master! Is it punishment time?!”
“No, just shut up and stand still. Ambrosia - start using your healing on Snack and don’t stop until I say
so!”
“At once, milord!”
The spriggan began chanting her water-based magic while Boxxy began an incantation of its own.
“Mending Shower!”
“Dark Infusion!”
Xera was then engulfed by the effects of both Spells, which were transferred through the Soul Link to
Kora. The intoxicating feeling of having her body being empowered by concentrated darkness flooded
the Archfiend’s being. Her broken limbs then snapped back into their proper place as the dryad’s healing
magic did its thing. With the numbness in her leg suddenly going away and excessive power
overflowing from within, she was finally able to break free of her icy bindings. She began fighting the
golems with renewed vigor, with Boxxy and the others joining in soon afterwards.
Any semblance of resistance was then completely and thoroughly wiped out in less than thirty seconds.
“Fuck!” cursed Kora while breathing heavily and leaning on her knees. “I’m so glad you showed up
when you did, boss. I almost died to a bunch of glorified ice cubes! I’d have been the laughing stock of-
”
“Nevermind that,” interrupted Boxxy. “How did you get up here in the first place?”
“Ah, right, it’s cuz of these things!”
The fiend then gestured towards the tattered remains of the boots that still clung to her ankles.
“I thought they’d let me fly, but they refused to work. So I tried jumping as hard as possible to gain
some altitude and they kinda catapulted me in the direction I was aiming at and… I guess I kind of broke
them, didn’t I?”
It wasn’t until the end of her explanation that the fiend realized her new footwear did not survive the
battle.
“So… uh… whoops?” she added with a cringe.
“Where did you get those whatever they were, exactly?” asked the Mimic in a damning tone that sent a
shiver down the fiend’s spine.
“… Out of a treasure chest,” she answered with a clearly guilty expression.
“The one you got for defeating the boss?”
“Y-yeah…”
“What material was the chest made out of?”
“Uh, I dunno? I-iron, I think?”
“You think?!”
“No, I’m sure! It was iron! It was polished, but definitely iron!”
Hearing that panicked response made Boxxy’s animosity rapidly diminish until it dissipated completely
with a tired sigh.
“Well, that’s not too bad then. As long as it wasn’t gold or silver, then I can overlook it.”
“Huh?” asked a very confused Kora. “Gold? What?”
“Snack, fill her in,” it commanded as it walked off towards the palace’s front door.
“Yes, Master,” said Xera with a deep nod. She then turned towards the fiend and began explaining. “It’s
like this, dick-for-brains - the rewards in this dungeon seem to be tiered. The fancier the material the
chest is made out of, the better the item.”
This was something Boxxy was able to determine after comparing notes with Ambrosia and Xera
following their reunion. The golden chest that the Mimic had been presented with contained what
seemed to be an Artifact-grade bow, much like the ones in the Spire of the Jade King. It therefore stood
to reason that Goroth places his best stuff in golden chests. Xera’s silver chest, on the other hand, had
yielded a high-end Masterwork item. It was a good thing in its own way, but obviously nowhere near the
level of that immensely shiny bow.
Ambrosia, however, had been presented with a simple wooden container. The set of five rings she got
from it were definitely shiny, but did not seem to have any sort of enchantment on them. Boxxy wasn’t
quite sure what sort of criteria was set up for distributing loot, but it definitely felt a bit cheated by that
particular outcome. Especially since the dryad had somehow ruined the shiny Sun’s Crest it had given
her. She was being strangely evasive whenever it asked her about it, so it ended up dropping the matter
for the time being.
The last thing it wanted to do right now was piss off a millennia-old tree spirit so soon after it had
smoothed things over with her.
“In other words,” continued Xera, “since your items came out of an iron chest, then they were probably
trash anyway.”
“Ohhh, I see!” exclaimed the fiend. “So that’s why the boss isn’t all that upset with me! … Hey, wait a
minute. Does that mean all the annoying shit I went through was rewarded with garbage?”
“I guess,” said the djinn with a shrug.
“What a fucking scam!”
Xera responded by raising an eyebrow at her co-contractor.
“Why are you so angry?” she asked. “It’s not like you’d get to keep that stuff anyway.”
“That’s not the point! This fucking place disrespected me, and I’m going to punch it in the face for that!”
“Do dungeons even have faces?” chimed in the dryad from the side.
“This one does,” stated Kora while reflexively protecting her nether region. “A short, overconfident,
annoying, and extremely punchable one!”
The other two women began nodding in full agreement, as each of them also wanted a piece of that
insufferable dungeon master. As for Boxxy, it was currently too busy inspecting the gates of the icy
palace to pay attention to its minions and their communal hatred for that djinn. Now that it was able to
see the building up close and study its construction, it found out a number of rather peculiar things.
First of all was the realization it wasn’t actually built out of ice, but looked to have been hewn out of the
same light blue crystal as those golems. A single titanic piece of it, to be more precise. The walls of it
were completely smooth and seamless, making it readily apparent that they were not assembled out of
bricks of the borderline gemstone-like stuff as it had initially assumed.
The huge double doors were another curious part of it, as they seemed to have been merely carved into
the wall and were entirely decorative. They couldn’t open no more than the statue of a war hero could
take off his coat. The various windows and terraces were the same, making it seem like this structure
was more of a sculpture than it was a residence. It was also completely solid, so there’d be nothing to go
into even if there was a functional entrance.
There was one more thing that seemed to be of particular interest, though it wasn’t actually part of the
‘palace’ itself. There was a chest-high rectangular stone pillar directly in front of the non-entrance,
which had a steel plaque of some kind bolted onto it. This metal plate was clearly of some significance,
as it appeared to have a row of four etchings in it, each of which glowed with a dim red light.
The leftmost one was a stylized depiction of a lizard’s head that looked eerily like the one Boxxy had
annihilated in no time flat in the Glacial Gallows. The one on its right was a clearly feminine figure with
a flower-shaped backdrop, while the one after that was a very flattering representation of an orc. The
Mimic had already asked Ambrosia and Snack about their respective trials, so it there was no doubt to in
its mind as to what these images represented. Following that logic, the one on the end that looked like a
massive eyeball must have been the opponent Arms faced in the Eternal Library.
And since there seemed to be space for one more picture on the far right, it stood to reason that they
needed to defeat one more area guardian to… unlock the palace, perhaps?
It wasn’t given any time to speculate, however, as the dungeon master suddenly appeared in front it
while sporting a thoroughly defeated look. This caused Boxxy’s companions to stop whatever inane
conversation they were holding and huddle around it. Well, except for Kora, who rushed over and tried
to punch the illusory djinn’s head clean off. Setre’s visage reformed a second later, showing she was
thoroughly unphased by the Archfiend’s attitude.
“So. Here you are,” she stated in a low, tired voice.
“Yeah, here I am,” responded Boxxy. “What happens now?”
“I am contractually obligated to inform you that you need to defeat five of the nine area guardians before
you earn the right to challenge the Crystal Maiden.”
“There are nine bosses in this place?” asked Kora with a somewhat enthusiastic tone.
“Uh, yeah,” responded the djinn. “Well, five of them aside from the ones you lot already pulverized.”
“Nice! You hear that, boss? More loot!”
“Quiet, you,” hissed the Mimic before turning back to face the dungeon master. Or at least, as best that a
wooden chest on arachnid legs could face someone. “Where are the other guardians?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The snide reply made it abundantly clear that Boxxy would have to find them the hard way. Well, that
wasn’t too big a deal. It doubted anything in this dungeon could stand up to it when it had its demons
around. Especially since their efforts had allowed its Warlock Job to reach Level 65 just minutes ago,
giving it access to one of the most powerful demon-related Skills it knew about. The only downside was
that it had the thoroughly disappointing Enslave Demon as a prerequisite. But if the ability was anything
like the Mimic’s research suggested, then it would be very much worth it.
The area guardian of the Howling Chasm has been slain.

The Howling Chasm can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
Its plans regarding test runs and whatnot were rudely interrupted when Drea’s hard-won victory over the
Mirror Wraith was transmitted across the dungeon. It looked back towards the plaque just in time to see
the image of a doppelganger-like head appear in the last free spot. All five etchings then shone with an
intense red light for a few moments before the rectangular pillar suddenly sank into the ground.
*CLAP*
The event was punctuated by the dungeon master herself, who had slapped her palms together in front of
her chest as if to get everyone’s attention. The tired and defeated look she had a moment ago had
disappeared without a trace. This was not a good sign. Especially considering her mischievous smile that
made it abundantly clear she was up to no good.
“Good job!” she said in a mocking tone. “You’ve cleared stage one of the Hero course!”
“… Stage one?” asked Boxxy somewhat hesitantly.
“Yup! Y’see, I’m allowed to change two things about the dungeon once I confirm there’s a Hero in it.
The first is that area guardian encounters become mandatory rather than letting adventurers challenge
them at their leisure. This includes the big one behind me, by the way.”
The ground began to quiver and quake mere moments after she finished uttering those words. The walls
of the massive palace that wasn’t really a palace also began to shake, although this wasn’t caused by the
sudden tremors. Just the opposite, in fact. It was the building’s own movements that were making the
ground tremble.
The various facades began to split apart and rearrange themselves. Turrets and spires sank while roofs
rose up and assumed new shapes. And then, to the collective surprise of everyone but Setre, the palace
stood up. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that the thing rising to its feet was the golem
disguised as a castle.
It had battlements for shoulders and massive towers for arms. Its torso was lined with fake windows,
giving off the impression of a buttoned up vest. It also had two cathedral-like domes stuck to its front in
what appeared to be a crude attempt to assign gender to this anthropomorphic chateau. Its blocky face
certainly didn’t seem feminine, nor did the turret-like tiara on its head. One of the particularly tall spires
had combined with the rectangular section of the palace where the fake front door was to form a
ridiculously huge two-handed warhammer.
It was thus that the 20-meter tall walking fortress referred to as the Crystal Maiden finally made its
appearance. Numerous human-sized crystal golems began poured out of its insides towards the end of
the transformation. They took up defensive positions along the various fortifications that adorned this
behemoth, clearly intending to support the last boss with all the magic they could muster.
“Oh, there’s one more thing,” spoke up Setre with a shit-eating grin. “Since you lot have made it this far,
it means I finally get to attend to you assholes personally!”
Her projection abruptly vanished, and Boxxy almost instinctively looked up at the crystal titan’s face.
Using its Eagle Eye Skill, it clearly picked up on what was presumably the djinn’s real body. She was
flying in front of the golem’s forehead, directly in front of an opal shaped head ornament of some
description which was a much more vibrant blue than the rest of it.
As if realizing she was being watched, Setre looked down at the Mimic and flashed it a manic grin
before placing her hands upon the massive gemstone. It responded to her touch by letting out an intense
white glow. When the light subsided, the dungeon master was nowhere to be seen, though what
happened next left little doubt as to where she had gone.
“Hah hah hah hah haaa!”
Her absurdly amplified laughter rained down on Boxxy, Ambrosia, Kora and Xera while the Crystal
Maiden’s shoulders rose up and down in time with the cackles. It then craned its neck to look down at
them while the colossal block of crystal shaped like a hammer was raised above its head with one arm.
“Let’s see you fuckers handle this!”
The djinn-controlled golem then swung the building-sized weapon down onto the invaders.
The Crystal Maiden’s first attack was a clumsy and relatively slow one, but the sheer scale of it meant its
actual velocity was nothing to sneeze at. Still, the dungeon master’s taunting and long wind-up had
given Boxxy and its posse more than enough time to dodge. They all employed the age-old method of
running the fuck away, aside from Xera who activated her Mist Form just in case.
The massive warhammer smashed against the ground, kicking up a huge amount of wind, dirt and snow
as it made a wedge-like crater in the perfectly flat courtyard. It missed entirely since the invading party
had scattered in all directions, but the strike had a secondary effect. A series of ice-like crystal spikes of
all shapes erupted from the ground and pierced through everything within 5 meters.
Your body has been skewered all the way through. HP -1,603.
Boxxy was caught up in the unexpected attack and was run through from below. Kora and Ambrosia
also got caught up in it, but this much wasn’t enough to kill them. One was an Archfiend that was
literally too stubborn to die, while the other was an ancient being inhabiting a body made up entirely of
Ironbark. Not to mention they both had the Earth Affinity Skill, which greatly reduced the damage from
the weapon’s earth-attuned magical aftershocks. In the end, the spikes didn’t so much skewer them as
lift them up in the air. As for Xera, the djinn was left completely untouched since physical objects had
no chance of harming a puff of smoke.
It was evident the dungeon master would need to try a lot harder if she hoped to wipe out this particular
bunch.
And she was well aware of that fact, if the way she was preparing for another swing was any indication.
The chest-shaped Mimic quickly shapeshifted itself out of the shiny spike it had been impaled on and
dodged the second strike by putting in a lot more effort. It avoided the ‘splash’ damage completely by
outrunning it. As expected, the dungeon master had aimed at the clear leader of the group, which meant
her attack was nowhere near the others.
The former succubus had used this opportunity to call down a Meteor on top of the Crystal Maiden. It
was the ideal Spell to use against stationary targets like castles, even walking ones. Kora, on the other
hand, had broken off six of the crystalline needles left behind by the golem’s attack and hurled them
towards it. The combination of her absurd muscle power and her Level 10 Projectile Mastery Skill made
them hurtle through the air as if they were missiles or oversized arrows. The spriggan also joined in,
unleashing slicing winds against the mostly stationary target.
However, all of these potentially destructive attacks were nullified by the transparent barrier that
surrounded the titanic construct. Person-sized golems were still pouring out from her insides, and each
one contributed their own magic to the Crystal Maiden’s defenses. Their numbers didn’t climb too high
though, as a small number of them fell off every time their fortress moved around. This effectively took
them out of the fight since they would either break on impact with the ground, be trampled beneath the
feet of their ‘mother,’ or charge at one of the invaders and be smashed to dust in no time flat.
The stalemate thus continued for another six or seven minutes, with neither side able to gain any sort of
advantage over the other. Thankfully the deformities in the terrain were repaired by the dungeon core
over time, while the ice-like leftovers from the Crystal Maiden’s attacks would disappear after 30
seconds or so. This gave the invading party plenty of room to move around, but they were definitely at a
disadvantage in terms of MP. Kora barely used any and Boxxy and Ambrosia could replenish theirs
easily enough, but Xera’s magical reserves were far more finite.
Interestingly enough though, it was those highly disposable golems that tipped the delicate balance.
Even if they were significantly weaker than the ones guarding the path to the ‘palace,’ their numbers
seemed to be endless. More and more kept pouring out of the Crystal Maiden’s insides, and the ones that
were able to reliably cling to her without being thrown off were steadily growing in number.
After gaining a certain amount of manpower, the Crystal Maiden’s supporting staff gained enough
leeway to begin taking potshots at the enemy. They used predominantly cold-based Spells, so their
attacks mostly took the shape of freezing beams and icy projectiles. However, they still failed to do
much, as they were shooting at random targets. They landed a good amount of hits, but the damage was
nothing that Ambrosia couldn’t heal through with her magic.
Things eventually came to a head when a Meteor Spell accidentally collided with the Crystal Maiden’s
fist, which had temporarily gone outside the range of her defensive barrier. Xera let out a cheer as this
was the first time anyone on Boxxy’s side had managed to deal damage to it. Unfortunately for her, the
simple minded golem defenders took notice of that lucky shot. This caused them to suddenly focus their
magic on the Pyromancer, as she had unwittingly made herself the biggest threat to their walking
fortress.
But Ambrosia didn’t let them do as they please.
“Rock Wall!”
Beckoned by the dryad’s magic, a thick barricade of stone popped up out of the ground, providing the
djinn with ample cover against the incoming projectiles. She then turned her attention to Boxxy and
used a Mending Shower on it to top it off since it got clipped by another of the Crystal Maiden’s spike
fields. It was a bit unnecessary since the Mimic’s own regenerative abilities had more or less healed the
damage, but she didn’t know how badly it was hurt in that initial attack. She then turned her attention
towards Kora and began casting another healing Spell, but never got a chance to finish it.
“Incoming!”
Boxxy’s Whisper Wind message made her look away from the Archfiend that was bashing up a group of
smaller golems and towards the place those pests had come from. It would appear that the dungeon
master finally realized that going for the healer rather than focusing on Boxxy was a much better idea,
and was swinging her warhammer towards her. The dryad realized it was far too late to dodge the attack,
but that didn’t mean she was about to get hit by it.
“Big Tree!”
She activated a Skill that had a rather unforgiving one-week cooldown period. Her trump card caused a
huge tree to sprout out of the frozen soil in front of her, which grew to a height of three meters in the
blink of an eye. The Crystal Maiden’s weapon collided with its still-developing canopy, and although the
plant shuddered heavily from the impact, it still stopped the attack dead. The wave of spikes was also
nullified, as the oversized warhammer wasn’t allowed to touch the ground.
The titanic golem made an effort to lift the weapon, but the tree had already wrapped its branches around
the business end of it. Normally she might have been able to rip it out of the ground, but Ambrosia was
reinforcing the plant with her Spells and Skills. One side pulled upwards with her tower-sized arms
while the other kept strengthened its grip on her weapon and the soil by growing even more roots and
branches. It was unclear who would win this tug of war, but both sides were immobilized for the time
being.
It was an opening that Boxxy would not fail to take advantage of. The half-chest-half-spider popped
open its lid to reveal a perfect representation of Xera’s naked upper body. It didn’t particularly want or
need to imitate her, but this was still the humanoid form it was most familiar with. This was simply what
the shapeshifter’s muscle memory came up with when it assumed ‘a shape that was better suited to Spell
casting.’ Which was precisely what it was planning to do, if the Voidcaller staff it held in one hand was
any indication. That wasn’t all, though, as it also activated the Power Overwhelming Skill.
This was the first and possibly only chance it would get to strike back at the crystal titan, so there was no
way it would put in anything less than maximum effort.
“Reality Slash! … Dark Explosion! … Reality Slash! Shadowbolt! Shadowbolt! Shadowbolt! … Dark
Explosion!”
It unleashed a barrage of Spells against its castle-sized target. The magical onslaught battered against the
thing’s shielding, causing it to shimmer and crack. The crystal golems manning the animate battlements
returned fire, pelting the stationary Mimic with dozens of Spells. Unfortunately for them, they were
predominantly cold-based, allowing Boxxy’s Adaptive Defense Skill to cut their damage almost in half.
And while the shapeshifter was hitting the Crystal Maiden from below, Xera kept calling down Meteors
on it from above. Kora had moved up closer to it in the meantime and was pummeling against the
magical barrier with her fists.
But no matter how much they tried, the group failed to punch through it. Every time it seemed like the
shield was about to go shatter, it suddenly surged back to full strength.
Chaotic energies swirl around you. You will emit an anti-gravity field for the next 20
seconds.
Boxxy’s efforts were suddenly cut short when its overuse of magic caused its Chaotic Disposition to
make itself known. Having its body suddenly start floating uncontrollably upwards not only interrupted
its focus, but also made it panic on instinct since this was its first experience with total weightlessness.
The Mimic had seen some serious shit in its day, though, so its confusion only lasted for about a second
before it snapped back to its senses. It was also something of a sitting duck for the enemy’s magic, but
Ambrosia was quick on her feet and provided it with cover via an extra-tall Rock Wall.
And now that its concentration had been shattered, Boxxy was able to spot something it really should
have noticed earlier.
The Crystal Maiden had completely stopped moving. It was bent over forwards while gripping its
warhammer with both hands, but stood perfectly still as if it were a statue. The tree holding onto the
other end of its weapon was just as immobile, making it clear it wasn’t under any sort of strain. The
reason for this seemed to be because of the smaller crystal golems that were manning the fortifications.
Standing on a rampart that was constantly swaying back and forth probably made it difficult to use
magic, but that would cease to be an issue if the mobile fortress became a stationary one.
In other words, the dungeon master had given up on offense in order to provide her private army the
chance to focus on her defense.
“Ho-ho-ho-ho-hoh,” came a haughty laughter from up above. “Did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice
you going ham down there? I’ll have you know, you’re not dealing with some moronic golem here!”
Indeed, if the Crystal Maiden were allowed to act naturally, it would probably not give its attendants the
chance to properly reinforce its magical shield. It would also stubbornly cling to its weapon no matter
what if Setre wasn’t in control. But she was, so she gave up on the pulling contest with that
incomprehensible tree-woman and willingly let go of the warhammer’s shaft. The barrage of Spells
coming out of her security force dwindled immensely once she started moving, proving that Boxxy’s
hypothesis had been right on the money. Now would probably be a good time to resume its magical
barrage, but there were some issues with that course of action.
First of all, it had almost completely drained its MP. It had enough for one, maybe two overcharged
Spells. Secondly, it wasn’t sure if it could actually cast one of those if it didn’t have solid ground under
its feet. This was something of a particularly troublesome point, actually. The bubble of anti-gravity
magic was moving along with it, so it wouldn’t just drift out of it. The dungeon’s gravity-based flight
countermeasures were also ineffective. Whether that was because they couldn’t overpower the Hero
Skill or because amplifying zero gravity by any degree would always result in zero gravity was
anybody’s guess.
It would therefore be a reasonable assumption that Boxxy had no choice but to wait out for the Chaotic
Disposition effect to run out. At the same time, however, it couldn’t just sit idly by, as the Crystal
Maiden’s left foot was hurtling towards it. Setre wasn’t going to question why her hated enemy was
floating around like that, but she was already aiming to take advantage of the situation by stepping on it.
Realizing what was about to happen, the Mimic snapped out of its stupor and grew a quartet of giant
leathery wings out of its Snack-shaped upper body. They flapped all at once, propelling Boxxy away
from its mostly inert position. The awkward angle and uneven distribution of force caused it to spin
around slightly, but gave it just enough speed to avoid the massive sole. The foot did not cause a cascade
of crystal spikes upon impact with the ground, but the rush of air and debris it produced was enough to
send the Mimic spiraling even further out of control.
Thankfully it drifted near the Big Tree, allowing Ambrosia to manipulate its branches so they would
catch the hurtling box. Feeling itself collide with something solid, Boxxy immediately gripped onto it
with its arachnid legs. It had come to a stop upside down, but it was still enough to let it reorient itself.
“Milord!” cried out the spriggan beneath it. “Art thou alright?”
She seemed to be swaying back and forth unnaturally since she was inside the anti-gravity bubble’s area
of effect. She wasn’t drifting upwards, though, as she had the foresight to grip the ground with her root-
feet. Boxxy couldn’t help but be impressed with her adaptability, especially considering she’s lived a
thoroughly stagnant and sheltered life. It shook away the useless thought and answered her query with a
curt ‘I’m fine’ before turning its eyes back towards the Crystal Maiden.
“And then there’s this fucking thing!”
Setre let out a very vocal complaint as she gripped her rooted weapon with her right hand and pulled on
it. However, this time around she was using it as leverage that assisted her right foot’s forward sweeping
motion. She was ignoring the Meteors that Xera kept pelting her with and was clearly intending to kick
the tree, Boxxy, and Ambrosia alike clear across the dungeon.
But the Mimic wouldn’t let her. Even if it was in an awkward position, it was nevertheless still enough
to let it focus on its magic. It therefore reactivated the Power Overwhelming Skill and poured the last of
its remaining MP into a certain Spell.
“Momentum Anomaly!”
The overcharged Ruin Spell spawned a dome of swirling mystical energy with a radius of just over five
meters right in the path of the Crystal Maiden’s foot. The massive limb passed through it at extremely
high speeds, which directly translated to a momentary tenfold increase in gravitational pull. It slammed
into the ground, producing the strongest quake this battlefield has ever seen.
You no longer emit an anti-gravity field.

Your target’s leg has been crushed under its own weight. Target HP -24,207.
Proficiency level increased. Graviton Manipulation is now Level 4. INT +10. WIS +6.
You have learned a new Spell: Weightless Space.
“What the fuck!”
The Mimic was naturally delighted by both the string of Status messages and the dungeon master’s
shocked response, but it couldn’t relax just yet. Even though the foot had come to an abrupt stop, the rest
of the titanic golem’s body was still carried forward by its immense momentum. It lurched dangerously
over Boxxy and Ambrosia, prompting the two to vacate the area immediately.
However, the Crystal Maiden did not crash into the ground. Setre was able to lean on her immobilized
warhammer and reposition her left foot. This provided her with enough stability to stop herself from
falling. But even if she avoided that worst-case scenario, her borrowed body was no longer in pristine
condition. The impact from earlier was so severe that it caused a massive crack to spread all the way up
her boot-shaped shin while also causing massive damage to the knee joint.
She nevertheless tried lifting her right foot out of the crater it had made. She could move her leg well
enough, but the extra-powerful Momentum Anomaly kept pulling it down every time she tried. She
probably could’ve forced her way out of the magical snare, but she was wary of putting too much strain
on her damaged knee lest she break it off completely. Meaning she was stuck here until the field
dissipated in another twenty seconds or so.
Worse still, the sudden unintentional jolt had caused over two thirds of her crystal golem attendants to
fall off her body. More were still being manufactured inside her at a steady pace, but with only twenty or
so remaining her defenses were going to be in a dire state for a good while. Especially since a number of
them would be too busy tending to her cracked limb to focus on the shield. In other words, if that
Warlock were to repeat its mystical barrage from earlier, it would easily be able to tear through her
barrier.
But when the dungeon master returned her gaze to the creature in question, she began to suspect this was
not what it was intending. Boxxy had taken advantage the break in the action to reconvene with its
followers. It had Ambrosia throw up another Rock Wall to provide cover, allowing the four of them to
huddle behind it, well out of Setre’s line of sight.
“How long will that tree last?” asked the Mimic.
“Not much longer, milord,” said the spriggan with a remorseful tone. “I hath put too much strain on that
child, and it would likely expire after a few more pulls.”
“Ngh, that’ll have to do. Make it last as long as you can, then see if you can smash up the golems that
fell off Setre.”
“As you say, milord. Wait, who’s Setre?”
“The dungeon master.”
Boxxy had gotten a glimpse of her name with the Eyes of the Dead God Skill just before she possessed
the golem. It was also able to confirm her maximum HP was just over 4,000, which was extremely
impressive for a magic-oriented species of demon. The pilfered Hero Skill was also able to pick up on
the Crystal Maiden’s vitals, though Boxxy was trying not to think about that six-figure HP pool too hard.
“Oh,” responded Ambrosia. “Very well, milord.”
“Snack,” called out the Mimic as it turned towards her. ”You’re going to keep pummeling it with
Meteors as often as you can.”
“As you command, Master.”
“Meanwhile, me and Arms are going to take a more direct approach.”
“Huh? Me?”
Having been mentioned so suddenly, the Archfiend let out a stupefied response. She wasn’t sure how
she was supposed to help this situation considering how ineffective she had been so far. Sure, she felt
like her fists were doing work on that barrier earlier, but she was practically useless once that thing
started moving around.

Her Master didn’t respond to her, though, as it was too busy drinking a trio of the highest quality
commercially available mana potions. Even if its MP was recovering at a frightening pace, it needed a
good chunk of it for what it was about to do next. It had more of those vials in stock and would gladly
chug them, but any more than this would cause potion sickness. In retrospect it could probably take one
or two more now that it had the Legendary Endurance Perk, but it wasn’t feeling confident about
running a field test under these conditions.
Well, not two of them, at any rate.
Having replenished about a third of its mystical reserves, Boxxy abandoned its chesty-in-more-ways-
than-one visage and reverted to its base Hylt Creeper form. Sensing that something big was about to go
down and that she’d somehow be involved, Arms stood opposite it and smashed her fists together in
anticipation.
“So what’s the plan, boss?” she asked eagerly.
“I don’t have enough mana to punch through that shield with magic before it recovers,” it began
explaining. “I used up a good deal of explosives and munitions on the way here, so I don’t have enough
firepower to bring it down either. Therefore, I’m going to use you, instead.”
“Awesome!” she cheered. “Then what do you need me to do?”
“Stand there and stay perfectly still.”
The Archfiend froze immediately, but not before her toothy grin deteriorated into a disappointed frown.
‘Stand there and stay perfectly still’ was the opposite of what she had in mind, but she didn’t have a
choice in it. Nor did she get a chance to question Boxxy when it hopped up and hugged her from the
front. It threw its arms around her neck, nestled its torso between her breasts and wrapped its legs
around her muscular waist. It even pressed its cheek against hers.
Needless to say, this action caused a great deal of unease among its followers, as there was no feasible
way this was a sign of affection. They knew full well that the only times Boxxy was in a ‘huggable’
mood was when it was acting as Keira or when wanted to devour something bigger than itself. Well,
either that or, as Kora and Xera were vividly remembering, it was feeling particularly touchy-feely after
getting itself blackout drunk. All things considered though, this didn’t seem to be any of those cases.
Which was an accurate assumption, as Boxxy had an entirely different reason to maximize skin contact
with its pet demon.
Admittedly this much was probably overkill, but the Mimic didn’t want to take chances with this
particular Skill.
“Malefic Union!”
The Hylt Creeper was suddenly enveloped by a bright red light, after which its body, for lack of a better
term, sank into Kora. The mystic glow wrapped around the demoness in an instant, after which she
began screaming like she had never screamed before. Her red skin and muscles started shaking
intensely, and then began bulging outwards as her already formidable size began to expand.
It wasn’t a neat process, though. Her bones creaked and cracked loudly as they increased in mass. Her
flesh ripped open and was stitched together over and over in rapid succession while pitch black blood
dripped off her like a waterfall. Her luscious tomato-like red color began to darken as it turned to a
stone-like gray. What pieces of armor she had left exploded from her under the strain of the expanding
limbs underneath. The same went for the white dress-like garment she always wore, which could no
longer contain her growing torso or burgeoning breasts.
The changes were not limited to her body, though. One might argue that they were actually the most
pronounced around her head. Her wild voluminous hair turned from a bright green to a sterile white in
seconds. The marvelous waist-length mane then began falling off her scalp, leaving nothing behind but
yet more gray skin. Her two broken horns surged back to their full length and girth, but all three of them
gained multi-pronged tips as they increased in size along with the rest of her.
And yet the most jarring alterations were to her face. Her wide-open eyes became circular and yellow.
Her teeth also began to change, becoming more numerous and needle-like. The borders of her screaming
mouth began to stretch until her lips reached all the way back to her pointy ears. Or at least where her
ears would have been if they didn’t fall off at some point. A vertical slit ran down the middle of her face,
only to have her skull open up sideways like a book to reveal a second needle-filled maw that ran
perpendicular to the first one.
The screams of pain died down precisely five seconds after they began, though Xera and Ambrosia felt
like they’d been going on for hours. The demon named Koralenteprix Khusuuszun Caonthioxxaa had
already returned to the Beyond by this point, and a completely different being stood in her place. It stood
at nearly four meters tall, though its proportions had remained relatively the same as the Archfiend’s.
One could easily mistake it for the original from afar if it wasn’t for the bald head, gray skin, and the
plus-shaped maw on its otherwise featureless face. Strictly speaking, it looked like some sort of mix
between a doppelganger and a demon.
Or rather, that was precisely what Boxxy had become.
Malefic Union
Description: The Warlock takes over and merges with a demon under his control in an
attempt to attain great power.
Requirements: Level 65 Warlock, Enslave Demon
Type: Active
Cost: 15% of max MP
Range: Touch
Effects: Returns the targeted bound familiar or enslaved demonic entity to the Beyond.
Absorbs the target’s demonic constitution for 3 minutes.
Gain 50% of the target’s Skill Levels for 3 minutes.
Gain 35% of the target’s Attributes for 3 minutes.
Restore HP equal to 50% of the target’s current HP.
Restore MP equal to 25% of the target’s current MP.
Increases the effects of this Skill by 20% for every 2 Levels of this Skill.
Increases the duration of this Skill by 1 minute for every 5 Levels of this Skill.
Summon Familiar, Soul Link, Enslave Demon, and Malefic Union cannot be used while
this Skill is active.
The Creeper-Archfiend hybrid panted heavily as it recovered from the mental and physical shock. It had
expected the transformation to be excruciatingly painful on the verge of being traumatizing, and its
guess had been spot on. Unfortunately, the fact that Boxxy had been right failed to lessen the pain in any
way, shape or form. But now that it was over, the shapeshifter was left with a body that was bursting
with energy to the point where it felt practically invincible.
“M-m-master? Is th-th-that you?”

Boxxy looked down at the source of that quivering voice. It saw a superbly excited Snack whose
manically smiling face was only at the level of its knee.
“Yeah, it’s me,” it responded with a distinctly more feminine tone than it was expecting.
Ambrosia was standing a bit further away from it, but the look she was giving it was far less
enthusiastic. Her glare of loud disapproval was only to be expected, though. The dryad had stated
multiple times that ‘milord’s Hylt Creeper shape is most attractive,’ so seeing it perverted in such a
manner must not have been an enjoyable experience for her.
“Th-th-then! D-d-icks! And and and t-t-tentacles! In my pussy! T-t-t-together!?”
However, Snack was obviously of a very different mind. The pornographic nonsense she was uttering
made it abundantly clear that all types of filthy thoughts were swimming around in that sick head of
hers. Her chest heaved up and down in accordance with her ragged breathing, causing her massive
breasts to bob and weave in a deliciously enticing manner. Boxxy would surely be able to pierce all the
way up to those funbags if it plunged itself all the way up that tight-
“Gnnhr!”
The half-fiend-half-Mimic growled with a primal edge as it chased away those unnecessary thoughts. It
would appear that it had absorbed a part of the Archfiend’s thoughts and emotions in addition to her
flesh. A fact that both Ambrosia and Xera seemed to pick up on as there was no other explanation why it
would suddenly stare unabashedly at the djinn’s breasts while drooling like an idiot. But Boxxy couldn’t
let itself succumb to its modified body’s urge to defile the ex-succubus, especially not when it had a
twenty-meter tall icicle to break.
The creature then realized that going into battle stark naked was probably a bad decision. It therefore
applied a combination of Shapeshift, Metal Mimicry and its newly acquired Demonic Armaments Skill
to grow itself some armor. Its feet and arms were covered in the boots and gauntlets that Arms usually
had on, but it didn’t stop there. Its upper arms, shoulders, thighs and - much to Xera’s disappointment -
groin were all encased in a set of form-fitting plate armor made out of Fiend Steel. However, it held off
on armoring up its torso until after it had absorbed Kora’s breasts into its body.
After all, those useless lumps of fat would only get in the way.
On the whole the armor turned out to be unnecessarily spiky and needlessly decorated with skull
imagery, but those details had proven to be beyond Boxxy’s control. Just like it couldn’t retract its horns,
no matter how much it tried. It succeeded in covering its head with a helmet without much issue though.
Its faceplate consisted of two pieces of smooth metal that left a horizontal slit to provide vision, through
which a pair of round yellow eyes could be seen.
The Arch-Mimic briefly contemplated whether a visor was even necessary. It was going to be using an
MLG anyway, so it didn’t necessarily need to rely on its eyes. Shouldn’t it then have made the helmet
completely solid so that it has that tiny bit of extra protection? Then again, its current opponent was far
too big to fit inside the sensory organ’s limited range, so it ultimately decided to leave it as it was.
This proved to be the right decision, as its eyes saw a massive crystal warhammer peek over the top of
Ambrosia’s Rock Wall. It would seem the dungeon master had not only freed herself from the
Momentum Anomaly, but had also wrestled her weapon from Ambrosia’s Big Tree. This meant that the
overall transformation and subsequent armament process had taken a lot longer than Boxxy intended.
That was only to be expected considering all of this was new territory to the shapeshifter, but it wasn’t
particularly bothered by this turn of events.
“There’s an attack incoming,” it said calmly. “You two should run away now.”
The djinn and the spriggan had been preoccupied with the Mimic’s dramatic transformation - the former
more so than the latter - so they had not noticed Setre’s movements at all. It also took them a moment or
two to remember they were in a battlefield. Once they did, they immediately scattered to avoid getting
crushed, but it wasn’t until the hammer was already swinging down that did they realize Boxxy hadn’t
moved from its spot. Not only that, it had also spread out all six of its arms as if it was taunting the
colossal golem.
“Master!”
“Milord!”
Xera and Ambrosia called out to the four-meter tall steel behemoth. ‘Did it succumb to that meathead’s
arrogance?’ was a question that flashed through both their minds. Surely it wasn’t seriously trying to
catch that building-sized weapon, right? However, whatever concerns they had were ultimately
pointless, as it was already too little too late.
The crystalline warhammer crashed onto Boxxy’s position with an earth-shattering thud, followed
immediately by a cascade of ice-like spikes that extended out from the impact zone.
“Hahahahaha!” laughed Setre in a delighted manner.
She wasn’t sure whether the thing she just hit was a monster or a demon, but that didn’t matter. The only
way a living thing would have survived a direct blow from the Crystal Maiden was if it were some
absurd being on the level of Nagnamor, the Overlord of the Flaming Legion himself. But there was no
way this bunch had someone that powerful on their side, otherwise they would have already
overpowered her.
“Get smashed you fucking moron!”
She therefore felt a bit of gloating was completely justified.
“That’s my line!”
At least until she got a loud and clear answer from somewhere beneath her hammer, at which point both
her thoughts and celebrations ground to a screeching halt.
“… What?” she muttered in disbelief. “There’s… no way… right?”
“Uppercut!”
*KAHKROOM*
There was another yell from beneath her weapon, followed immediately by an explosion-like impact
that lifted the immense object several meters into the air. Setre struggled a bit to regain control of it, at
which point she raised the hammer’s head it up to her eye level. That was when she noticed the fist-
shaped imprint on it, which was surrounded by a spiderweb pattern of cracks. The Crystal Maiden’s
rectangular jaw would have probably fallen off her face at that point if it wasn’t for the fact that it was
sculpted onto her and could not, in fact, move.
The flabbergasted djinn turned her attention back towards the last crater she made, which was still
wrapped in a cloud of dust and snow. The smokescreen began dispersing shortly afterwards, giving the
dungeon master her first clear look at Boxxy’s new form. Not only was the creature clad in a set of
intimidating plate armor, but it didn’t bear even a single scratch. It had three muscular arms on the left
side of its body, and a single arm that was three times thicker than normal on its right. The abnormally
girthy limb was raised up in the air and its massive fist was covered in sparkling dust, suggesting this
was the thing it used to damage her weapon.
As for Xera and Ambrosia, they were naturally overjoyed to see Boxxy was unharmed. They weren’t
sure how such a thing was possible, but they didn’t question it, either. All that mattered was that their
special shapeshifter didn’t die because it gave into some murdering rapist’s baser impulses.
“Prepare your anus, Setre! ‘Cuz when I get my hands on you, I’m gonna shove my dick so far up your
ass you’ll be choking on my cum!”
Though it would appear Boxxy wasn’t entirely unphased by them, either.
Stat Dump Show
Archfiends were ridiculous.
This was Boxxy’s honest assessment after delivering a single hit using the body of one. It began to truly
understand why Arms was so pigheaded, arrogant and reckless. It would probably be the same if it had
this much brute strength at its fingertips every moment of every day. In fact, as it was right now, the
Arch-Mimic was probably above the Archfiend when it came to physical prowess, as it had a
doppelganger’s dense body mass to go along with her raw muscle. Not to mention its cunning and
devious nature to go along with it. It truly was a recipe for destruction.
One that the ‘chef’ was planning to share with a certain someone.
“Prepare your anus, Setre! ‘Cuz when I get my hands on you, I’m gonna shove my dick so far up your
ass you’ll be choking on my cum!”
Boxxy was a bit taken aback by its own words. While it definitely wanted to mess with its opponent by
threatening her with some intimate one-on-one physical relations, that wasn’t quite what it had in mind.
However, the Arms-esque dialogue just leaped out of its throat before it even realized. It would appear it
was much more difficult to completely suppress the demon’s personality traits than it had originally
anticipated.
“That- I’d like to see you try, shitstain!”
It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. Setre’s unsteady, shrill tone of voice suggested the overtly
fiendish line had done its job nonetheless. Come to think of it, the reaction she showed when it pulled a
‘surprise Punchy’ on her during their last meeting was pretty exaggerated, too. Perhaps she had some
sort of deep-seated dislike towards the fiend part of the demonic spectrum?
Whatever the case, Boxxy decided to roll with it for a bit.
“Don’t mind if I do, bitch-tits!”
The Arch-Mimic charged towards its opponent while screaming obscenities at the top of its lungs. Being
the colossal golem that it was, the Crystal Maiden was much too slow to offer any kind of significant
reaction. A few of the minor minions on its battlements tried flinging their Spells at the incoming target,
but their attempts were so pathetic that Boxxy couldn’t help but mock them.
“HAHAHAHA! GET THAT WEAK SHIT OUTTA HERE!”
The four-meter tall armored behemoth smashed its spiked shoulder plate into the bottom of the walking
fortress’s defensive barrier. The impact produced a rather thunderous noise, followed by a cracking noise
as the shield began to buckle. The crystal golems on the inside began reinforcing it, but Boxxy wouldn’t
let them have an easy time of it. It firmly planted its feet in the ground, combined its three left arms into
a single massive limb much like it had done on its right side, and proceeded to pummel the everliving
shit out of it.
“ORA ORA ORA ORA!”
While giving voice to the words that welled up within its breast, of course.
Setre wasn’t going to just sit back and take this, though. She was already swinging her warhammer at
her absurd opponent, but this strike was different from the others. Rather than trying to crush it flat or
skewer it with the crystal aftershocks of an impact with the ground, she instead opted for a more
horizontal swing. The djinn had simply decided that, since squashing the fiend-thing wasn’t going to
work, then punting it away would probably be a better idea.
Boxxy naturally saw the pendulum-like attack coming, but it didn’t move to dodge. It turned its body
around to the side so that it was facing the oncoming blow. It then pulled its massive right fist backwards
as if it was going to try to match the Crystal Maiden’s power with its own. Whether or not it could
actually do so was besides the point, as this move was a feint.
It leapt above the hammer’s head at the last moment, twisted its body around in midair and delivered a
spinning lariat to the weapon’s handle, just above the massive block of fake ice. The shifty shapeshifter
had already felt firsthand how this stuff was much more fragile than it appeared to be, so it wasn’t the
least bit surprised when the oversized shaft snapped. This was something it wanted to do earlier, but
wasn’t sure whether it could pull it off as just a doppelganger. But now that it had borrowed the
Siegebreaker Skill in addition to adding an Archfiend’s ridiculous physique on top of its own, the
outcome was no longer up for debate.
Now liberated from the rest of the weapon, the cracked hammer head tumbled across the mostly flat
courtyard. It bounced thrice, producing an unfocused deluge of crystalline spikes every time it skimmed
across the ground. It then fell off of the mountaintop arena altogether, landing somewhere at the bottom
of the summit with a loud crash. Setre seemed to have been left momentarily stunned by this sudden
development, as she remained frozen in her post-swing pose in disbelief.
What must have been the sixtieth Meteor of the day then crashed into her barrier directly in front of her
face, causing it to finally crumble and shatter as if it were made of glass.
“Fuuuck!” she cursed while the flaming remnants fell onto her borrowed body. “Fine then! Phase two it
is!”
The instant she said that, the Crystal Maiden’s bulky castle-like facade began cracking up all on its own
and falling off her body in large chunks. This caused Boxxy to back off for the moment, as it wasn’t
looking forward to being buried under the resulting debris. Even if the mineral making up the golem’s
body was more fragile than it appeared, the sheer mass of those falling pieces could not be
underestimated.
By the time the Arch-Mimic was safely out of range of the collapsing crystals, it found itself facing a
very different Crystal Maiden from the one it had been fighting until now. This one was thin, slick and
elegant, to the point of being basically an animate skeleton. Her body had stopped spewing out those
golem attendants of hers, but they no longer had any battlements or ramparts to occupy anyway. Her
face and head in particular had become perfectly smooth like an upside-down egg, save for the two
glowing blue orbs that were probably her eyes. She was also shorter by about five meters, and her
broken weapon had reformed itself into a plain-looking spear.
“Come on then, dodge this!”
Setre thrust said spear directly at Boxxy while moving at speeds a body that big really should not have
been capable of. The weapon’s unexpected velocity caught the shapeshifter off guard, and it failed to
completely avoid it. The sharpened tip of the crystalline weapon cleaved right through its left shoulder,
separating its freakish arm from the rest of the body. The severed limb fell to the ground, whereupon it
dissolved into a bubbling brown sludge that evaporated in a manner of seconds.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Setre let out another jeer as she pulled back her weapon and began stabbing at her opponent repeatedly.
The golem body she was possessing was likely used to handling such a thing, but the djinn herself was
obviously an amateur. She wasn’t paying attention to her damaged knee in the slightest, which wasn’t
moving in the way she told it to. This caused what would otherwise be pinpoint strikes to veer off
slightly, making it easier for Boxxy to turn her attacks into near misses.
The dungeon master was still paying attention to her surroundings, however, as she was actively
dodging Xera’s Meteors. This ‘phase two’ of hers was a lot more nimble than her previous form, which
allowed her to exploit that Spell’s major weakness - the several second delay between casting the Spell
and it actually hitting its target. The Pyromancer’s other projectile based magic, such as Fireball and
Magma Missile, proved to be just as ineffective at landing on-target. And even when they did, the
damage inflicted was lackluster at best. Even Inferno wasn’t doing much since Setre would just hop out
of its area of effect.
Left with no other options, the ex-succubus was forced to rely on her Scorching Ray Spell. It was
definitely the most effective Spell in her mystic arsenal in this situation. But even then she couldn’t
maintain the beam on her target since channeling it required her to stand still. This would, in turn, invite
Setre’s spear to strike at her, forcing Xera to dodge with Mist Form.
As for Ambrosia, she was now struggling to make any sort of impact on the fight. Her Rock Walls were
barely even obstacles in the face of those massive thrusts, and her wind-based offensive magic was too
underdeveloped to be useful against a hard target like that. She still healed her ‘lord’ whenever it got
clipped, but she had the feeling all her efforts were doing was delaying the inevitable.
A conclusion that Boxxy had reached as well. It couldn’t get close enough to the gigantic golem to apply
its ridiculous muscle power, nor could it find a gap to use significant magic. Or at least not without
putting itself at significant risk. Breaking the weapon was also out of the question since intercepting
those spear thrusts was like asking to get killed. Buying time for Snack to do her thing was also ill-
advised, as the djinn’s MP reserves were on the brink of being exhausted.
Once that happened, she wouldn’t be able to avoid Setre’s attacks with her Mist Form, leading to her
certain albeit temporary demise and reducing the three-on-one to a two-on-one.
That was hardly Boxxy’s most pressing concern, though. There was barely a minute left before its
Malefic Union came undone, at which point it would probably be left momentarily immobilized. It was
only natural that a Skill that was extremely painful during activation would have some sort of backlash
when it ended. In fact, it was highly likely this gap was precisely what Setre was waiting for.
“Is that all you got, fuck-boy? Where’s all that bravado you had earlier?”
To make matters worse, Setre’s constant insults were steadily beginning to cloud its judgement. If
Boxxy were its normal self, then this sort of stuff wouldn’t even phase it. However, those ceaseless
provocations were causing Arms’s highly confrontational nature to flare up, making it increasingly more
agitated and annoyed with every syllable. And since the Arch-Mimic couldn’t slap the shit out of her, it
was unable to vent its mounting frustrations. It felt like it might give into the demonic rage that welled
up from within and do something profoundly idiotic well before it reached the time limit.
Therefore, after considering all the options, Boxxy made the decision to abandon the fight. Even if the
opponent was faster, that was only in this mostly flat and vacant ground. As long as it used the rest of
the dungeon’s treacherous terrain and structures to its advantage, then it could easily avoid the Crystal
Maiden long enough to escape. At that point it would be a simple matter to regroup with its familiars
outside the confines of the dungeon, formulate a plan of action and challenge it again.
That would have definitely been the right call in that situation, yet Boxxy stopped itself just as it was
about to give the command to retreat.
Because if what its Eyes of the Dead God Skill had just revealed to it was true - and it had zero reason to
doubt this information - then the situation was about to change.
“Just try and take this-! … Huh?”
The dungeon master’s verbal abuse was suddenly cut off by her own surprised voice as the golem she
was controlling suddenly began to tip over. She flailed her arms around in an attempt to regain her
balance, but it was a lost cause since legs weren’t obeying her commands. She was forced to stab her
spear into the ground and lean on it as if it were a walking stick just to avoid falling over. She then
looked towards her feet, but had difficulty processing what she saw.
Which was only to be expected considering she saw nothing. There was seemingly nothing wrong with
her lower limbs, yet her ankles refused to separate from one another no matter how much she tried. She
then suddenly spotted something moving across the ripped up battlefield beneath her. It was a shimmer
of some kind that she had difficulty tracking. It was clearly there, yet any attempt to narrow her sight on
it made her eyes slip right off it.
She wasn’t given any time to study this bizarre phenomenon though, as it reached its destination merely
a second after she spotted it.
*SCHWING*
There was a very harsh sound of two hard surfaces grinding against each other for an instant, followed
by Setre’s spear abruptly snapping in half. Now losing its last support, the Crystal Maiden’s massive
body finally hurtled towards the ground. There was no doubt the impact would do a huge amount of
damage, but Boxxy wasn’t going to wait for it. It ran towards the lurching golem and leapt into the air,
placing itself on a collision course with its mostly blank face. The dungeon master made an effort to
block it with her hands, but she couldn’t make it in time to stop the dropkick to her face.
*CRASH*
The Arch-Mimic bore clean through the Crystal Maiden’s head. It didn’t shatter it completely, but still
left a gaping hole filled with jagged edges in its wake. This probably wouldn’t be enough to finish off
the golem, but that wasn’t its goal. The shapeshifter’s true aim was the dungeon master’s real body,
which it had grabbed on its way through the crystalline skull. She couldn’t move a muscle since her
spirit was still inhabiting the golem, so she had no chance of stopping what was about to happen next.
Boxxy spun around in the air so it would land on its belly and positioned Setre’s limp body beneath its
own. Time seemed to grind to a halt as the frail female form hurtled towards the hard ground with a five
hundred kilogram mass of steel and muscle pressing down on top of her. Needless to say, what was left
of Setre’s flesh after the horrific impact was a substance that could only be described as ‘djinn paste.’
“Aarrgh!” wailed the disembodied demon. “What just happened? What are you doing out there?!”
Boxxy merely stood up, turned towards the fallen and twitching golem, and raised a middle finger
towards Setre’s orphaned consciousness while still coated in her remains.
“I’m winning, you cheeky cunt!”
It took a run up, leapt into the air once more and landed squarely onto the Crystal Maiden’s lower back.
It then lifted its right foot all the way up to its head and delivered what was essentially the finishing
blow.
“War Stomp!”
Its Martial Art enhanced armored boot plowed into the golem’s spine, or at least the spot where it would
be if it had one. The crystalline construct shuddered immensely as its entire torso began to crack up.
Chunks of various sizes and shapes broke off her body and fell to the ground, while its relatively thin
waist was snapped in half. A Meteor then fell onto the remnants of its head and completed the
decapitation process, completely robbing Setre of any further visual or auditory input.
Neither the djinn nor the golem were quite dead just yet, though. Even in this sorry state, the Crystal
Maiden’s arms continued to flail around blindly. It even had a whopping 60,000 HP left according to
Boxxy’s divine eyesight, but it was clear Setre had already lost. She couldn’t even move her legs since
her lower body had been physically separated from the rest of her by that War Stomp. In fact, the only
reason she still clinged to some semblance of life was because of the dungeon core embedded in the
golem’s chest. The Arch-Mimic hadn’t been able to notice its presence until it was right on top of it, but
it wasn’t all that surprised by it either.
After all, a being as stupidly massive as the Crystal Maiden probably required obscene amounts of
energy to move around. Not to mention it would need something potent magical reinforcement to keep
its feet from collapsing under its own weight. These sort of drawbacks were why monsters taller than
seven meters or so were exceedingly rare. Not even the demonic Overlords crossed that threshold. In
fact, the only ones who did so regularly were Adult and Elder Dragons, but those things defied common
sense by their very existence, so they were hardly usable as examples.
“Snack!” yelled out Boxxy as it leapt down off the immobilized dungeon boss.
“Yes, Master?!”
The succubus-in-spirit appeared in front of her Master out of nowhere. She was twitching, rubbing her
thighs together and panting heavily, but Boxxy had no intention of answering her perverted expectations.
“See to it that you finish off our ‘host,’ will you?”
“B-b-but-! My MP is empty! Yeah! I can’t use magic without MP! And since a good dicking will
recharge my MP, then-!”
“Then get it from Ambrosia. She has plenty of MP, doesn’t she.”
The dryad in question nodded from the side in confirmation.
“Yes, Master…” said the djinn in a devastated voice.

“Do this thing properly and I’ll see about turning your pussy into a sopping mess or whatever later
tonight, alright?”
“Yes, Master!”
The freshly motivated Xera then practically threw her arms around the spriggan and gave her a huge kiss
with plenty of tongue. Ambrosia wasn’t even flustered by this turn of events and simply let the ex-
succubus drain some of her of her magical energy. She even wrapped her hands around the voluptuous
demon’s absurdly thin waist and pressed their bodies together to maximize bark-to-skin contact and
accelerate the process. This method wasn’t as fast as actual intercourse, but it still allowed Xera’s
Energy Drain Skill to do its thing.
As for Boxxy, it turned its back towards the two women swapping MP, crossed all six of its arms in front
of its chest and stared down at the mass of shimmering air that was now in front of it.
“Good work, Claws.”
“Tktktktktktktk! Th-thank you, master! Tktktktktk!”
Drea’s shaky voice came out of the bizarre phenomenon, accompanied by her trademark nervous
chittering. Boxxy probably wouldn’t have realized it was her if it wasn’t for the Eyes of the Dead God
Skill clearly showing her name and HP. It wasn’t just its eyesight that was being confused, though. Even
the MLG it had grown inside its chest cavity couldn’t clearly see the Stalker. Or rather, it could tell that
something was there and could determine the general shape of it, but the details were fuzzy and unclear.
It was almost as if it were picking up a silhouette or a shadow of some kind.
“Show yourself so I can get a good look at you.”
Unable to defy a direct order like that, the arachnid demon released the optical camouflage obfuscating
her body, and in doing so revealed that she was no longer a simple Stalker.
For starters, her colors were all different. Her hair was now a deep purple and her skin a deathly pale
white. The black markings on her arms, thighs and face that marked her as a Hornet variant of the
Stalker species were still there, except that they were now the same color as her hair. Her face was still
more or less the same, aside from her new set of compound bug eyes.
Not only were they now a dark orange bordering on brown, but she had gained six more of them on top
of her original two. The primary pair were the same shape and size as they were before, and were also in
the same spot. Four of the new ones were lined up horizontally across the middle of her forehead, while
the last pair were on her cheekbones, just beneath the outer edges of her main ones. The additional
ocular organs were shaped more like rice grains and slanted inwards, giving her an overall even more
monstrous appearance.
However, the changes to Drea’s face and head were far from the most drastic ones.
Her arachnid carapace that covered much of her body had been replaced by some type of deep blue ice
crystals. They encompassed her legs all the way up to just above the knee and the outside of her thighs.
It crawled up to her lower back and the sides of her lower torso, then wrapped around the outer sides of
her modest breasts. The borderline indecent cleavage in particular made this formation seem like some
kind of corset that one would expect to see on a succubus, not a Stalker. Her strangely erotic image was
only further enhanced by the fact her well-rounded butt cheeks were left exposed, with just a tiny strip
of frozen carapace running down her crack. Her nether regions, on the other hand, had a single V-shaped
strip of ice that barely even covered the area where the female genitals would normally be found on the
human body.
Whether she actually had anything underneath that was a question that neither Boxxy nor Drea wished
to have answered right at that moment, though for vastly different reasons.
In terms of the rest of her upper body, the ice crystals also completely covered her arms aside from the
inner part of her elbow and the upper half of her biceps and triceps. They also enveloped the outer part
of her mandibles and the top of her shoulders, and formed a spiky choker-like ring around the base of
her neck. However, the place where this new material most prevalent was without a doubt her scythe-
tipped back-limbs, which had undergone a rather drastic metamorphosis.
Rather than merely being covered by it, the entirety of the demon’s bladed appendages appeared to be
made out of these icy crystals. The scythes in particular were much larger, thicker, and probably sturdier
than they used to be. Deadlier too, as they were now double-bladed, with the outside-facing edges
sporting a series of nasty-looking barbs that looked like they’d rip through flesh and bone as if they were
butter. Actually, considering how these were probably the things that sliced through Setre’s spear, it was
a safe bet to assume they could handle much tougher materials than before.
And yet, as impressive as it was, this wasn’t the only offensive upgrade Claws had gotten. She may have
retained only two claws on each foot, but her hands now had six bladed digits instead of three, but their
layout was rather bizarre. It was a hand that had two thumbs on either side of it and two rows of paired
fingers that were facing against each other. Her palms had become hollow and cone-shaped, and now
housed a more robust set of spinnerets that were ready to produce webbing with exceptional durability at
will.
In fact, Boxxy had already seen this stuff in action, so it was quite sure of its tensile strength. These
mysterious strands of silk were what Claws had used to bind the Crystal Maiden’s ankles and made the
golem trip over its own feet. Yet despite having strength enough to limit a fifteen meter tall golem’s
movements, the webbing was still so thin that it was practically invisible against the construct’s
crystalline limbs. Even Boxxy wouldn’t have realized it was there if it wasn’t for the fact that it could
see Claws’s obscenely long name spinning around the golem’s lower body.
By this point, the Mimic didn’t even need to look at its third familiar’s Status to determine she had
acquired a slew of new Skills on top of her makeover.
“So,” spoke up the Boxxy after finishing its appraisal. “You Ranked Up while you were gone, did you?”
There was simply no other way to explain this new Claws that stood before it.
“She’s a what now?”
Xera’s startled voice came from behind the Mimic’s massive back. She separated herself from
Ambrosia’s embrace and the two of them peeked around the demon-doppelganger hybrid.
“Y-yeah,” responded the object of their attention. “Ktktktkktkt… I’m a Tundra Webstalker now,
ktkktktktkt…”
“Oh, wow!” exclaimed the djinn. “Finally joined the rest of us, eh? Congrats, girl!”
“Likewise,” chimed in Ambrosia. “Though I must say, milady Drea now looks quite… splendid. Does
she not, milord?”
“Uh, yeah,” answered Boxxy. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Truthfully speaking, ‘splendid’ was a woefully inadequate descriptor of the former Stalker’s new
appearance. Her deep blue ice was so clear and multi-faceted that it was basically gem-like in its
radiance. The way Claws’s body nervously wriggled and twitched in the direct sunlight made her sparkle
like as if she were made out of high quality sapphires. The claws on her hands and feet, as well as the
edges of her new scythes also seemed to emit a soft inner glow, giving them a unique sky-blue hue that
had its own distinct (and highly deadly) charm.
In short, calling the current Claws anything other than ‘deliciously shiny’ would be a crime in Boxxy’s
book.
“Tktktktkt! M-m-master? Tktktkktkt… C-c-c-c-can I go, now?”
It wasn’t until the extremely nervous spider-woman let out that quivering voice that Boxxy realized it
had been staring at her. At both her shiny parts and her fleshy bits. It would appear that the fiendish
influence it was under made it subconsciously lust after the petite Webstalker due to her inherent sex
appeal. Oddly enough, it didn’t feel that way towards Snack or Ambrosia.
Perhaps it was the fact that Claws was shiny and provocative that caused this momentary lapse in
judgement?
Either way, it couldn’t listen to that nagging little voice at the back of its head, no matter how much
pleasure it promised. According to its preliminary research, giving into one’s demonic side during a
Malefic Union carried the risk of permanently warping the user’s personality. And Boxxy very much
liked not being an idiotic horndog with more bravado than common sense.
“Hold on, Claws,” it uttered. “What’s that thing on your waist?”
Now that it wasn’t ogling her breasts anymore, Boxxy noticed something that clearly wasn’t a part of its
familiar. It was a brown leather belt with a circular mithril-plated buckle that was studded with a total of
six jewels. Each of them consisted of a round diamond-like gemstone about 3 centimeters in diameter,
which was surrounded by a thin ring of yet more mithril.
“Ack!” squealed Drea. “I almost forgot! This the thing I got for- Tktktkktktktk! For beating the Howling
Chasm!”
She discharged some of her new webbing into her own hands and began weaving it with astounding
dexterity. Watching those crystalline digits of hers bend and loop around each other had an almost
hypnotic look to it. The show didn’t last more than a second though, as it took but a few moments for
her to wrap a thick layer of the stuff around both her hands. It was only then that she allowed herself to
unbuckle the belt and present it to her master.
“… What was that about?” asked Boxxy while pointing at her webbed-up limbs.
“Well, uhm, tktktktktk, I’m worried my sharp fingers might damage the leather or scratch up the shiny
bits, so I made some, ktktktktkt, ‘kid gloves’ for myself…”
“I see. Nice thinking, Claws. If only all of my minions were as considerate.”
The Arch-Mimic accepted the belt from Drea, who was so happy that she got complimented again that
she seemed to be on the verge of tears. Or at least she would be, if she actually had tear ducts.
“Th-th-tktktktkthank you, master!”
“What about the chest it came out of?” asked Boxxy as it inspected the item closer. “What was it made
of?”
“Gold, master. Also, the gems on it taste strongly of, tktktktktktkt, spatial manipulation magic.”
“Ohhh! Excellent! Then I can expect great things from this prize! And from you as well! You’re now so
shiny that you’ve become a superbly shiny article yourself! I knew I made the right decision when I
formed a contract with you, Claws!”
“Kyaaa!”
Hearing her master say all those things made Drea’s embarrassment boil over, causing her to turn her
head away to hide her blushing cheeks while she squealed in delight. Which was only to be expected, as
those words were specifically chosen to fill her with glee. Boxxy was well aware of the type of
insecurities Claws was obsessed with, so it knew just what to say to alleviate them. That was why the
Mimic paid no attention to the giddy spider-girl and focused entirely on inspecting the shiny belt.
As for Ambrosia, she wasn’t quite as delighted as she appeared. Frankly speaking, she wasn’t a fan of
shiny things like Boxxy was. Quite the opposite, in fact. She actually preferred the old Drea to the new
one, but kept smiling all the same lest she ruin the festive mood. As for Xera, she couldn’t help but
cringe at the Webstalker. Not because of jealousy or the giddy ice cube’s unbefitting innocent rection,
but because Drea had unwittingly twisted her head around a whole 180 degrees as if it were on a swivel.
The djinn had always been a bit unsettled by her colleague’s arachnid features and tendency to stalk
others, but this was a whole new level of creepy.
Truthfully speaking, Drea’s Rank Up had come with a lot more than the standard suite of physical
upgrades such as increased speed, agility, strength and stamina. The fact that she could now turn her
head a full circle to the left or right without bringing her any discomfort was but one of her body’s
changes. Her new back-mounted scythes, for instance, also had a wider range of motion thanks to their
doll-like ball joints.
Her sight and kinetic vision were both much sharper, and her new eyes now worked in conjunction with
the Detect Magic Skill from her Stalker Job. This allowed her to sense and identify magical traps,
formations and enchantments purely by sight, which included the dungeon’s various snares and pitfalls.
Being able to just walk around or leap over such things was partly how she had managed to rejoin
Boxxy in such a timely manner.
However, that was hardly the main reason for her speedy arrival at the summit. Her metamorphosis from
a Hornet Stalker into a Tundra Webstalker had, among other things, regenerated her lost limbs and
restored her to full health. Then there was the matter of the Cold Affinity Skill from her subspecies,
which instantly turned her environment from ‘deadly’ to ‘strangely refreshing.’ If it wasn’t for all those
factors, then there was no telling whether she would’ve had the strength to make it back to Boxxy at all,
let alone sneak up on and topple a colossal golem.
If Drea had to pick though, the favorite part about her Rank Up would be her Tundra subspecies. It made
her shiny to the point where she felt her master just might start caressing and licking her all over like it
did with Fizzy. It was an event she secretly wanted to happen, but was far too shy to actually speak it
aloud.
At the same time, she could now hide better than ever thanks to the Partial Invisibility effect of her Clear
Ice Skill. True, she had to spend MP to maintain it, but it was better than risking being discovered at
inopportune times due to her sparkling countenance. It wasn’t all good, but on the whole she felt
incredibly lucky that things turned out the way they did.
What she and the vast majority of demons failed to realize, however, was that ‘luck’ played a very
insignificant role in a demon’s Rank Up. It was no mere coincidence that Drea became a being that not
only seemed uniquely suited to her master’s tastes, but was also ideal for dealing with her environmental
woes. Just like it was no coincidence that Xera became a more proficient trickster with an even more
appealing flavor during her own Rank Up about a month ago.
When it came to demons, the deciding factor that separated the Rankers from the rabble was desire.
I want power enough to impress my master and get praised!
It didn’t matter if it was childish and puerile.
I want power enough to incinerate the piece of trash that took my beloved master away from me!
It was of little consequence whether it went against a demon’s nature.
I want power enough to kick that bitch Teresa right in her stupid face!
It was also completely acceptable if it was impulsive and narrow minded.
The most important thing to a demon when it came to attaining a higher level of existence was having a
single immutable want that they would go to any lengths to fulfil. Something that was so important, so
vital, that they would never feel complete unless they obtained it. And it was only when a demon’s
yearning reached critical mass that their twisted, selfish soul would open itself up to the world around it.
All with the goal of forcibly seizing the means through which it could obtain its deepest desire.
Alternatively, the God of Happenstance could show up and forcibly evolve a demon on a whim, but such
an irresponsible thing has only happened, like, two times.
Maybe four.
Ten tops.
Dreaheath
Name Uniolphial Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress
Maramakartor
Webstalker
Species STR 528 MNT 1322 Stalker 57 75%
(Tundra)
Sex Female DEX 1189 PER 528 Webstalker 16 56%
Age 814 years AGI 1057 Rogue 43 81%
Guild END 925
5153/5153
HP INT 661
(+9.2/sec)
3305/3305
MP WIS 396
(+3.9/sec)
Skill List
Peerless
Stalk 10 MAX 2 8% Cheap Shot 5 31%
Gluttony
Deadly
Counterspell 10 MAX Steel Thread 5 31% 4 25%
Acrobatics
Rending Blade
10 MAX Weaver 4 25% 2 8%
Claws Finesse
Blood Impact Venomous

10 MAX 2 8% 10 MAX
Gorger Webbing Sting
Detect
10 MAX Assassination 10 MAX Webspinner 10 MAX
Magic
Magic
8 52% Misdirection 10 MAX Clear Ice 3 9%
Resistance
Cold
Mana Leech 5 31% Evasion 10 MAX 3 9%
Affinity
Silent
4 25% Silent Sprint 8 52%
Predator
(198) Not A Chapter Art Gallery 2 Electric

Boogaloo
Spymaster Edward by dmaxcustom (new) Show
The many faces of Boxxy (ft. Minic) by dmaxcustom Show
Djinn Xera by dmaxcustom Show
Djinn Xera closeup by dmaxcustom Show
Size comparison sketch by dmaxcustom Show
Webstalker Drea by dmaxcustom Show
Carl fanart by carrots1 Show
Carl fanart by BlankZero Show
Keira fanart by Chicken Hoshi Show
Drea fanart by Chicken Hoshi Show
Boxxy compared notes with the rest of the group until Malefic Union’s duration expired. When the time
came, it doubled over and started vomiting uncontrollably. The first blast of demon-puke was so intense
that it caused its helmet to fly clean off its head. Brown, bubbling sludge continued to pour out of its
mouth in large quantities and with frightening velocity. At the same time, its flesh began melting and
falling off its body as it turned into the same foul goop.
“Ugh… I think I’m going to be sicktktktktkktk… Urp!” complained Drea while dry heaving.
“Art thou feeling unwell, milady Drea?” asked Ambrosia, more out of courtesy than actual concern.
“It’s okay. I’ll be- Urk! I’ll be fine. I just had some, ktktktkktkt, unpleasant memories dredged up.”
Boxxy’s entourage had been told to give it plenty of space during the un-bonding process, for which
Drea was especially grateful. Even though her belly was empty right now, she felt she would probably
throw something up if she were any closer. Meanwhile, Ambrosia was taking in this entire situation
with her usual grace, while Xera was looked on with a stare of desperate longing. It was quite evident
she was actively lamenting on having missed out on such a golden opportunity to have her insides
stirred up like never before.
Really though, how could she not be dissatisfied? Having that creatively cruel master of hers controlling
a body that surpassed that of the worthless meathead whose only redeeming qualities were her dicks? A
body that was brimming with actual lust? Not even in her wildest fantasies had she considered such a
perfect scenario. Yet after witnessing it for herself, it suddenly became the thing she most desperately
wanted. Even if it the act lasted for only a few minutes, the memories of that session would have been
treasured for eternity.
And by ‘treasured’ she of course meant ‘masturbated to at every opportunity.’
The rather horrific scene of Boxxy’s gigantic figure melting from both inside and out lasted for roughly
five seconds - the same length of time that the initial fusion took. The spasms and shaking involved
throughout the ordeal had rendered Boxxy unable to control its body, much like it thought would
happen.
Unfortunately, much with how it was during the merger, being right about something did not make it any
less horrible. Being separated from Arms’s flesh wasn’t all that painful, but it was still highly unpleasant
in its own way. Mostly due to the vile aftertaste at the back of the Mimic’s throat. Thankfully that
disappeared in a matter of seconds, along with the copious amounts of its goopy leavings and the Fiend
Steel suit of armor.
The important thing was that Boxxy had returned to its base Hylt Creeper form with no incident or
lingering side-effects. Well, at least for the most part. It did feel a distinct sense of loss without the
Archfiend’s ridiculous strength, and it was rather unsettling to have its own body feel so… foreign. At
the same time, the shapeshifter was more than happy to have gotten rid of her detrimental effects upon
its psyche.
“S-S-So that was Mal- Malefic Union, rightktktkt?” asked Drea in a tiny voice while hiding behind
Ambrosia.
“Indeed,” answered the dryad. “I believe that is what milord chanted before the… event took place.”
That certainly explained a lot. The Webstalker’s new eyes were able to pick up on the presence of magic
just by sight. That was why she saw both Xera and her own body with a sort of purple glowing outline,
while the spriggan had a somewhat yellow aura. There was no doubt in her mind this sensory input
meant that these were temporary bodies made from magic. Yet Boxxy’s four-meter body had a similar
air about it, which was now gone. Admittedly it was more like a pitch black miasma that threatened to
consume all living things than a glowing outline, but that was besides the point.
“Does milady Drea know of this… technique?” asked Ambrosia.
“Tktktktktkt… A little. One of my former masters used to have it, but the changes when she used it were
never quite so, tktktkktk, pronounced.”
The woman in question would take on certain demonic features, such as horns, tails and wings, but she
remained human for the most part. Then again, she wasn’t a shapeshifter, nor was she merging with a
Ranker. The Witch in question did use Malefic Union quite a few times on Drea as well, but the Stalker
had no idea what she looked like at that time. Nor did she want to. The experience as a whole was a lot
more… intimate than she was comfortable with, so she’d rather not think about that time too much.
The thought of ‘becoming one’ with Boxxy also passed through Drea’s mind, which was why she was
currently hiding her fiercely blushing face from her Master.
“Alright, enough slacking off!” shouted the Mimic. “We still have work to do! Claws - take Ambrosia
and seek out the other area guardians to the west of the summit. Me and Snack will take the east. Once
the remaining four bosses have been wiped out, reconvene here.”
“Y-yes, master!” squeaked Drea.
“As thou wishes, milord,” declared the dryad with a respectful bow.
“Yeees, master…” groaned a slightly depressed Xera. “Wait, what about this bitch?”
The djinn pointed to the cracked and crippled body of the Crystal Maiden, which at the time consisted of
just a torso with arms. The dungeon master trapped within that shell still twitched and shifted what was
essentially her prison from time to time, but she had clearly given up and was waiting for death. Or in
her case - release.
“We’ll finish her off later. She’s not going anywhere,” declared Boxxy. “Even if she does somehow
come back to full strength while we’re gone, we just need to smash her up again.”
“But… why?” asked Xera. “Why not just crush the infuriating cunt right here and now?”
“Because dungeon would probably give us better loot if we clean up all the area guardians before wiping
out the last boss. Also, the way she is right now is probably a much better punishment than just sending
her back to the Beyond.”
“Ohh! I see!” exclaimed the ex-succubus. “Master truly knows how to put worthless bitches in their
place! My pussy is looking forward to your future, mmmmm, lessons!”
“Whatever. Just keep your mind out of the gutter until the job is done. Now let’s go.”
The monstrous quartet then split off into two groups and scoured the rest of the dungeon for what Boxxy
considered to be loot dispensers. The first victim of their scavenger hunt was a gigantic rock worm that
Xera had found at the depths of a labyrinthine cave system called the Slithering Tunnels using her
Guiding Light Skill. The creature attacked her and the Mimic mainly by burrowing through their
surroundings and trying to swallow them whole. It also had a range of long-distance attacks that mostly
consisted of flinging acid at the two in increasingly creative ways.
Overall though, it was dealt with rather quickly once Boxxy tricked it into swallowing a Spell Crystal
containing a supercharged Singularity Spell. Defeating it revealed a previously hidden path leading
further down and spawned a silver item chest. The Mimic pocketed the torso armor that came out of said
item box and ventured deeper underground. It eventually came to a place called the Underground Sea,
where it fought and killed a giant octopus-like monster.
Well, Snack did most of the work on this one, but that was besides the point.
Ambrosia and Drea had found their way to the Mineral Barracks in the meantime, where they fought off
wave after wave of crystal soldier golems. A golem general wearing a fancy hat and mounted atop a
crystalline horse showed up after a while, and was summarily smashed to pieces. The whole affair took
longer than it should have since the Webstalker was still adapting to her new body, but it was hardly
difficult when she had Ambrosia to back her up. Not to mention the enemy’s cold-based Spells were
useless against a demon with Cold Affinity.
They then investigated an area that had hundreds of rock outcroppings, each of which was at least ten
meters tall. Drea had spotted this place on her way to the summit from the Howling Chasm. She had
made a mental note of it since it was populated by a flock of oversized eagle-like monsters called Snow
Rocs. She was actually looking forward to this part, because she knew just how delectable those things
were from her pre-Boxxy days.
The Webstalker was able to show off her new silk-spinning Skills to the fullest in this place by setting up
multiple gigantic spider webs between the stony pillars. She would then lure the bird-brains into them
with her glittering countenance. Once they were trapped, she could then finish them off at her leisure.
She also greedily devoured their succulent red meat at every opportunity. Even if dungeon monster meat
wasn’t exactly filling, it was still indescribably delicious. Especially since she was still trying to get that
Mirror Wraith flavor out of her throat.
However, the boss of this place, which appeared to be some kind of feral griffin variant with brilliant
white plumage, wasn’t done in by the arachnid demon’s traps. Drea’s Steel Thread was resistant to brute
force and physical blades, but the flying beast’s inherent wind magic was able to cut through them with
little issue. Its freezing breath also gave Ambrosia a great deal of trouble. Its struggles came to an end
when the Webstalker used her webbing to slingshot herself at it. The beast spotted her and avoided
colliding with her, but she was still able to slice one of its wings clean off in passing. This grounded the
beast, at which point its life was more or less forfeit.
The area guardian of the Lord’s Roost has been slain.

The Lord’s Roost can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.
With the fourth and final remaining boss dealt with, Boxxy’s group reconvened at the summit. However,
they didn’t find the remnants of the Crystal Maiden at the top of it. It would appear that Setre had tried
crawling away when she realized the invading party had gone to sweep through the rest of the dungeon.
Whether on purpose or by accident, she had dragged the heavily crippled golem’s body off the edge of
its arena. She then tumbled down the cliff and crashed into one of the now vacant gatehouses along the
path leading up to the palace’s original location. The fall had not only completely demolished the
fortification, but had also broken off one arm at the shoulder and the other at the elbow, leaving her in an
even more pathetic state.
Thankfully for her, the Mimic wasn’t into the habit of torturing its victims or playing with its food, so it
wasted no more time in finishing her off along with the rest of the group. Xera pelted it with her fire
magic, Ambrosia put the squeeze on it with some conjured roots, and Drea more or less literally
burrowed into it with her claws and scythes. As for Boxxy, it morphed into Keira’s form, pulled out a
sturdy hunting bow and began sticking it with arrows. It had completely neglected its Ranger Job on this
expedition and thought this might give it something of a boost to compensate.
It thought about using that shiny bow it got earlier, but it didn’t want to risk using it before it confirmed
its characteristics.
The final guardian of the Palace of the Crystal Maiden has been slain.
Level up!
Congratulations, you are now a Level 38 Ranger! DEX +2. AGI +2. END +2.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Rare Golem Dismantler -
Aquamanarine.
The dungeon’s monsters will become more docile for the next 24 hours.
Flight is no longer restricted.
Spatial travel is no longer restricted.
Telepathic communication is no longer restricted.
The defenseless golem broke apart with a final Meteor from Xera, causing the torso to split open and
disintegrate into sparkling dust. Now freed from the Crystal Maiden’s chest, the blue-colored dungeon
core expanded rapidly in size until it ballooned to a diameter of just under three meters. It shifted the
gatehouse rubble underneath as it expanded, digging out a little hole for itself before coming to a
complete rest.
A golden chest then burst out of the ground with such force that it gained some air, then landed squarely
in front of Boxxy with a heavy thud. The Mimic excitedly threw the lid open, and a rather peculiar
object rose out of it. Its general shape was that of a deformed cone about half a meter long and a
thickness ranging from fifteen centimeters at the base to about two centimeters at the ball-tipped nose. It
was made mostly out of various types of metals, with a number of coils, switches and dials sticking out
of its surface. The Mimic’s MLG revealed its insides were a hodgepodge of wires, bolts, plates, and
crystal lenses.
“That… what is that?” asked Xera in a genuinely curious voice. “Wait, doesn’t it look like that thing
Fizzy used to have when she was still a sad little virgin?”
The djinn’s words served to kickstart her master’s memory, helping it recall that its prized shiny did
indeed own a certain device when she was still a worthless meatbag. It couldn’t remember much about
the object other than that it was made by her father and was some type of lightning thrower. It looked
eerily similar to this one, especially the peculiar rubberized handle and finger-operated trigger at the rear
end of it. At the same time, however, this thing was at least two times larger than that.
So in short, it was a device clearly of Artificer origin that was supposedly at the level of an Artifact-
quality item, and very likely had to do something with electricity.
“… I’ll figure it out later,” declared Boxxy as it carefully placed the device in its Storage.
“So milord, shall we abscond with the dungeon core now?” suggested Ambrosia. “‘Tis part of the reason
why we came in here, was it not?”
“We will, in time,” answered the Mimic. “Not right now, though.”
The spriggan dumbly blinked her glowing eyes several times and tilted her head to the side in confusion.
“The dungeon will probably go out of control if I take this, right?” it answered her unspoken question.
“I am not sure, milord. Will it?”
“Uh, yeah. It will.”
“And this is a bad thing?”
“If the dungeon is no longer managed, then it will stop spewing out treasure chests when you defeat a
boss.”
“But there are no more guardians to be found in this wretched place.”
“Not right now, but it should create new ones in a day. Remember how the messages all said something
about ‘24 hours?’”
“Ah!” exclaimed Ambrosia when realization finally dawned on her. “Then milord wishes to harvest the
treasures within this place by reaping the guardians as if they were wheat heavy with grain at the end of
the harvest season!”
“Uh, sure. Something like that.”
Boxxy hadn’t thought of equating its intentions to farming, but it certainly seemed like an apt
comparison.
“But did thou not want to establish another dungeon post-haste?”
“We can just get it another time, right? There’s no rush or anything.”
“I see. Milord is most wise indeed.”

“Master, I just had a thought,” butted in Xera. “What if Goroth decides to hide the dungeon core
somewhere inaccessible while we’re out and about?”
No sooner had the djinn said that that the giant sphere in question suddenly shot up into the air while
leaving behind a trail of white light. It blazed across the sky and landed somewhere at the edge of the
dungeon’s territory with a thunderous impact. A miniature mountain sprouted up around it and
encompassed it completely.
All of this happened within the span of several seconds, so Boxxy and its entourage had little choice but
to dumbly watch it happen.
“… Really, Snack? You just had to say that out loud?”
“I’m so sorry, Master!” she apologized frantically. “I just- I forgot the mind link was now accessible and
I-”
*RRRUMBLE*
Xera’s floundering was suddenly cut short when the earth split open and another treasure chest rose out
of it. This one was much more impressive than any of the others Boxxy had seen, as it was made out of
glimmering mithril and studded with an obscene number of gems. It even had wing sculptures of pure
white metal poking out of the back of it, and the entire thing glowed with an otherworldly light. It was
the sort of thing that the Mimic might imagine if it were to hear the words ‘angelic chest.’
But Boxxy couldn’t allow itself to be suckered in by this. It needed to remember that no matter how
shiny it was, this item was only a fleeting illusion conjured up by the dungeon. Bitter memories of the
first time it was tricked by a golden chest flooded into its mind. It was definitely not a tasty feeling.
Therefore, it couldn’t get attached to this superb article, regardless of how much it wanted to keep it.
The Mimic looked at its surroundings in an effort to distract itself. It briefly locked eyes with Snack,
who immediately fell to her knees and prostrated herself in front of it. Ambrosia was just standing off to
the side with a warm smile on her face, which was directed at Boxxy as per usual. It would seem she
was handling this sudden turn of events with her usual poise and grace. Which was more than could be
said about Claws. She was still cowering behind the spriggan for some reason, only allowing herself to
peek over her shoulder for an instant every now and then.
How do I keep getting stuck with these nutcases?
Boxxy took a deep breath after complaining inwardly and, while still in Keira’s naked form, placed a
hand on the lid. It swallowed the saliva that had pooled in the catgirl’s mouth and lifted the top off the
container. It was… heavier than it anticipated. It was also surprised to find that the mithril chest’s
contents did not float up into the air automatically, but rather laid immobile at its bottom. The fact that
there were two items rather than one also added to the oddity of the situation.
Cocking an eyebrow at this unusual behavior, it reached down with its free hand and picked up the first
and obviously more valuable of the two object. It was an uncut precious stone of some description,
about twenty centimeters long and in the vague shape of a thick needle or spine. It had some jagged
edges and a pointed tip, but it definitely wasn’t going to do much as a weapon. Interestingly enough,
although it appeared to be highly transparent at first, began to glow with a yellow light the instant Boxxy
touched it.
“Milord?” asked Ambrosia from behind. “What is this thou art holding?”
“No idea,” replied the Mimic. It held the object up high so the dryad could get a good look at it. “Do you
know what this is?”
“… I am afraid not. However, it does seem strangely familiar. Nostalgic, even.”
Well, that wasn’t very helpful.
Boxxy then remembered there was another thing in that chest that might explain what was going on.
Aside from the mysterious gemstone, of which the Mimic had way too many already, the opulent box
also had a stone slate about the size of a thick book with some letters etched onto it. The shapeshifter
stuffed the shiny thing into its Storage and reached down to grab hold of the peculiar slab.
You have received a divine revelation from the God of Earth. FTH +5.
It was met with a very enlightening notification the instant Keira’s fingers touched it, so it wasted no
time in reading the message in question.
Dear Hero of Chaos,
Let me begin by saying I have watched you and your allies progress through the Palace of the Crystal
Maiden with great interest. I wish to commend you on your masterful shapeshifting in particular. I dare
say both the grizzled mercenary you were at the start and the beautiful beastkin you became just before I
started writing this were worthy of being called works of art in their own right. The attention to detail is
exquisite, and the speed, surety and confidence with which you take on these facades betray how much
practice and effort went into perfecting them. At the same time, the haunting and imposing figure of that
six-armed warrior as well as that semi-serpentine shape you showed in the Glacial Gallows showed a
level of imagination and improvisation that I did not think was possible for a mere monster.
So in recognition of what I can only imagine were hundreds of hours of hard work honing your craft and
you having splendidly cleared this dungeon’s Hero course, I have decided to present you with an
additional reward. Encased with this letter you will find an inert fragment of the dungeon’s core. Once
you touch it, it will synchronise with your own dungeon, allowing you to freely travel between it and the
Palace of the Crystal Maiden via Nexus Access. I am confident that with this you will have no
complaints regarding my unwillingness to part with another of my dungeon cores.
Boxxy stopped reading the message and took the core fragment out of its Storage. No wonder Ambrosia
thought it felt familiar. Now that the Mimic looked at it again, it realized the thing was glowing with the
same serene light as the Dryad Domain’s crystalline heart. It wasn’t sure when or how Goroth caught
wind of its intentions regarding the dungeon core, but it was glad he did. It had gained a bonus shiny
thing and would also be spared the pain of having to manage a second dungeon. The only downside was
that Boxxy had missed out on the Grand Theft Arcana Perk’s bonus to all of its Attributes, but on the
whole it was an outcome it could be satisfied with.
However, the same couldn’t be said about the letter’s last paragraph.
Nevertheless, I must mention that your intention of exploiting the Palace of the Crystal Maiden to obtain
yet more of my treasures will not be met with success. As is my standard dungeon policy, an individual
will be rewarded for clearing one of my gauntlets only once. You may continue to fight the creatures to
get stronger, but neither treasure chests nor guardians will appear before you. I am not partial to seeing
others waste their time and efforts on fruitless endeavors, so I felt it was necessary that I inform you on
this matter.
Sincerely,
Goroth
“Damned blockhead!”
Boxxy cursed under its breath and stomped its foot in bitter disappointment. Of course getting its hands
on an obscene number of high-quality magic items wouldn’t be that easy. It honestly felt like an idiot for
getting its hopes up like that.
“Excuse me, Master?” spoke up Snack who was still groveling on the ground.
“What?!” it snarled back.
“There seems to be something written on the back of that as well.”
The Mimic’s sour mood was temporarily put on halt while it flipped over the slab in its hands.
“Oh. So there is. It seems a brainless fuck-addled bimbo like you may have a use outside of being a
sloppy cumdump after all.”
Xera wiggled her butt enticingly while happily grinding her face into the dirt in response to her Master’s
compliments while it processed the last part of Goroth’s message.
P.S. To show there are no hard feelings, I’m also giving you this treasure chest. It is not one of the
dungeon’s creations, but an old curio that has been in my possession for centuries. Both myself and its
maker would much rather it be with someone who can truly appreciate its exquisite craftsmanship and
inherent beauty, rather than have it collecting dust in my vaults.
Boxxy suddenly disappeared from its spot, and the mithril chest in question was shut from the inside
with a loud bang. The opulent container then vanished from its spot as its new owner whisked it away to
its lair halfway across the continent. It arrived in the Mimic’s treasure room within the Dryad’s Domain
and landed next to its glittering pile of wealth with a metallic gong.
“It’s true! It’s alll truuuueee! Goroth is the beeeest!”
The relentlessly greedy shapeshifter let out a loud cheer as it slithered inside its newest acquisition. Over
the next few minutes, the only sign an outside observer might have that there was a living being inside
that the jeweled mithril chest was a rather obscene sloshing noise. Its lid slowly creaked open, and a
dozen fleshy tendrils spilled out and draped over its outside. They then began licking it all over as
Boxxy fervently committed every nook, cranny, carving and jewel to its tactile memory.
After a few hours of what could only be described as ‘fanatical chest worshipping,’ the Mimic finally
calmed down enough to remember this wasn’t the only thing it got in that dungeon. Although they
seemed paltry in comparison, it most certainly got quite a few other things out of it. Now was a good
time to have them appraised by using the dungeon core’s Item Allocation module, but not before it first
inspected what was undoubtedly the prize from this expedition.
Vessel of Dreams
A treasure chest forged out of pure mithril and adorned with a total of 85 precious stones. It
was made by the sculptor and blacksmith Brylin Stormhammer and offered to the Earth
God Goroth as a tribute. The deity was moved by her piety, devotion and masterful
craftsmanship, which he rewarded by placing a blessing upon her clan. Many talented
individuals had been born under the Stormhammer name since then.
Being in the Earth God’s possession for so much time has imbued this object with holy
power.
Type: Container
Quality: Masterwork
Enchantments: Self Repair, Self Cleaning, Heavenly Aura
Estimated Value: 355,000 GP
No wonder being inside this thing felt so warm and cozy. Most holy magic had a certain healing and
restorative aspect to it, and the energy that radiated from this so-called Vessel of Dreams was no
different. In fact, being inside this thing was so calming that Boxxy fell asleep before it even realized it,
instantly giving credit to the item’s name.
The Mimic woke up after a rather indulgent twelve hour nap. It threw open the lid to what it now
decided would be its new bed, revealing the insides of it had been filled with a writhing mass of tongue-
tentacles. The Hylt Creeper’s upper body then rose up from that moist mess and stretched its arms while
yawning delightedly. That was without a doubt the most restful and refreshing sleep it had experienced
in its life.
Boxxy yawned and stretched some more before reigning in its moist tendrils and somewhat regretfully
climbing out of the Vessel. Even if that ‘nap’ was quite literally divine, there was a limit to how overtly
lazy and horribly unproductive a malicious mass of murder and mayhem could get. There were people to
eat, things to destroy, Levels to get and, most important of all, shinies to inspect.
First up was the exquisite weapon Boxxy had gotten from the golden chest in the Glacial Gallows earlier
that day. Actually it was more like the day before by this point, wasn’t it? Whatever the case, it took the
delicate-looking bow out of its Storage and held it in its hands. It opened up the Dungeon Management
menu and invoked the Item Allocation module’s Treasure Analysis function. A window with all the
relevant information instantly appeared in its head.
Winter’s Bite
A crystalline bow infused with the essence of ice. Although it appears to be made out of
blue-tinged glass or highly transparent sapphires, the exact material used in its construction
remains a mystery. Pulling on the string without an arrow nocked creates a magical bolt of
ice that will home in on warm-blooded targets.
Type: Recurve Bow

Quality: Artifact
Offensive Ability: AA
Defensive Ability: F
Durability: C
Magic Amplification: 15% Cold
Enchantments: Freezing Attack, Increased Projectile Force, Self Repair, Reduced Weight
Ignition Ability: Conjure Heatseeker Arrow
After reading the information, it immediately tried the Ignition Ability out by pulling on the bowstring.
The weapon absorbed 8 of the creature’s MP and instantly conjured a frozen projectile that was nocked
and ready to let loose, just as advertised. It then proceeded to use its Mirror Images for target practice for
the next half hour or so, and found that these Heatseeker Arrows were more difficult to use than they
would first appear.
While they did curve towards its body doubles, they always veered towards center of mass. Making
pinpoint shots at weak spots such as the head, eyes or groin would require a certain degree of fancy
shooting that was beyond Boxxy’s current skillset. On the plus side, this mystical ammunition made
hitting moving targets significantly easier, not to mention the freezing effect would also impair their
movement. The fact that it was essentially infinite was also a significant benefit.
Incidentally, both regular and explosive arrows flew normally and were also imbued with a freezing
effect, but it was significantly weaker than that of the conjured ones.
Aethereal Repository #3
A belt is made from the hide of an Stormscale Wyvern, which is now widely believed to be
extinct. It has six enchanted Aether Diamonds affixed to it, each of which serves as a
gateway to its own pocket dimension. This allows the wearer to carry large amounts of gear
and supplies without being encumbered by their weight or size.
One of seven Aetherial Repositories created as a result of a collaborative effort between

Dargas Redmane, Hero of Earth, and Janet Nottley, Hero of Magic.
Type: Belt
Quality: Artifact
Defensive Ability: C-
Durability: B+
Enchantments: Greater Wind Resistance, Greater Cold Resistance, Increased Durability,

Self Repair, Well Fitted
Ignition Ability: Subspace Storage
Up next was the shiny belt that Claws had been given after conquering the Howling Chasm. Its
enchantments made it an excellent piece of defensive equipment, but its active component left
something to be desired. It worked very similarly to the Mimic’s Storage Skill, but with several key
drawbacks. Items could only be withdrawn or deposited in an area around its waist and the MP cost
involved was several times steeper than its own ability. Not to mention it seemed like if someone were
to steal the belt, they would also be able to freely access the original owner’s stash.
It did have an upside, though. Unlike Boxxy’s Storage, this Aethereal Repository did not care for the
dimensions, shape or weight of an object, only the volume it took up. Even something much larger than
the belt - such as the Winter’s Bite bow - would disappear in a flash of light and could be just as easily
retrieved afterwards. In terms of how much space there was available, some trial and error revealed each
gemstone could hold up to half a cubic meter’s worth of stuff.
Brimstone Breastplate
A salamander leather breastplate with steel chainmail underlay. Both the metal and the
leather have been treated with Hell Sulphur, imbuing the item with the elemental attribute
of fire.
Type: Light Armor

Quality: Masterwork
Defensive Ability: B+
Durability: A-
Magic Amplification: 6% Fire
Enchantments: Major Fire Resistance, Lesser Cold Resistance, Increased Toughness, Well
Fitted
Boxxy skipped over the Prismatic Cloak since it was familiar with it already, and moved onto the item
that popped out of that giant worm’s silver chest. It looked plain and uninspired, but was without a doubt
a quality piece of gear. It was warm to the touch, meaning it would probably be a suitable piece of gear
to bring to a frozen wasteland like the Palace of the Crystal Maiden. It would also be extremely useful
for any intrepid adventurers that were stupid enough to venture into the unstable volcanic region known
as Hell.
However, did the Mimic have any use for this dull-red cuirass outside of those extreme environments?
No, but Keira certainly did. Boxxy shifted into the catgirl’s form and put the Brimstone Breastplate on.
The item’s Well Fitted enchantment went to work, and the Masterwork-quality torso armor fit snugly
and securely around her chest. Having something like this along with those two Artifacts from earlier
would certainly make the Mimic’s Facade all the more convincing.
Or to be more precise, they would serve as a smoke screen that would allow the doppelganger to operate
closer to its actual capabilities while acting as Keira. Any outrageous achievements or ridiculous feats
the beastkin performed could easily be attributed to owning outstanding gear like this. But Boxxy
needed to be careful. A sixteen-year old adventurer suddenly obtaining so much loot at once would
certainly raise suspicion. The shapeshifter would need to have the catgirl steadily ‘acquire’ this stuff
during her future ‘adventures’ so as to avoid attracting too much heat.
Star Sapphire Earring
A teardrop-shaped Star Sapphire suspended by a silver chain. When worn on the ear, this
piece of jewelry provides a minor boost to the wearer’s mental abilities. The item’s magical
properties are amplified twofold when its matching twin is also equipped.
Type: Jewelry
Quality: Uncommon
Magic Amplification: 3% Cold
Enchantments: Minor Intelligence, Minor Wisdom, Set Piece

Next on its list were the shiny things, starting with the earrings that Claws and Ambrosia had gotten for
defeating the golem general in the Mineral Barracks. Both of them showed identical results when
analyzed by the dungeon core, and were quite underwhelming on the whole. Even the gemstones were
rather puny compared to what the Mimic was used to. On the other hand, this result was only to be
expected considering they had come out of a wooden chest.
At the very least they appeared to be in pristine condition, unlike the set of five rings Ambrosia had
gotten from that Menagerie place after being separated from Boxxy.
Signet Ring of House Stormhammer
A heavy ring of tarnished gold, inlaid with a square piece of Midnight Ruby. The crest of
the Horkensaft Kingdom’s noble house of Stormhammer has been etched into the gem,
though the image has been distorted by numerous scratches. This item is of significant
historical importance, but its poor condition has diminished its monetary value.
Type: Jewelry
Quality: Superior
Magic Amplification: 2% Fire
Enchantments: None
They were all more or less like this, except that each of them belonged to a different noble house.
‘Historical value’ meant very little to Boxxy, but it could probably offer these trinkets to dwarven
collectors and historians in exchange for shinier shinies. It would keep this one in particular for its
collection though, since it was of the same clan that made its new bed. Boxxy wasn’t sure why, but it felt
like it owed it to this ring to see it restored and enshrined alongside its ‘relative.’
With the shinies out of the way, Boxxy moved onto the less flashier weapons.
Reverb Sword
A well-balanced longsword forged out of a bronze-mithril alloy. Colloquially known as

‘Spell slicer,’ this curved blade vibrates intensely whenever it encounters magic, allowing
the user to disperse or weaken Spells it passes through. Holding it also dampens the
effectiveness of all magical effects upon its wielder.
This item cannot be enchanted.

Type: Longsword
Quality: Superior
Offensive Ability: C+
Defensive Ability: C
Durability: D
Magic Amplification: -20% All
Enchantments: None
This article was something that Ambrosia and Claws had gotten after besting that feral griffon and were
awarded with an iron chest. Strictly speaking, the Mimic more or less knew what this thing was the
instant it saw it, as it already owned five of these Reverb-style weapons. What set this one apart was that
it was quite older than those. The metal was rusty and the edge was badly chipped and blunted, but these
faults would easily be fixed by a Blacksmith. Once properly repaired and polished, the weapon would be
added to Boxxy’s collection. Whether or not it would see any actual use remained to be seen, but
statistically speaking it would most likely end up being treated as just another low-grade shiny.
Boxxy wouldn’t be nearly as kind to this next armament though.
Deep Axe
A sinister two-handed battle axe with a treant hartwood handle and a double-edged blade
made from a pair of Adult Kraken teeth. It is said a simple glance at the sea monster’s fangs
is enough to strike fear into the heart of weaker monsters and magical beasts.
This weapon is poorly balanced, making it difficult to land a hit with its otherwise deadly
blade.
Type: Battle Axe

Quality: Standard
Offensive Ability: B
Defensive Ability: F
Durability: D
Enchantments: Lesser Monster Repellent, Lesser Strength

This thing came out of a wooden chest after Snack boiled that octopus thing she and Boxxy encountered
on the Underground Sea. Much like the Treasure Analysis suggested, just looking at it filled the Mimic
with untasty feelings. It actually had half a mind to leave this thing behind in the dungeon, but it figured
it could at least pawn it off on some beginner adventurer with more muscle and/or money than sense.
Even then it would probably struggle to get a good price, as the weapon was badly made. It was honestly
a small miracle its Quality wasn’t rated as ‘Poor,’ though that would probably have been the case if it
wasn’t for its low-class magical effects.
Seriously, what sort of cheapskate dungeon spews out garbage like this? inwardly complained Boxxy.
Then again, it really didn’t have much of a baseline for comparison, really. For all it knew, getting a
bunch of crap items from a dungeon crawl was the norm. One could argue with the Mimic that even the
‘crap’ items were objectively quite valuable in and of themselves. The shapeshifter would then rebuke
this hypothetical person by promptly stabbing them in the face. This was supposed to be a four-star rated
dungeon, so surely the rewards would need to be sufficiently enticing to attract adventurers of the
appropriate Level, shouldn’t they?
But no matter how much Boxxy grumbled, it would have to be satisfied with the outcome of getting two
golden and two silver chests out of a total of ten.
… Wait, that’s not quite right.
It then remembered it was actually given three gilded chests. The Vessel of Dreams had so much impact
that the Mimic had very nearly forgotten the item reward it got from the final boss. It took off the
Brimstone Breastplate and placed back in its Storage while simultaneously pulling that metallic Artificer
Artifact out of it.
Gnomish Death Ray
A one-of-a-kind weapon left behind by Bilbus Fizzlesprocket, one of the Original

Artificer’s apprentices and the world’s first Arclight Artificer. The device charges over time
by absorbing the user’s life force over several seconds, then unleashes a devastating blast of
electricity. Great care must be taken when handling this weapon, as it has been known to
backfire on occasion.
Type: Artificer Mechanism

Quality: Artifact
Offensive Ability: AAA
Defensive Ability: X
Durability: E+
Magic Amplification: 30% Lightning
Enchantments: None
Boxxy, while still in Keira form, nodded its head a few times as it processed this information. On the
upside, the thing in its hands had the highest offensive rating it had ever seen. It knew there were things
that went up to triple-A, but it never expected to see one so soon. According to its information, one
needed items with at least this much firepower if they hoped to overcome an Adult Dragon’s defenses.
And considering that those natural disasters were rumored to be sitting on literal mountains of gold,
dragon hunting was definitely one of Boxxy’s long-term goals.
On the other hand, this object also had the most abysmal defense rating it had ever seen. It hadn’t even
heard of things that went below grade F in that (or any) respect, yet there it was. Maybe the dungeon
core was wrong? No, that thing’s Treasure Analysis was much more reliable than any Scribe’s
Appraisals, so this was as accurate an estimate as Boxxy would get. Indeed, the more the Mimic thought
about, the more sense this defense rating of ‘X’ made. One should expect no less from an object that
only fed off the user’s life force, but also had a chance for its devastating blasts of electricity to
backfire.
The Mimic slowly and carefully placed the weapon onto the bark-covered ground near its treasure pit,
walked over to the Vessel of Dreams, climbed into it, shut the lid, and locked it from the inside.
“Ambrosia!” it bellowed. “I need you to-! Oh wait, she’s not here.”
In all the excitement, Boxxy had left her behind in the Palace of the Crystal Maiden along with Snack
and Claws. The demons were long dead by now since contracted familiars’ bodies would deteriorate
rapidly if they were too far apart from their summoner. It the range on this ‘leash’ was quite wide and
extremely forgiving, but several hundred kilometers was well outside its capabilities.
Meaning it had left the dryad that it had promised not to abandon all alone in the middle of a frozen
wasteland for more than half a day.
After briefly deliberating whether it should deal with that deathtrap of a weapon or a potentially enraged
millennia-old tree spirit, Boxxy decided to curl up and sleep for another twelve hours.
(200) Interlude Professional Courtesy
Drea, Xera and Ambrosia were currently standing at the base of a frozen path. The summit that lied at
the heart of the Palace of the Crystal Maiden loomed overhead to one side. The rocky rubble that was
once a gatehouse lied in front. Everywhere else consisted of nothing but cold, empty space. Much like
the spot directly in front of all three of them. Yet they kept staring at it as if expecting something to pop
out of thin air.
“… Where hath milord gone?” asked Ambrosia after a short while.
Xera floated over to the stone slab Boxxy had discarded before it disappeared about a minute ago and
picked it up.
“It would appear the Master has returned to Azurvale,” she said after reading it. “And judging from how
excited it looked, I don’t think it will be coming back anytime soon.”
“Oh, thank Albert!” exclaimed Drea. “I was worried something terrible might’ve happened when it
disappeared like that…”
“But what about us?” inquired the spriggan.
“I don’t know about you, but me and Drea will drop dead and return to the Beyond in about an hour.
There’s a ‘roaming’ clause in our contracts that forces us back if we’re more than a hundred kilometers
away from our summoner,” explained Xera.
“So unless milord returns… I will be left alone out here?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess.”
The glow in Ambrosia’s eyes momentarily flared up. She still had a motherly smile on her face, but it
was clear she wasn’t smiling on the inside. As one might expect, she didn’t appreciate being abandoned
in such a crass manner. Her ire quieted down rather quickly though, and had all but evaporated when she
let out a small sight.
“I suppose it can’t be helped. Milord is still but a child, so it can be forgiven for getting carried away at
the sight of a new toy.”
“Ah. Now that you mention it…”
Xera suddenly remembered that her master wasn’t even a year old. It should rightly be considered an
infant by people standards. Even among monsters there were very few species that reached maturity in
less than a year. Wouldn’t that then mean she was technically a pedophile?
“I’m kind of glad it’s gone,” admitted Drea, interrupting that train of thought. “If I had to keep enduring
Master’s ogling… Tktktktkt… I don’t think my heart could take it…”
“You don’t even have one of those,” pointed out the djinn.
“You know what I mean!”
“No, actually. I don’t. I can’t understand anything you do when we’re off duty, to be honest. You just
follow the master around and peep on it from the shadows. You even stay out of its perception range just
so you can fawn over it without being spotted.”
“Tktktktktktk!” chittered Drea with eyes wide. “How did you know about that?!”
“I didn’t, until you just confirmed it,” responded Xera with a grin. “Seriously though, what is the point
of doing all that? If you want to have your insides scrambled by my Master’s glorious cocks, then you
should just say so.”
“I agree,” butted in Ambrosia. “Milady Drea’s courting ritual is most bizarre and unlikely to succeed.
The direct approach is thy best option if thou wishes to mate with milord.”
“Th-th-th-th-that’s not it at all!” insisted the Webstalker while flailing her limbs around. “I would never
dream of doing something like d-d-demanding Master’s… Tktktktktk… thing!”
“Oh, right. You don’t even have a good receptacle for it even if you did,” said Xera with a teasing tone.
However, rather than keep getting increasingly flustered in an amusing way, Drea suddenly went quiet.
Her pale face was dyed a shade of blue as she blushed, and she turned her head to the side to avoid eye
contact. She also used her hands and back-scythes to cover up her lower body as if she were protecting
it. All while fidgeting nervously and chittering like a herd of squirrels.
“… Don’t tell me,” muttered Xera. “Did the eternal virgin actually get herself a fuck-hole?”
Drea didn’t answer with words, but by shrinking back even more. She looked like she was about to run
away at full force, but a series of vines and roots suddenly sprouted from the hard soil and wrapped
around her before she could react.
“I believe this possibility warrants a thorough investigation,” declared Ambrosia.
“Nooo!” wailed the bound spider-demon. “Let me gooo!”
She tried to break free of her organic restraints, but she was unable to get them off, nor could she
wriggle out of them. The roots pulled her down to the ground and onto her back, then restrained all her
limbs so she couldn’t cut her way out either. Worse still, Ambrosia even spread her legs wide open,
putting her in an unquestionably obscene position.
“Ohh! Nice work, Ambrosia!” said Xera with a thumbs up.
“Whyyy?! Why are you doing this to me?!” wailed the captive Webstalker.
“Because I wish to entertain myself whilst milord is absent,” responded the dryad.
“Yeah, what she said,” echoed the djinn. “Now let’s see what we have here!”
The busty demoness then floated closer to Drea, placed her face right up to her groin and stared at the
sole crystal shard that protected the unwilling spider-girl’s dignity. She gently caressed the trembling
flesh around it for a few moments before trying to grab it by its edges and pull it off. Unfortunately, the
ice shard was quite slippery, so she couldn’t get a good grip on it.
This was where Ambrosia stepped in with her branch-like hands. She stuck the pointy tip of her index
finger underneath Drea’s codpiece and started prying it open with a bit of force. This caused her captive
to wail in both pain and embarrassment, but the dryad ignored her and promptly revealed what lay
underneath that shiny carapace.
“Well… this is different,” stated Xera in genuine confusion.
There was definitely something there, but it was unlike any female genitalia she was familiar with. She
was looking at a vertical slit with several lip-like folds flanking either side of it and a small nub on one
end that may or may not have been the clitoris. But while it had an outward appearance resembling a
vagina, it didn’t look quite like the genuine article. Not to mention that no matter how much the djinn’s
fingers explored the fleshy pocket, she couldn’t find any hole or opening that would facilitate something
like penetration.
As for Ambrosia, she did nothing but silently look on with an air of mild interest. A tree like her never
cared much for the reproductive cycle of mammals, so this was all pretty foreign to her.
“Hnnnn!”
Xera’s mild curiosity was suddenly piqued when Drea failed to stifle a squeal-like moan. She looked up
at the Webtalker’s face to catch her expression, but was disappointed to find that she had turned her head
all the way around and was pressing it against the ground. But Xera would not be dissuaded so easily.
All djinn were extremely mischievous by their nature, and her being originally a succubus did not
exempt her from this trait. It merely meant that the nature of the pranks she wanted to pull leaned
towards the lewd variety rather than the lethal stuff.
So, after motioning for Ambrosia to keep silent, Xera began to climb over Drea. She positioned herself
so she was on all fours and looming over the Webstalker’s bound body, then stared intently at the back
of her head. Drea started quivering even more when she felt the other demoness hover over her, but she
refused to show her face under any circumstances.
“Miss Claws…”
Or at least that’s what she thought until a sweet, innocent voice came from up above. Her neck began to
move against her will and stiffly twisted her head to the side, allowing her to peek up at the body
looming over her. Her frantic thoughts came to an immediate halt and she felt her nonexistent heart skip
a beat when she saw that the one currently on top of her was none other than Keira. This was so far from
what she was expecting that even her chittering mandibles had grown silent.
“Miss Claws,” repeated the catgirl in a needy voice. “I know it may seem strange, but… I’ve always
thought you were incredibly pretty and graceful… I was barely even able to control myself around you.
But now you’ve become so irresistible that I… I’m sorry, but I just can’t keep these feelings bottled up
anymore…”
She steadily lowered her face as she kept whispering those sweet words. She cupped Drea’s chin with
her tender fingers and slowly guided her agape mouth towards her own. The Webstalker’s mandibles
were opened up all the way and trembling fiercely, allowing the beastkin easy access to her thin lips.
The instant the two of them kissed, something inside Drea snapped. Her mandibles slammed shut,
piercing a hole clean through each of Keira’s cheeks. Sweet blood trickled down her throat while the
catgirl moaned with pleasure into her mouth. She then put her full body weight on top of Drea’s.
Tanned, hot skin rubbed passionately against pale, chilled flesh as the two continued to exchange
various fluids through their mouths.
Keira then shifted her weight to the side so she was only half-laying on top of Drea. She kept gently
stroking her purple hair with one hand while the other ventured towards the spider-demon’s cleavage.
The icy carapace covering her torso suddenly fell off all on its own as it responded to its owner’s desire
to be touched and caressed even more.
The catgirl’s left hand answered those expectations of hers and began to sensually massage Drea’s
modest breast. The soft fingers knead the forgiving pale flesh with expert movements, amplifying her
arousal. The tender fingertips only briefly brushed against her cute little nipples, causing her to gasp in
pleasure while the two’s lips and jaws continued to be intertwined. The catgirl also wrapped her dusky
thighs around Drea’s leg and began rubbing her special place on it, drenching it in a clear, sticky fluid.
After a few more minutes of this, Drea’s mind had gone completely blank from the overwhelming
stimulation she was receiving. She almost snapped back to her senses when she felt the catgirl pull away
from her lips, but was lost again when she felt a hot breath on her neck. Keira continued to peck, kiss
and lick the Webstalker’s flawless pale skin, shuddering with unexpected pleasure at the cold sensations
on her tongue and lips.
Her gentle caress moved further down at a tantalizingly slow pace as it passed over Drea’s collar and
settled on her bosom. She then began to give her mounds her full attention, this time focusing almost
exclusively on suckling, play-biting and pinching her nipples. The Webstalker arched her back and
continued to moan in drunken pleasure while her mandibles clattered against one another so hard that
they seemed like they were about to break.
The beastkin girl was far from done, though. After her all-too-brief stopover at Drea’s chest, her mouth
continued its sensual trek down the rest of her body while her hands kept massaging those twin peaks for
as long as they could. She softly licked and slobbered all over her firm abdominal muscles that were
hidden beneath a layer of soft skin. She passed over and gave special attention to her belly button
without even questioning what such a thing was doing on an arachnid demon in the first place.
After what seemed like hours, Drea suddenly felt something hot and slimy poke into the folds she didn’t
even know she had until this whole thing started. The sensitive organ that apparently existed purely to
deliver pleasure was being lapped up and worshipped with such otherworldly dexterity that she couldn’t
help but scream in joy. The voice that came out of her throat was completely unlike anything else she
had ever uttered at a volume that she didn’t know she was capable of.
Her plump thighs reflexively wrapped around Keira’s head and neck, grinding her face into Drea’s
nether regions even harder. Her hands that had become wrapped up in messy webbing before she even
realized it began caressing her breasts while the catgirl eagerly wrapped her arms around her white legs.
She didn’t even question where her bindings had gone. Nor did she even remember what an ‘Ambrosia’
was, for that matter.
The Webstalker endured the onslaught of pleasure for about a minute more before reaching the next
stage of the lewd act. She arched her back, screamed her lungs out and bucked her hips wildly into
Keira’s face. She didn’t squirt or anything like that, but her body was without a doubt being rocked by
an orgasm.
And yet the catgirl didn’t stop. If anything, her assault upon the spider-girl’s nether regions only
intensified. She even spread her plump butt cheeks apart and teased the exposed spinnerette hole
between them with a finger. This unexpected action made Drea go positively wild with excitement. She
had barely been given a chance to come down from her orgasmic high before another climax rocked her
system. She convulsed so hard she’d probably rip her own breasts off if she hadn’t dulled her claws by
accidentally webbing herself.
*SNAP*
Drea’s lustful trance came to an abrupt end when she felt something beneath her legs give way with a
rather disgusting noise. Like a sparrow startled by a loud noise, she leapt away from her partner, did a
double backflip and landed on her feet a few meters away. The impact with the ground then kindly
reminded her of the intense throbbing between her legs, making her buckle over and fall down as her
body resumed its orgasmic throes.
“Damn, I guess I overdid it.”
The Webstalker lifted her head, and looked at the direction of that indignant tone. Her blurry vision
cleared up rapidly to reveal a naked Keira sitting cross legged on the ground. She was rubbing her
crimson hair with one hand while the other dangled loosely as a result of her shoulder being broken. As
for the look on her face, it was one of mild disappointment.
“Well, it was fun while it lasted I suppose.”
After saying that, the slender catgirl’s body began to expand in all directions. Her breasts ballooned out
obscenely, her hair hung down to her waist and her thighs and hips flared outwards. Her skin turned a
pale blue color like the clear sky and a golden crown of horns grew out of her forehead.
A grim realization began to dawn on Drea as her sober mind began to process all the obscene and lewd
things she’d been doing up until now. It didn’t take long for her to recognize just how much of an idiot
she had been. Of course there was no way Keira would want to make love to her. She wasn’t even a real
person to begin with. Yet the Stalker had let herself believe her fantasies had turned real and let Xera do
all those shameful things to her. No, it was more than that. She had enjoyed the impromptu roleplay so
much that she ended up moaning and screaming like a wild animal in heat.
Xera, on the other hand, felt rather gratified. Not sexually, though. Not even by a longshot. Her
satisfaction was more of a spiritual nature. Today she experienced something entirely new that was
completely removed from the violent sadomasochistic acts she normally pursued. In fact, this was the
first time she’d ever pleasured another woman of her own volition. Sure she sometimes did it with
Rowana whenever she was filling in for Keira, but that was business.
Not that her motives this time around were any less underhanded, though.
“So, how was it?” asked Xera with a sly grin. “Your first time making love to your sweet, sweet Keira?”
Although it made seemingly little sense at first, it was highly likely that what Drea wished for was to
have Boxxy’s girly facade tenderly and lovingly embrace her. This was the hunch Xera had arrived at
after seeing her new body part, which demanded to be touched, caressed and played with rather than
penetrated or filled to the brim. And the one that Drea wanted to do all those things to her was none
other than her master’s catgirl facade - the same form that was the subject of her first ever masturbation
session.
“Noooooo!”
And the Webstalker’s wonderful response all but confirmed those assumptions.
“Why did I do that? Why did you do that to me?! Wait, it didn’t get aired across the Beyond again, did
it?!”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” said the djinn. “I actually called Carl to check just before I
started. He said that the broadcast was focused on the Master playing with its new shiny box.”
Drea really wasn’t expecting an answer to that question, but she was quite relieved at least this particular
escapade remained private.
“Of course, there was no way I could just let that happen,” continued Xera, “so I had him notify the
Progenitor of what I was planning to do and asked him to record it for future posterity.”
“… You WHAT?!” squealed Drea. “Whyyyyy?!”
“Well, there’s no way I’d let you keep those wonderful reactions of yours all to yourself,” answered the
djinn with a shit-eating grin. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“You’re an asshooooole!”
The intensely embarrassed Webstalker sprinted off into the distance while screaming at the top of her
lungs. She wanted to find some deep dark hole to crawl into and never come out. As for Xera, she was
left laughing so hard that it caused her to wince in pleasure from the pain in her fractured shoulder.
“Art thou sure this was wise?” called out Ambrosia.
The dryad had grown bored of the two demons’ pornographic display halfway through and stepped
away from it. She then planted herself in the frozen ground up to her waist and had been quietly sitting
there ever since.
“Hmm? What do you mean?” asked the djinn.
“I will not pretend to understand the situation of you demonic beings, but it is quite clear you hath done
milady Drea a great disservice. Wouldn’t such a move impact thy future relations?”
“Nah, it’s not nearly as bad as I made it out to be.”
While Xera did indeed secretly contact Carl to confirm the current focus of the Boxxy Show prior to
embarking on her lesbian adventure, that was the extent of it. She did not actually arrange for her tryst
with Drea to be broadcast across the Beyond. She certainly thought about it, but decided against it for
several reasons.
The biggest one among them was that Xera genuinely respected Drea on a professional level. Even if her
personality was a bit quirky, the Webstalker’s work ethic was well beyond the djinn’s own. She carried
out her orders in a prompt and efficient manner and was far more considerate towards her co-contractors
than 95% of demons would be in her position. She also treated Xera’s beloved Boxxy with the proper
respect and care, and made an active effort not to bother it unless it was absolutely necessary.
“She’ll forgive me once she realizes it was just a harmless prank,” said Xera with a confident tone.
“Heh, maybe she might even ask me for an encore. Probably not though. Anyway! Since we’re stranded
here for the time being, I guess I should go find some orc cocks to entertain myself with until Master
decides to stretch out my whorish pussy. What about you, Ambrosia?”
“I shall remain here should milord wish to return and collect me.”
“Suit yourself. Laters!”
Xera flew off towards the ruins of the Torture Chamber, leaving Ambrosia alone with her thoughts. And
the dryad had much to think about, particularly about how she would have Boxxy make it up to her after
it abandoned her in this dismal place. True, she had already more or less forgiven it, but that didn’t mean
she couldn’t demand some sort of compensation. Having the creature suckle from her teats was a given,
of course, but she felt she had earned the right to be a little greedier this time around.
After all, spring was not too far off, and this was a prime opportunity to secure some… assistance for
the upcoming pollination season.
(201) Not A Chapter Best Girl Poll
Because someone in the comments mentioned it and it seemed like fun. Let me hear your thoughts on
the various potential waifus we've seen so far! Yes, I know the options get a bit freaky further down the
list, but I felt like I needed to pad it out a little.
EDIT: Voting has been closed! The results are as follows:
1. Keira - 17.06%
2. Ambrosia - 15.42%
3. Xera - 15.19%
4. Drea - 10.69%
5. Fizzy - 9.41%
6. Philippa, Goddess of Confusion - 9.26%
7. Carl - 8.58%
8. Zone - 4.76%
9. Kora - 4.63%
10. Rowana - 4.42%
11. Misc - 0.57%
So there you have it, folks. Boxxy's apparently so good at acting that its Facade is popular even with the
readers.
(202) Interlude An Honest Review
Following the Crystal Maiden’s demise, Setre’s disembodied soul lost its anchor to the physical realm
and was pulled into the Beyond. It was by no means a painful or uncomfortable process. In fact, it was
actually somewhat pleasant in a nostalgic way, as the djinn was quite literally coming home for the first
time in decades. And yet, as she passed through the borders of reality, she couldn’t help but feel that
something was amiss.
The source of her discomfort became apparent when she finally arrived in the demonic realm, only to
find herself standing in a familiar office and staring down a familiar face.
“Yo! Welcome back, Setre! Long time no see!”
Sitting behind the desk opposite her was a female devil. She looked more or less human aside from the
typical appearance traits that her kind carried. Things like pink skin, a pair of cute black horns poking
out of her forehead and the complete and total lack of eyes. She wore a long-sleeved dark blue blazer
with a white undershirt, which completely subdued what little cleavage she might have shown
otherwise. Her short brown hair was done in a stylish bob cut that revealed as much of her forehead and
horns as possible. She was also wearing a pair of rimless eyeglasses, which served no purpose other than
to accentuate her lack of eyes.
“Hey, Nina,” responded Setre, who currently appeared as a floating mote of pale blue light. “What’s the
deal with the redirect?”
Typically speaking, demons who were returning from the mortal realm arrived in one of many
designated ‘landing zones’ within the Beyond. Frankly speaking, the djinn never understood the need for
such places in a realm where space and distance were merely suggestions. However, such was the status
quo, and Setre’s soul arriving at her agent’s office in the Demons ‘R’ Us offices was definitely unusual.
“Dunno,” answered the devil with that annoyingly casual tone of hers. “I was told to redirect you, so
here you are.”
“Wonderful… My dungeon master gig is still safe though, right?”
“I’ve not been told to terminate it so yeah, probably. Though I gotta say, with the performance you put
on I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. The ratings for your boss fight are through the roof!
Well, they won’t match the Nagnamor vs Liusolra showdown, but top ten for sure!”
“… What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh. Right. You didn’t know.”

“Know what?”
*Ring-ring*
“Hold on a sec, hun. Gotta take this.”
“Know what?!”
*Click*
“Hey, Carl, how’s it going? … No, I got loads of time.”
Unfortunately for Setre, Nina completely ignored her question and focused her attention on the inbound
call. The djinn’s attempts to get Nina’s attention were immediately shut down by series of hand gestures
that could only be interpreted as ‘would you shut up already.’
“Uh-huh. … Yeah-huh. … Yeah, he’s one of mine, too. … Oh, no shit? Wow, and I thought that first one
was bad! … Alright, I’ll take care of it. Toodles.”
*Click*
“So-”
“Just a sec, hun. I’ll be with you in a minute. And get dressed, will you?”
Nina continued to brush Setre off as she turned her attention towards the console on her desk. Having
nothing better to do, the djinn decided she might as well comply with the devil’s request. She focused
for a bit and brought out her soul-self, granting her the same slim figure and blue belly dancer attire she
would normally have while on the job. Nina glanced at the djinn’s larger than usual bust size, but
refrained from commenting on it this time around.
Nina finished whatever she was doing after about a minute, at which point she put her elbows on the
desk and leaned forward.
“Okay, Setre, here’s the thing. Goroth wants to have a meeting with you and Khurpath, and the
Progenitor will be hosting it.”
“Th-th-the Goddess of Misfortune herself?” asked the djinn in a surprised stutter. “Why? What’s he got
to do with this?”
“Well, you know that Warlock you just fought with? That’s Boxxy, the current Hero of Chaos.”
“O-oh. Uhm. Okay. What?”
“Look, it’ll take too long to explain. Khurpath already borrowed a bunch of recordings so you two can
go over that later. Right now, you have a meeting to attend. Try not to embarrass yourself out there,
m’kay?”
“But I-!”
Setre didn’t even get a chance to collect her thoughts before she was suddenly yanked out of the Beyond
and into Julian’s divine space within the Aether. She found herself seated on a red couch, nestled
between a human-shaped collection of rocks on her left and a gigantic sock puppet on her right. There
was a flash of light overhead and the floating eyeballs of the Gazer demon that worked under her in the
same dungeon appeared out of it.
“Alright!” declared Hyjal with a clap of his bees. “Now that we’re all here, I suppose we should get
started.”
“Mmmm, aren’t you being a bit hasty?” asked Goroth. “Your… people don’t seem to be aware of what’s
going on.”
That was an understatement. Technically speaking, even though they were contracted to him, neither
Setre nor Khurpath had ever personally met the God of Earth. Nor the God of Probability, for that
matter. Being so suddenly brought out here between them naturally left both of them speechless and
frozen with shock. Even if they were Rankers, it was still jarring to meet actual deities face to face like
this. Especially when one of them kept changing every time they blinked. That last bit was especially
bad on the Gazer, as each of his orbiting ocular orbs was picking up a completely different
representation of the God of Fate.
“Yeah alright, fine,” conceded Jeremiah. “Listen up you two, here’s the thing-”
The God of Uncertainty then proceeded to explain that the purpose of this meeting was to analyze the
latest attack on the Palace of the Crystal Maiden. The two demons were summarily informed of Boxxy’s
assault on the Earth God’s other dungeon about half a year ago. It would appear that shapeshifter was
more or less responsible for making the deity reconsider his ‘form before function’ approach. Something
about annihilating a meticulously scripted Jade King encounter in a matter of seconds.
This was enlightening for Setre, as it explained why her dungeon received more changes over the past
three months than it had gotten over the past three centuries.
“-and now that it’s been properly put through its paces, we’re going to see how it held up and help
Goroth here fine-tune the place,” concluded Hubert.
“Hmm, interesting,” said Khurpath. “Is our presence really necessary here for such a thing, though?”
“It is,” confirmed Goroth. “You’ve both faced the invaders in combat, so your perspective will be
valuable.”
“That’s how it is,” said Lulu with a nod of her salmon. “So without further ado, let’s start by examining
Boxxy’s entrance.”
The mass of purple spaghetti with green meatballs stood off the couch and approached a spot that was a
few meters in front of it. He then snapped his breadsticks, and a massive wooden frame popped out of
the pure white floor as if it was a letter in an envelope. It hovered next to the deity, and a recording of
Boxxy and its entourage entering the dungeon began playing in it for everyone to see.
Setre was naturally quite surprised at first, but seeing the images play out in front of her made her realize
what Nina was talking about earlier. If this thing was really the Hero of Chaos, then it would only
natural for its patron deity would keep an eye on it. And being the divine being that he was, the God of
Toss-ups would share that perspective with the rest of the Beyond. It was something he’d tried to pull
several times in the past with limited success. Watching the everyday lives of mortal men and women
was a novel distraction, but one that turned boring and tired really fast.
Yet Nina’s earlier words would suggest that this particular Hero was actually quite popular among
demonkind.
“As you can see here, Setre’s interference proved to be rather key,” explained Mikhail while gesturing at
the floating screen with a puddle. “She forced the invaders to actively ignore her rather than pay
attention to their surroundings, leading to them being caught in the teleportation trap. If it wasn’t for
this, then the dungeon run would’ve went very differently. Yes, what is it, Blinky?”
Morris pointed at Khurpath, who had been wiggling his floating eye stalks as if he were a child asking
permission to speak.
Or rather, that was precisely what the situation was.
“Pardon my interruption, sir, but there should be a dozen more traps like it, at least to my knowledge.
And the ones deeper inside should be better concealed than the first. Surely they would’ve been caught
and separated by at least one of those.”
“Normally you would be correct. In fact, the Archfiend you faced ran into three of them on her way to
the summit. However, this group’s leader is a doppelganger, one that has Ranked Up from being a chest
mimic. It always has a Mana Locator Gland somewhere inside its body to look out for traps. If the first
tele-trap had failed, then it would be on alert against further trickery and likely have been able to avoid
or disarm them.”
“Oh, hoh! So that’s how it was!”
Being the owner of an MLG himself, Khurpath understood quite well how vexing the ambient mana in
that dungeon could be. He had learned to filter out the background noise so it doesn’t confuse or bother
him, but this doppelganger must not have been able to do that. And since it wasn’t looking out for the
trap, it must have failed to spot it in all that ‘white noise.’
“Why couldn’t we just make that a lethal trap?” grumbled Setre. “Just drop the lot into an active volcano
or something.”
“Doing that would defeat the purpose of a dungeon,” answered Goroth. “It is a place to test and temper
mortals, not an execution ground.”
The group then went over the shapeshifter’s passage through the Glacial Gallows, and the bloodbath left
in its wake. Goroth mostly just watched intently while Bogdan narrated. Khurpath butted in from time to
time to clarify a few things, though that was mostly to satisfy his own curiosity. As for Setre, she was
mostly left speechless at just how efficient a killer this Boxxy T. Morningwood was.
It wasn’t long before the scene of the all-too-brief bout between the Mimic and the Alpha Icescale Naga
came up.
“E-excuse me, Goroth?” spoke up Setre.
“Hmm? What is it?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, but how come that thing got a gold-tier item from that encounter? The core’s
Item Allocation should have distributed rewards based on challenge rating, right?”
The harder and more harrowing a fight was, the more likely it would be for the victor to claim a
powerful item appropriate for their Level. Conversely, those who breeze through a dungeon just because
they were overwhelmingly powerful would only get useless junk. Those that were too weak or
challenged it unprepared would typically pay for their hubris or arrogance with their lives. Setre couldn’t
speak for other deities, but she knew for a fact that that was how the Earth God’s dungeons were set up.
“Considering it instagibbed the guardian, there’s no way it should’ve gotten a top tier reward,” she
added.
“You’re right,” said Goroth with a rumbling voice. “Based on the dungeon core’s evaluation of that
encounter, it was originally supposed to get just a wooden chest. However, that creature has a
considerable amount of Luck as part of its Status.”
The Luck (LCK) Attribute had two distinct effects aside from certain Skill interactions. The first was to
ever-so-slightly tip the odds in the holder’s favor. Escaping fatal wounds by a hair’s breath, finding a
penny on the street or winning in a game of dice all became that tiny bit more likely with each point of
LCK. It was nigh-impossible to measure such vague and subtle differences, though, so it was hard to
judge the Attribute’s actual influence on one’s good fortune.
The second and more prominent effect of the LCK Attribute was that it increased the chances of
obtaining higher Quality items. There were a handful of scenarios this applied to, but obtaining treasures
from dungeon chests was the most common one. Therefore, it was entirely plausible that the Hero of
Chaos would have been given a better reward than it deserved purely by virtue of this Attribute.
There was just one problem.
“Sorry, but I’m not buying it,” declared Setre with a dubious look. “Even if Luck comes into play, then
the reward tier should only go up by one grade, two at the most. Yet this one skipped over four of them
and went all the way from wood to gold? That’s just silly.”
“I should point out,” interjected William, “that Boxxy has 259 Luck.”
“… I’m sorry, could you repeat,” said the djinn after a short pause. “I just thought I heard you say-”
“Two. Hundred. Fifty. Nine,” enunciated the tumorous loaf of bread.
Luck was, statistically speaking, the rarest Attribute. Not only was it difficult to find an adventurer that
had it on their Status, but even then they would not have more than 20 or 30 of it. The Priests, Paladins
and Monks that followed the God of Unpredictability would be the exception due to the nature of their
religion, but they’d be hard pressed to reach more than 70 Luck.
And yet the one who invaded Setre’s dungeon had nearly four times that amount.
“O-oh… I see…” she muttered dumbly.
“If you think that’s impressive, wait till you see Boxxy’s pet,” said Derrick in a joyful tone. “That
adorable little thing has over two thousand of it! I didn’t even know such a thing was possible until I saw
it for myself! It’s like a walking singularity of chaos and absurdity, and it is bloody brilliant!”
“Ah. Ahah. Hahahaha…”
The only reaction the djinn could offer to that revelation was a dry, humorless laugh. Even that thing’s
pet was incomprehensible.
“This is the first I hear of this!” roared the God of Earth. “If such an anomaly is allowed to roam free,
then no dungeon is safe!”
“Relax yourself, blockhead,” said Joe dismissively. “The thing I’m talking about is an adorable little
critter that’s a total pacifist. It’s so pathetically weak that it’ll just die from mana poisoning if it enters
any of the more advanced dungeons. It doesn’t matter how game-breakingly lucky it is if a single breath
of air would make it drop dead on the spot.”
“… You’re certain?”
“I am. I’ll talk about that all you want, but later. We should stop getting sidetracked for the time being.”
“Very well. Let’s move onto the next one.”
Next on the list was Xera’s salacious romp through the Torture Chamber. Nobody gathered there was
particularly interested in watching her escapades though, so Charlie just fast-forwarded through it for the
most part.
“A silver chest?” remarked Khurpath at the end of it. “Did that one also have a lot of Luck?”
“No, that one’s actually an error on the dungeon core’s part,” revealed the Earth God. “It seems to have
misjudged the nature of that woman’s - *Ahem!* - actions.”
Simply put, the dungeon core had deemed that ‘surviving a half hour of being raped non-stop in all
holes’ was an ordeal worthy of a silver-tier reward. The fact that it recorded over two hundred individual
instances of ‘stab wounds’ and ‘blunt force trauma’ was also a contributing factor to this evaluation.
Strictly speaking, it was by no means an inaccurate estimate if one were to ignore the succubus-djinn
hybrid’s willingness or her true intentions. And since it was an automated magic tool that operated
entirely on logic, the dungeon core was wholly incapable of comprehending her deviance.
This seemed to be the only such lapse in judgement, though. Boxxy and its group legitimately struggled
to bring down the Crystal Maiden, so they were given a golden chest. The Mimic’s formidable Luck also
made itself known when it bumped a wooden chest up to a silver one upon defeating one of the other
mid-bosses. As for the final reward upon full-clearing the dungeon, that was simply Goroth acting on his
own. All other instances were more or less one-sided stomps and were thus awarded with low-tier items.
All except one.
“And then we come to the rather extraordinary case of Dreaheath Uniolphial Maramakartor,” declared
Timmy. “I’ve taken the liberty of saving the best for last.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask about that Stalker,” said Setre. “When I last checked on her, she was
fighting the Mirror Wraith and was basically at death’s door. Yet she was not only able to win, but also
somehow made it to the Crystal Maiden’s arena in time to interfere with the fight.”
Now that she had somewhat come to terms with the overwhelming absurdity that was Boxxy T.
Morningwood, the djinn was able to properly focus on the meeting. And looking back on that whole
ordeal, couldn’t help but notice how odd that whole thing was.
“I’ve no idea how she actually tripped me up, either,” she continued. “I can understand it if she were a
Ranker, but that very clearly wasn’t the case.”
“Yup, you’re not wrong there,” stated Vinny. “But at the same time, you’re not privy to all the
information. Behold!”
*Snap*
The God of Haphazard Flukes snapped his corks, and the image on the screen switched to a live feed of
Drea.
“Yeeaaaah! Right theeeere! Nnnnnnng!”
*Snap*
And then almost immediately turned it off.
“Well then,” said Jerome amidst the deafening silence. “That’s apparently happening.”
“… Was that a red-haired beastkin performing cunnilingus on a female Stalker covered in ice?” asked
Khurpath.
“That certainly seemed to be the case, didn’t it?” responded the unstable deity. “Let’s just double check
real quick, shall we?”
*Snap*
“Lick me mooooore! Haaaaahn!”
*Snap*
“Yup, there’s no mistaking it,” he concluded with a sagely nod of his bucket. “As expected of a Gazer’s
eyes, your analysis of the situation was spot on.”
“Are all demons this perverted?” asked Goroth while shaking the pile of stones that were probably his
head.
“Nope! Just the ones my Hero enlists!”
“You don’t have to sound so proud of that, Robert.”
“I disagree completely.”
“Wuh- What was the point of showing us something like that?” asked a fiercely blushing Setre.
“Well, I found out that something interesting was going without me realizing it, so that’s a plus,”
answered the God of Chance while staring off into the distance. “Ah, damn! It seems they’re already at
the climax! Well, it’s better than nothing, I suppose…”
“Focus, Metron,” insisted Goroth. “You need to keep in mind some of us Gods have actual duties and
responsibilities to attend to. So stop wasting my time and get on with it!”
“Yeah! Sure! Let’s just ignore the fact that a Webstalker is doing the naughty with a djinn as we speak
despite the overwhelming statistical improbability of such a thing, shall we?!”
“Good. I’m glad you understand.”
Jujube facepalmed rather hard at the Earth God’s self-serving response. Well, it was more of a
spongeapple than a facepalm, but that was besides the point. He wondered if he should try to teach the
dwarven and gnomish population at large to appreciate the art of sarcasm a bit more. Maybe then this
blockhead might actually start getting it as well.
“… Webstalker?” asked Setre amidst the sudden silence.
“You’ll see,” answered Larry. “Just watch.”
*Snap*
The screen turned on once again, this time showing a recording of Drea battling the Mirror Wraith
within the Howling Chasm. This was towards the later stages of the fight, when she was slowly but
surely being overwhelmed. It didn’t take long for the scene to reach its climax, during which she forced
herself to devour the undead being’s essence. Both Setre and Khurpath winced and grimaced as they
watched, as the mere sight of Drea’s desperate tactic almost made them feel ill. The sights and sounds of
her dry heaving, coughing and retching while goopy undeath dribbled out of the corners of her mouth
were quite disgusting, to say the least.
And when it was all over, she collapsed on the ground convulsing and shivering while a golden chest
popped up next to her. There was absolutely no question she’d earned that reward, but it still didn’t
answer how she’d made it to the site of the Crystal Maiden encounter. If anything, the method through
which she achieved victory had left her in an even sorrier state than she was before the fight the started.
And judging by the distant tremors that washed over the otherwise quiet scene, the fight in question had
already been well underway.
Drea moved her head towards the source of that rumbling. The recording’s view angle made it unclear
whether she was able to see the Crystal Maiden from her position, but that probably wasn’t the case
considering it should have been more than a kilometer away. Yet with her gaze fixed on the horizon, she
slowly began to drag herself along the ice while her body continued to protest wildly.
She then suddenly started hacking away at the ice underneath her with what limbs she had left. It took
her a few tries to get proper leverage on it, but she managed to break off a fist-sized chunk of the frozen
lake. She then bit into it, producing a very loud and rather unsettling crunch. She chewed on the ice a
few times to break it up, then swallowed it. She coughed up snowflake-like spittle immediately, but
ignored it and just kept shoving the mana-laden ice into her mouth. Her fervor only seemed to increase
every time the ground shook from the distant battle.
It clearly wasn’t all that pleasant for her, though. Her convulsions only got more intense the more she
ate. Her shaking and trembling got so bad that at one point that she was unable to actually drive either
her claws or her scythes into the ice beneath her. But she didn’t give up, and instead just kept nibbling
and licking at the frozen lake her face was pressed against while also scraping whatever shards or snow
were around her towards her.
Setre was rendered rather speechless by this behavior, as she had no idea what that deluded demon was
trying to accomplish. Was she trying to find sustenance in this stuff? Because that would be idiotic. Even
if Stalkers were omnivores, that didn’t mean the could eat inanimate matter. Nor could they literally eat
the ambient mana that permeated the dungeon like Boxxy or Ambrosia. Maybe she was just trying to
wash the taste of death out of her throat? There’s no way that would work though, as the undead Blight
permeated every frozen droplet in that arena. In fact, that was probably the reason why her condition
was deteriorating.
Oh, maybe she’s trying to kill herself and end her suffering? thought the djinn.
There was no other, rational explanation she could think of. But even then, wasn’t she going about it all
wrong? Surely decapitating herself or something like that would have been quicker and a lot less
painful. She threw a few questioning looks at Khurpath, but he merely rolled his many eyes back at her
in a ‘don’t ask me’ sort of gesture.
*SNAP*
Setre’s hypothesizing came to an abrupt end when the demon’s body on the screen suddenly jumped
with loud noise. The source of this disturbance seemed to have been an ice-like scythe-tipped limb that
had emerged from the Stalker’s back. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say it ripped its way out of
there, if her screams of pain were any indication.
*SNAP*
*CRACK*
*KERSCHLUCK*
*RRIP*
What followed was a disgusting cacophony of meat-y noises while the arachnid demon vocalized her
agony. Her chest ripped itself apart, her skull exploded open and her limbs were ripped apart from the
inside out as her new body parts violently replaced the old ones. The manner of her transformation was
so gruesome that it made both the djinn and the Gazer quite happy that they didn’t have bowels.
This carried on for a solid two minutes before it finally subsided, though Drea was left in a borderline
comatose state by that point. Her body had stopped shaking, and now merely twitched weakly while she
drooled all over the icy ground. It would take a lot more than literally having every nerve ending in her
body being replaced by a new one to fully knock a demon out, though, so she was able to come to her
senses several more seconds.
She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out as if she were a newborn doe and fell back down. She got
back to her feet on the second try, though her stance and posture were both shaky. She wobbled over to
the golden chest and opened it up while breathing heavily. She threw the Artifact-grade belt that popped
out of it around her waist without a second thought, then trudged off towards the vague direction of the
summit before the recording cut out.
“And that, lady and gentlemen, is what a demonic Rank Up in the physical realm usually looks like,”
said Christopher in conclusion.
“That… looked painful.”
“Excellent powers of observation as always, Blinky,” said the God of Misunderstandings with a
bemused tone.
“‘Painful’ was an understatement,” muttered Setre. “I’m just glad my own Rank Up took place in the
Beyond…”
“Ditto,” echoed the Gazer.
“I see,” rumbled Goroth. “So that was a Rank Up, was it? I had no idea what to make of it the first time I
saw it.”
Truthfully speaking, all Rank Ups were like this. That was why monsters and people undergoing the
process were typically left unconscious for extended periods of time. It was just the mind shutting itself
off to avoid the agony of the body’s rapid evolution. A demon’s mind was not something that could be
so easily suppressed though, which meant they got to experience the full brunt of their Rank Up should
they have a physical body at the time.
Unfortunately for Drea, she had neither Kora’s pain tolerance nor Xera’s perversions, so hers was
definitely the most harrowing of the three’s demonic ascendances.
“So there you have it, Rocky,” continued Fred. “If it wasn’t for that event, then the odds of my Hero
overcoming your Crystal Maiden in that bout were effectively one in one thousand, five hundred and-”
“Yes, I get it,” interrupted the God of Earth. “Thank you. Now, shall we discuss what improvements can
be made so invaders do not… circumvent my dungeon designs?”
What followed were hours of discussion whereby two demons and one deity poured over every detail of
the Palace of the Crystal Maiden. The most obvious of the faults was reinforcing the bookshelves in the
Eternal Library so that not even an Archfiend could knock them down. The others were more subtle,
such as adding monsters with ranged attack to the Glacial Gallows or improving air circulation within
the Menagerie to help disperse poisonous clouds.
They would also need to instruct the clone of the Mountain Alraune called Emi to avoid inviting strange
tree women into her chamber. Setre seemed quite enthusiastic about this particular topic. Although she
only saw it briefly, Drea and Xera’s tryst had given her a few ideas she couldn’t wait to experiment with.
Goroth probably wouldn’t mind her having that bit of fun since, all things considered, the djinn had
performed her duties as dungeon master to the best of her abilities.
However, he did reprimand her for sneakily swapping out Boxxy’s reward for clearing the Glacial
Gallows. It may not have been against the terms of her contract, but he was not happy that she gave out
a more valuable item than the one that was originally allotted. The djinn argued back that the gold chest
was the result of a literal lucky break anyway, so her boss was going to get shafted anyway. All she tried
to do was make sure the dungeon invaders had as hard a time as possible getting through the rest of it. If
Boxxy had been given that magic amplifying Artifact as intended, then it would’ve brought down the
Crystal Maiden’s shield much quicker.
Under the circumstances, Goroth had no choice to admit that she had a point, but still insisted that a ‘no
loot tampering’ clause be added to her dungeon master contract.
“I suppose that’s everything for the moment,” declared the Earth God in closing. “I appreciate you
settings this little meeting up, Phoebe.”
“Oh no, no trouble at all,” said the Goddess of Bamboozlement with a wave of her window. “After all, I
apparently have nothing but free time. It’s not like I’m keeping watch so the fabric of the universe
doesn’t suddenly unravel or anything!”
“As for you two,” continued the God of Earth while ignoring his complaints, “I look forward to your
hard work in the future as well.”
The Gazer and the djinn looked at each other in a bout of mutual confusion. ‘Hard work’ was hardly
what they would classify their jobs as. Frankly speaking, it was nothing but downtime. True, they were
limited to the confines of the dungeon, but it was a decent enough playground in and of itself. They
ended up giving Goroth noncommittal responses like ‘sure’ and ‘whatever’ before Lispburger returned
them to the Beyond with a snap of his beetles.
However, it would appear the Earth God had more to say before he returned to his oh-so-important
duties.
“Wendy, I must say that this Hero of yours has me rather worried.”
“Whatever do you mean, blockhead? I thought you were genuinely impressed with Boxxy’s talents.”
“I am, but at the same time that creature is almost too talented. It’s getting stronger at an amazingly
stupid pace, isn’t it? Not even a year old and it can probably stand toe-to-toe with people who have
decades’ worth of combat experience. Surely you realize how dangerous it is to leave such a thing
unchecked.”
“I will admit, it’s growing at a rather ridiculous rate. But it is not as absurd as you make it out to be.
Monsters gain Levels faster than enlightened beings, that’s how it’s always been. And you have to keep
in mind this particular monster has been through more shit than retired adventurers have.”
“Rationalize it however you want. I maintain my stance that you should put a leash on it while you can.
We don’t need another Boneshaper on our hands.”
“Hah! Hahahahahahahahaha!”
Victor broke out into a loud, almost mocking laughter. Goroth was, understandably, none too pleased
about this.
“I fail to see what’s so humorous about the being that single-handedly conquered the continent of
Percepeia and placed Solus in a coma.”
“Ahahahah! Ahahahaha! Ahhhahaha! Ahhh…”
The Goddess of Chaos wiped the paper out of his chalks as her joyful attitude subsided.
“You don’t - Heh! Ahem! That’s not it,” he said, finally. “I’m just not sure which one was funnier - the
insinuation that Boxxy would listen to me, or the implication it’s actually selfless enough to follow in
that guy’s footsteps.”
“… Selfless? What?”
“Ah, nevermind. What I’m trying to say is there is zero chance that the current Hero of Chaos would
succeed in something like continental conquest. The odds of it even attempting such a troublesome thing
are about one in twenty five thousand to begin with.”
“Hmm… You’re certain about this?”
“You have my word.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t put much value in that,” said Goroth in a low rumble. “But I suppose I will
take what I can get. No matter how… questionable your practices are, I believe you would not endorse
an eventuality that might bring harm to Teresa by wiping the bulk of her followers.”
The God of Earth disappeared after uttering those words, leaving the God of Chaos free to return to his
true shape. He say down on the couch, conjured up a box of buttered popcorn and tuned into the Boxxy
Show. He watched with a goofy grin as the creature his divine companion was worried about was
quivering in fear from an inert ‘death ray’ while hiding inside a chest. It was like a small child that was
trying to escape reality by crawling under a blanket.
“And he’s worried about this thing crushing the western continent?” he mused aloud. “That’s just
ridiculous.”
It would have been a completely different story if that Elder Dragon hadn’t moved into the outskirts of
the Horkensaft Kingdom, though.
(203) Not A Chapter Kindle Re Release
Just a small heads up that the copyright issues I had were resolved and that Everybody Loves Large
Chests volume 1 is now once again available for pre-order through Amazon Kindle. It is still set to
release on October 27 which is this fic's first birthday, and encompasses the first three arcs in the series
with some editorial attention to make them less of a train wreck. There are zero changes to the story,
though the lewd scenes were toned down a bit and the internal consistency has been ramped up. Expect
to see an Audible version within two weeks or so of the official release, narrated by Jeff Hays.
For those of you wondering why there have been no updates - I am currently trying to finish the spin-off
Small Chests Are Fine Too, which features Fizzy going through her own Boxxy-less adventure. Updates
to this series will resume when that is over and done with (a few more weeks, hopefully).
Lastly, please enjoy the full artwork for the new cover, courtesy of dmaxcustom. Higher res for the
curious.
(204) Knowledge Is Power 1
Within the depths of the Dryad’s Domain, directly beneath the pulsating dungeon core, there was a flash
of light. The gangly figure of a half-plant half-doppelganger appeared out of thin air, its arms wrapped
around a female spriggan of very generous proportions. The Hylt Creeper immediately released the tree-
woman from the hug, but she continued to cling to it its back while pouting.
“T’was most unkind of you, milord,” complained Ambrosia. “Thou truly art selfish.”
“Yeah, I got a bit carried away,” replied Boxxy. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”
Getting so excited over a shiny like that, it was rather pathetic in retrospect. Yet despite that, the greedy
monster did not regret its actions. Even if it understood that it acted poorly in the grand scheme of
things, some part of it had determined that the mithril chest called the Vessel of Dreams was worth the
dryad’s ire. Then again, Ambrosia wasn’t anywhere as ticked off as it had expected her to be, despite
abandoning her in the middle of a frozen wasteland of a dungeon for almost an entire day.
“Hmm…” let out the spriggan while raising an eyebrow. “Milord is still young, so I suppose indulging
thyself every now and then is to be expected. So, with that in mind, I am willing to overlook this lapse in
thy judgement.”
“I appreciate your consideration.”
Frankly speaking, she didn’t look mad at all. Sure, she had something akin to a scowl on her face and
her tone wasn’t all that pleasant, but Boxxy could tell she was just acting. If anything, her touchy-feely
behavior suggested she was actually quite happy that the shapeshifter went back to pick her up at all.
“However! I will only forgive thee if thy performs a favor for me!” added the plant lady.
“A favor, you say?”
Now this was a surprise. It suddenly became clear why Ambrosia was faking being upset. She probably
wanted to use the Mimic’s actions as an excuse to make it do something on her behalf. This was the first
time the dryad had ever asked for an actual ‘favor,’ which intrigued Boxxy somewhat. There was no
way the ever-curious creature wouldn’t want to know what it was that would drive Ambrosia to act this
way, so it decided to play along for now. Not to mention that calling her out on her bluff, no matter how
transparent it had been, would probably not be a good idea.
“Uh, before we talk about favors or whatever, could you please let go of me?” asked Boxxy. “It’s getting
kind of hard to breathe…”
“Ah! Apologies, milord.”
The spriggan let go of the doppelganger, allowing it to move freely once again. It wasn’t like she was
actually strangling it though. Truthfully speaking the monster felt like it could turn the spriggan into
splinters in an instant if it tried, though she would probably be genuinely upset about that. At the same
time, her embrace was getting quite un-tasty, as those bark-covered hands of hers were hardly
comfortable. Hence why it just opted to ask nicely with a bit of embellishment.
As for the dryad, she looked around the interior of her own trunk for a bit before speaking up again.
“I suppose I should slip into something more comfortable while I am at it.”
Five large leaves suddenly sprouted out of the wooden floor, forcing Boxxy to take a few steps back.
They wrapped themselves around the spriggan, forming a cocoon of vegetation around her. A bright
green light poured out of the gaps between them for a few seconds before they retreated back into the
ground. The spriggan’s lifeless body then collapsed on the spot and started crumbling while the Hylt tree
surrounding the place returned to its usual vibrant appearance. The original all-green Ambrosia then rose
out of the floor, arching her back and stretching her arms as if she had just woken up.
“Ahh… ‘Tis much better!” she exclaimed with a relaxed sigh. “Being able to accompany milord was fun
and all, but that shape was just way too cramped!”
She then suddenly remembered she was supposed to be upset, so she erased the soothing smile from her
lips and adopted a more serious expression.
“Milord. Wilt thou hear mine request?”
“Listening is free,” responded the Mimic.
“Ah… ‘Tis harder to talk about than I thought… Um, doth milord perchance know of what spring means
to the Hylt?”
“… I remember reading something about that, actually. It’s where your flowers are supposed to bloom at
their fullest, right?”
“Indeed, though there is more to it. It’s the time of the year when pollination is most likely to succeed.
That is what I want milord to assist me with.”
A chill ran down Boxxy’s spine, as it suddenly got a very bad feeling about where this ‘favor’ was
headed.
“During our outing, I ran across a remarkable specimen.”
“… Specimen?” asked the shapeshifter dumbly.
“Yes, milord. T’was one of the dungeon’s overseers, a Mountain Alraune. She and I were very…
compatible. I wish to cross-pollinate with one of her kind, but I know not whence they hail from.”
“So your favor… is to find one of those and bring it to you?”
“‘Tis so.”
“Oh, thank all that is shiny!” exclaimed Boxxy with genuine relief in its voice. “For a minute there I
thought you were going to tell me to fertilize you or something.”
As ridiculous as it was, the Mimic could see Ambrosia blurting something like that out. It wasn’t dense
enough not to realize the dryad had grown fond of it for whatever reason. This was definitely a good
thing, as maintaining good relations with what was essentially its home base was of crucial importance.
At the same time, however, it was wary of their relationship becoming more intimate. Boxxy already
had its hands full pretending to care for Rowana as Keira and entertaining Snack’s urges, so it really
didn’t want to waste time and energy on Ambrosia, too.
“… Ah!” exclaimed Ambrosia after a brief moment of silence.

“Ah, crap.”
‘Why didn’t I think of that?!’ was written all over her face. Did she seriously not consider that option? If
Hylt trees could cross-pollinate with plant monsters, then surely Boxxy would be a viable candidate.
Even if it was just a hybrid species.
“No, nevermind,” said the dryad immediately afterwards. “The whole point of cross-pollination is to
absorb the traits of other plants in order to strengthen myself. There would be no merit to doing so with
another of the Hylt, such as milord.”
“Oh.”
“… It is still possible though, if milord wishes it,” she added with a small smile.
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
Boxxy had a sneaking suspicion that the act, whatever it involved, would not be as fruitless as Ambrosia
thought. After all, something like a Hero involving themselves with a dryad’s reproduction cycle was
just the sort of thing the Agent of Chaos Skill liked to blow way out of proportion.
“So. A Mountain Alraune, huh?” said Boxxy, trying to change the topic. “I’m not familiar with that
strain.”
It had heard mention of the flower-like monsters that lived on the southern continent, but its knowledge
on the matter was extremely limited. It had no idea they could even be found on this continent since the
temperate climate supposedly didn’t allow for it, so it didn’t bother studying them too thoroughly. Then
again, Ambrosia said she met one of them in that ice-themed dungeon, so it probably meant this
‘Mountain’ variant was hardy enough to facilitate that.
Speaking of which, wouldn’t waiting around the Palace of the Crystal Maiden for a new guardian to
appear and then kidnapping her be the easiest way to fulfil Ambrosia’s request? No, wait, that wouldn’t
work. Goroth’s note mentioned something about Boxxy being banned from fighting the bosses in his
dungeons. It would appear that, if Boxxy wanted to fulfil Ambrosia’s request, it would need to do so the
hard way. And that was a big ‘if.’
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do,” it declared.
Strictly speaking, there wasn’t much in it for the Mimic personally, so it wanted to avoid wasting its
time with this favor if at all possible.
“If thou finds me a suitable mate, then I swear to give thee a fittingly delicious reward.”
However, Ambrosia had a firm grasp on its personality and new just what to say to get its attention. In
her eyes, Boxxy was the type of child that responded to rewards much better than it did to threats or
punishment. Her hunch was proven correct when the shapeshifter’s attitude made a complete one-eighty
at the mere mention of tasty compensation.
“Delicious reward? Like what?” it asked eagerly.

“Should the cross-pollination succeed, I will be able to augment the flavor of mine fruits and nectar.
Truthfully speaking, it has been too long since the last time I hath done something like this, so their taste
has actually grown a bit stale. However, I am confident that this Mountain Alraune will help them reach
new heights.”
“Alright, I’ll do it!”
Boxxy didn’t give a flying damn about the fruits, but a dryad’s nectar was without a doubt one of the
tastiest things that had ever crossed its tongue. Not to mention that Ambrosia used it liberally in many of
her recipes to great effect. Therefore, the notion of having the fluid that flowed from her bosom to ‘reach
new heights’ was something it wanted to make into a reality.
“I just need to find one by spring, right? It’s still the early stages of winter, so that should give me three
or four months at the least!”
“It is good to see milord so motivated, but please do not sacrifice thine own health for this.”
“… Huh?”
“The… profane object lodged in thy back. Did thou not wish to address it?”
“Oh, right. The soulstone.”
Between looking for Fizzy, conquering a new dungeon and getting excited over new flavors, Boxxy had
very nearly forgotten about the souvenir left over from its death-defying encounter with the Foundation.
The same thing that might yet prove to be an only temporary lease on life. Now wasn’t the time to be
sleeping around in shiny chests and seeking out new taste sensations.
“Ambrosia, I’ll be getting busy now. Will probably head out into town soon.”
“Have a safe trip, milord. I shall then take my leave to tend to mine branches, bark and roots. I suspect
certain vermin may have wriggled their way in during our absence.”
The dryad sank into the ground, allowing Boxxy to concentrate on its Summon Familiar Skill. The pet
demons it left behind in the dungeon had already withered away since they were too far away for the
contract to function, so it had to summon them again. It first began with Snack, who appeared in front of
it after several seconds of channeling and a flash of light. She had her usual provocative outfit,
outrageous proportions and alluring smile. All of which were, in a fit of supreme irony, completely
wasted on the one she wanted to entice the most with them.
“Hello, Master,” she said with a respectful bow. “Did you sleep well in your new bed?”
“Incredibly well, yes.”
“I am glad to hear that. Then could I ask you to stuff my ass full of-”
“Later,” it cut her off. “First I need you to visit Reggie and see what he found out about my soulstone.”
The doppelganger capo was supposedly chasing a promising lead before Boxxy left town, so it was good
to find out what he had uncovered since then.
The djinn took a bow and then left to fulfil her mission while her master got busy calling out the next
familiar. Its MP had already been largely restored thanks to its Hylt Metabolism, so it wasted no time in
summoning Claws. It took a moment to appreciate the webstalker’s newer, shinier countenance. Her ice-
like carapace glistened enticingly under the yellow light of the dungeon core.
“Tktktktkt… H-h-hello, M-Master…”
The extra attention Drea was getting as Boxxy ogled her only made the arachnid demoness fidget that
much more than usual, though her nervous ticks only served to amplify her shininess. Even if they were
minute, the spontaneous movements of her body constantly changed up the angle the light hit her multi-
faceted carapace at. Between her and the mithril treasure chest known as the Vessel of Dreams, Boxxy
felt like it was perhaps a good thing Fizzy wasn’t around right now.
Otherwise it just might have gone comatose from shininess overload.
“Living shinies are the best shinies after all,” it mumbled in a satisfied manner.
Truthfully speaking, it could probably waste hours just staring at her and it wouldn’t regret it a single bit.
In fact, it had already done so multiple times with the absent golem. Even if it had grown somewhat
jaded and accustomed to the allure of gold, these constantly changing visages held a certain brilliance
that no inanimate object could replicate. That was why it was so adamant about reclaiming the former
gnome in the first place, as it could never get tired of it. No statue could ever hope to match her radiance
for long. Even the luster of that chest it got from Goroth would grow dull and tired if given enough time.
Boxxy shook the errant thoughts away and turned its attention back to Claws. There was a time and
place for appreciating shiny things, but right now it needed to focus on the task at hand.
“Claws! Go out and find me someone tasty and deliver them to Ambrosia. I don’t care if it takes all day
or how far you have to go, just get me the highest quality meat around!”
It had been far too long since Boxxy had enjoyed the dryad’s cuisine. It was practically salivating at the
mouth just thinking about it.
“Alright! I won’t let you down, Master!”
The webstalker responded in high spirits, infected by the sheer fervor with which those orders were
delivered. Her body shimmered out of view as she departed the dungeon, leaving Boxxy to consider its
next move. There were two more points of interest it wanted to address, both of which were raised by its
recent demise.
One was the nature of that mysterious pink mana sponge of a gem. It still vividly remembered when it
summoned Arms the first time after its resurrection, and how she coughed up the item in question. This
obviously meant it had some link to the Beyond, as there was no other feasible explanation for that
bizarre event. The fact that it had somehow absorbed and then released the contents of Boxxy’s Storage
was also indicative of some sort of spatial magic at work. It knew from its experiences with the
Transfamiliar Spell that those two aspects produced very interesting results when combined. It therefore
wanted to know more about this gemstone and whether its bizarre properties could be weaponized in
some way.
“Yo, boss! How’s it hanging?”
Which was why it summoned Arms as soon as it could in order to question her. It wasn’t expecting
much, but it was a start.
“Arms, what can you tell me about that shiny you coughed up after the contract was reestablished?”
“Uh, what?”
“I’m talking about this, idiot.”
The doppelganger produced the item in question and held it out for Kora to see.
“Oh! That thing! Yeah, I remember now.”
“So? Can you tell me anything about it that might be useful? Anything at all.”
“Now that you mention it, I guess the summoning that time felt a bit different than usual. I just thought it
was ‘cus you kinda died, and there weren’t any problems after that, so I didn’t worry about it too much.”
“Different how?”
“Well, normally whenever you call me out there’s a ‘Fwooosh!’ that turns into a ‘Eeeeek!’ and then it’s
all ‘Khrrrrrr!’ for a short bit, and then there’s a ‘Bam-bam-bam-DON!’ and I’m here. But that time the
last bit felt more like a ‘Skrrrrrra!’ and then a ‘Pak-kak-kak-POP!’ Know what I mean?”
“… I think I do, actually.”
Boxxy was, surprisingly enough, indeed able to make sense of the archfiend’s abstract noises, gestures
and facial expressions. Maybe it was a side effect of being temporarily fused with her during the Malefic
Union, or perhaps it was due to the clarity of mind the Mimic experienced following that extremely
satisfying nap. Whatever the case, it was able to attach meaning to what would otherwise be the
nonsense of a moron that was literally born to be thick-headed.
What Arms was trying to say was that some external force had interfered in the latter stages of the
summoning process. And considering the fact that a certain pink gem had been lodged in her throat
when she appeared, the culprit was rather obvious. Did the item somehow hijack the demon’s entry into
the physical realm in order to transport itself? That would certainly explain its appearance, though it
raised far more questions than it answered.
“… Arms? What’re you doing?”

When Boxxy next turned its attention to the archfiend, it found her staring at the magical shiny thing in
its hand. Her attention was so fixated on the thing, that she didn’t even respond to it calling out to her.
Intrigued by this odd behavior, the shapeshifter moved the gemstone around. Up, down, left, right -
wherever the jewel went, her gaze silently followed. It was strangely entertaining, but it had other things
to do.
“Arms!” it called out once more, this time using the thought-link to yell directly into her mind.
“Huh?! Wha?!” responded the shocked archfiend as she shifted her gaze towards Boxxy.
“Why are you suddenly so obsessed with my shiny?”
“Uh, sorry boss. It’s just that, I never realized it before, but that pink thing is kind of pretty, isn’t it?”
‘Kind of pretty’ was certainly one way of putting it. If Boxxy had to be blunt, the item was without a
doubt the shiniest gem in its entire collection, which was mostly due to its exotic coloring and
exceptional clarity. Arms’s sudden interest in it was quite baffling, though, as it was rather absurd for a
demonic entity to bother with material things. Perhaps it was due to whatever demonic magics this thing
inhabited? Or maybe a side effect of having this thing interfere with her summoning that one time?
“Damn, the questions just keep increasing don’t they?” it grumbled.
“Master, forgive me for intruding on your conversation,” butted in Xera, “but may I point something
out?”
She had been able to listen in on the latter part of Boxxy and Kora’s discussion, as the pair had moved
from verbal to telepathic communication without really realizing it. Then again, the Mimic had spent so
much time conversing exclusively with thoughts that it found telepathy to be more natural than
speaking. Especially when it came to orderings its demons around. All things considered, the fact that it
had used its voice at all in the first place was actually kind of weird.
“What is it, Snack?”
“I’m not sure what you were talking about, but I wouldn’t take anything that moron says too seriously. If
it’s about that square gemstone you got from whatshisface the Ranger, then the pink color probably just
reminded her of a virgin pussy or something.”
“Oh yeah, it kinda does, actually!” exclaimed Kora.
“See what I mean? She’s so thick that it’s a wonder she’s even able to speak.”
“Hey! I may not be as smart as the boss, but I’m not going to be an idiot forever!”
“Yeah, right. Leave the miracles to the gods, sweetie.”
“Laugh all you want, but you’ll see! I actually met a guy that- Oh, shit! Boss, I almost forgot!”
“What is it now?” responded Boxxy in a slightly annoyed tone.

“You still need a dungeon master for your base, right? You could contract a ranker to fill that spot!”
Boxxy had to admit, that wasn’t a terrible idea. If Goroth could have a djinn as his dungeon’s manager,
then surely a Hero could do the same. The only reason it hadn’t tried before was that it wasn’t even
aware that was a thing that could happen until it saw it with its own eyes.
“Would anyone actually accept that deal, though?” asked Xera. “Even if the Master is exceptional, I
don’t think any demon would take on the job of tending to its hoard. No matter how important any of us
think it is, it’s still a rather dull undertaking if you think about it.”
Snack raised a very valid point there, actually. Generally speaking, the demons’ interest in the physical
realm was purely for entertainment purposes. A dungeon master position, for example, would let them
boss around the dungeon’s monsters while also having fun with any intruders. Boxxy’s place, however,
would ideally have none of those things. The only thing a dungeon master would have to do in this place
was to sit still and maybe talk with the dryad every now and then. They wouldn’t even be able to tune
into Gilligan’s broadcasts of Boxxy’s adventures if they weren’t in the Beyond, so there was actually a
net loss of fun.
“Actually, I already got a guy who’s willing to do it,” revealed Kora. “His name is Khurpath Sordazzurr,
he’s the gazer demon I fought in the dungeon. He said he’s curious about me, my master and our
potential and that he’d like to keep a closer eye on us. He’s also super smart, so he can probably teach us
things. Maybe he even knows something about this pussy-gem!”
Boxxy carefully considered the fiend’s suggestion, as it was very likely this idea was given to her by the
gazer demon in question. It was certainly an attractive proposition, as information was the one thing that
the Mimic was currently in need of. Not only about the mysterious arcane gemstone and the soulstone
that may or may not be keeping it alive, but also regarding the flower monsters Ambrosia wanted to
pollinate with.
At the same time, it was wary of putting its trust in a demon’s words, as it had no idea how strict a
dungeon master contract would be compared to a familiar’s. Not to mention it was unclear what sort of
agenda this Khurpath guy might have if he was really volunteering for the position. It may have lucked
out by contracting a pair of simpletons like Snack and Arms in its infancy, but elder demons needed to
be handled with a lot more care.
“I’ll keep the offer in mind,” it declared. “For the time being, I want Arms to remain here and assist
Ambrosia with anything she may need. Claws and Snack - you two focus on your orders and report back
as soon as you have any news developments.”
Each demon responded with affirmative answers, though Kora was obviously not enthusiastic about her
duties. Boxxy ignored her unspoken complaints and got ready to head out into the city of Azurvale. It
wanted to see if it could find out more about Mountain Alraune at any of the adventuring guilds of the
Central Consortium. It wanted to avoid turning to unknown demonic entities for answers until it had
exhausted all other options.
However, since Keira was still supposed to be out on her private mission with the Sandman as her
escort, it had to adopt an entirely new identity. This was a good opportunity, so it decided to infiltrate a
new adventurer organization as a rookie member. And since it was already a Warlock, then the
Maleficium was the most obvious choice. Alternatively it could try to enroll in Broken Mirror, which
dealt with more reputable Caster Jobs, but that would mean starting from scratch as a Level 1 Wizard or
a Pyromancer. It had an open Job slot, but that wasn’t the issue here.
It was about its cover. Rather than a throwaway identity, it wanted to set up a low-key Facade that could
be used repeatedly without drawing any attention. A total newbie going through the building’s archives
and records looking for a very specific monster was sure to raise some eyebrows. It was therefore better
to act as someone who was relatively new, but not completely green. Such people could be seen all the
time in the Consortium’s library, so such a front would be far less suspicious. Not to mention that said
library was on the same floor as the Maleficium’s offices, so this setup was rather convenient to say the
least.
The doppelganger therefore began forging its third Facade. Unlike Keira or the Sandman, this one would
need to be far more boring and mundane, so doing so was rather easy. The monster shapeshifted into a
lanky-looking male elf in his early twenties. He wore a thick, black robe intended to shield him from the
winter cold rather than amplify his magic. His green hair was oily and unkempt, he was perpetually
hunched over and his personality would be that of a reserved, quiet bloke who wasn’t very good at
socializing. A completely stereotypical bookworm, no matter how one looked at him.
As for the identity of this new dramatis personae, Boxxy would play the part of one Bate Enswich, an elf
born and raised within the Empire. He faced a certain amount of prejudice during his upbringing, so he
was never quite comfortable over there. He finally made up his mind to move to the Republic following
the whole war business, though it took him some time to organize the funds to do so. A completely
reasonable and, more importantly, believable turn of events given the current political climate.
Having established a baseline for the new Facade’s background, Boxxy began to consider what to put on
its Status via Essence Concealment. A Level 20-something Warlock and member of the Empire’s Order
of the Black Wand was a good place to start as any. The young mister Enswich would also have the
Demonology Skill, which solidified his thirst for knowledge and-
Nope, that wouldn’t do at all, actually. Adventurers such as Warlocks and Monster Tamers were required
by law to register any and all magical creatures under their command with their guild. That way the
records could be used to easily identify the culprit should said subordinate be used to commit a crime via
proxy, so it was by no means an unreasonable requirement.
The problem was that the registration process involved a Basic Appraisal check to note the bound
creatures’ names and species. And since Boxxy’s Essence Concealment didn’t extend to its servants, it
wouldn’t be able to mask its subordinates’ identities. It would therefore show up as a Level 20 Warlock
with one or more Ranked Up demons under his control. Such a thing was sure to set off all kinds of
alarms, making the Facade of ‘Bate Enswich’ completely flawed from the start.
It would appear the monster would need to use a different means of infiltrating the Maleficium.
“Snack, where are you right now?”
“I am still en route to Reggie’s bank, Master. I should arrive shortly.”
“Good. I need your advice on something before you enter the building. I want to get inside the Central
Consortium’s library to check a few things out, but I can’t think of a good cover to use.”
“Ah. I see. It’s still too early for Keira to be back from her trip, and masquerading as a new adventurer
would be troublesome.”
“Exactly.”
As expected of Snack, her head may be filled with nothing but lewd thoughts, but her skills at
infiltration and deception were first rate. She immediately understood Boxxy’s dilemma without it
having to say anything. She probably even knew about the bureaucracy involved as well, as the practice
of cataloguing familiars was the standard across the continent.
“Pardon my ignorance, Master, but why not just visit the library as a civilian?”
“… Huh?”
“The Consortium’s library is still open to the general public, right? All Keira’s membership does is make
it free and let her see some more sensitive materials. And if that doesn’t work, you can always get a
consultation or put in a Quest.”
“Oh… Oh! Right! Yes! Of course!”
Boxxy was so caught up in its own bullshittery that it failed to grasp this painfully obvious solution.
Doing things under the guise of a random citizen was much simpler and faster than crafting a full-
fledged Facade. The monster had been so used to thinking up complicated schemes and elaborate stories
that it didn’t even consider there was a normal, proper way to go about things. And if it ever needed
sensitive information that badly in the future, then nobody in their right mind would think to deny or
question Keira.
“Good work, Snack.”
“You are most welcome, Master. In fact, I can swing by on the way back from Reggie’s place and look
up whatever it is you want to know. I’ll even make that old fart hand over some gold. That way it won’t
even cost you anything and you can just keep taking it easy.”
Boxxy had to admit, that was a very tasty proposition. It just went to show how useful a servant could be
once properly motivated. Speaking of which, it would probably be a good idea if it took care of Snack’s
needs sometime soon. She had done an exemplary job during the raid on the Palace of the Crystal
Maiden, and even managed to present it with a Prismatic Cloak. It was just the kind of helpful attitude it
wanted to reinforce.
“Alright, let’s do that then,” it consented.
“Understood, Master. What is it you were planning to investigate?”
“I want to know about Mountain Alraune. I made a deal with Ambrosia to bring her one of those by
spring, so I need to know where and how I can get one.”
“Oh! Well, you’re in luck, Master!” exclaimed Xera. “I happen to know exactly where you can find
those!”
It would appear that the ex-succubus was full of surprises today.
She would also be full of bigger, harder, and more numerous things once Boxxy got around to giving her
that extra-special reward, but that would come a bit later.
Xera confidently strode towards the Namhel Brothers Bank main office. Her attire for today was one of
an upper-class human lady wearing an extravagant coat who carried herself with dignity. Today she had
decided to play the part of a foreign big-shot here to drop in on ‘an old friend.’ It was hardly
conspicuous as Reginald Namhel, despite being secretly a doppelganger crime boss, was sure to have all
kinds of connections. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was because of the man’s true nature
that such connections existed in the first place.
Regardless, the djinn would not find it difficult to arrange a face-to-face with the affluent banker despite
wearing an unfamiliar face. The guy had a private network of shapeshifters under his command, so he
was unlikely to decline a meeting with a stranger who suddenly showed up. It could have been one of
his agents with an urgent report, after all.
Once inside the bank, she pulled one of the guards aside and arranged to have herself escorted to
Reggie’s office. Once there, she couldn’t help but notice the new secretary, an elven woman with eye-
catchingly vibrant blue hair and rather thick eye glasses. It would appear the boss was busy right now, so
the two of them exchanged pleasantries and made inconsequential small talk while Xera waited. When
the time came, the ex-succubus finally entered Reggie’s official place of business.
“Ah, yes, do come in!” said the old-man-looking monster as he walked up to greet her. “To what do I
owe the pleasure, Ms Knightley?”
Xera wasted no time and spoke the moment she shut the door behind her.
“Would you kindly tell me what your agents found out about soulstones, old boy?”
Reggie’s eyes glazed over and his pleasant expression turned dreadfully neutral. He returned to his desk,
sat down behind it, and reached under it, likely to pull up a file or folder with his findings. The motions
were very stiff and somewhat unnatural, but Xera didn’t think too much of his behavior. She was already
familiar with it, as this was hardly the first time she’d taken advantage of the brainwashed monster.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who had done so.
Rather than reaching into a drawer, Reggie instead flipped a hidden switch on the underside of his desk.
This caused the carpet beneath his visitor to light up in a circled hexagram pattern, with demonic runes
written within in all six of its points. Xera immediately recognized this formation, as it was something
her Master had practiced on for its Demonology Skill. She moved to get away, but hit an shimmering
purple wall that hadn’t been there before.
Her reaction had been too slow, leaving her caught in a Seal of Demonic Binding. Just as the name
suggested, it was a trap designed to hold demonic entities like her. It not only imprisoned her, but made
it impossible to use magic as well. She tried calling out to her Master, but that triggered a secondary
inscription, one in the shape of an octagon , which lit up around the initial one with a crimson glow.
Meaning this was actually a Seal of Greater Demonic Binding, which had the added effect of
interfering with her inherent demonic abilities. Such as the ability to telepathically communicate with
her Master.
The djinn placed a hand on the shimmering barrier’s inner side and began pushing. Even if her body was
feeble, the bountiful chaotic energies her body was made out of should have been enough to help her
break this thing. Unfortunately, it felt like pushing against a cliff. The only thing Xera’s efforts had done
was cause her shapeshifting to come undone and reveal her voluptuous and blue-skinned real self.
Whoever had put this up had poured a ridiculous amount of mana into it to be able to contain one of
Boxxy’s familiars this thoroughly. Must have been rich, too, as the reagents required to prepare a Seal of
Greater Demonic Binding were neither cheap nor easy to come by.
After considering the time, place and resources involved, the ex-succubus could think of only one culprit
that could stage all this.
“Foundation of the Founding Father, was it?” she said loudly.
The door to the office and two hidden passages Xera wasn’t aware of all burst open at the same time. A
number of individuals wearing red and black hooded robes swarmed into the office, all of them pointing
their staves at the demon in the middle. It would appear this Seal wasn’t the work of one individual, but
an entire team of magic users pooling their energies. No wonder it was so tough. As for Reggie, he just
sort of kept sitting behind his desk in a spaced out manner.
*Clap Clap Clap*
A man different from the others stepped forward while doing a slow clap. His face was obscured by a
mask and his body was clad in some sort of dark gray sneaking suit. His silhouette was definitely that of
a male adventurer, an elf judging by the pointy ears poking out of the sides of his head.
“Jolly good guess,” he said in a somewhat mocking tone. “It is good to see you still have your wits about
you, Xerabadada- Xerabadabudo- Ahem! Let’s just stick with Xera, shall we?”
The demoness glared at the man so hard that one would think she was trying to melt his face off with a
mystical eye beam of some kind.
“It… is you, isn’t it?” said her captor while rubbing his masked chin. “Well, your coloration and face are
the same as the last time I saw you, so it’s close enough I think.”
Xera kept staring daggers into him with her arms crossed, but didn’t utter any words.
“Don’t try to remember me, we’ve never met face-to-face,” explained the masked elf. “I have seen you
fight beside the Sandman during the war, though, so I’m quite certain it’s you. Just as I’m certain you
are- or perhaps I should say were the same succubus that once served Tol-Saroth himself.”
The djinn’s eyes opened wide. She had a very bad feeling about what was to happen, so she decided
enough was enough and reached up to grab her own horns.
“Shadowbind!”
However, the magic casters gathered there used a synchronized Spell on her at the sudden movement.
Chains forged out of pure darkness wrapped around the demoness, binding her legs and arms tightly
against her body and preventing any extraneous movement. Now unable to commit suicide by snapping
her own neck, the weakened demon could do little but fall to the ground.
“Fuck!” she cursed. “You shitheads have another thing coming if you think I’m going to betray my
Master to join your shitty club!”
“Such fierce loyalty from a demon! As expected of the Sandman’s familiar! Or perhaps I should call him
Boxxy T. Morningwood, eh?”
“What kind of idiotic name is that? My Master would never stand for being given such a shameful
label!”
“You don’t need to try so hard, demon. We recovered some data from that facility your owner put on ice.
We know for a fact that they killed, revived and imprisoned a doppelganger variant named Boxxy T.
Morningwood, who they identified as the same mercenary calling himself the Sandman!”
Technically speaking it was the rumor mill that gave the shapeshifter that nickname, but Xera wasn’t
about to start correcting them. Divulging any information under these circumstances was bad, no matter
how small, insignificant, or false it seemed to be. Insults were another matter entirely, of course.
“We thought he’d fled the country since he hadn’t shown himself since,” continued the elf. “That’s when
we noticed our resident pet monster troupe had been looking into soulstones. Now why do you suppose
he would be doing that, eh?”
Once the Foundation had caught wind of this, it didn’t take them long to determine Boxxy had
‘befriended’ Reggie. They couldn’t get the details out of him since he had been ‘kindly asked’ to forget
them. However, using various eyewitness accounts and written records, they were still able to determine
that a mysterious woman had visited him during the times he had no memories of. Knowing the
Sandman’s careful personality, they determined he wouldn’t dare show up in person to such a potentially
dangerous place. He, or rather ‘it,’ was undoubtedly using its shapeshifting familiar as an intermediary,
so the Foundation quickly and quietly prepared a trap to catch her.
The djinn, who was struggling to piece this chain of events within her rotten head, quizzically raised an
eyebrow at her captor.
“You actually found out about our little side project?”
“Of course! Did you honestly think an organization such as mine wouldn’t be keeping an eye on our
investment?”
“A little,” she shrugged within her bindings. “I mean you guys made a bunch of really stupid mistakes
recently.”
“Well, first of all, your pet project over there got my master killed. Then you lot were stupid enough to
revive it, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of trained personnel and what I can only assume is a fuck-
ton of resources. I’ve seen goblin villages with more foresight than you retards.”
“You were dealing with another department of the Foundation. You will not find us such easy prey.”
“Oh, really? Is that why you’ve spent the last while monologuing instead of running for your pathetic
lives?”
The demon’s shit-eating grin made a chill run down the elf leader’s spine, prompting him to immediately
turn to his colleagues.
“Secure her restraints and ready the portal. We’re leaving before her Master catches wind of us.”
“It’s a bit too late for that, spooky,” called out Xera with a chuckle. “Oh! Also, there’s one more mistake
you filthy twigs made. None of you are covering the window.”
Something more akin to a shimmer rather than a shadow flew into the office the instant she said that by
crashing through the window directly behind the comatose-like Reggie. There were a series of loud
slashing and gnashing noises as the ‘something’ cut a swath through the room. Three of the magic
Casters were eviscerated and the runes inscribed beneath the carpet were torn up at nearly the exact
same time. The weakened Seal of Greater Demonic Binding was then forcibly dispersed and Xera’s head
was effortlessly separated from the rest of her body.
This all happened so quickly and seemingly with a single motion, making it impossible even for the
trained operatives to react in time. Daggers were thrown and Spells were chanted at the barely visible
intruder, but they only struck air as the ghost-like presence retreated almost as suddenly as it had
appeared. The only things it left behind were a wrecked office, a trio of heavily injured elves and a few
stray strands of webbing attached to the busted up windowsill.
“Damn, he got us!” cursed the elven leader as he took in the suddenly silent surroundings.
“Sir! Project Lighthouse!” called out one of the subordinates.
The elves had only now realized that their assailant had done more than prevented them from capturing
the sluttiest of the Sandman’s familiars. He or she had also nabbed the doppelganger posing as Reginald
Namhel on the way out, depriving them of an extremely valuable resource.
“Shit! He really got us! Grab the injured and get us out of here! We need to leave before the big guy
decides to show up personally!”
This lot were no match for a monster of Boxxy’s caliber, and they were completely aware of that. That
was why they had opted to go after its familiar in the first place. The Wizards in the group therefore
wasted no time as they opened up a Gate Spell on the floor. The strike team then jumped into the portal,
retreating to an undisclosed location to lick their wounds with their tails between their legs, leaving the
mess for the proper authorities to clean up.
“Master, I got Reggie! I dosed him with my paralytic venom, so he shouldn’t be waking up anytime
soon.”
“Great work, Claws. Bring him to the dungeon, but make extra double-triple-mega sure you’re not
followed.”
“Hehehe! I won’t let you down, Master!”
Things were understandably a lot more upbeat on the Mimic’s side of things. Drea was practically giddy,
not only because she got praised, but because it felt good to finally use her Venomous Sting Skill for its
intended purpose. As for how she had arrived at the scene in such a timely manner, that was because
Xera had noticed the new ‘secretary’ was acting oddly and notified Boxxy something was amiss. The
Mimic then somewhat regretfully pulled Claws away from getting the ‘groceries’ and ordered her to
back up its Snack at Reggie’s place.
The djinn’s suspicions were confirmed when she suddenly went silent and her Status became
inaccessible. Luckily she was able to stall those guys long enough to allow the webstalker to arrive on
the scene and ‘free’ her. It was a tasty outcome to be sure, but the overall situation was anything but.
Boxxy decided it needed to get the details on what happened to its familiar from the demon in question
as soon as possible, so it did something a little bit out of the ordinary.
555-69-26999-2378-24378
*Ring Ring*
*Click*
“He-hello? This is Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila. May I ask to whom I am speaking?”
“… Snack?”
Boxxy was sure it had ‘dialed’ the soul number right, and the voice certainly sounded like its minion,
but that strangely humble way of speaking was completely unlike her. Then again, there were tens of
thousands of succubi in the Beyond, and this was its first time trying out this mode of communication.
Maybe it messed up somehow and connected to one of Snack’s sisters?
“Ah! Master! You actually called!”
That voice of pure joy was also a bit odd, but it would appear that the shapeshifter had reached the right
demon after all.
“Oh, wow! I never thought you’d actually- Wait, why are you calling me up directly? N-n-not that I
mind or anything…”
Under normal circumstances, if Boxxy wanted to talk to Xera and she wasn’t around, then it would just
summon her. That was why it hadn’t bothered with this ‘soul number’ business before. However, the
current situation was anything but normal. The Mimic was currently under the guise of Random Old
Man B and in public. It wasn’t the place to be performing a demonic summoning and it didn’t want to
waste too much time on looking for a suitable place. Not when it had been attacked so directly.
“Nevermind that. What happened at Reggie’s place?”
“R-right! Well, you see, Master-”
The extra-dimensional pervert briefly but clearly described what had gone down in that office just
minutes ago.
“They were trying to capture you?” exclaimed Boxxy once she was done explaining. “You?”
“That is indeed the case, Master.”
Subduing and imprisoning a demon was normally quite challenging since they almost always fought to
the death, but physically weak ones like Xera were easier to handle. A set of mana-draining shackles
coupled with some demonic suppression runes and rituals were more than capable of keeping someone
like her in check. As something of an expert on all things demon, Boxxy was well aware of the
possibility.
“But why, though?”
It just failed to grasp what sort of reason anyone would have to want to catch a contracted demon this
badly.
“I suspect they were going to use me to get to you.”
“… You sure about that? I mean you may be tasty, but you’re extremely disposable. I’d discard you in a
heartbeat if that would save my skin.”
“Master’s flattery is appreciated, but misinformed. If I am completely cut off from you and adequately
restrained, then I cannot escape to the Beyond, be it through forced dismissal or suicide. This puts us
both in a very dangerous position. If you will recall, the Republic government confiscated a certain
weapon from Teresa’s Hero.”
“… That cursed warhammer!”
The item in question was a carrier of the somewhat infamous Demonbane enchantment, which had the
power to permanently destroy a demon. And since Snack was Boxxy’s familiar, then the shapeshifter
was bound by contract to protect her immortal soul from harm. Failure to do so would therefore result in
the monster’s termination, regardless of the circumstances. The Foundation would therefore be able to
effectively hold the djinn hostage, as her fate would be tied with her Master’s.
Well, either that or smite her down on the spot and eliminate the Sandman by proxy, but that clearly
hadn’t been their intention. Otherwise they would’ve brought that weapon with them.
“This is something I did not consider,” admitted Boxxy.
“You hear stories like that from time to time here in the Beyond, Master. It’s not exactly common, but it
has been known to happen.”
“Really, now? Then Carl should be able to do something about this, right?”
If this was a known issue, then Demons ‘R’ Us would surely have come up with some sort of
countermeasure to it. After all, even if the contract allowed them to blame the perma-death of a demon
on his or her summoner, they would much rather avoid such a thing happening in the first place. Which
was precisely why Boxxy abruptly hung up on Xera, much to her delight, and rang up Carl without
further delay.
“I see, so that’s how it was,” said the gruff-voiced devil after hearing the situation. “We do indeed have
something to help with that. We call it amendment SD-04 around the office. If I apply this additional
clause to your contracts, then your familiars will be able to abandon their physical bodies and return to
the Beyond at their own discretion.”
Boxxy finally allowed itself to breathe a sigh of relief. If Snack, Arms and Claws weren’t forced to rely
on the Mimic’s orders to retreat into their home realm, then the situation that transpired earlier would not
be a problem anymore.
“That’s good. Can you do that for me as soon as possible?”
“I can, but before I do, I’m contractually obligated to warn you that ‘at their discretion’ is a fancy way of
saying ‘any time they want.’ The reason SD-04 isn’t a standard part of the contract is because it’s open
to abuse. It allows a familiar to abandon their contractor in the middle of combat, while traversing
dangerous environments, or any number of other precarious and potentially lethal situations. And there’s
no order you can give them than can stop them from doing so. Do you understand everything I’ve just
told you?”
“Yes. Hrn… Unfortunately.”
This detail left a sour taste in the back of the Mimic’s throat. Well, it was either this, or that puppy it ate
earlier. Either way, it couldn’t be completely happy about this ‘addendum SD-04’ or whatever due to the
potential for malicious abuse. Even if its relationship with its bound demons was monumentally more
amicable than the average Warlock, it still did not allow itself to trust them completely. It wasn’t
anything personal, though. It was just that, as a monster, Boxxy was incapable of truly trusting anyone
with the means and opportunity to stab it in the back.
“So, should I add the amendment to your contracts?” asked Carl, interrupting the Mimic’s brooding.
“I have a few more questions first, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Go right ahead, buddy.”

“Can you do that while the demon is ‘out?’”
“Nope. The familiar needs to be present at the Demons ‘R’ Us office in the Beyond for any contract
amendments to be made.”
Boxxy pretty much knew this already, but it wanted to be sure that calling Carl the next time there was
trouble and requesting a last-minute addition to the contract was not an option.
“Then, can you revoke the clause later?”
“Any time! Er, so long as they’re on this side of reality, I mean.”
At the very least it seemed like Boxxy had the ability to retract the ‘privilege’ once the immediate threat
had been dealt with. Whether it would actually do so was another question entirely, but it was important
to know what its options were.
“Alright, let’s do it. Update Snack’s contract with this SD-04 right away. I’ll send Arms and Claws over
a little later, okay?”
“Hey, I’m in no rush, so whenever’s good for me. Y’know, just so long as ‘whenever’ comes before
‘oops my familiar’s soul got wiped out.’”
“Right. Thanks, Carl.”
“Sure thing, Boxxy. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else. Wait a second before you go,
though. Something came in for you a little while ago while we were talking.”
“It did? What is it?”
“Just gimme a sec here…”
*Takaka-taktak-tatatak-katakatak-taktak*
Boxxy T. Morningwood has undertaken a Quest: Purge the Order of the Black Wand.
It would appear that the Mimic had been given its first task as a Mortimer’s part-time Hero.
Purge the Order of the Black Wand

There is a guild of dark magic users based in the Lodrak Empire who have condoned,
coddled and protected practitioners of necromancy for decades. They have ignored multiple
warnings to cease and desist, and the final ultimatum given to them by the Church of the
Dead has expired. Eliminate the corrupt leadership and all sinners within their ranks to
serve as a warning to others.
Difficulty: Yes
Time Limit: Before year’s end
Reward: The forgiveness of Teresa, Goddess of Truth and Justice
Progress: 0/135
And it was a big one.
Boxxy was chesting patiently outside a jail cell. Much like the rest of the Dryad’s Domain, this chamber
as well had an overwhelming ‘tree’ theme to it. The ‘door’ was made out of various Ironbark spikes that
jutted out of the frame and overlapped each other at random angles rather than a metal grate. The
interior was all made out of wood, bark and leaves, and a bioluminescent flower of some kind bathed the
chamber in a serene blue light.
It was a space monitored by the dungeon’s Prison Management module, which made sure that those
trapped inside remained that way for as long as feasibly possible. This included emergency healing
magic should they get hurt or attempt suicide, as well as maintaining a magical field that helped stymie
the onset of hunger and dehydration. It couldn’t produce food or water out of thin air, but all things
considered it was rather fancy and comfortable as far as prison cells went. Not even basic inn
accommodation was this nice.
However, no matter how relatively luxurious it was, it was still a place to hold living things prisoner.
Such as a very special ‘comrade’ of Boxxy’s who was, unfortunately, currently unavailable.
“Claws? You sure you didn’t get carried away and use too much poison?”
“F-fairly sure, Master. Why do you ask?”
“Because Reggie still isn’t waking up.”
It had been over three hours ever since Drea captured the brainwashed doppelganger mob boss. The
paralytic toxin released by her original subspecies’ racial Skill should have worn off after only thirty
minutes at most. Yet the older monster remained as unresponsive as ever while within the prison area of
Boxxy’s personal dungeon. Granted, this had given the ex-mimic plenty of time to adequately reward
Snack for her performance over the last few days, but the captive’s continued silence was a problem.
“Should I come back to base, then?” offered the stalker.
“No. You wouldn’t be able to do anything even if you did.”
The Mimic had tried several restorative alchemical products, as well as the Purge Spell courtesy of its
first familiar’s Pyromancer Job, but nothing seemed to work. It also tried zapping the thing with the
same Stun Stick he had tried to once use on Keira in an effort to jolt him awake. It was deliciously ironic
to be sure, but all it did was make the shapeshifter revert to his base form. Needless to say, a spider-
demon who was only good for webbing up, slicing up and eating people was not going to be helpful in
any way, shape or form. Besides, Claws had her own assignment to fulfil.
“Just focus on finding my dinner. And be quick about it.”
“Y-yes, Master…”
Strictly speaking though, all that amounted to was Boxxy poking and prodding what might as well be a
corpse. It had no idea how to help Reggie snap out of his unresponsive state. Of course, it wasn’t trying
to do so out of some sense of responsibility or feelings of camaraderie. It just wanted, among other
things, the information the once-banker had gathered on soulstones. Unfortunately, such a thing would
be inside his head, and getting at it in his current state was problematic.
Not even Snack’s Dreamweaver was proving useful, as Reggie was not so much asleep or unconscious
as he was just staring off into the infinite void without moving or saying anything. Boxxy also
considered killing him on the spot and absorbing the corpse with the Broken Reflection Skill,
but immediately gave up on that idea. Doppelgangers in their base forms didn’t have a singular organ
that could be identified as a heart, and as such their corpses would not make viable targets for that Skill.
But even if it could use it, Boxxy would likely avoid doing so unless absolutely necessary. There was no
telling whether absorbing a mind addled by magical drugs would result in unintended consequences or
side effects.
Those were undoubtedly the cause of the elder ‘ganger’s comatose-ish state. Getting rid of their
influence was going to be rather difficult, too. The prolonged exposure of Attitude Adjuster had caused
the substance to became as much a part of his body as his own ichor-like blood. This meant that using
regular means and ways of detoxing him, such as all-purpose antidotes or cleansing magic, were not
effective.
Then what about a more irregular method?
“Ambrosia!” shouted Boxxy. “Are you here?!”
“I am always here, milord,” said the dryad as she rose out of the dungeon’s floor. “Thou needs not yell.”
“Sorry. Anyway, could you please prepare a pool of your Waters of Life?”
That stuff was way more potent than any healing magic or potion that the Mimic had ever seen. And it
had seen a lot of those during the war. It was honestly a shame it couldn’t be brought out of the unique
environment that was a Hylt tree’s mana-saturated trunk. Otherwise Boxxy could probably make a
killing selling the borderline miraculous stuff. If such a thing could not cure Reggie’s condition, then
nothing would.
“Why? Is milord injured?”
“No, it’s for our guest over there.”
The chest-shaped monster’s lid flew open and a tentacle pointed towards the prison cell where its
‘patient’ was. The tree-woman peered inside to see a human-sized doppelganger in its natural form, laid
out on a cot made of wood with leaf-based bedding.
“Ah. One of milord’s playmates?”

“Yeah, something like that.”
“Very well. Thy request is a simple one, so I shall oblige.”
A tub of timber rose up from the floor as per the dryad’s will, and a small waterfall of green liquid fell
into it from somewhere overhead. It took all but a few seconds to completely fill the vessel. Boxxy
thanked Ambrosia for her help and retrieved the unresponsive Reggie from his cell. It brought the elder
shapeshifter to the tank of rejuvenating fluid and dunked him into it.
Several tense seconds passed while the Waters of Life bubbled and stirred, but sure enough a four-
fingered hand covered by gnarled black skin erupted from it. The rest of Reggie followed immediately
afterwards as he leapt out of it, scattering the magical liquid everywhere. He flew through the air and
landed several meters away, frantically taking in his surroundings.
“… Where is this place? And how did I get here?”
As one might expect, he had quite a few questions after waking up in a vast cavern surrounded by bark
with nothing for company but a vibrant green woman and a plain-looking treasure chest. Surprisingly
enough, that last one was the most interesting bit of scenery around. It was far too mundane. Aside from
the pair of perfectly round yellow eyes that seemed to gleam out of the box’s barely open lid, of course.
“You’re Boxxy, aren’t you?” he asked in a somewhat expectant manner.
“Yes, I am..”
“Figured,” said the old ‘ganger while relaxing his stance. “You’re the only being I know absurd enough
to be standing side-by-side with a dryad as if you were somehow equals. Ah, do forgive me for intruding
upon your splendid interior, madam,” he offered with an impeccable bow that oozed class despite his
monstrous appearance.
“My! Milord’s playmate is quite courteous,” she remarked with a light smile.
“May I inquire as to milady’s noble name? I know of Sabatia, Alderis and Roseris, but your beauty does
not match any of them.”
“Thou may call me, Ambrosia, young one. And what might thy name be?”
“… I never really had one of my own. I suppose I’m just a nobody now, aren’t I?”
“Well, ‘nobody,’ I’m afraid I must leave to attend to certain matters. However, I would appreciate it if
thou played nice with milord in my absence.”
“Of course.”
The dryad then sank into the floor, leaving the two doppelgangers to keep each other company. The first
to break the silence was Reggie.
“Excuse me for a moment, I have some things I need to work through.”

Now that the truly dangerous entity was not around anymore - at least not physically - the shapeshifter
dropped all pretense of being calm, collected and polite. What flowed out of him was cursing, screaming
and yelling in a fit of rage. He kicked at the walls and slammed his forehead against the floor over and
over. He even changed his head back to that of his banker persona, only to rip it off, throw it on the
ground and stomp on it viciously enough to splatter it all over the place.
Reggie was, for lack of a better term, actively trying to kill the side of him that embodied everything the
Foundation put him through. The sheer animosity and hostility he gave off while engaging in this self-
destructive act was the first time in years he’d been able to unleash his more monstrous nature. And, as
was befitting of a volatile and violent existence like that, he showed absolutely no mercy while kicking
his own ass.
This carried on for a solid half hour before he finally calmed down enough to engage in rational
conversation. However, it was quite clear the anger simmering within him had not even come close to
being sated.
“So. You got a dryad to call you ‘milord,’ did you?” he finally spoke to Boxxy.
“Long story,” it replied. “What about you? You seemed to know a lot about them.”
“Please, youngling. How long do you think I’ve been in this town? Truthfully speaking, many of the
major players in the Republic know the dryads are there, they just keep it under wraps. Wouldn’t want
the sheep knowing they live amongst a dozen demigods who could wipe them out in an instant if they so
chose to.”
“Ah. I guess that does makes sense. People around here have a habit of hiding away from realities like
those.”
“Tell me about it…”
“What about the other ones you mentioned?” asked Boxxy. “Sabatia, Alderis and Roseris?”
“Oh, I’ve only met the one called Roseris myself, and only briefly. The others are either hibernating or
extremely antisocial. You would know all this if you actually tried visiting the rest of Azurvale’s dryads
though. I’m honestly a bit shocked you haven’t done that yet.”
“Yeah, I’m not too keen to invade an immortal plant lady’s insides without a plan.”
Admittedly Boxxy didn’t really have one when it first confronted Ambrosia, but it wasn’t quite aware
what sort of powers it was messing with back then.
“You made that sound quite rude,” noted Reggie.
“I know, realized it the moment I said it.”
“You need to watch your tongue better. From what I gather, dryads respond well to flattery and good
manners, but comments like that could get you killed. I honestly have no idea how an upstart like you
managed to earn the favor of one. Seriously though, how come this Ambrosia’s so nice to you?”
“Not entirely sure. I think some motherly instinct is making her treat me like a surrogate child.”
It made sense in an odd sort of way. After all, Boxxy became a Hylt Creeper while in her care, so it was
possible she felt some sort of familial bond with it. And since dryads were born out of the Goddess that
best personified ‘mother nature,’ they placed a great deal of importance on such things. Even though
they were technically monsters.
“I don’t really understand it,” continued the junior shapeshifter, “but it makes her happy to spoil me with
tasty things, so I am not complaining.”
“Tch. You got all the luck, huh?”
“The good and the bad, yeah. Sort of comes with the Hero of Chaos gig, I suppose. What about you,
though? How much do you remember?”
“Everything,” was the immediate answer. “I’m still piecing it all together, but yeah, it’s all coming back
to me. How those elves captured me, tortured me… Broke me. About how they used me and my kind to
fund their own private projects behind the government’s back. About how you tried to do the same.
Thanks for that, by the way.”
“To be fair, you did try to get me killed by sending me after the fake Jones Alexis, so I’d say we’re even.
Actually no, not ‘tried.’ You succeeded.”
“Wait, what?”
Boxxy stepped out of its preferred chest shape, returning to its base form. It turned around and showed
the deep crimson-colored gemstone that was still fused to its back.
“Oh, so that’s how it went,” exclaimed Reggie. “Those idiots went and resurrected you, did they?”
“Yup.”
“Then you standing here and now must mean you killed every last one of them as payback, right?”
“Yup.”
“Even Malon?”
“Hero of Death got to him before I could.”
“Did he now? That’s a shame. I was hoping he died horribly. What about that bitch Honoka?”
“I shover her own arm down her throat, then ate her. Got her pet wardrobe, too.”
“That’s good. Shame I didn’t get to rip them apart myself, but I doubt they died peacefully if you were
the one doing it. Well, at least I understand why you suddenly wanted that soulstone info. Also explains
why you bothered to cure me. Or leave me alive, for that matter.”
“That’s only part of it,” claimed Boxxy, much to Reggie’s surprise. “The Foundation is still aiming for
me, which is a problem. One I doubt I can properly deal with by myself. However, you’re the owner of
an underground syndicate of shapeshifters and spies.”
“Former owner. Those assholes are probably dismantling my operation as we speak. Granted, it
wouldn’t have grown as large as it had without their help, but-”
“-but they have no idea how it all actually works, right?”
“… No. No they don’t, actually. They just used me as a go-between and never bothered to ask me for
specific details concerning the organization’s inner workings, sleeper cells or ongoing operations. Heh, I
even put some contingency plans in place should I ever disappear without warning or notice that they’re
probably unaware of.”
“Sounds like you could salvage a good chunk of your criminal empire if you wanted to.”
“Oh, I see. So that’s what you’re getting at. You want me and my agents to keep the Foundation busy so
you can live peacefully.”
“Something like that, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get involved. You remember our initial
arrangement?”
Boxxy would be the ‘muscle,’ and Reggie would be the ‘eyes and ears.’ It was a basic ‘you scratch my
back I scratch yours’ sort of deal between two monsters using each other for their own purposes.
“Come off it. You seriously expect me to believe you’d just let someone who knows your secret identity
run free?” asked the elder shapeshifter.
“Please. As if you’d ever go to the authorities with this. Nobody would believe you even if you did.”
There were a number of high-ranking witnesses that could vouch Keira and the Sandman were separate
entities. Not only in the military and adventuring communities, but the Slyth family as well. They would
all vouch for the nation’s beloved Hero without a second thought. Even the loony bins that thought up
ridiculous conspiracy theories for a living would find it hard to believe the perky catgirl and the ‘Demon
Whisperer’ were one and the same. In fact, Boxxy’s primary Facade was so secure by this point that
nothing short of Keira openly revealing her true nature would compromise it in any meaningful way.
“Okay, you got a point there. Goddamned easy-mode Hero bullshit,” grumbled Reggie under his breath.
“Anyway, why would you even bother helping me?”
“Because we share a common goal. If you’re even half as spiteful as I am, you won’t be satisfied until
you see those guys dead, beaten and humiliated.”
There were very few things Boxxy could trust even a little, and one of those was that monsters were
extremely partial to revenge. Anything they saw as cruelty upon themselves they would want to return a
hundredfold. Granted, a creature with at least half a brain wouldn’t bother tackling the impossible on a
whim like that, but Reggie’s wounds ran too deep for him to just skip town and save his own hide. It
would barely be much of a bother even if he did, though, as the Mimic wouldn’t really lose out on
anything in this situation.
“It’s us versus them,” it added. “We gain to lose much if we get in each other’s way and may miss
crucial opportunities to strike back if we ignore each other. However, we only stand to profit if we
cooperate.”
The best possible outcome would have the Foundation dismantled, exposed, or otherwise disabled.
Absolute worst case scenario, aside from the threat of re-death, would include Keira’s Facade being torn
down. If that were to happen, then Boxxy would retreat to the Dryad’s Domain without a second
thought. It would then gather the most valuable of its shinies and transport itself to Goroth’s dungeon to
start anew in dwarven lands.
Strictly speaking, the Mimic would probably be safer for a time if it did that right now, but it wanted to
at least try to maintain the tasty life it had only just finished rebuilding.
“I guess that’s one way of looking at things,” mused Reggie. “I wouldn’t mind that sort of arrangement
at all, though you’ll forgive me if I’d rather we avoid face-to-face meetings in the future. For both our
sakes.”
“Fair enough.”
“I suppose since I’ll be taking you up on that offer I should at least give you the good news. Your
soulstone - it shrinking in size is nothing to worry about. Apparently it’s just being, uh, ‘digested’ by
your body. Or, something like that. You just have to make sure it doesn’t get completely shattered or
ripped out of you until it goes away on its own. Otherwise you’d die. Again.”
“Oh? You sure that’s all there is to it?”
Frankly speaking, Boxxy was expecting to have to somehow have to maintain the profane object
tethering its soul to its body. ‘Waiting around until it went away’ was almost too straightforward of a
solution.
“Fairly certain,” claimed Reggie. “I only got a chance to skim the report so I don’t remember the exact
details, but that’s what my agents found out about a week ago. This information came from some
‘confidential’ archives from a major guild south of the border, so for what it’s worth, I’m quite confident
it’s legitimate.”
“… That guild wouldn’t have to be the Order of the Black Wand, would it?”
“It is, actually. Why do you ask?”
“I may have some business with them in the near future.”
Boxxy was still considering whether it would even attempt the Quest it had received earlier. The time
limit made it so it had a little over a month to go scour the Empire and take out over a hundred targets.
At least it wouldn’t need to spend too much time looking for them, as they would appear as tiny red dots
within its vision whenever it activated Eyes of the Dead God. The problem was that it wasn’t sure
whether it could cover that much ground in that little time. The Quest reward being so immaterial was
quite disappointing as well.
Then again, this was only the first of Mortimer’s tasks. The Gods loved to test mortals all the time, so it
was possible the God of Death was treating this as a sort of trial to see if Boxxy was up to his Hero of
Death standards. This was all guesswork though, so the pragmatic monster didn’t want to commit to
anything based on mere speculation.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll go pay them a visit after all.”
But now that Reggie had revealed what he knew and where he learned it from, the Mimic judged it was
worth it after all. Even if it wasn’t a test that would lead to tastier and/or shinier things, taking this Quest
seriously would let it confirm whether Reggie’s claims were true. Verification was the highest form of
trust, after all. Being officially taken off of Teresa’s shit-list was definitely not a bad thing, either.
“You sure your public side can afford to be away from the capital for so long?” asked the older ‘ganger.
“It’ll be fine. Keira’s currently off on a ‘private adventure’ into the Kingdom of Horkensaft. She can
afford to stay away for another month or so without people around her getting worried.”
This was partly because Rowana, her parents, as well as the two VIPs that ‘broke’ Keira out of the
Foundation base knew the Sandman was keeping watch over her. It was highly unlikely any of them
would share that private information after what the catgirl had supposedly gone through. Admittedly the
adventurers among them had a ruthless side to them, but they were all good-natured people that cared
for their friends and family first and foremost.
It was almost a shame that they had unwittingly put their trust in the wrong ‘people.’
“Well, if you say so. You know your Facade best, after all,” said Reggie with a Shrug. “However, I
should warn you that my guys heard some disturbing things while they over there. The Inquisition is
cracking down hard on all the major players in the Empire, and that guild is no exception. Not to
mention that they say the Hero of Death is slated to pay them a visit pretty soon. I wouldn’t tangle with
that lizard if I were you.”
“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the warning.”
“Don’t mention it. Wouldn’t want my ‘partner’ to disappear because of some bumbling humans with a
hard-on for truth and justice or whatever.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. What about you? Will you be fine here without me? It’ll be some time before I
come back here.”
“That’s fine. You should probably lay low until the Foundation heat dies down anyway. I’ll be doing the
same while I reconnect with the rest of my crew. Ah, I’ll make a personal request to Keira Morgana
through her guild when I have something for you. You’ll know it’s me if you get a Quest from someone
named ‘G. O. Welles’ talking about frozen peas.”
“Noted. If that’s everything, then I should start planning for my trip.”

“Indeed. I need to get going myself but, uh, mind pointing me to the exit?”
“Right, gimme a sec. I’ll have one of my familiars show you the way.”
Claws was still looking for a suitable meal donor, while Arms was busy helping Ambrosia out with
some ‘pest problem’ in the old sewers her roots had broken into. This meant Snack was the only viable
candidate left, so Boxxy called out to her through the thought-link. The djinn appeared next to her
Master shortly afterwards via the dungeon core’s Nexus Access function. She then collapsed on the
ground moaning, mewling, twitching, and with various dried up fluids all over her.
It would appear she hadn’t quite regained the use of her lower body after Boxxy’s extra special reward.
“This is Snack, I believe you’ve met,” said the Mimic. “She’ll show you the way out once she’s…
done.”
“Ah. I see.”
Reggie let out an automatic affirmative response, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the creature
wallowing on the ground. Much like the junior doppelganger and the rest of his species, he too was
utterly deprived of any sort of a sex drive. He still felt the urge to reproduce whenever he saw pregnant
women, but that was due to the nature of his species. There was nothing lecherous or particularly
pleasurable about the act, either. Yet his vast life experience made it so there was no doubt in his mind
exactly what the ex-succubus was going through, and all the nonsensical implications that followed.
Reggie wasn’t ultimately all that bothered by this turn of events, though.
“Greetings, miss Snack. I will be in your care for a little while.”
“Hyeeeesh ~?!”
He had already decided bothersome things like common sense didn’t apply to the thing named Boxxy T.
Morningwood.
Remy Cromwell entered the room and sat into his puffy chair with a groan. He massaged his stiff right
shoulder with one hand while gripping a glass of imported wine in the other. He glanced towards the
windows to his messy and poorly decorated office, noting the pitch black sky that awaited him outside.
He grimaced when he realized how late it had gotten. He had just spent several hours entertaining his
guests, which was a polite way of saying ‘driving off a bunch of nosy assholes.’ A time-consuming and
stressful process to be sure.
He then shivered lightly at the gust of cold air and fresh white powder that came through the open
window. Even if winters here in the Empire were significantly milder than those in the Republic, it still
got cold enough to snow during this time of year. Not enough for it to pile up and become a problem, but
just enough to bother the joints of aging men like himself. Frankly speaking that damned window should
not have been left open at all, but his well-meaning assistant had recently acquired the habit of ‘airing
out the musty old office.’
Not wishing to suffer the chill any longer, Remy somewhat reluctantly got off his chair and shut the
window closed. He then turned to the fireplace in the room casually hurled a Wizard’s Firebolt Spell at
it. The magical projectile seemed like a pale imitation of a Fireball, which wasn’t too far off the mark.
Fireballs and Firebolts were almost identical, but with two key differences - the latter flew significantly
faster, and more importantly they didn’t erupt into a blaze when they struck something. Just the right
thing to get a cozy fire without burning down half the building.
Remy sat in front of the now crackling fireplace and took a sip of his drink, letting the combination of
the two calm him down.
*BANG BANG BANG*
“Mister Cromwell! I have urgent news!”
His moment of relaxation didn’t last long, though, as there was a fierce knocking on his door,
accompanied by an all too familiar voice. Remy let off a tired sigh as he set his glass down on the
nearby table. He then got up and opened the door to find a raven-haired young woman wearing a heavy
robe and a worried expression on her face.
“What is it, Grace?” he asked in a clearly peeved manner.
“Ah, forgive me for interrupting you,” she apologized hurriedly, “but dire news just came in from up
north!”
“Everything is dire news these days, isn’t it?” grumbled the older gentleman as he scratched his chestnut
brown hair. “What is it? Did those Inquisition bastards accost another of our members on a whim,
again?”
Just because they were doing their Goddess’s bidding or whatever didn’t give them the right to do as
they pleased. Like earlier this evening, when they barged in here and demanded the release of the guild’s
records without even bothering to acquire the proper warrants. Acts like that showed how little they
knew of how the world worked. Divine duty or not, this grand Empire had laws and due processes for a
reason. Those upstarts had to respect the rules of the nation they lived in first, and only then worry about
serving any sort of other power. Of course they’d be turned away if they randomly started waving their
righteousness around as if it gave them any sort of authority over others.
“N-no, sir! This is serious!” insisted Grace as she held up a piece of paper in front of her boss. “This is a
list of our people who have gone missing or were found dead in their homes over the past ten days!”
“What?! Let me see that!” he said while snatching the list out of her hand. “… Nineteen in total? Are
you sure this is accurate?”
His assistant didn’t answer though. All she could do was stare nervously at him while awkwardly
jerking her head at the document. Remy turned his gaze back to the list in his hands and, after actually
reading through it, made a rather troubling realization.
“I recognize these names,” he muttered. “Aren’t these all Taboo holders?”
Grace nodded erratically with a quivering lip. It would appear she had made certain conclusions based
on this trend, which he immediately moved to dispel.
“Calm yourself, girl. I can assure you this has nothing to do with those fanatics at the Church of the
Dead. They’ve been making the same threats and ultimatums for years now, but nothing has happened.
Their recent bout of barking isn’t any different. I’d say this is the work of someone using them as a
smoke screen to kill law-abiding citizens rather than Mortimer’s grim reaper.”
Even if certain Gods considered the practices carried out by a specific subset of the Order of the Black
Wand as ‘unethical’ or ‘heretical,’ they were not against the Empire’s laws. The country was not a
theocracy, meaning that government should really take precedent over religion. Not to mention that if
any deity could claim jurisdiction upon human lands, then that would surely be Teresa and not
Mortimer. Admittedly Cromwell wasn’t the most pious of her followers, but he was the head of an
organization that managed over a thousand magic wielders. His loyalties lied with the emperor first, the
guild second, himself and his family third, and the world’s self-serving deities were a distant fourth.
“Are… Are you sure, guild master?”
“Nobody can be absolutely sure of anything, my dear,” he responded cryptically, “but it’s far more likely
that the one doing this is a vigilante rather than a chosen one of the gods.”
“Vigilante? You mean like that Demon Tamer guy in the Republic?”
The Sandman’s infamy as an extremely capable Warlock had spread beyond the borders of the elven
nation. Especially after the clash of the two Overlords during Armageddon Day, which more or less
marked the end of the war. That particular event had caused rumors to spread that the masked mercenary
was somehow able to direct one of the most powerful beings in existence. There was no way a guild like
the Order of the Black Wand, which dealt with the ‘darker’ side of magic, would fail to take notice of
such a thing.
“It might as well could be him, given that this is happening so close to their border,” said Cromwell
while scratching his chin. “Until we get to the bottom of this, however, we have a responsibility to our
guildmates. Compile a list of all active Taboo holders and gather what guild officials are present for an
emergency meeting. I’ll be down in a bit so we can discuss how to tackle this.”
“Yes, sir!”
Grace promptly left the office to carry out her duties, allowing Remy to shut the door behind her. He
walked over to his desk and drank the rest of his wine in a single go. He then turned to face a seemingly
empty corner of the room and spoke to it.
“Alright, come on out. And you really need to stop setting off my alarms on purpose, you’re gonna get
yourself burnt to a crisp if you keep doing that.”
The towering figure of a brown-scaled raptor clad in a leather bodysuit and wearing a white skull-mask
appeared out of seemingly thin air. He also had a hooded semi-transparent cloak with ever-shifting
colors draped over his back. It was an exceptionally flamboyant garment entirely at odds with the one
wearing it, so it was only natural Remy’s attention would be drawn to it.
“A Prismatic Cloak?” he noted with a raised eyebrow. “Since when do you need one of those?”
“Ssssince my lassst hit took a heavier toll on me than expected,” hissed Accatau in response.
Even if the one standing in front of Cromwell wasn’t actually the Hero of Death, that statement was not
entirely removed from the truth. Unlike the real deal, however, Boxxy did not have access to the
Obfuscate Skill. It was a high-Level Rogue technique that allowed one to slip through magical detection
measures, such as anti-intrusion enchantments or a mimic’s MLG. The shapeshifter had gained
awareness of this ability back when it first absorbed the body of Mortimer’s chosen, but did not possess
anything that could replicate the effects. It therefore had no choice but to willingly trip the place’s
magical security measures with the intent to take Cromwell down hard.
Thankfully, it would seem that wasn’t necessary in this instance, as the guild master acted like he was
personally familiar with the original Accatau. Boxxy therefore decided to roll with it for the time being.
“I assume you’re here because of this?” he asked as he tapped the list of victims on his desk.
“Why elssse?”
“What, don’t tell me you’re going back on our deal!? I already paid up for next year!”
Now the Mimic was finally able to start connecting the dots. It would appear that the Order of the Black
Wand had avoided Mortimer’s executioner by buying him off. The greedy lizard-man was without a
doubt the type of person who would put personal gain before his divine duties. The only question was
how come his patron allowed such a thing to happen. Then again, this was the God of Death and
Commerce, so perhaps he wasn’t entirely against mortals repenting for their crimes with their wallets.
This was all mostly conjecture though, so Boxxy’s on-the-spot conclusions regarding this ‘sin tax’ could
have been entirely wrong. They were also completely irrelevant. Whatever deal this man had with the
previous Hero of Death was now null and void, he just didn’t know that yet. The Mimic would’ve liked
to get a slice of that pie too, but that would be difficult under these circumstances.
Difficult, but not impossible.
“Thissss isn’t my doing,” it lied. “However, I am willing to help you find this impossstor. For a price, of
coursssse.”
“So it’s about money after all, is it?”
Remy sighed deeply as he practically collapsed into an armchair. He had to admit, he did not want to let
go of those Taboo holders, as the exorbitant membership fees he forced upon them were a good source
of revenue for the guild. Not to mention there were certain highly profitable Quests that demanded a
Necromancer’s unique skillset or a Hexcraft user’s intimate knowledge of curses. All strictly legal
undertakings that had gone through the proper channels, of course. Regardless of what those Inquisition
upstarts seemed to to think, the Order of the Black Wand was a legitimate place of business. Well, aside
from the whole bribery thing, but every other major guild was doing it too. It was just how things were
over here.
Cromwell had unfortunately failed to realize that said casual corruption was precisely what the
Inquisition was trying to put an end to. That, and also investigating any possible links between the guild
and the former spymaster, Edward Allen. Even as a fugitive, that man still had way too much influence,
so it was important to be vigilant.
“Alright, fine,” declared the guild master after thinking things over. “You find and stop the one
responsible for ruining my investments. Only then will we talk gold.”
“Eeksssselent! Then could I trouble you to share a copy of that list of potential victims?”
“Do you, now?”
That line made Cromwell start having doubts regarding this Accatau’s identity. That should not have
been information the world’s supposedly best assassin would ask for so openly. On the other hand, their
previous interactions were limited to a few choice words and gold changing hands, so he was hardly in a
position to judge him based on personality. But that uncharacteristic entrance and the odd sense of dread
he felt whenever he looked at the brown-scaled lizard gave a distinct feeling of something being out of
place.
“… ?”
The guild master did not have to consider these suspicions for long, though, as he soon found himself
physically unable to rise from his seat. His entire body had gone completely numb seemingly all at once,
and his efforts to shout for help were proven to be fruitless. Only his eyes responded his commands, but
even his vision grew blurry as some foreign substance took hold of him. With his last bit of strength he
glanced towards the empty glass in his hand, realizing he had been affected by a powerful paralytic
poison.
His visitor then got closer and leaned in, placing a scaly hand on the man’s head. Cromwell was a
prisoner inside his own body at this point and could do nothing to resist as he was effortlessly picked up
and thrown face-first into the ground. Boxxy then stabbed at the nape of his neck, inserting a clawed
finger deep into it. It deposited a worm-like Puppet Parasite inside, which easily took control of the
immobilized guild master. Even if the high-Level magic user’s mind was relatively more formidable
against magical domination than most people, Boxxy’s Mental Fortitude (MNT) was not to be
underestimated. In the end, the Puppet Parasite succesfully hijacked the human’s nervous system
without much issue, cutting his consciousness off from the rest of him.
The doppelganger then fed the man a dose anti-venom, instantly curing him of Drea’s demonic venom.
The meat-doll rose up from the floor, nodded at its ‘parent,’ and then left the room in order to carry out
its mission. As for Boxxy, it began rooting through the busy office in search of information relating to
the guild’s operations or item stores. It was just too bad it wasn’t able to play along with the human until
it secured additional funds for its ‘services.’ The Mimic already knew the charade couldn’t last though.
It knew very little of the deceased Hero’s mannerisms, way of thinking or personal history, so its cover
was doomed to fail from the start. The only reason it was even in that form in the first place was so that
the dearly departed Accatau would take the blame for its handiwork on the off chance that a witness
escaped.
And its insurance policy had worked out, though not in the way it would’ve hoped. It wasn’t going to
complain about it, though, as it managed to avoid open combat and causing a huge fuss. Doing things
quietly was preferable, as this was the the Lodrak Empire’s royal capital, otherwise known as the city of
Oshinas. The Inquisition were everywhere and there was no telling what sort of dangerous people were
lurking around. Something like openly attacking a guild master in his own office was a dangerous
undertaking, as it would surely attract the wrong kind of attention.
Though perhaps the Mimic was doing things too quietly. The Quest said something about sending a
warning to other mortals, but would the message get across if they didn’t know for sure who was
responsible? It had been going around ‘dressed’ as Accatau just in case it was seen, but perhaps it might
have been better if it allowed itself to be spotted a few times. Much like the Mercenary Guild Quests it
did in its infancy, the customer would not be pleased if their task was completed in a way that defeated
the purpose behind it.
Now wasn’t the right time for that, though. It needed to gather information before it went full hog on the
Order’s ranks. Strictly speaking, even though it got through twenty five of its targets - that list the girl
Grace brought was missing a few names - there were far too many of them. They were all spread
throughout the Empire’s territory and possibly beyond, so getting to all of them within the time limit was
going to be difficult. It would’ve been outright impossible if not for the monster’s ability to cover great
distances with Transfamiliar.
The Quest would’ve been a cakewalk if not for that unreasonable time limit. The Eyes of the Dead God
highlighted all of its distant targets as shimmering spots on the horizon, but the Skill could only provide
the monster with a direction. Without knowing which ones were the farthest and which ones were the
closest, planning an optimal route between so many points was impossible. It may have gotten rid of a
good chunk of them up north, but that was only because a group of eight of them were working together.
And as far as the Mimic could tell, the rest of them were significantly more spread out.
There was a way around this, of course. Initially the Mimic had thought to ‘borrow’ the records of all its
targets from the guild. Using that it could plan its route, not to mention it would know all their Jobs,
Levels and Skills in advance, allowing it to devise efficient takedown routines for most of them. That
was why it had arrived here to begin with. But, as it listened to the urgent report, it got a better idea. One
that would be impossible without Cromwell’s involuntary cooperation.
This being a guild headquarters in the Empire’s capital, it was only to be expected security would be
tight. Boxxy had a lot of trouble breaking in, and still managed to trip a number of silent alarms, as
Remy himself attested to. The Mimic wasn’t worried, as it was confident it could take the man if it came
to combat, as he wasn’t even an Ultimate Skill user. Having the one in charge not be the most powerful
one felt rather backwards to Boxxy as a monster, but it understood why things were this way. It was also
thankful for that, as controlling the man would’ve been much more difficult otherwise. But now that it
had gained dominance over him, it could easily bypass the various identity-verifying enchantments
around the place. Something that wouldn’t have been possible if it personally tried impersonating the
guild master.
Even then, it didn’t have a lot of time to work with. Puppet Parasite was a Skill that lasted for only
fourteen minutes - two for each Level of the Skill. The Mimic had a very limited time frame to make
things happen, so it continued rummaging around the man’s office while being careful not to make a
huge mess of the place. It found very little of use, however. There was a ledger containing some
potentially incriminating information and a collection of four enchanted keys, but that was it. The
drought was only to be expected, though. A guild master’s office was hardly the best place to keep truly
valuable items and records, as it was the first place a thief would look.
Which was partly why it had sent out its meat puppet, and also why it was glad it returned safely with
the list it needed. On it were the names, Jobs, Levels and last known locations of all the guild’s Taboo
holders. It was everything the monster could’ve wanted, except that there were a lot more names on it
than expected. However, it already knew which ones to look for - the Necromancers. There were
precisely one hundred and thirty four of them on that list, matching up perfectly with the Quest’s count
once it factored in the final target - the guild master himself.
There was one small hitch, though. The counter in its head was currently reading a Progress of 25/133.
Wasn’t the total 135 just a few days ago? It scanned the glowing spots in its vision as it stared beyond
the walls of the office, and it noticed that two of them had indeed gone missing without its involvement.
Did they get taken out by a monster, perhaps? Or did they repent, amend their ways and rid themselves
of their Taboo, thus taking them off Mortimer’s shit-list? Either way, it would appear the Quest was
updating itself in real time, which was rather convenient to say the least. Boxxy certainly wasn’t going
to complain about its job getting easier.
However, it still had two more things to do before it set out. It telepathically ordered the Puppet Parasite
to steer Cromwell’s body over to his desk. The man, still locked inside his own mind and unable to stop
himself, then took out a piece of parchment and began writing down instructions. Once done, he finished
it off by saying he was leaving on some urgent business to make certain arrangements to counteract this
intruder, and that he would be back within a week.
The message was placed inside a special envelope and sealed with the guild master’s ring, magically
imprinting his identity upon the document, legitimizing it. Humans were a species that kept each other in
check through power and authority - they would not readily question orders from a higher power, even if
they were relayed second-hand. They would eventually catch onto the ruse, but it would already be far
too late to stop Boxxy’s plan.
With that out of the way, Boxxy grabbed the man’s head and, after putting a good bit of strength into its
arms, snapped his neck. The twenty sixth victim fell to the ground, motionless, with the now orphaned
Puppet Parasite leaving his neck and dying with a few futile twitches. The body was picked up and
thrown into the monster’s Storage, after which it used Transfamiliar to depart the guild’s head office.
The djinn that appeared in its place had only just enough time to smile to herself before she disappeared
back to the Beyond.
The doppelganger found itself standing inside a barn, about a dozen kilometers outside the city. The
cows here were already killed and eaten not leaving even blood behind. Not only to satiate the monster’s
considerable hunger, but also because they were noisy and annoying. One would think they’d never seen
a murderous magic-wielding monster before with how much noise they were making.
Once it had gotten reoriented, Boxxy took out Cromwell’s corpse. There were several things it could do
with a prize such as this, but it had already decided on a course of action long before the two even met.
Unlike those Necromancers it had purged on Mortimer’s behalf, this one would not be eaten, for it was
‘clean.’ It did not carry the mark of Taboo, and Boxxy would therefore not risk contracting the stigma
from what it was about to do.
“Cadaver Absorption!”
Following the chant, an array of familiar yet nostalgic translucent tentacles shot out of its body. They
wrapped around the corpse and over the course of a brief two seconds sucked it dry to the point where it
was just a pile of ashen bones within a pointlessly fancy robe. And then, something happened.
Something that was both inevitable and persistently elusive yet at the same time.

Cadaver Absorption had finally hit the jackpot on a high-value corpse.
Level up!
Level up!
Level up!
...
Congratulations, you are now a Level 25 Wizard! INT +75. END +50. WIS +25.
You have learned a new Spell: Firebolt.
You have learned a new Spell: Icebolt.
You have learned a new Spell: Water Slicer.
You have learned a new Spell: Air Hammer.
You have learned a new Spell: Flame Jet.
You have learned a new Spell: Frost Mine.
You have learned a new Spell: Spark Blast.
You have learned a new Spell: Earth Spike.
You have learned a new Spell: Stabbing Rain.
You have learned a new Spell: Lightning Bolt.
You have learned a new Spell: Flight.
Feat of strength performed! You have unlocked a new Perk: Legendary Intelligence.
Boxxy stood paralyzed as its mind was flooded with knowledge of the mystic arts. There was more to it
than a large number of Spells suddenly being made available to it, though. A certain understanding and
clarity unlike no other enveloped its mind. And for the briefest moment, the monster felt like it knew
everything. It then instantly realized it was getting full of itself, as it most assuredly was not all-
knowing. For one thing, it had no idea what that new Perk’s effects even were.
Legendary Intelligence
Description: A being whose capacity for knowledge and understanding are the stuff of
legends.
Requirements: Reach 1,000 Intelligence (INT).
Effects: Increases total magic damage done by all Skills by 50%.
Can recall events experienced in the last 48 hours with extreme clarity and detail.
A problem that was rapidly rectified, much to Boxxy’s delight. The ability to accurately recall the last
two days of its life must have been why it had briefly and mistakenly believed itself to be omniscient. It
wasn’t sure whether it was actually all that useful, though, as its memory was pretty good already.
However, the Perk’s other effect was quite exceptional in and of itself. Strictly speaking, although
Intelligence (INT) did provide a passive bonus to one’s offensive magic, it normally only applied to
Spells. Therefore, having this thing amplify Skill-based damage to such a huge degree was rather
unprecedented, but not at all unwelcome.
It was just a shame it didn’t apply to much. There were only three things that it worked on, actually. The
Acid Spray Skill that Boxxy lifted off a murk dweller what felt like a lifetime ago was one, the other two
being the Blade Dancer’s Winterlich Waltz and Flamenco de Fuego. Possibly also Chaotic Disposition,
though that thing had a habit of hitting the enemy as well as itself, so the Mimic had mixed feelings
about that one.
And speaking of Skills, it suddenly had four of those things to acquire, didn’t it? Regardless of whether
it would keep this Job around permanently in the future or not, it was stuck with it for the time being.
Making the most of it was only a given, so Boxxy eagerly began expanding its already ridiculously long
list of Skills even further.
Proficiency level increased. Arcane Stability is now Level 1. INT +2. WIS +2.
First up was one that facilitated faster and easier learning of new magical incantations if one were to
pursue that knowledge the hard way rather than deriving it from a Job. It also reduced the backlash
damage suffered from botched or blatantly misused Skills and Spells, which was what Boxxy was
actually after. This would allow the monster to reduce the strain on its body whenever it pulled the
evasive maneuver whereby it slipped inside its own Storage to avoid large-scale attacks.
Proficiency level increased. Mana Shield is now Level 1. INT +2. END +2.
Second on the list was a staple of all but the most idiotic of Wizards. It was the first piece of purely
defensive magic that Boxxy actually had. Now it could finally outright block incoming projectiles and
Spells rather than having to suffer their various debilitating effects. And if faced with something truly
outrageous… Well, that was why it got Arcane Stability.
Proficiency level increased. Residual Feedback is now Level 1. INT +3. WIS +1.
Next came something that would assist with prolonged magical battles. It was a Skill that caused each
Spell cast to empower the next, which would in turn amplify subsequent ones even further. The boost
was relatively inconsequential at the start and would fade within seconds, but its ability to stack up over
time meant it could reach rather ridiculous magnitudes. In theory, it would allow Boxxy to steadily gain
power as a fight dragged on, assuming it was allowed to chant Spells in rapid succession.
Proficiency level increased. Disruptive Barrage is now Level 1. INT +4.
Last, but by no means least, was an active Skill to take advantage of that brand new Legendary
Intelligence Perk. One that would pepper the user’s target with bolts of raw, mystic energy, which
supposedly were especially effective against persistent magical constructs. The logic behind this choice
was that it would help against undead, demons and golems, which were completely unaffected by
Boxxy’s Domination magic. Disruptive Barrage could be used on ‘normal’ targets too, though to a lesser
effect. The main catch here was that the user would need to stand still in order to channel it, making
them vulnerable. Still, it was better having it than not.
After settling all Skill-related matters and while still riding high on the sudden power spike, the
shapeshifter moved onto trying something out. Something that always seemed just out of reach, despite
its natural ingenuity. Something that it had tried time and time again to accomplish even though it
clearly lacked the means to do until just now.
At dawn the next morning, a small subset of Imperial citizens reported seeing an unidentified flying
chest soaring through the skies near the capital, cackling gleefully as it passed overhead.
A place of darkness and despair.
That was the most apt way to describe the scene surrounding Fort Aynor. It was a depressing place,
flanked on all sides by depressing swamplands. Its walls, towers and buildings were hewn out of cold
black stone, and grotesque creatures patrolled the skies above it. To say this keep had always had a
gloomy atmosphere around it would be an understatement, though it was also to be expected. It was,
after all, one of the major holdings of the Order of the Black Wand, and the organization had an image to
uphold. Even if it was one of creepiness and foreboding, it was still, for lack of a better word, their
brand.
However, the current oppressive atmosphere was much heavier than usual, as every Necromancer under
the guild’s employ had been called here. The air itself seemed to stink profusely of rot, as each of them
had brought their own entourage of the dead. They had ordered their creations to bury themselves in the
ground so as to not take up space, but it was inevitable some of them would be left roaming about.
There were also living and breathing guards, of course, but they couldn’t be trusted to maintain a
vigilant watch with sleet pouring down from the skies above. Especially when it was the dead of night,
hours before the morning twilight even considered showing itself. Hence the need for undead sentries, as
these creatures were bothered by neither darkness nor cold. Admittedly they were rather literally
brainless, but they could still ceaselessly patrol the perimeter and scream their heads out at anyone
approaching the base. Determining whether this trespasser was an intruder, a passer by or another
member of the guild would then be left up to the living.
The monsters circling above were a different story, though, for they were very much alive. On one hand,
there were about a dozen beholders, all of whom were made to stand watch for any disturbances,
magical or otherwise. Demons being nearly tireless, not requiring any food or drink and being able to
think for themselves made for potentially much better lookouts. Provided that their summoners had
issued the right instructions, of course.
But these literal eyes in the sky were not the only ones flying about. There were also a total of nine
gargoyles - winged humanoid monsters with smooth onyx black hides covering their slender bodies.
Their hands and feet were tipped with sharp claws, their faces and ears shaped like a bat’s, and their
snouts full of sharp teeth. These required significantly more upkeep than the demons or undead at the
site, but with good reason. Gargoyles were fast, vicious and nimble, being able to evade almost anything
thrown at them long enough to move in and tear into their targets. And with the support of their Monster
Tamer masters’ Skills, this bunch were even more formidable than the garden variety.
As for the reasons behind all this surveillance around Fort Aynor and its current residents, they could be
summed up with three words - guild master’s orders. The Order of the Black Wand had officially
recognized the threat of the serial killer targeting their Necromancer members across the Empire. In fact,
given the sheer speed at which those people were being eliminated, it seemed unlikely that it was the
work of a single individual. The guild had no choice but to recognize it as an organized attack on their
ranks, which required an adequate response.
An all points bulletin was therefore sent out to all potential victims, urging them to head to Fort Aynor
where the Order of the Black Wand would offer protection and shelter. It was a very temporary
arrangement that would only last until the ones responsible for killing their members were found and
brought to justice. That was also why the guild master had supposedly disappeared, as he had launched
his own personal investigation into this matter by going off to consult his… less reputable associates.
This news made many of the Necromancers reassured, as it showed Cromwell was taking their plight
seriously. There were of course many cynics among them as well. People who had assumed that old man
had simply gone into hiding to save his own skin.
Regardless of their personal feelings on the matter of the guild master’s absence, over a hundred corpse-
talkers had answered the call. They had all gathered at Fort Aynor since the order was relayed through
their information network ten days ago. Each individual used teleportation, griffins, coaches pulled by
tireless skeletal steeds and any other rapid modes of transport they could muster to get here. The Order’s
message demanded urgency, so the Necromancers wasted no time in arriving with all due haste.
To say things were uneasy around the keep was an understatement. Having one’s life being targeted
would put anyone on edge. And, as if that wasn’t stressful enough already, certain members couldn’t
help but feel as if they were being imprisoned rather than being put into protective custody. Sure, the
guild gave them comfortable lodging and ample provisions, but forbade them from leaving the premises
of the fort for their own safety. Pseudo-martial law aside though, there was no denying there was safety
in numbers. It was better to stand together rather than allow themselves to be picked off one by one, so
they didn’t complain much.
‘Much’ being the operative word. Tensions continued to rise as the days rolled by and more and more
people showed up, so it was inevitable there would be arguments and disagreements. The mystery
assassins hadn’t made a move ever since the call came out, understandable considering all potential
targets were on the move. It almost felt inevitable they’d be drawn to Fort Aynor, though, as the
Necromancers had made themselves a very juicy target. A detail that was not lost on any of them.
Still, they were arguably a small army, and they even had the support of a bunch of mercenaries and
adventurers, both from within and outside their own guild. Mostly people who were either paid off or
ordered to protect them, but they were protectors nonetheless. Some refused to attend the post because
the thought of babysitting that many Taboo wielders in one spot was too much for them. It took a certain
level of scumbaggery and poor morals for a person to completely overcome the disgusting sensations
brought on by that stigma of a Skill. It wasn’t a job just anyone could do.
So, to sum up the situation, the Necromancers had found themselves banding together to face off against
an unknown threat that was definitely headed their way. All while under guard by a bunch of people
who, frankly speaking, probably didn’t give much of a shit about them beyond earning a paycheck.
Maybe even a few who wouldn’t mind betraying the heretics out of some sense of morality. Considering
the environment, it was not stretch of the imagination to say Fort Aynor had become like a powder keg,
waiting for just the right spark to set it off.
And then, it finally happened.
A loud screech pierced the stormy night as a gargoyle fell to earth with a massive, frozen hole punched
clean through its chest. Three more followed by the time the alarm was raised, and four beholders were
then banished to their home dimension before they could report on who or what was assaulting them.
People spilled into the courtyard, primed and ready for a confrontation. Undead rose from their buried
positions and demons were being rapidly summoned. The keep’s magical defenses were activated and a
shimmering blue barrier covered the entire base, cutting off the icy rain while also providing ample
light.
It was already too late though, as their assailant was already inside, dropping the floating beholders left
and right with frightening speed. The gathered people stared skyward, but they couldn’t see any sign of
an intruder. It was almost as if the levitating heads were being sliced apart by nothing. The gargoyles
also lost their lives without being able to do anything, as they were wrapped up by barely visible webs
and had their innards gouged out by the unseen invader.
All things considered, it had taken barely thirty seconds to completely decimate the fort’s air superiority.
After that, the invader began picking off the adventurers with brutal efficiency. A Necromancer was
crushed flat by an unseen force. Three of his colleagues were decapitated in a single moment. Another’s
upper half disappeared, gobbled up by the invisible monster in one bite. The next victim didn’t even feel
anything as a blade cut him neatly in half top-to-bottom.
It wasn’t just the Necromancers, though. Warriors, Druids, Rangers, Rogues, Wizards, Warlocks - all
manner of people were being dismembered one after the other. Death spread seemingly at random, with
no warning or reason behind it. And then, with so many of them getting killed off, fear began to spread.
Not among the veterans, they were hardened and desensitized to bloody battlefields. But the newbies
among them were another story.
It was one such greenhorn, a barely Level 20 Necromancer, that made the inevitable poor decision that
made things worse. Terrified out of her wits, the homely looking black-haired girl frantically prepared a
Corpse Explosion. It was one of the Necromancer’s only means of direct offense, and it was quite
powerful to boot. Unleashing it in such a crowded space was going to hurt more people than it would
protect, but the girl was already beyond reason.
And then she saw the man in front of her having his head ripped off, causing the rookie to snap.
“Corpse Explosion!”
The Spell she had been holding back was unleashed in the next instant upon the man that had just died.
His body exploded into a shower of boiling blood and flaming bone, injuring the caster and three other
people in the process. Everyone’s attention focused on the location of the blast. That desperately thrown
out Spell had hit their assailant full on, dealing minimal damage, but knocking out the optical
camouflage that obscured their form.
It was then that every person on the scene was finally able to lay eyes upon the monster that had been
butchering them. It had a slender humanoid body shape, oddly feminine in appearance. It was
completely covered in an ice-like carapace that was so black it seemed to suck away what little light
there was. Except for the right half of it, which was covered by steaming crimson blood, courtesy of its
last victim. Its hands and feet were adorned with bladed claws that put the gargoyles’ natural weapons to
shame. A total of eight crystalline appendages jutted out of its back, each tipped with a massive double-
edged blade. A sleek and pointed abdomen that seemed more at home on a wasp than a spider hung from
its lower back where a tail would normally be.
What cemented this monster’s arachnid origins, however, was the appearance of its head. It maintained
vaguely human-like proportions, which was difficult to determine since it had spikes of tar-colored ice
instead of hair. The same stuff also obscured the face, although a set of eight perfectly round orange eyes
glimmered just beneath the transparent mask. Two pairs of massive, bladed mandibles flanked its mouth,
forming an ‘X’ shape as they clacked together. The maw behind them was unnaturally wide, seemingly
encompassing over half of the head’s lower region. And it was filled with countless teeth, each of which
would put a dagger to shame.
The observers were able to see them only for a brief moment though, as the creature had opened its
mouth for one express purpose.
“SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!”
A deafening screech washed over the fort, drowning out all other noise. The disorienting sound, the
monster’s truly nightmarish features, the side-effects of Butcher of Humanity as well as the full force of
Despair Aura blended together to create a wave of pure terror. It was so potent that people began fleeing
for their lives, abandoning any pretense of working together with others. Those that didn’t run still found
their hearts pounding, their hands shaking, their lips quivering and their vision blurring. And since no
Priests were around on this unholy ground, there was almost nobody capable of shielding the group from
the adverse mental condition.
It was then that the spider-thing resumed its duty with extreme fervor. Enraged by having be revealed in
such a manner, it was no longer content to just slice people open or bite chunks of them off in passing. It
activated Power Overwhelming and sent a horizontally-oriented Reality Slash through the crowd.
Dozens of men and women were dismembered in an instant, sending sprays of blood through the air.
Spell Crystals and grenades were hurled all over the place, peppering the courtyard with flames,
shrapnel, darkness and even an overcharged Singularity.
Boxxy then moved on to rounding up those that tried to flee initially. It leaped through the air at a low
angle, beheading people and undead alike as it passed just above them. The dopple-stalker tossed wads
of Impact Webbing all over the place, which expanded and wrapped around any poor sods they hit. It
also liberally sprayed acid on people, making them scream out in pain and further adding to the chaos.
Some desperate souls tried sending their minions at it, barraging with it magic or putting up magical
defenses, but all was for naught. For Boxxy’s Malefic Union with Drea had given it access to the
Counterspell Skill, which allowed it to rip through any magic standing in its way. The Mana Locator
Gland hidden inside its body also gave it omnidirectional ‘sight,’ allowing its numerous limbs to deflect
attacks coming in from all angles at once.
The rest of the people gathered didn’t fare much better than the Spell-slingers. The few well-armored
bodyguards around were set ablaze by Ebonfire, while the more agile ones fell victim to the
shapeshifter’s superior speed. It also created multiple copies of itself through Mirror Image, further
increasing the rate at which the sheep were slaughtered. As for the ones that ran and actually made it out
of the confines of the fort, they would find themselves facing either a djinn or an archfiend, depending
on how terrible their luck was.
But as the Mimic indulged in its natural urge to kill, maim and devour, it lost track of time. Malefic
Union’s three minutes expired all too soon, causing the monster to collapse on the spot. It vomited
uncontrollably as its hard shell became a viscous sludge, rendering it unable to do anything to defend
itself. Some of the adventurers noticed this moment of weakness and moved in to strike, but Boxxy’s
body doubles - which still maintained their form - stepped in to protect it. Unlike their original, the
Mirror Images had been able to maintain their half-demon half-monster constitution. They couldn’t use
many of the original’s Skills and only commanded a fraction of its strength, but they were still more than
enough to cover Boxxy until it got back on its feet.
And once it did, the Hylt Creeper wasted no time. Wielding Voidcaller, it instantly summon Drea back to
the physical realm, then the two began merging once more. Unlike that time with Arms, Boxxy found
Claws to be a far more agreeable ‘host.’ The process was still painful, but nowhere near as agonizing as
it was back then. It would appear that the once-mimic and the once-stalker were, for a lack of a better
word, extremely compatible. Thinking back on it, the Mimic’s original instincts were quite similar to
that of a spider, and it even enjoyed the use of arachnid limbs quite a bit. In some ways, this outcome
almost made sense, even though it really didn’t.
It wasn’t necessarily a good thing, though. The merger between them was so seamless that Boxxy was
finding it hard to differentiate its own personality from that of Claws, her intents and habits reinforcing
its own primal wants and needs. That was why it found itself unable to resist taking a bite out of its
victims now and then, or why it was so superbly pissed off it had been seen as a result of that Corpse
Explosion. Even though it practiced fusing with the webstalker leading up to this event, maintaining
total control while in the thick of battle had proven to be exceptionally difficult.
Having become a dopple-stalker once more, Boxxy wasted no more time in resuming its grim duty. This
fodder hardly even stood a chance, though. The majority of them were magic-wielders, who were the
natural prey of demons like Claws. The rest were crushed under the Mimic’s ridiculously bloated Status.
Regardless of whether they fought back, ran for their lives or hid in a corner somewhere in the keep,
they were all methodically hunted down and eliminated. It was a one-sided massacre that saw the death
of one hundred and eighty seven people within less than twenty minutes.
After spearing the last survivor through the heart and lungs with a bladed hand, the Mimic casually
walked out of Fort Aynor and looked upon its work. There was blood everywhere, and mangled bodies
were strewn all over the place. It was a gruesome, grizzly scene that would surely make all but the most
jaded of adventurers vacate the contents of their stomachs. The only thing that could’ve caused this
much carnage was without a doubt a vicious monster who thrived on naught but death and violence.
“… Crap.”
Which was a bit of a problem. The plan was to have Accatau, the ‘current’ Hero of Death, take the
blame for all this. However, nobody in their right mind would think this was the doing of the world’s
greatest assassin. The scene would need to be set, which was why it called its trio of pet demons to help
it with the cleanup.
Snack was assigned to lookout duty, whereby she would keep watch for any approaching people from
the air. Not that the Mimic was expecting company. The only ones who would think of coming this way
were either members of the Order of the Black Wand who were running late, drunkards who lost their
way, or idiots who didn’t know any better. As unlikely as it was for someone to just ‘show up’ at a place
like this, it was vital there were no living witnesses, otherwise this entire ruse would fall apart.
Arms’s considerable muscle power was put to use carrying the bodies and their various bits into a huge
pile in the courtyard. She naturally felt dissatisfied at having to do menial labor, as she hadn’t had nearly
enough fun. She only got to crush twenty or so skulls while she was watching the perimeter, which
wasn’t nearly enough violence to satisfy her. Then again, as far as archfiends were concerned, even
pummeling every living thing on this world into soup wouldn’t be ‘enough violence.’
As for Claws, she was given the task of processing the corpses. Anything that looked magical or shiny
was stripped from the dead bodies and thrown into a nearby treasure chest for her master’s later perusal.
After looting a body, she would then do one of two things to it. If the deceased wasn’t afflicted with
Taboo - which could be felt even after their passing - then they would just be set aside to be eaten or
absorbed. If they were a sinner, their skull would be removed and meticulously stripped of all skin, hair,
flesh, muscle and sinew. The rest of their corpse would then be made into the webstalker’s midnight
snack.
At that same time, Boxxy was busy erasing any evidence of violence from inside the keep. It was
something it had always been good at, ever since the day it was born. Admittedly the scale of this
operation was unlike anything else it had ever had to deal with, but that just meant the volume of work
was bigger. The methods involved would still be the same.
Blood splatters were either licked up or burned away with acid, depending on the situation. Rogue body
parts were gobbled up, and any smashed up objects were cleaned up. Even scratches or gashes in the
furniture or floorboards were covered up thanks to the monster’s Phytokinesis Skill. The chips and
cracks in the stonework were unsalvageable, but it was unlikely anyone would notice those. Even Boxxy
had a hard time telling which of the markings had been there before it arrived. Cleaning the courtyard
would be a bit trickier since the soil had soaked up much of the blood, but it wasn’t impossible.
The point was that the shapeshifter could leave the keep in a state that would make it impossible to think
a fight had broken out, and it would do so without much difficulty.
“Master! We have an airborne intruder coming in from the east!”
Unfortunately Snack had made a rather un-tasty report before it could finish up.
“Claws and Arms - get inside and hide!” it commanded. “I’m on my way up to see this one for myself.”
Boxxy threw on the Sandman disguise and dashed to the roof of one of the central keep’s towers. The
rain had stopped and the defensive barrier had been shut off, allowing the monster an unobstructed view
of the sky. The clouds had been dyed a fitting blood-red by the sun that hadn’t quite risen over the
horizon yet, but there was something far more impressive flying just beneath them.
Using its Eagle Eye Skill, Boxxy zoomed in on the dragon-shaped shadow in the sky to confirm that it
was, as one might expect, a dragon. One made out of bleached bones and stitched together with rotting
flesh and muscle that was just barely keeping it whole. It had a wingspan of over a thirty meters, and
was about twenty meters long including everything from the snout to the spike-tipped tail. And riding
upon this unholy beast’s back, although the Mimic couldn’t see the person directly, was someone the
Eyes of the Dead God identified her as another of its targets. Arguably the most troublesome one on its
‘naughty list.’
The woman in question could be no other than Nora Cromwell, a VIP. Boxxy was rather unpleasantly
surprised to see her here and now, as she was one of several Necromancers who didn’t respond to its
‘invitation.’ It was understandable that not all of them would show up. Some probably felt they couldn’t
trust the guild with their lives and remained in hiding, while others couldn’t be reached at all due to
them being away on a Quest or some other errand.
Nora’s case was quite different, though, as she had clearly shown up ready for war. She probably felt
quite confident in going it alone, and with good reason. According to Boxxy’s information, she was the
only Level 100 Necromancer in the Order. She was also the guild master’s sister, and likely a big part of
why the organization was so readily accepting of her kind. As for her Ultimate Skill, the only thing
Boxxy knew about it was that it was called Bone Dragon, though it was painfully obvious what its
effects were by now.
However, it was worth noting that the thing she was riding wasn’t an actual zombified dragon. Upon
further inspection, Boxxy’s enhanced eyesight was able to determine it was merely an undead construct
in the shape of one. Its skull, for example, was made out of the compressed remains of dozens, probably
hundreds of corpses. It made the Mimic quite curious whether this thing was anywhere near as strong as
its legendary namesake. Luckily, it had just the guinea pig to test it out.
“Snack, can she see you?” it called out.
“I don’t think so, Master. I’ve covered myself with a cloud-shaped mirage.”
“Then would you kindly introduce yourself by spraying your fire magic all over our guest’s face?”
“As you command, my Master.”
Boxxy kept staring at the circling not-dragon in the sky while the djinn drew closer. The bone construct
suddenly swerved around and unleashed its version of a dragon’s most fearsome weapon - the breath. A
stream of sickeningly green clouds was ejected from its maw at high speeds, enveloping the ‘invisible’
djinn and wiping all but her soul out of existence in a matter of seconds.
The Mimic was quite surprised. Not at Snack being detected, though. A Level 100 adventurer would
surely have countermeasures against something like illusions and mirages, especially if she had shown
up with hostile intentions. The shocking part was how much power was behind the attack that just hit
Snack, as it was at a Level where Boxxy wasn’t sure if it could survive it. It would appear that, even if it
was a knock-off, that dragon was quite formidable.
However, it was ultimately just another undead pawn under a Necromancer’s control. Which meant it
had three key weaknesses. The first was fire magic. This was Snack’s specialty, though it was quite
obvious she’d be unable to get in close enough to actually use it. The second was holy magic, which
Boxxy did not have access to since Fizzy was still unaccounted for.
The third and arguably most exploitable weakness was Nora herself. If she could be eliminated, then her
minion would lose consistency and crumble into nothing. The problem there was that her bony beast
was covering her completely, making it quite difficult to get a clean shot on her. One could theoretically
use the Flight Spell to get a better angle, but maintaining the Spell and engaging and combat were
mutually exclusive activities unless one had the right Skill. Any ranged attack Boxxy would make would
have to be launched from the ground, but hitting her from its current position was outright impossible.
Unless, of course, the Mimic could somehow curve its shots.
Up in the air, Nora was silently cursing under her breath. She had come here because that ‘invitation’
smelled fishy. Rumors had a tendency to spread at the speed of light, so she was somewhat aware that
her guild’s Necromancers were being targeted, but the Order offering them protection? It was ludicrous
to think her brother Remy would ever approve something that expensive.
It wasn’t like he was a cheapskate or anything, but he was far too frugal to spend so much gold on a
bunch of nobodies. She would understand it if he did it just to protect her and maybe a few of the more
promising ones, but that wasn’t the case. Otherwise she would have received a secret communication or
message or something - anything - explaining his intentions. Unfortunately, the man himself had
disappeared abruptly without a word, which only deepened her worries.
She therefore came here, as it was the only lead she had on her missing brother. And what did she find?
A bloodied courtyard, a pile of bodies, a floating pest, and a hooded stranger standing atop one of the
keep’s tallest towers. Granted, she didn’t have a scout’s trained eyesight and couldn’t make out any
details since she was over a hundred meters away, but she was still able to conclude two things. That she
had just missed the ‘party,’ and that the stranger in the billowing cloak was either involved, or outright
responsible.
Just then, she spotted streaks of shimmering blue flying towards her at breakneck speeds. She stopped
peering over her seat in between the Bone Dragon’s spine bones and ducked behind the protrusions to
protect her head. The attacks coming in from below shattered against the beast’s underside with loud
noises akin to glass breaking. They did a grand total of zero damage, nullified by the Bone Dragon’s
Chill of the Grave Perk. It was something present within all undead with corporeal forms, and the source
of both their immunity to cold-based damage and their vulnerability to fire.
Nora was not an idiot, however. Even if that ‘warning shot’ did nothing, the fact that her suspect was
able to hit a fast moving target like her pet at this distance was immensely impressive. It showed he was
a Ranger of considerable Level, and not someone she should underestimate. She feared her head would
be taken clean off if she allowed this shady stranger the opportunity, so she resolved herself to avoid
doing so.
Casting the Sight of Korolog Spell upon her gigantic minion, she was able to channel its eyesight
directly into her own mind. She began controlling the almost-dragon more actively, making it turn
towards the archer. He fired dozens of arrows at her, but they all smashed hopelessly against the creature
as it dived closer. Once she got close enough, she unleashed its breath once again with the intent to kill.
Nora had determined this was not an opponent she could safely capture alive, but she could still
interrogate his or her corpse. Assuming something was left behind, of course.
However, Boxxy’s servants had triggered the fort’s magical defenses before the stream of decay could
reach their master, causing the Bone Dragon’s attack to be repelled by the siege barrier. Nora clicked her
tongue in frustration. While her pet’s strongest move was stupidly effective against living things, it
wasn’t all that destructive when used on inanimate objects. It had a corrosive property to it, but it wasn’t
nearly potent enough to punch through the Fort’s defenses. This sort of thing was why she had denied
participating in the recent war, which had turned out to have been the right decision considering how so
many of her peers had fallen.
Admittedly she wasn’t sad to see that pompous bastard of a ‘Holy Necromancer’ bite the big one, but
she had more pressing matters to worry about rather than old rivals.
Another volley of arrows came in from the archer, passing through the one-way barrier and peppering
the undead abomination once again. These were different from the first, however, as they exploded
violently in fire and smoke. The Bone Dragon was far too tough to fall just to those, but Nora was forced
to pull back up all the same. She was continually bombarded with more of the weird flat-headed
projectiles, but they became easier and easier to evade the more altitude she gained.
Deciding this was a bad place for her to fight, Nora decided to fall back for now. She turned the faux-
dragon’s head around to look back over its shoulder as it flew further away from the keep. Its glowing
blue eyes showed her that more bomb-tipped arrows were incoming, which she reacted to by firing back
a half-powered breath. Even if its corrosive effects were relatively weak, they were still more than
enough to prematurely detonate the explosive devices and cover her retreat.
Just then, a stream of more enchanted ice arrows flew out of the smog. Nora’s focus sharpened, as she
wasn’t sure why her enemy would keep using ineffective attacks. It was only when it became obvious
they’d fly harmlessly over the dragon’s back that she allowed herself to relax the tiniest bit.
Except that it was only at that moment at the magical projectiles swerved unnaturally towards her. Nora
nudged her ride to roll to the left in a panicked response, but it was far too late. A total of five icy arrows
ripped right through her enchanted robe and cloak, digging deep into her back. She screamed out in pain,
but the searing sensation was instantly replaced by one of biting cold as the wounds began to ice over.
Heat rapidly left her body, as she found herself growing weaker and weaker as her consciousness
threatened to slip away.
Down on the ground, Boxxy continued firing the Winter’s Bite at her. Unfortunately, it had lost the angle
it needed to allow the Artifact-grade bow’s heat-seeking arrows to curve around the Necromancer’s
cover. Too wide and they wouldn’t pick her up at all. Too close, and they would end up hitting the
dragon instead. Thankfully the beast itself was as cold as death, so they only had one viable target to
lock onto. One that it had just severely injured.
She yet lived, though. The not-a-dragon’s flight path was a bit wobbly and unsteady, but it was very
clearly not dead. Well, not un-undead, at the very least. Or was that re-deaded? Confusing terminoligy
aside, Boxxy still had a job to do. It put away the crystal bow and started focusing its magic onto its own
body.
“Flight!”
It’s body shot up into the air as the Sandman-shaped monster gave chase. It was catching up steadily, but
it doubted it could reach Nora in time. For as convenient as it was, Flight was a Spell with certain hard
limits. One had to keep their body as still as possible to maintain it, and it would only last for either a
certain amount of time or a set distance traveled, depending on which limit was reached first. It also had
a top speed and a maximum altitude, the last of which was the most pressing problem, as the
Necromancer kept going almost straight up.
Boxxy had a fix for that, though. Once it felt the Flight Spell reaching its height limit, it reached an arm
into its Storage. The sudden movement broke the Spell, leaving nothing but inertia to carry the monster
upward. Before it could fall, the shapeshifter pulled out a grappling gun it had thrown together in its
spare time. It was a one-shot wonder that would need to be reloaded with blast powder and then repaired
in order to be re-fired, but one shot was all the Mimic needed.
It aimed the barrel of the handheld device and pulled the trigger. The hook was launched with a loud
bang and a gust of smoke, sending it flying towards the dragon-shaped skeleton. It hit the monster’s
flailing tail and got lodged in between its bones. Boxxy climbed up the rope, which threatened to snap
due from the combined strain of the creature’s weight at the lower end of it and the way it was swaying
wildly in the wind.
As for Nora, she was too busy treating her grievous wounds with healing potions to notice she had a
hitchhiker. It was only when her heart was gouged out from behind that she realized her opponent had
followed her aboard. Needless to say, it was already far too late for her, as her life ended in that instant.
And with its master dead, the Bone Dragon let out a pathetic cry and grew still, after which it fell
towards the ground. On its way down it began to crumble into the countless bones that made up its body,
which further deteriorated into dust and ash long before any part of it could crash in the muddy swamp.
Boxxy was not in the least bit worried though. Even though activating Flight under these circumstances
was probably going to be impossible, it didn’t need to. It leapt of the decaying pseudo-lizard and
sprouted a quartet of leathery demonic wings, which it used to glide back to the ground and land safely,
without much incident. It had to admit, all things considered, that had been a very satisfying kill.
The Mimic’s job was far from done, though. Not only did it still have five more blips on its divine radar,
but Nora herself didn’t seem to be a hundred percent dead. As the murderous creature fell, the Eyes of
the Dead God had shown something immaterial drift out of her body and dart off into the distance at a
speed no mortal could hope to match. That yellow glow was presumably the woman’s soul, but normally
the thing would just flicker and disappear instead of flying away like that. The Quest Progress counter
didn’t go up either, which, when combined with past experiences, led Boxxy to only one plausible
explanation.
Its quarry was about to become a lich, much like Valeria, otherwise known as Nasty, had done in the
past. That was not a problem, though. The current Mimic was much more powerful than it was back
then, and in every imaginable aspect to boot. It was therefore quite confident it could take Nora down a
second time. Especially since changing bodies like that would have deprived her of both her Ultimate
Skill and her Level 100 Necromancer Job. Needless to say, a powerless being like that offered so little of
a challenge that she would not be worth a single drop of XP. To make matters better - or worse,
depending on the point of view - her tainted spirit was even flying in the direction of another of its
marks.
The Mimic therefore felt quite confident it could still accomplish the Quest well before the time limit. In
fact, with a bit of luck, it would already be done with this business and back in Azurvale an entire week
before the deadline, perhaps even earlier. That was just how much of a resounding success Operation
People Herder had been. As for the Imperial authorities, the only thing they would find at Fort Aynor
would be a spotless yet deserted fortress. That, and a bunch of polished Taboo-ridden skulls strewn
across its courtyard in a way that spelled out one of Mortimer’s most famous and infamous decrees.
‘Death brings absolution.’
Boxxy had miscalculated.
That was what the shapeshifter concluded as it stood on the shore of the Shimmering Ocean, watching
helplessly as Nora Cromwell flew off towards the horizon to the south. While the monster had been
correct in assuming she had become an undead lich, the Bone Dragon she was riding made it clear that
she did not, in fact, lose her Level 100 Necromancer Job. That was because the woman had already
bound her soul to a phylactery through some ungodly ritual years ago, allowing her to retain most of her
original Status. She had done this as a sort of insurance for the inevitable day when she would perish,
though she collected on it much sooner than anticipated.
However, Boxxy did not know that. It had mistakenly used Valeria’s transformation into a lich as the
standard. In retrospect, it was a bit ludicrous to think that a lich’s natural lifecycle involved getting
killed, being revived by a dungeon as a banshee, breaking free of it, and only then possessing a
phylactery. As a direct result of this, the Mimic failed to consider the possibility that Nora would
maintain her mystical abilities. Otherwise it would have made a beeline for her position instead of
saving her for last.
It wasn’t like it put off tracking her down out of arrogance or something like that, though. Following her
initial death, the former human’s soul had flown off towards the other side of the Empire, ‘landing’
somewhere on the south-western edge of the continent. Now that there were only a handful of targets
left, Boxxy was able to determine the shortest route to connect the dots between them, which
coincidentally put Nora at the very end of the list. And since it had assumed she’d be a pushover, it
didn’t think to prioritize her.
Therein lay the root of the problem. Boxxy had underestimated the lich and given her too much time,
which she used to gather her strength. When the shapeshifter eventually came for her a second time, she
was ready for it. It tried to sneak up on her physical form in order to assassinate her and then use the
Eyes of the Dead God to track down her phylactery through her befouled spirit. However, the Mimic
lacked the ability to evade magical detection, so Nora’s Detect Life Skill, courtesy of her new Lich Job,
had picked it up long before it was in striking distance. Once she realized she was still being targeted,
Nora decided to play it safe and ran away at full speed aboard her reconstructed pseudo-dragon.
Boxxy would have given chase, but its final target had flown south across the ocean, likely headed for
the next continent over. And since she was riding a tireless flying beast in pristine condition, it could not
hope to match her speed with just Flight. It might have been able to keep up if it was running over dry
land, but swimming had never been its strong suit. Not to mention that crossing the Shimmering Ocean
was notoriously difficult due to the gigantic sea monsters and violent storms that frequented those
waters. The only feasible way to follow the lich to her destination was to either charter a boat or look
into hiring a griffon. However, the former would take far too long to get there, and the latter was out
since cross-continental flights couldn’t be arranged on such short notice.
As such, with just eleven days left before both the year and the Quest ended, the Mimic had to
begrudgingly give up on it. Admittedly it was highly unlikely the lich would go blabbing about who
really wiped out Fort Aynor, but that small upside failed to quell Boxxy’s anger. It wasn’t angry just
because Nora had gotten away and ruined its efforts over the past weeks, but also because it allowed
such a thing to happen. It had underestimated resourcefulness of adventurers. It was such an
infuriatingly stereotypical and basic mistake, that it felt like wiping out an entire city just to vent its
frustrations.
Speaking of which, wasn’t that place nearby?
Boxxy tore its hateful glare away from the point in the horizon where Nora had disappeared into and
took a closer look at its surroundings. The lich’s recent handiwork had tainted the area with Blight and
killed off much of the vegetation, but it soon realized why this foggy swampland felt oddly familiar. It
was currently standing on the edge of the Whispering Marshes that lay south of the city of Erosa, which
was itself relatively near the site of the Calamity of Monotal. The Mimic needed to distract itself
somehow, so it decided it might as well check in on its birthplace after all this time.
The shapeshifter threw on a hooded traveler’s cloak and heavy-looking backpack, assuming the guise of
a wandering human merchant. It was still the middle of the day, so it proceeded towards Erosa at a brisk
pace that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. It soon saw the city’s familiar walls in the distance, letting an odd
sense of nostalgia wash over it. Sure, this was the place where that man Edward had captured it and
crippled it by removing its Warlock Job, but it was also where it met Cornie Fizzlesprocket - the gnome
that eventually became its prized shiny.
As Boxxy drew closer, however, it realized the place had been abandoned. The gates were wide open
and unguarded, and there seemed to be not a single sign of life one the streets. The creature investigated
the area out of curiosity, and almost immediately spotted a clue. Copies of the same poster seemed to
have been plastered all over the city, though its full contents proved more difficult to read than
anticipated. Rain, snow and wind had ruined many of the postings, while others had been ripped up,
defaced or otherwise vandalized. It took the monster a bit of searching, but it eventually found an intact
and legible copy of the document just inside the empty keep at the heart of the city.
NOTICE OF MANDATORY RELOCATION
Attention, proud people of Erosa!
As many of you have already heard, the poisonous smog released by the Calamity of
Monotal is slowly spreading with no end in sight. Though the Sawblade Mountains to the
north keep it from spilling out of Cradle Valley and infecting the heartlands of our Lodrak
Empire, this fair city will sadly not be spared. The Arcaneum guild, which is spearheading
efforts to counteract and contain this threat, have determined the region surrounding Erosa
will be rendered unsuited to support life within half a year.
His Majesty Emperor Joseph Frederick von Einhart III has therefore decreed that all law-
abiding citizens are to vacate the city of Erosa by the last day of the month of Juniper.
Please rest assured that the Empire will provide funds, provisions and protection to
facilitate the smooth relocation of all citizens to other nearby settlements. Those who refuse
to evacuate the city by the specified deadline will be found in violation of an imperial
decree, and will be punished accordingly after being relocated by force. I understand that
being forced out of one’s home may seem harsh and unfair, but I ask that all citizens keep in
mind that this is for their own safety and well-being.
Signed,
Thomas Broadhurst, Lord-Mayor of Erosa
Well, that certainly explained why this place was a ghost town. That deadline had expired more than
three months ago. Curious about exactly how far that toxic cloud had spread, Boxxy climbed one of the
central keep’s towers to get a better vantage point. There didn’t seem to be anyone around to stop it from
trespassing, but it made sure not to draw attention to itself just in case.
Once it reached the top, it looked to the northwest, in the direction this ‘smog’ was supposedly rolling in
from. Using Eagle Eye, it was able to confirm that the land itself seemed to be slowly dying, as a huge
portion of the luscious and dense Troll Woods were left gray and barren. There was also an ominous
green cloud hanging heavily in the air, far in the distance. There seemed to only be about two or three
kilometers of healthy soil between the city and the encroaching death cloud, which was probably why
not even vagrants could be seen around. The sheer scale of this ongoing disaster made the shapeshifter
worry if it should have been seeking Zephyra’s forgiveness rather than Teresa’s.
It most certainly did not want the web of lies it built in Azurvale to unravel because some fickle
Goddess branded it with Taboo.
*Ring Ring*
Just then, the Mimic got a call from Demons ‘R’ Us, which it answered while staring at the decaying
treeline in the distance.
*Click*
“Yes?”
“Hey, buddy! Carl here.”
“Hey Carl.”
“You doing anything important?”
“Not really.”
“That’s good, because the big man would like a word with you. Should I patch him through?”
“Sure. Been meaning to speak with him anyway.”
*Click*
“Boxxy!” came Rupert’s cheerful voice. “Sorry for interrupting your brooding, but I just realized
something. It’s about the Quest I asked you to take care of on Morty’s behalf.”
“I don’t think I can get it done before I hit the deadline,” said Boxxy matter-of-factly. “That one
Necromancer got away and I can’t catch up to her in the next eleven days.”
“Yeah, about that… Since you’re my Hero rather than Morty’s, I was the one responsible for handing
you the task. Thing is, I misunderstood what that bonehead told. The deadline for it wasn’t ‘by year’s
end,’ but ‘within one year.’”
“… You’re telling me I actually have eleven months?”
“Pretty much.”
Boxxy quietly and rapidly processed this news. It weighed the likelihood of Heikull making an
accidental blunder like that versus it being intentional. It also considered the fact that, regardless of how
it originated, the Goddess of Coincidences purposefully waited until now to clear this up. She probably
wanted to watch the Mimic take unnecessary risks like Operation People Herder in order to keep things
‘interesting.’ And so, after carefully thinking things over, Boxxy reached a singular conclusion.
“I hate you.”
“Heh. Well, can’t say I can blame you for that. It’s not all bad, though. Morty’s actually quite pleased
with how things turned out. That stunt you pulled with the skulls has already put the fear of death into
heretics throughout the Empire. That was the point of this whole endeavor to begin with, so I’d say your
job is pretty much done.”
“Yeah, I thought as much. So that said, do you mind marking this Quest as complete for me?”
“No can do, Boxxy. Though it was presented as a Quest, what you accepted was a devil’s contract.
Those are extremely strict, so I’m afraid a Progress counter that’s one short of completion is not enough
to claim your prize.”
“Of course it’s not,” groaned the shapeshifter. “I’m starting to wonder if I really want to bother with this
bullshit. I mean what the crap is that ‘Teresa’s forgiveness’ even about?”
“Oh, that? Hmm, how should I put this… Let’s just say Teresa owed both me and Morty, what with that
whole resurrection and rehabilitation business. So, I got her to agree to officially pardon your crimes
against her people. Mind you, she’ll still hate your guts afterwards, but she’ll be able to tell her
Inquisition that ‘the perpetrator behind the Calamity has paid for their crimes against humanity’ in good
conscience.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” confirmed Julian. “It’s mostly a formality to be honest. Though the mortals may have
some trouble accepting it, your death already absolved you of your sins as far as the pantheon is
concerned.”
“You sure about that? I mean, not that I’m complaining, but I did come back to life.”
“Not by your own hand or intention, though. Unlike that Necromancer from earlier, your resurrection
was entirely out of your control, and the soul of the one who did that has already been claimed by
Morty’s Hero.”
“Oh. You know you could’ve mentioned all this earlier, right?”
“I thought it was rather obvious. Did you seriously think that the very words you spelled out with skulls
- again, nice touch there - didn’t apply to you?”
“How would I know? This entire thing sounds like a flimsy technicality to me.”
“Technicality or not, such are the laws of this world as decreed by its deities. And those, my box-minded
friend, do not allow exceptions.”
“Whatever. My point is, I still haven’t heard anything that would make me want to keep this up. I’m not
going to run around doing you guys’ dirty work if all I have to show for it is ‘forgiveness’ and ‘favors.’”
“Don’t be like that. I assure you, I have some tasty rewards lined up for you. I was actually planning to
get rid of that Cat Job for you at some point. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“… I wouldn’t be against it, no.”
“That’s not even the big one! I was planning to tell you about the only Divine-class item that I ever
made if you kept going at it!”
Hearing mention of the highest rank of magic equipment immediately made Boxxy salivate. Up until
now, it had no idea if this ‘Divine’ tier of gear truly existed, but hearing it from McCoy himself was all
the confirmation it needed. However, its enthusiasm rapidly made a nosedive when it remembered who
it was speaking to. The God of Chance seemed to be very particular about his words, so it was not a
good idea to take them at face value. There was one in particular that really stood out.
“What do you mean you’ll tell me about it?” it asked in a dubious voice.
“I’ll let you know its location, its function, and how to obtain it,” explained Rick. “Whether you want to
chase after it is up to you. So what do you say?”
“… Alright, fine. I’ll see about tracking that lich down eventually. Right now I really should head back
to the Republic and deal with the situation there.”
“Whatever you want, little guy. Girl. Thing.”
“What about Fizzy? You promised you’d tell me where she is.”
“I did, didn’t I? Well, I have some time to kill so I can get that over with right now if you want me to.”
“Please do.”
Boxxy set off for the nearest major city while Greg explained what the missing mithril golem had been
up to. Apparently she had been busy doing the Gods’ work deep beneath the ground. It was a task that
she was uniquely suited to, so Bob may or may not have ‘arranged’ for her to wind up there.
Unfortunately it was an environment so isolated and remote that Fizzy would have only herself to rely
on if she hoped to get out of it. Boxxy naturally wanted to go and get her personally, but Nikita assured
it that it only had a 4.16% chance of surviving the trip. Something about the place being filled with
Calamity-like toxicity which would surely kill anything that was flesh and blood. At the very least the
God of Uncertainty assured his Hero that Fizzy would seek Boxxy out on her own when she was done,
so it didn’t have anything to worry about on that front.
With those relatively good news in mind, the shapeshifter wasted no more time in getting back to its
home base. It did this by first visiting the city of Stanmore, a major port about a hundred kilometers east
of Erosa. Once there, it began gathering some information on ships headed out to the southern continent.
It was planning on heading there eventually, so now was a good time as any to scope things out.
It visited a guild called Dave’s Mariners which, despite the terrible name, had the reputation of being the
best in the country when it came to intercontinental voyages. It managed to confirm that the trip was
indeed quite lengthy, dangerous, and expensive. Those nautical experts assured their visitor that only
fourteen out of the fifty seven voyages they undertook over the past year had suffered casualties, which
they insisted was quite impressive.
After getting a few more details about the trip and what to expect on it for future reference, Boxxy
visited a different guild. This one was called the Keepers of the Way. It was another magic-centric
organization similar to the Order of the Black wand, except that this one specialized in teleportation and
spatial manipulation rather than ‘the dark arts.’ They operated something called Waygates, which were
essentially privately run knock-offs of the Republic’s Forest Gates. They were rather expensive to use
and had a much smaller capacity, but the instantaneous long-distance teleportation had still been a great
help to Boxxy during this little excursion.
The Mimic, still disguised as a wandering merchant, paid for a one-way trip to the royal capital of
Oshinas, where it arrived less than an hour after that. It could have then transferred further north, but the
price tag made it reconsider. It wasn’t in that much of a hurry to get back, and have given those bastards
more than enough shinies already. It therefore proceeded the rest of the way on foot. Which in Boxxy’s
case meant that Snack flew on ahead while her master attended to other matters before swapping places
with her.
However, unlike the weeks it spent following Fizzy’s trail around the Horkensaft Kingdom, it made
much better use of its time. For one thing, it had discreetly stocked up on parts and components before it
left Azurvale, allowing it to steadily advance its Artificer Job in between Transfamiliar jumps. The blast-
powered grappling hook it used during its first encounter with Nora, for example, was something it
made especially to tackle her Ultimate Skill. Granted, back then it wasn’t sure whether something called
‘Bone Dragon’ would do exactly what its name implied, but its endeavor had still paid off in the end.
Yet as useful as making gizmos and gadgets turned out to be, tinkering had taken a backseat to
something else entirely. After Boxxy stole Remy Cromwell’s Wizard Job, it realized something. If all of
its Job Slots were filled up, then it would be able to use Cadaver Absorption as much as it wanted
without fear of contracting another useless dead end of a Job. There might have been some Monster Job
that was worth it even at Level 25, but it had no idea where or even if such a thing could be found. Until
then, however, it could continue to acquire seemingly limitless amounts of Skills and Attributes without
any negative long-term repercussions.
The Mimic could only wonder why it didn’t realize this sooner. If it had figured this out earlier, it
wouldn’t have gotten rid of that Rogue Job it got during the war. Then again, it got a much tastier
occupation as a replacement, so perhaps it wasn’t too bad of a decision. Retrospect aside, though, in the
end it still wound up going on something of an absorption spree ever since that night when it killed the
Order of the Black Wand’s guild master.
More than five hundred corpses had been fed to its Cadaver Absorption Skill since then. Out of those, it
had gotten a total of eighty one successes - two Jobs, fifteen Skills, and sixty four Attribute boosts. The
Jobs in question were that of an adventurer’s Warrior and a janther’s Big Cat, both of which disappeared
into nothingness since its Job slots were full. The total amount of Attributes stolen were easily in the
hundreds and spread out rather randomly, though the majority of them had gone into STR, AGI and
END. Not surprising considering monsters with relatively tough bodies were far more common than
those with inherent magical ability.
As for the Skills, those had some duplicates and overlaps with the shapeshifter’s existing abilities, but it
still managed to secure nine new ones. Out of the two purely defensive ones it got, the first one was a
gargoyle’s Padded Skin, which reduced damage taken from blunt trauma. The other one was Sense
Danger which it lifted off a deer. It supposedly helped the creature pick up on nearby threats, Boxxy
wasn’t sure how reliable this thing was considering it did nothing to help its former owner.
At least the offensive ones had been far more interesting. It had gotten Vile Blades off of a hobgoblin,
which allowed it to spend a bit of MP to coat any hand-held bladed weapons with a weak poison that
dealt additional damage over time. Another janther gave it Aerial Strikes, which enhanced jumping
melee attacks. A high-Level Monk contributed Path of the Dragon, a staff-based combat style that relied
on singular heavy attacks to punch through an opponent’s defenses in one hit. Boxxy didn’t typically
fight with a staff, but it imagined Voidcaller’s heft and sturdiness would make it a good enough
bludgeoning weapon if the need arose. The fourth and final offensive ability it acquired was Web Throw,
a Skill from a giant spider that allowed it to entangle its target in sticky thread from afar. This one was
very similar to Claws’s Impact Webbing, though it had a significantly lower range.
In terms of utility, the only thing Boxxy was able to acquire was Alchemical Fortitude off a hermit
dwarven Alchemist living by himself in the mountains. It raised the user’s tolerance for magical
mixtures, allowing them to consume a lot more of them before being stricken by potion sickness. It also
lessened the effects of poisons, but the Mimic’s Legendary Endurance rendered that a moot point. As for
why this particular ability was the one with the most proficiency in the hermit’s repertoire, that was
revealed by the research journal in the man’s cottage. Apparently he had been developing an original
alcoholic drink called a ‘Ginger Gangbang,’ and had been testing it on himself ever since he turned his
last willing subject permanently blind.
Lastly, there were the two largely useless Skills. The first of them was Dustoff, a gust of air meant to
help harpies rapidly gain altitude. However, it was far too weak to lift a monster of Boxxy’s considerable
bulk. Not even growing a dozen wings or using Keira’s weight-reduction rings could help it get airborne.
At least it learned how to make feathered wings rather than leathery ones, but it was still unable to soar
without the Flight Spell. The other borderline worthless ability was the Monocular Rage of a cyclops,
which could only be activated if the monster’s singular eye had been rendered blind. Needless to say,
this was not a condition Boxxy would want to fulfill even if it could.
Those weren’t all of the recent additions to the Mimic’s mind-bogglingly long Skill List, however. There
was also the matter of the monster’s Ranger Job, which had grown to Level 41 since Boxxy had used
Winter’s Bite to murder a number of high-value targets, including a VIP. This allowed the shapeshifter
to pick up the Razor Volley Skill, which could be used to put a bit of wind magic behind its shots. This
not only allowed them to fly straight even in a cross-wind, but also significantly increased their piercing
power. It could only be activated once every ten minutes and would only work on the next five to ten
shots (depending on Level), but had the potential to be devastating. Especially if combined with the right
arrows and/or Martial Arts.
Speaking of which, it had acquired some of those, as well. The Ranger’s Marksman Skill had hit Level
9, allowing the use of Tornado Shot. This fired an elementally-charged arrow which, upon striking a
target, would create a miniature whirlwind capable of throwing people and monsters into the air. The
stolen Path of the Dragon Skill, on the other hand, had given knowledge of two staff techniques. Rising
Claw, a vertical upward strike that had a bonus towards disarming the opponent’s melee weapon, and
Tail Sweep, which knocked back all targets in a circle around the user.
All things considered, Boxxy’s murderous tour of the Empire had proven to be immensely successful,
just not in the way it had intended. Having finally tapped into the potential of Cadaver Absorption had
allowed it to grow significantly more powerful than when it had left. However, it time and again
reminded itself not to get too cocky, as it had still made a good deal of mistakes. Tripping the guild
master’s alarms and letting Nora slip away were the biggest ones, and they were painfully obvious signs
that it was still sorely lacking in experience.
And that was something that no amount of Levels or Attributes could make up for.
Boxxy T.
Morningwood
Creeper Blade
(Hylt) Dancer
Sex N/A DEX 892 MNT 530 Mimic 50 MAX Wizard 25 M
Hidden
Arrow
7984/7984
(+31.0/sec)
6242/6242
(+9.6/sec)
Skills Show
Moves & Perks Show
The earth began to shake and the loose snow began to swirl upwards into the air as one of Azurvale’s
Forest Gates powered up. The line of departees was assembled as per usual, aside from the excessive
amount of shivering going on due to the biting cold wind that swept over the plaza. Even if the Hylt tree
canopy absorbed much of the otherwise heavy snowfall, the massive trees could do nothing to stymie
the breath of the harsh northern winter.
None of that could keep the enormous portal from opening up and it being used as per usual, though.
Hooded and cloaked individuals began ferrying carts and wagons through one end of it while a nearly
identical mass of travelers poured out of the other. The various tarps and fabrics that protected the goods
from the weather blended together with the heavily clothed people. Looking at it from afar, it was like a
river of brown, beige and gray that seemed to filter through the gate’s enchanted archway. Under such
circumstances one could be forgiven for failing to spot a face in the crowd.
And yet people’s eyesight still seemed to linger on one individual in particular. A relatively small frame
in a heavy fur coat with a poofy hood that covered all but the lower half of her face. But even that was
enough for most citizens of Azurvale to recognize who this was, for there were very few well-tanned
individuals that could be seen around here, especially during this season. Cross-reference that handful
with the boundlessly cheerful smile, and the list of possible suspects boiled down to one.
“It’s good to be back!” shouted Keira excitedly as she threw her arms up.
“Miss Morgana, where do you want me to drop off these?”
The catgirl looked over her shoulder towards the dwarf that just called out to her. He was part of a
delivery company that she had hired to help transport a cartload of goods from the dwarven border all
the way to the capital. The wagon, which was being pulled along by a stone golem, held the various
spoils of her latest adventure. All of which were officially hers since she had declared them at the border
crossing and paid all taxes and fees involved.
“Ah, that’s a good question,” said Keira thoughtfully. “I can’t leave this stuff at home… Oh, I know!
You know where the Central Consortium is?”
“Sure do. Should I head there?”
“Please do. Leave them care of the Hidden Arrow guild, I’ll sort ‘em out later. Oh, there’s also a crate
marked ‘volatile’ with a note attached. Tell the receptionist to send that to miss Hilda. She’ll know the
one.”
The package in question was the Firebrand whiskey that the female Berserker had requested of Keira to
pick up on her behalf. Maintaining good relations with such a powerful fighter was pretty high on the
priority list for the monster that lay behind that smile, so it was more than happy to oblige. Sure, it spent
a small fortune on this stuff, but it would be worth it in the long run.
“Understood, ma’am,” said the dwarf with a nod. “Will you not be coming with?”
“No, I got some, uh, urgent stuff I gotta do first.”
“What about my fee, then?”
“Just ask the guild to cover the bill on my behalf, they know I’m good for it.”
“Will do.”
And with that, the delivery dwarf and the company golem under his care set off to finish their job. As for
Keira, she limbered up with a few good stretches and then went down on all fours with her butt sticking
up in the air. Having recognized her ‘take off’ position, the crowd in front of her almost instinctively
made way as she darted off through the streets at top speeds. She dashed between people, over stalls and
under carriages, much as she always did.
However, rather than being peeved off at her, the pedestrians and peddlers were genuinely glad to see
their resident Hero return after a long absence. She was a local celebrity, so they didn’t even need to see
her crimson hair and pointy ears to know it was her. They still did, though, as her hood had slipped off
during the quadruped sprint. Purely by accident, of course.
The random cheers and greetings she received steadily became more familiar and casual as she
approached the house of one Rowana Slyth.
“Welcome back, miss Morgana!” shouted a kebab vendor.
“Yaaay! Big sis Keira is back!” called out a boy playing in the snow.
“Watch the ice, kiddo!” yelled a beefy-looking adventurer as he passed by.
“Never thought I’d miss someone vaulting over my fence until now…” grumbled an innkeeper.
This was the catgirl’s home neighborhood, so it was only natural she’d be the most popular around here.
Keira looked up at the tree towards her house excitedly, and as such failed to notice a freshly frozen
puddle on the ground. Her bare hand slipped on it, making her fall on and flip over her shoulder before
crashing magnificently into a nearby wall, leaving her upside-down with her feet and tail in the air.
After picking herself up and dusting herself off, the red-faced beastkin continued on her way at a brisk
walk while onlookers were trying to hold in their laughter. Seeing a young girl have an adorably clumsy
yet ultimately harmless tumble was definitely a crowd pleaser. It was worth noting, however, that this
wasn’t an act, but had been a genuine accident. This was Boxxy’s first taste of real winter as Keira, so it
had underestimated the slipperiness of hard-packed snow that had turned to ice. It had managed to play
it off, but the Mimic groaned inwardly that it could really do without any more surprises for a while.
The shapeshifter had its ‘game face’ on by the time it reached Rowana’s home and stood in front of the
door. In typical Keira fashion, it flung the door open with a light kick while loudly declaring-
“Honey! I’m hooooome!”
However, it would appear Boxxy’s wish had failed to come true, as a surprise was waiting for it inside.
Rather than seeing a familiar silver-haired elven beauty, it instead saw a strange grey-haired beastkin
boy. One with a pair of extremely furry canine ears poking out of his scalp and a bushy tail dangling
behind him. He had been sitting at Rowana’s desk pouring over a thick tome of some sort when the
catgirl barged in, and the two of them were now staring right into each other’s eyes. Keira lunged at the
stranger in the next instant, dropping the rucksack she was carrying while pulling out a mithril dagger
from the belt underneath her coat.
“Uwaaaah!”
The boy let out a startled yelp at the sudden motion, but the mid-Level Ranger was too quick for him.
She tackled him off his chair before he could make any sort of meaningful reaction. Keira pinned him to
the floor and put her shiny knife to his throat, causing the poor lad to squeal in fear with tears welling up
in his bright blue eyes.
“Who are you?!” she growled while looming over him. “Where’s Rowie?!”
However, the intruder could only muster gasps and fragmented sounds, as he was unsure how to deal
with this sudden outburst of violence. Some unseen force interpreted his awkward flailing and
stammering as a form of resistance, which caused a series of very informative notifications to appear in
both their minds.

The Hero of Chaos will now face the Hero of Magic on the field of battle!
“…”
The two beastkin stared at each other in total silence as the revelation began to sink in. In the heat of the
moment, Keira ended up pressing her dagger against the other Hero’s throat hard enough to draw blood.
Boxxy wasn’t sure what was going on, but the monster’s ‘kill or be killed’ mentality had come out to the
forefront and was influencing the actions of its Facade. With HP that pitiably low, he would die with a
single sharp slash, allowing the greedy creature to claim another Hero-exclusive Skill.
Keira then felt her leg was pressing against something warm and damp. She looked down, only to
realize the stranger had wet himself out of fear. That oddity snapped the shapeshifter out of its
murderous intent, allowing it to realize this was a horrible idea in the long run. Keira should really not
be seen killing other Heroes in cold blood. And that Clash of Fate announcement? It would have been
broadcast to everyone in the city.
The catgirl rose to her feet, dragging the mumbling buffoon she was accosting up along with her, then
slammed him face-first against the wall while still holding him at knifepoint.
“I’m going to ask you only one more time. Where. Is. Rowana?!”
“Sh-sh-sh-sh-she’s out shopping!” he managed to yell out. “Something about a special lunch! She
insisted!”
“And what about you? What are you doing here?!”
“I’m a guest! A guest! Honest! Look, my bag is over there! You’ll find a letter from lady Imiryl in it!
She’s one of my teachers and the one who invited me here!”
The catgirl let go of the man and slowly went towards the bag he mentioned while keeping her blade
pointed at him. She reached in and pulled out a fancy-looking parchment. She unrolled it with one hand
and gave it a skim. It definitely bore Imiryl’s personal seal, and was addressed to Nao Shoki - which her
Eyes of the Dead God confirmed was this beastkin boy - to the Republic.
“Okay, say I believe you,” she said while putting down the document. “Then how do we undo this Clash
thing? I’m still new to the Hero business so I have no idea.”
“Just lower your weapon and cease hostilities! It should go away if we wait long enough!”
Keira warily did as instructed, and the two beastkin stared at each other tensely for about a minute
before the man’s words were proven to be true.
Clash of Fate has been rescinded!

The Hero of Chaos has made peace with the Hero of Magic!
“Oh thank Lunar,” he exclaimed as he slumped down to the ground.
“Yeah… Uh… I guess I should apologize for that…”
“N-n-no, it’s fine. You were only protecting your home against a suspicious individual. I can hardly
blame you for being on edge, especially after what you went through.”
“… What is it you know about me?!” she said coldly while baring her blade once more.
“Woah, woah, woah!” exclaimed the lad, throwing his hands up. “Look, I mean you no harm. I’m here
to help, actually! After I came here at lady Imiryl’s request, I was told by a very kind Paladin named
Lichter that you’ve had some… troubles recently.”
“Define ‘troubles,’” she snarled, murderous intent rising once more.
“Uhm! I swear I don’t know much!” he answered quickly in a panic. “I was just told you were
kidnapped and woke up with a weird thing in your back! I know a lot about stuff, so they asked me to
take a look at it! Strictly confidential, of course!”
“Ah… Oh… Oh my god!” exclaimed Keira as what she had done finally sank in. “You’re to help me
and I pulled a knife on you! Oh, shit! I cut you! You’re bleeding! Are you okay?!”
“I’m- I’m fine! Just a scratch. Barely lost any HP.”
The catgirl then glanced around the house, specifically at the blood and urine stains on the floor.
“Quick, we need to clean this up before-”
“Keeiraaaaa!”
The sound of an angry Rowana came in through the still open door, with the elf herself following soon
after.
“Nyrie damnit, Keira!” she shouted when she saw the collective mess. “I’ve been waiting for you to
come back for what felt like an eternity, and when you finally show up, you try to assault our guest! Do
you have anything to say for yourself?”
“… Honey, I’m home?” said the catgirl with an awkward smile.
“Wha-?! That’s not-! You can’t just-! Why did-?!”
The elf’s shoulders dropped, followed by her giving off a long, tired sigh. Once she calmed herself down
a bit, she walked over to her girlfriend and gave her a rather forceful hug.
“Welcome back, sweetie,” she whispered softly.
After a bit of cleaning up, a change of clothes, a good deal of apologizing, and a pleasant chat with some
heavily armed guards that had arrived at the scene of a disturbance, the three of them finally managed to
clear up all misunderstandings. They then sat around the dining table for a civil conversation over a nice
cup of Rowana’s special blend of calming tea.
“Again, I’m really sorry for what I did,” repeated the catgirl for the upteempth time. “I just, I didn’t see
Rowie, and there was a stranger, and-”
“It’s alright, miss Morgana. Like I said, I completely understand. Though I must say, your timing was
rather exquisite.”
Apparently, even though he had been in town for a few days now, the Hero of Magic known as Nao
Shoki had only arrived at Rowana’s abode shortly before Keira did. After introducing himself to the
mistress of the house and explaining his purpose, she asked him to come in. She then insisted she
prepare a special meal to welcome him, which was why she left him to watch the house while she
procured ingredients.
Long story short, if the catgirl who had been gone for over a month had returned fifteen minutes earlier
or later than she did, none of this would’ve happened.
“Ugh, yeah. It’s a Hero of Chaos thing,” groaned Keira. “I always end up in freaky situations. It’s kinda
my thing.”
“Sounds troublesome.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” said Rowana with a bit of a forced smile.
“You get used to it, though,” claimed the catgirl with a dismissive hand wave. “Mostly…”
“That being said, please don’t grab me like that again, okay?” pleaded the visitor. “I’m… not very good
at dealing with women. Especially violent ones…”
“Is that why you freaked out like that?” asked Keira, and she got a sheepish nod in response. “Wow,
okay. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look like a Hero at all.”
Upon closer inspection, Nao’s short and spiky hair was not uniform in color, but was made up of both
light and dark streaks of grey. The odd coloration could also seen in the bushy tail and the pointy ears.
This, combined with those unnaturally bright blue eyes of his, gave off the impression of a timber wolf
one would meet in the mountains. Or at least it would have, were it not for his incredibly attractive yet
gentle-looking face and overall meek demeanor. He was more like a pup than a predator.
The rest of him was also quite non-threatening and distinctly un-manly. He was only a few centimeters
taller than Keira, though it was hard to tell since he was hunched over all the time. His attire consisted of
a dark blue robe with a bright yellow trim that wrapped snugly around his slim arms and torso, with a
slit in the back to let his tail dangle freely. The clearly high-class garment’s lower end obscured his legs
aside from the leather sandals he wore on his feet, which exposed his bare, clawed toes to the open air.
He also had, for whatever reason, three whole belts hanging off his waist, each studded with a series of
tiny precious stones.
“Hahaha, I get that a lot,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “You on the other hand are just as terrifying as
I thought you would be.”
“Terrifying?!” she exclaimed while leaning forwards. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Eep!”
“Keira. You’re upsetting our guest,” said Rowana in a strict voice.
“S-sorry, Rowie, but he just called me terrifying! I’m not all that scary! … Am I?”
“F-f-forgive me, miss Morgana,” stammered Nao, “but I just heard a rather… colorful collection of
nicknames on my way to Azurvale. They may have influenced my, uh, preconceptions…”
“Colorful? Like what?” inquired the catgirl.
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
“I promise.”
“Hero Killer. The Mad Cat. The Blood-soaked Jester. Herald of Armageddon. And those are the more,
erm, flattering ones.”
“Egads!” exclaimed Rowana. “My dear Keira is the gentlest person I know! Who would dare spread
such vile filth?!”
“The shitheads over in the Empire I would imagine,” said the ‘gentle person’ with a scowl. “Bunch of
sore losers can’t cope with the fact their poster-child was bad at his job.”
“W-well, you can’t put all the blame on propaganda,” muttered Nao. “You were super intense when you,
uh… Ahem! ‘Greeted’ me earlier.”
“Look, I’ve been through a lot, okay,” she argued. “Everyone gets twitchy when they’re stressed out.
And my trip was pretty damn stressful.”
This statement rang far truer than the standard deluge of dishonesty that normally spilled out of Keira’s
mouth. Even if Boxxy enjoyed certain parts of its latest adventure and obtained certain profits and
benefits, it had been a mentally and physically draining endeavor. The fact that it couldn’t ‘seal the deal’
at the end was especially bothersome. Then there was also the fact that it failed to capture any dungeon
cores, though not for a lack of trying. The places it visited had ‘hearts’ that were inaccessible or outright
missing because a certain Spymaster’s lackeys had beaten it to the punch. It therefore had to take the
‘long’ way home, where the Foundation was no doubt waiting for it.
All things said and done, the shapeshifter was looking forward to laying low and relaxing itself for the
foreseeable future, at least until this soulstone business was resolved.
“I can only imagine,” said Rowana as she placed her hand on Keira’s. “Did you even manage to find
your friend?”
“Sort of. Fizzy’s busy doing Julian’s work so it’ll be a while before she can come back. I would’ve
honestly come back sooner, but- Oh! Right! Rowie, I have some great news!”
The catgirl suddenly perked up, taking both of the elf’s hands in her own.
“What? What is it?”
“The thing in my back - we don’t need to worry about it! We just need to be patient and wait for it to go
away on its own!”
“Really? You’re certain?!”
“Yes! One hundred million percent sure!”
An exaggeration to be sure, but the Mimic had confirmed the information Reggie had given it the last
time they met while it was busy dismantling the Order of the Black Wand.
“Oh, thank the Gods!”
The two of them shared another long hug as tears of happiness began to stream out of Rowana’s emerald
green eyes. She tried to be strong for her girlfriend’s sake, but there was no woman alive who wouldn’t
worry about her lover if she suddenly came home with a tumorous jewel in her back.
“Uhm… S-sorry to interrupt your moment,” butted in Nao, “but do you mind if I take a look at that
anyway? It’s the main reason I’m here to begin with…”
The two lovebirds broke up their embrace and Keira gave Rowana an apprehensive look.
“It’s fine, isn’t it? Who best to make sure absolutely sure you’ll be fine than your fellow Hero.”
“No offense, Rowie, but the last ‘fellow Hero’ I met tried to kill me.”
“Come now, don’t be like that. This sweet boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I am not a boy!” shouted Nao in his first show of genuine anger. “I am twenty-fucking-five years old!”
He then realized what he had just said, and shrank back into his seat with a red face.
“S-s-sorry… I just… I really hate being called ‘boy.’ Or ‘darling.’ Or ‘cutie.’ Or ‘brat.’ Or anything of
the like. It’s hard enough to get people to take me seriously without that sort of thing…”
It was a bit ironic, as those were exactly the sort of words one would use to describe the man upon
seeing him. The complete and total absence of facial hair was especially troublesome in that respect,
though his biggest problem was without a doubt his personality. The ‘shy but cute bookworm’ thing
probably invited all manner of teasing from carnivorous older women.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Keira. “Are you sure you’ll be fine, though? I don’t mind taking off my
clothes for an examination, but you said you had a fear of women, didn’t you?”
“S-something like that, but I’ll be fine with you, miss Morgana. You’re more like a monster than a
woman anyway,” he said with a light smile.
“Haha… hah… haaah... ”
The catgirl splayed herself out across the table with a dry, humorless laugh.
“That’s right. I’m just a Herald of Armageddon, after all,” she mumbled in a dull monotone with vacant
eyes. “Just a bad omen that destroys lives with its very presence, turning everything it touches to ash and
cinders. The world would be better off if I crawled into a hole and disappeared forever…”
“Nao!” squealed Rowana. “You shouldn’t say things like that! Do you have any idea how much Keira
struggles with self-doubt every single day?!”
“I’m sorry! It was a bad joke! I didn’t mean it!”
After a bit more of hamming it up under the pretense of ‘too much has been going on recently,’ Keira
finally took off her coat and shirt, showing her back to the Hero of Magic. The crimson soulstone had
already shrunk to a fraction of its original size, and was currently no bigger than a palm print. Nao
reached for his bag and started pulling out a number of magic tools, such as a pair of enchanted rimless
spectacles, a mithril needle, and an enchanted magnifying glass.
He then began inspecting the soulstone, being careful not to chip or scratch it with his various
instruments. Boxxy was also keeping a close eye on his movements, making sure he didn’t do anything
weird that might endanger the soulstone’s integrity. Its life was still tethered to this thing, so it needed to
protect it at all costs, though it didn’t seem like he had anything particularly dangerous in that bag of his.
On the upside this was an opportunity to see if the Hero of Magic was indeed as smart as he claimed, so
there was something to be gained by humoring him like this.
Thankfully its vigilance proved to be unnecessary, as the young-looking beastkin concluded his
examination after only a few minutes.
“Well, the bad news is I can’t say I know exactly what this is,” he said calmly, “but I can tell an
alchemically created stone when I see one. The good news is that miss Morgana-”
“Call me Keira.”
“Right. The good news is that Keira’s information was correct. Whatever this thing is, it’s mostly inert
by now. It should be absorbed into her body and then, uh, ‘expelled’ from it without further
complications.”
“Wait, ‘expelled?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”
Boxxy had asked out of genuine concern, as neither Reggie nor the intelligence from the Order
mentioned anything about that part.
“Ah, w-w-well, it’s when you, uh…”
“He means poop, sweetie,” said Rowana bluntly.
“Yeah, that.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense.”
It might also prove to be a bit of a problem, as doppelgangers did not, in fact, poop. Not usually,
anyway. They could produce excrement if they wanted to, they just didn’t need to. Their bodies, much
like those of mimics, were capable of completely breaking down anything they put into their mouths if
given enough time. Bone, meat, fruit, leather, glass, pebbles, wood - anything other than forged metal
and large stones was fair game, really. And should something truly indigestible find itself into their
system, it would just be, for the lack of a better word, ‘spit out.’
Boxxy therefore decided to do like the city of Erosa and scheduled a forceful evacuation of its own.
“You can put your shirt back on, miss Mor- uh, Keira.”
“Thanks,” replied the catgirl as she got dressed. “I gotta say though, it feels like you were asked to come
all this way for nothing.”
“Haha. Yes, well, Azurvale it is a long way from the Pearly Dunes, but I got to see real snow for the first
time ever, so it’s not a total loss. However, I must admit I did have an ulterior motive in coming here.
You see, I heard tales of a Warlock that could command a demonic Overlord. One that you’re
supposedly quite close to, Keira.”
When Nao heard the nickname ‘Herald of Armageddon’ during his travels, he naturally followed up by
asking what such an ominous monicker could mean. That was how he found out about the events of
Armageddon Day, which practically ended the Cataclysm Conflict between the Lodrak Empire and
Ishigar Republic. The chosen of Teresa being taken down by a newly revealed Hero was big news, so it
was only natural it would spread to the far corners of the continent. What Lunar’s studious disciple
wanted to know, however, was what happened before that encounter.
“… I see. You want to meet Mr S, do you?” said the catgirl in an accusatory manner.
“If you’re referring to this ‘Sandman’ character, then yes, I would like to trade words with him.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I can’t make that happen. He gets in contact with me, not the other way
around. Besides, he’s not exactly the, uh, sharing type. I haven’t even seen his face, so I doubt he’d be
revealing his trade secrets to some random guy. Uh, no offense.”
“Oh… That’s a shame. I was hoping to borrow his insight regarding demonic beings for a project I’m
working on.”
“Project? What project?”
“In all honesty, it’s not something that I expect would yield anything of value,” admitted Nao while
scratching his cheek. “It’s just that, every now and then you hear tales of people being turned into
demons, or vice-versa. Sure, those are just outlandish myths and legends, but I want to separate the
fiction from the facts. If there are any to be found, of course.”
“Why would you even look into something shady like that?”
“I just want to know, that’s all,” he said with a pure smile. “It is my mission in life to seek out and
unearth the truth behind all those old tales, to unlock the secrets of magic lost to time. The Goddess of
Magic and Learning saw that I had the potential to learn and comprehend a great deal, so she chose to
support my goals. Whether I will actually put my discoveries to use, well, I’ll leave that for my older,
wiser self to decide.”
“Huh. You’re way less of a loose cannon than I thought,” commented Keira. “I thought you’d be looking
for the ultimate way to flatten mountains or something.”
“Same here,” agreed Rowana with a nod.
“What?! Why would you ever think that?!”
“You are Imiryl’s student, right?” pointed out the catgirl.
“Yeah, the one that zapped a waiter because her crumpets were dry?” chimed in the elf.
“I’m her student as an Enchanter!” he protested. “I want to ward off disease, avert disaster and prolong
lifespans. My ultimate goal is to make life better, not end it faster!”
“Same thing,” countered Keira. “The world isn’t the kind of warm and fuzzy place that would spare
someone just because they have a warm bed. We live with monsters that cannot be reasoned with and
will not stop their destructive ways unless someone puts them down. If that’s not making lives better,
then what is?”
“Look, I’m not an idiot. I will not belittle the adventurers and soldiers that keep people like me safe. I’m
not going to argue that magic is a weapon. The thing is, so are swords, axes, catapults and bows! We live
in an age where the average Level of both adventurers and their armaments are higher than they’ve ever
been. However, the mystic arts can do so much more than slaughter beasts in some dank cave
somewhere!”
“Like making entire cities disappear in a puff of flame and smoke? You’re right, there’s no way I’d be
able to do that with just a bow and arrow.”
“That’s not what I mean!” argued Nao. “If harnessed and used right, the energy we call mana has the
potential to uplift our civilization as a whole! Yet we’re too busy flinging it at people’s faces to fully
explore that possibility! Any idiot can blow up a mountain, but how many can piece it back together?!”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about putting things back together!” snapped back Keira. “I’ve seen things! I
know what becomes of those who do things ‘for the good of the people.’ The only thing your idiotic
ambitions will accomplish is give some monster the means through which to harm others!”
“Oh, yes! I’m sure a troll will be able to do all sorts of damage with a bracelet that can, say, halt the
advance of the otherwise incurable Paralyzing Rotflesh disease!?”
“No, you misunderstand. The monsters I’m referring to don’t live in the woods and bash things with
clubs. I’m talking about the vile creatures that pat each other on the back as they send fathers, sons and
brothers to die for their own selfish goals! The kind that will take your noble intentions, twist them into
a knot, and then shove them so far up your-!”
“That’s enough! Both of you calm down!” butted in Rowana in an authoritative tone. “Keira, sweetie,
you’re tired and my sensitive nose does not appreciate the faint smell of urine on you. Our guest has had
a rather eventful day himself. So let’s avoid getting political so we can all get some rest, and we can get
you into a nice, hot bath.”
“R-right. Sorry Nao, I shouldn’t have said all that stuff. I got carried away again.”
“Yeah, you tend to do that a lot, I’ve noticed. Then if you’ll excuse me…”
Just as the still upset wolfkin was getting up to leave, Boxxy had a flash of brilliance.
“Wait, hold on. You said you wanted to unlock the secrets behind old, strange magic, right?”
“Uh,yeah? What of it?”
“Then, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I think I have something you would want to look at.”
She stood up and walked over to the rucksack she brought with her. She reached in and, after discreetly
accessing Storage, pulled out a certain pink square of a gem. She walked back to Nao and handed it to
him.
“Oh? What’s this, now?” he asked curiously while flipping it over.
“That’s what I want to know,” said Keira. “It’s something that was entrusted to me, but I have no idea
what it is, where it came from, or what it does. Or even why it was given to me in the first place.”
“I suppose it’s certainly mysterious, isn’t it? Might as well take a look-see. Identify, Appraise Item,
Detect Enchant!”
Boxxy immediately reclassified Nao Shoki inside its mind, bumping his threat level up from ‘Probably
Harmless’ to ‘Potentially Catastrophic.’ What he had just used now was a trio of Scribe Skills. Meaning
that the Mimic would need to make sure Keira avoided getting Appraised by him under any
circumstances. The Essence Concealment Skill common among Heroes was unable to hide one’s true
Status from ‘divine eyes.’ It was unclear whether being chosen by the Gods classified Nao’s peepers as
such, but it was probably a safe bet to assume it was so.
“How strange,” said the wolf-boy-looking-man while looking over the jewel in his hand. “I’m not
getting anything at all. It’s like I’m trying to appraise a random rock I picked up off the ground.”
“Yeah, everybody I took it to said the same,” claimed Keira. “Except Mr S. He said it seemed to soak up
mana or something.”
“An absorption property, eh? Hmm… Something like that could potentially prevent a Scribe’s magic
from analyzing an item, but the absorption rate would need to be something ridiculous.”
Considering it took an estimated 50,000 MP to fully charge this thing, then ‘ridiculous’ was definitely an
apt statement.
“Do you mind if I borrow this for a few days so I can study it?” asked the wolfkin. “I’m afraid I don’t
have the proper equipment on hand.”
“Well, okay. Just make sure to bring it back safely when you’re done. It’s the only memento I have left
of my teacher, and I’m only entrusting it to you because you’re a Hero. If you think I was violent before,
you wouldn’t want to see what I’d do if something happens to that. So don’t do anything that both of us
would regret!”
The reasoning behind this threat may have been just lip service, but the underlying message of ‘it’s your
funeral if you don’t give it back’ had been transmitted loud and clear.
“I, uh, I shall make extra sure to treat it with utmost care, then.”
That was a satisfactory response. Boxxy wanted to avoid having an actual Clash of Fate if at all possible
since that would, in all likelihood, make Keira’s reputation take a nosedive. The time with Bernard was
fine since it was during a war, but society normally looked down upon Hero Killers - repeat offenders
especially. However, if it was for the sake of that exquisite shiny, then the negative publicity would
probably be worth it.
Perhaps it would be best to send Claws to track the guy just to make sure nothing weird happened?
“Wait, is that the thing Faehorn left for you?” asked Rowana while squinting at the shiny thing. “Looks a
lot… pinker from what I remember.”
Ah, crap, thought Boxxy. It had forgotten that it showed the elf a plain old ruby back then since it
wanted to avoid any unwelcome reactions since the relationship between them was still somewhat fresh.
Things were different now, though, giving the shapeshifter an easy out. There was only one thing one
girlfriend could say to another after a lie had been exposed like that to smooth things over.
“Yeah, I might have… shown you a different one back then.”
Which was to admit to it, then beg for forgiveness.
“You what? Why?! Didn’t you tell me there’d be no more secrets?!”
“I forgot, okay?! Back then I didn’t want to upset you by bringing in suspicious magical gems that may
or may not blow up!”
“That thing can explode?!”
“I said I don’t know! There’s a non-zero chance, okay?! I just didn’t want to worry you, but I couldn’t
throw away mister Faehorn’s last gift!”
“You-! … We’ll talk about this later. In private.”
Rowana looked like she was about to go into full bitchiness mode, but managed to catch herself when
she remembered they still had a guest. The same one seemed to be chuckling to himself as he watched
the two quarrel. It seemed innocent enough, but something about his attitude ticked off the elf even
further.
“What? Does our relationship amuse you?” she said in a thoroughly un-amused tone.
“No, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought you two seemed like an old married couple for a
second there.”
Nao didn’t know it yet, but he had stepped on a landmine. Hearing the ‘M-word’ did little to abate
Rowana’s bad mood. Just the opposite, in fact. Frankly speaking, she’d had enough of her own mother
harping on about it without having some random furball butting his head into it to. To be more precise, it
was the fact that she couldn’t get married to her lover that really ticked her off. She knew she shouldn’t
be taking it out on a Hero, especially one who came here to help them, so she did her best not to fly off
the handle at him.
“… I think you should leave now,” whispered Keira while Rowana was visibly seething.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Realizing he had overstayed his welcome, Nao immediately turned to leave. As he was walking out the
front door, however, there was a rather violent gust of wind that knocked him over, making him drop the
gem in his hand as he fell backwards. It drew a wonderful arc through the air, landing softly on Keira’s
crimson hair.
“Ah… terribly sorry about that,” he said as he picked himself up. “I’ll just put that in my enchanted bag
for safe keeping.”
With the item once more securely in his possession, he finally left the house. Rowana walked into the
bathroom in the cellar and started drawing a bath while Keira finished off her tea. She then went over to
the bed and began undressing to get ready for that bath while the quiet sound of running water could be
heard coming from beneath the floorboards. Boxxy wondered, was this place always this silent? It then
realized that something was missing from this humble abode. Something small, hyperactive, incredibly
lucky, and enviably square-shaped.
“Rowie!?” shouted Keira. “Where’s Minic!?”
“Damn! I forgot to feed it this morning!” responded the elf from down below. “Must have gone out to
find lunch! Now it’ll come back all filthy and covered in sewage again!”
No sooner were those words uttered that the House Mimic burst through the tiny flap in the front door. It
ran up to Keira’s feet and bounced around excitedly going ‘Yip! Yip!’ The catgirl bent over, picked it up
and put it on her naked lap. She smiled sweetly, then proceeded to stroke its polished surface. Especially
the bright red gem that stood in the middle of its lid. Boxxy wasn’t surprised to see its older-yet-smaller
‘sibling’ was alive and well, but it was still oddly glad to see its pet again.
Rowana walked up from the basement at that point, feeling her heart melt a bit at the sweet scene.
“C’mon, love. Water’s ready,” she called out after a few moments.
“I can take Minic with me, right?”
“I don’t know. It might get in the way with both of us in there.”
“You’re coming in with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” asked the elf while crossing her arms.
“Aren’t you still mad about the gem thing?”
“Quite a bit, yes. And you’re going to make it up to me by letting me wash you, cuddling up with me,
then doing that thing you do with your tongue until I’m satisfied.”
“Well! When you put it like that then perhaps I should get you mad more often!”
“Hack! Hack!”
Keira was barely able to finish her sentence when Minic suddenly started coughing and spurting,
choking on something lodged in its throat. It managed to get the foreign object free a few moments later
and spat it out into the catgirl’s cleavage, revealing it to be an unmistakable square-cut pink gem.
“Uh, Keira? Is that what I think it is?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But how did-”
“Wait for it.”

“…”
*BAM BAM BAM BAM*
“Excuse me in there! It’s urgent!”
There was a panicked banging at the door, followed by Nao’s voice.
“What is it?” asked Rowana as she poked her head out the door.
“I’m terribly sorry about this, but I lost the heirloom miss Morgana gave me!” he explained, his words
firing off faster than a lightning elemental. “I know you just gave it to me five minutes ago, but it fell out
of my bag when I slipped on some ice! A weird box-creature then snatched it off the ground before I
could pick it up and disappeared into a snowbank! Again, I’m really sorry, but I need miss Morgana and
her Ranger Skills to help me track it down!”
The elf looked back in at her lover, and the two shared a quick laugh. The catgirl covered herself, then
the two introduced Minic to Nao and explained not to worry, though the animate box seemed to dislike
the wolfkin for some reason. Rowana then returned the item back to the flabbergasted scholar while he
apologized a dozen times over. Nao then somewhat reluctantly placed the bizarre stone in his Item Box,
a Skill that was like a lesser version of Boxxy’s Storage. He didn’t want to do this initially because, in
his own words, ‘you never know when these mystery trinkets will react badly to spatial magic.’ But,
after a solid amount of Keira’s urging and Rowana’s bitching, he finally agreed to it and went on his
way.
Once the bumbling Hero was gone for good, the two women were finally able to share a romantic and
extremely passionate bath. They spent the rest of the afternoon indoors as Boxxy regaled its
Doppelganger XP source with made up adventure stories while they snuggled on the bed with Minic.
They then went out for a brief walk, had a nice dinner at a restaurant, followed by another round of
make-up sex back at home before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
Boxxy had already slept in the Dryad’s Domain prior to organizing Keira’s official return to Azurvale,
but it still felt drained from all the needless effort it put into Mortimer’s Quest. Using enormous amounts
of magic was quite taxing on the body, and the hundreds of Transfamiliar hops it performed were no
exception. Admittedly sharing a bed with a piece of convenient meat and a purring mini-box wasn’t its
ideal sleeping arrangement, but it still found itself dozing off in the familiar atmosphere.
And then, when it woke up the next morning, it found something waiting for it on top of the old night
stand on its side of the bed.
It was an impossibly familiar pink gem, which showed absolutely no sign of how it got there.
Boxxy, as Keira, continued to lay in bed with Rowana’s hands wrapped around what she foolishly
believed to be her lover. It stared so hard at the pink gem on the nightstand that one might think the not-
catgirl was trying to fire beams out of her eyes. The fact that said eyes could see the shiny while the
monster’s magical sonar could not was the problem though. It proved that the thing on in front of the
creature was the very same article as the one it had sent away for study last night. Its authenticity was
not in question, but that only exasperated the real matter at hand - how, exactly, did it get here?
Luckily for Boxxy, it knew just who to ask.
“Claws, where’s Nao?” it called out telepathically.
The Mimic had silently sent its pet webstalker to keep a close eye on the Hero of Magic the day before.
It initially didn’t want to do that since he might be able to detect the spider-demon somehow, what with
her being made up of mana and him being a Hero with unknown Skills. However, the shapeshifter
rapidly changed its mind after that Minic incident. It showed that Nao Shoki was not as reliable as he
appeared, even if his intentions appeared legitimate. He didn’t seem like the type stupid enough to steal
another Hero’s treasure, but his carelessness was a problem.
“Good morning, master,” replied Drea. “He’s currently in the Central Consortium building.”
“What’s he doing right now?”
“Sleeping.”
“What about last night?”
“He spent most of it up and about until he collapsed on his desk about three hours ago. The way he
struggled but failed to keep his eyes open was quite adorable.”
“So he’s been there since yesterday?”
“Yes, Master.”
“What about you? Where are you right now?”
“I’m hiding on a rooftop with a clear view of the magical laboratory he’s in.”
“So you don’t know exactly what he’s been up to?”
“No, master. I can track his position through the windows, but the place is rigged with surveillance
magic so I can’t get closer without risk of raising an alarm.”
“What, can’t you just dispel those enchantments with Counterspell?”
“I can, but someone would notice if I did that. Maybe not right away, but eventually. I would’ve loved to
get a closer look at his sleeping face, but doing so would go against your orders.”
When Boxxy gave Claws her instructions, it told her to take every precaution against being spotted - be
it by Nao or anyone else. The arachnid demon had centuries’ worth of experience on the Mimic when it
came to sneaking about and circumventing security measures. Therefore, if she, in her honest
judgement, deemed it too risky to approach the her target, then it had no choice but to accept it.
Still, that did not answer the shapeshifter’s most pressing concern.
“What about the shiny I gave him? Can you see it right now?”
“No, master.”
“So you have no idea where it is?”
“That’s not the case. I saw him carry it around and using a bunch of tools, wands and tests on the thing.
The last thing he did with it was stick it inside a rune-inscribed cylinder and placing it on his desk. He
kept staring at it waiting for something, but the cutie dozed off before the thing was ready.”
“And nothing weird happened after that?”
“Well, I don’t know if it qualifies as weird, but the little guy accidentally knocked the container off his
desk while he was asleep.”
“So… you can’t see the thing that should have my shiny?”
“Er, no? But it should still be in there. It had a screw-on lid and the darling pup hasn’t had a single
visitor all night, so I don’t see where it could’ve gone.”
Well, so much for that idea. It would appear the best way to figuring this thing out was the direct
approach.
“Continue monitoring him and notify me if he tries to leave the room. I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“Ehehe! With pleasure!”
Something about that overtly enthusiastic response struck the Mimic as a bit odd. In fact, thinking back
on its conversation, the demon’s attitude towards the one she was stalking was a bit worrisome to say the
least.
“Say, Claws? I can’t help but notice your choice of language,” pointed out Boxxy.
“What do you mean, Master?”
“Why do you keep calling the man things like ‘adorable’ or ‘darling?’”
“W-w-well, it just sort of slipped out. He’s so cute that I can’t help but want to eat him right up!”
And of course, with Claws being Claws, this intention was very much literal. Allowing that would be a
very bad idea, though. Bound demons were considered extensions of their summoner’s power, so there
was no doubt in the shapeshifter’s mind that a Clash of Fate would trigger if Claws were to assault him.
Besides, it would be preferable if Keira and Nao could forge a cooperative relationship, as the wolfkin
could prove to be a valuable resource in the long run.
“But Master’s w-w-way better!” added the webstalker in a hurry. “There’s no way that brat and his
pinchable cheeks could measure up to Keira’s world-class beauty!”
“Who cares about that? Just keep your appetite under control and your jaws away from him,” demanded
Boxxy. “The last thing I need is for you to ‘accidentally’ eat him like you did that Bard VIP during the
war.”
“… Understood, Master,” said Drea in a disappointed tone.
With that out of the way, Keira reached out and grabbed hold of the shiny she had been staring at the
entire time. Feeling her lover shuffle around also roused Rowana from her slumber.
“Morning, sweetie,” she said with a yawn while snuggling against the catgirl. “You’re up earlier than I
was hoping.”
“Hey, Rowie. Yeah, we got a little situation.”
The elf blinked the sleep away from her eyes while confusedly staring at the object in Keira’s hand. She
jolted awake when she finally recognized it, and the answer her brain came up with to the very obvious
question of ‘How did that get here?’ filled her with dread.
“Did-! Did that guy from yesterday sneak in here last night?!”
“Calm down, Rowie. You know full well either me or Minic would’ve notice if someone tried to do
that.”
“Then how in the world-?!”
Rowana’s worries came to a grinding halt mid-sentence when she noticed the ‘take a guess’ look on
Keira’s face.
“Oh, right. Hero of Chaos,” she exhaled as she buried her face in her hands. “So, what are you going to
do?”
“I’m going to go find Nao and demand an explanation.”
“What, right now? It’s not even dawn yet!”
“I need to make sure he’s not messing with me. Better safe than sorry and all that.”
“… Fine. At least let me make you some breakfast before you go.”
“That’s okay, I’m still full from last night,” said Keira as she kissed Rowana’s forehead. “Just get some
rest, I’ll try and be back as soon as I can.”
After that tiny bit of persuading, the catgirl got dressed in her winter coat and stepped out of the house.
Nao was still fast asleep by the time she made it to the Central Consortium and arrived in front of the
double doors to the lab he was in. Unfortunately, there seemed to be something of a bodyguard in front.
A wolf-eared male beastkin in an unfamiliar white-colored military uniform to be precise. He had brown
skin just like Keira and Nao, though his eyes, tail and braided hair were pitch black. He looked to be
quite a bit older than the Hero of Magic and significantly more muscular too, judging from the size of
those biceps, shoulders and thighs. He didn’t appear to be armed at first glance, but Boxxy’s MLG
revealed he had several bladed weapons of varying lengths beneath his coat.
“Hold it right there, pussy-feet,” he snarled as he stood in Keira’s way. “This area’s off limits, so
scram!”
“Excuse me?!” exclaimed the catgirl, and with good reason.
This was probably the first time anyone in Azurvale had taken such an outwardly rude tone with her,
even from before she became something of a war hero. Boxxy felt quite confident in Keira’s adorable
and approachable appearance, so this sort of unwarranted hostility made it quite a bit pissed.
“What, are those ears just for decoration? I said beat it!”
“Mister, you don’t know who you’re messing with,” snarled Keira in response. “If you did, you’d get
out of my way.”
“I don’t give a damn if you the Emperor himself. You ain’t getting in here, ya runt.”
“I’ll put this in a way that you can understand, dog breath. You will let me pass. Whether its voluntarily
or by force is up to you.”
“You’re gonna try a lot harder if you wanna intimidate me, ya twerp. And just so you know, you lay a
finger on me, and you’re losing that arm.”
The door behind the he-beast then suddenly opened to reveal the one he was supposedly protecting. Nao
had woken up from the very vocal arguing and had come out to see what all the fuss was about, which
was more or less what his visitor had been aiming for.
“For pity’s sake, Kuro, I said I needed quiet,” grumbled the Hero of Magic while he scratched his scalp
out of annoyance. “Oh! Miss Mor- Ahem! Keira! Didn’t expect to see you so soon!”
“Wait, you actually know this cheeky brat, Nao?” asked his bodyguard.
“Yes, I do. She’s… a friend,” he said as he turned back towards the catgirl. “Please, come in so we can
talk in private.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” replied Keira as she walked past the much taller wolfkin man-mountain.
“Actually, I could really use a cup of hot black tea to wake me up, so could your lackey here get one for
me?”
“Lackey?! I’ll have you know-!”

“Kuro,” butted in Nao, interrupting him. “Do as she says, and get one for me too. And for yourself,
while you’re at it.”
“You’re serious?”
“This country has some amazing tea. The one I had yesterday was quite delicious. It’ll do you and that
temper of yours some good.”
“I dunno. I don’t feel right leaving you alone with a stranger. Not after that psycho Hero of Chaos cut
you yesterday.”
“Psycho?!” squealed Keira.
“Oh, I get it!” growled Kuro. “You’re the one, aren’t you?!”
“Guys, guys, guys!” shouted Nao. “It’s way too early for this shit, so let’s dial it down. Keira, Kuro here
is my sworn brother. We look out for each other, that’s what we do. And Kuro - I assure you, miss
Morgana is no psycho. I already explained that Clash business was a misunderstanding. Like it or not,
she’s a Hero like me, so I would appreciate it if you treated her with the same respect you do me.”
“Respect has to be earned.”
“Just get the blasted tea, will you?!” insisted Nao in another uncharacteristic show of anger.
“Fine! Fine. Shove my tail down my ass, won’t you?”
The two shorter beastkin walked into the lab and shut the door behind, though not before the man called
Kuro exchanged a few extra spiteful glances with Keira.
“For a guy who hates violence you sure do keep strange company,” stated the catgirl once the two of
them were alone. “That one’s a Berserker, isn’t he?”
“Why yes, he is. How could you tell?”
“I’ve just seen that sort of hot-headed intensity before.” The catgirl then leaned in a bit and whispered,
“Miss Hilda is way scarier than that old fart.”
“Oh. I, uh, I see… Still, even if he’s a bit of an asshole, Kuro’s heart is in the right place, so please
forgive him for any rude behavior.”
“Alright, I’ll let it slide. Even though he started it…” she grumbled.
“Haha, I appreciate your consideration. Come, have a seat.”
The Consortium laboratory was rather messy to say the least. The alchemical mixing stations as well as
the enchanting podium were both in complete disarray and there was just as much loose paper on the
floor as there was on the nearby desk. One of the walls had a huge blackboard nailed to it, with all sorts
of sigils, symbols and equations written on it in absurdly neat handwriting. A bunch of large peculiar
devices with globes, rods and pylons sticking out of them could be seen lining the other walls, each of
them giving off a sporadic hum or a click to signify they were active.
As for Keira and Nao, they had to sit in a couple of chairs facing each other since there were no tables or
anything like that in this space.
“So, what brings you here this early?” asked the wolfkin while stifling a yawn.
“This,” stated the pretend-beastkin as she pulled out the enigmatic object in question. “I woke up to find
it next to my bed. Care to explain how that happened?”
Nao blinked at the pink gemstone a few times before he glanced towards the nearby desk. The forearm-
sized cylinder that Drea mentioned was on the ground, though its cap had somehow fallen off next to a
drain in the ground. One that was probably intended to soak up any questionable alchemical mixtures
that spilled on the floor. However, the gaps in its tiny grate were just wide enough to let the relatively
slim gem slip through it if it fell just right.
After piecing the likely yet highly improbable chain of events, the wolfkin scholar was able to reach a
singular conclusion.
“… Ah, I see. So it was that after all, is it?” he said with a tired grin.
“What’s ‘that,’ exactly?” asked Keira.
“Probability manipulation of the highest order,” stated Nao. “That trinket of yours possesses the
uncanny ability to make things happen around it. Seemingly by accident, but always with a singular
purpose. Just yesterday there were four instances when it very nearly escaped the lab the instant I took
my eyes off it. I tried sticking it in a demanatizing unit to drain any residual magical charge out of it, but
that obviously did nothing to keep it in place.”
“Purpose? Escape? You make it sound like this thing’s alive.”
“Is it really that strange?” countered the wolfkin. “If lumps of rock and piles of metal can move around
by their own free will, what’s to say the odd mystical artifact can’t do the same? Granted, sentient
equipment is… exceedingly rare… and often cursed… But! It does exist. And that little guy? If I were a
betting man, I’d wager he hates being separated from you.”
“So, what? It’ll always come back to me?”
“Based on my observations and given the fact that neither of us really knows how it returned to your
possession, I’d say that seems like the most likely conclusion.”
“Huh… Can I test it out for myself?”
“Knock yourself out, but don’t blame me if something goes wrong.”
Keira stood up and walked to the window. She opened it up and, after silently ordering Claws to get
ready for a catch, tossed the gemstone out into the cold air with all her might. It flew towards the
camouflaged webstalker on the nearby rooftop unerringly, at least until things suddenly got weird. It
collided in midair with a clump of snow falling from the branches high above - one of the hazards of
living under a tree during winter. This knocked the gem downwards and away from Drea’s waiting
clutches.
Boxxy’s eyesight tracked the bright pink gem as it bounced off an awning and fell into the street below,
landing inside the coat collar of a passing pedestrian. Feeling something cold and hard against his neck,
the man panicked and began flailing about. He managed to fling the gemstone at a passing adventurer,
who ended up deflecting the thing with his hand on reflex, knocking it upwards. The valuable item then
drew a graceful arc as it spun rapidly around its axis until it came to a stop when it landed in Keira’s soft
hair, sticking to it almost like glue.
“Wow! That was pretty neat!” she exclaimed.
“‘Neat’ is an understatement, miss Morgana,” stated Nao. “It’s extraordinary. I’ve never seen probability
manipulation this powerful. Same with the mana absorption rate. It’s so strong that none of the tools
here can analyze the thing since it keeps soaking up all their magic. See that silver-plated bucket over
there in the corner?”
The catgirl walked to the vessel in question and peered into it to see a clear and odorless liquid.
“It’s full of… water?”
“That used to be mana potion,” revealed the other Hero. “At least until I dunked the gem in there for a
few seconds.”
“That just sounds ridiculous. Whoever heard of an item ‘drinking’ a potion?”
“Again, ‘ridiculous’ is an understatement. That thing, it seems to toy with the natural and magical laws
of this world on a whim. And, as I’m sure we both know, there’s only one force in existence that is
capable of something like that.”
“… It’s the work of the gods?”
“Mm-hmm,” nodded the wolfkin in agreement.
A rather untasty thought then crept into Boxxy’s mind.
“Say, Nao. Is it possible this is a Divine-class item?”
“No. It’s not possible - it’s certain. And given that your patron deity loves toying with predictions,
probability and the like, I’d say it’s rather obvious who it belongs to.”
“Argh!” groaned Keira. “I knew it! That bastard was messing with me again! ‘I’ll give you a good
reward’ my arse! Lying piece of goblin shit!”
In a fit of rage, Boxxy ended up tossing the jewel in question into the floor only to have it bounce off the
ceramic tiles and smack it right in the forehead with more force than it was launched with.
“Ouch! God damnit!”
It was at that point that the doors opened and the half-troll half-wolf all-man known as Kuro returned
with a tea platter in one hand.
“Dial it down, flea-brain,” he snarled at the rowdy catgirl. “Before I have to make you.”
After a few minutes and a cup of hot tea, Keira was finally able to simmer down while Kuro glared at
her from the corner of the room.
“I take it your patron offered you a Divine item for some Quest, right?” asked Nao.
“Something like that… Actually, how come you seem so nonchalant about this? I was super hyped up
when I heard about them, yet you’re treating this like it’s another Tuesday.”
“That’s because yours is the third Divine relic I’ve seen, so I’m afraid my hype regarding them has
mostly been spent. And let me tell you, those rumors and legends about them being all-powerful items?
They’re wrong, blown way out of proportions. Divine equipment just follows its own set of rules and
can be considered miraculous, but they won’t let you rule a country or whatever. Your seems to like to
stick with you.”
“Just my luck,” groaned Keira as she slumped into her seat. “I should’ve known something was up when
Bob promised he’d tell me about it rather than giving it to me. That guy, he’s always so peculiar about
his words, so it’s really my own fault for not realizing he was yanking my chain.”
“Ahah, well, that’s how the deities are. Lunar can also be infuriatingly cryptic at times, but I don’t really
mind too much. Unraveling the mystery is all part of the fun for me.”
“Glad at least you’re having fun being a Hero,” she scoffed. “I’ve nearly had my life ruined several
times because of Joshua’s bullshit.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe. I mean, I know the God of Chaos is a bit of a duplicitous deity, but
he still means well. At least, that’s what Lunar told me.”
“Means well? Yeah right! That guy, he doesn’t give a single shit about what happens to me! He outright
told me he’d enjoy watching me die in interesting ways! And that’s not the worst of-! … Look, I’m
about to say a lot of shit right now, but I’d prefer it if we kept it between us Heroes.”
Keira looked away from Nao and glared over her shoulder at Kuro. Taking the hint, and after a nod from
Nao, the fiend-like beastkin left the room while repeatedly giving the catgirl the ‘I’ve got my eyes on
you’ gesture. Once the nuisance was out of the way, Keira began explaining Chaotic Disposition and
Agent of Chaos to Nao. The actual effects, not some made up version. It was hardly the first time Boxxy
had to talk about them, so it was possible it might contradict its alter ego if it started lying about those
Skills now.
Sure, it was willingly giving away information, but it was for a good cause. There was also an upside to
this exchange, as the shapeshifter already knew which made up sob stories to use to garner sympathy.
The one with the kindly fruit vendor who died of Paralyzing Rotflesh seemed especially effective. Nao
had mentioned the disease during yesterday’s argument, hinting that it held some sort of personal
significance to him, and Boxxy did not fail to pounce on that verbal slip.
“I don’t know what to say after hearing all that,” sighed Nao after that deluge of disinformation. “I
won’t pretend to understand what you’ve went through, or what you’re going through, but I can clearly
see being a Hero of Chaos has been hard on you.”
“Yeah. And to make matters worse, I saw the Vengeance and Judgement From Above Skills that
Teresa’s Hero used when we… you know. They’re so straightforward and uncomplicated compared to
Virgil’s that it made me furious - jealous even. That self-righteous prick probably had a super easy life
because of them, whereas I’ve had to fight and claw my way through childhood!”
“I must confess, though I sympathize with your feelings, I can’t really relate to them. I’m also guilty of
having purely beneficial Hero Skills.”
“Why? What do yours do?”
“My own divine abilities are Higher Learning and Elemental Shift. The former lets me train magic-
related Skills and Jobs quicker while also making it easier to learn Spells by myself. The other lets me
attune any magic I use into a different element, though for a bit of an extra cost.”
Boxxy had to work extra hard to contain its wicked smile. The ‘I showed you mine so show me yours’
plan to find out what this Hero was capable of had worked flawlessly. This was vital information, to be
sure. Not only in case it ever had to go up against the Hero of Magic, but it was also good to know what
sort of ‘prize’ it could expect should the wolfkin somehow find himself in its belly. Higher Learning
seemed tasty to be sure, but Elemental Shift was definitely the big one here.
“Tch,” Keira clicked her tongue. “Should’ve known. It’s just me that has it rough.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I hear Axel’s chosen Hero of the Sword has to meet a monthly quota of monster
kills, otherwise his title gets revoked. And the Hero of Death, his patron has him running all over the
globe doing his dirty work. It’s hard to imagine such people having the time to foster any sort of
meaningful relationship.”
“Maybe, but at least they have purpose. Me? I’m like a fish flopping around in a puddle while a bored
kid pokes at me with a stick.”
“Good things can come from this chaos stuff as well, right? For all your complaining, you still like
where your life ended up, right?”
“Yeah, there’s that, but doesn’t mean I enjoy it. I’d probably complain a lot less if nice thing happened
just a tad more often, you know? Speaking of which, there is something else I was wondering if you’d
help me with.”
“Oh? Came across one of those elusive ‘nice things’ recently, did you?”
“S-something like that. Look, it’s hard to talk about, so I need you to promise you’d keep quiet about it.”
“Does it have something to do with the fact that you died?”
“What?!” screamed the catgirl in shock, only to put a hand over her mouth after she realized how much
she’d raised her voice.
“I’m not an idiot, Keira. I know the thing in your back is a soulstone, and there’s only one way that
would’ve gotten there. There’s no way you wouldn’t be aware of that, either.”
“… You can’t tell Rowie. Or miss Hilda. Or anyone!”
“I imagined you didn’t want anyone to know, which was why I kept silent about it. You have my word
that I have not, nor do I intend to tell anyone such a heavy thing. I can even swear it on Teresa’s name if
you want.”
“Your word will have to do. Me and that Goddess, I doubt we’d get along, all things considered.”
“Ah, right. The Hero Killer thing…”
A heavy silence hung in the air as the catgirl and the wolfboy took sips of their tea.
“So, uhm,” stammered Keira, “as I was saying, I ended up picking a Level 25 Wizard Job in one go.”
“You did, did you? Dare I ask how?”
“I said I’d rather not talk about it. Look, the thing is, I have all these new incantations in my head, but
I’m scared to give them a try. I’ve done magic through Skills and stuff before, but this is different. Spells
are like… official, you know? I’m afraid I’ll hurt myself or those around me if I start playing around
with the mystic arts.”
“Oh, I see. That’s a good attitude to have, I suppose. Lots of people forget that magic is not a toy and…
You want me to be your tutor, don’t you?”
“Mmm, s-something like that. I just, I figure if I’m given this power, then I should probably learn to use
it responsibly and safely, you know?”
“Well, sorry to say, but I’m not a holder of the Wizard Job myself. I have my hands full with the Scribe,
Alchemist and Enchanter already, so… yeah.”
“I already know you’re a wimp. You made that clear when you wet yourself yesterday.”
“Hey!”
“But you still know stuff about things, right? About how magic works?”
“I would certainly hope so! Otherwise I might as well be the Hero of Muffins!”
“Heh. Muffins.”
“Seriously though, why not just go to one of the guilds for lessons? They’d be able to do a lot better than
I would”
“Oh yeah, that’ll go over well. ‘Hi, I just instantly got 25 Levels of a Job because I’m special.’ I’d rather
not.”
“It’s not that bad. Anyone can get Level 25 in a combat Job if they work on it for one or two months.”
“I’m not just ‘anyone’ though. I’m the Hero of Chaos. I don’t want any more horrible rumors spreading,
especially about how I’m an entitled brat that had everything handed to her. That’s the last thing I want
to be known as. They can call me violent and crazy all they want, but at least I’m willing to admit
there’s some truth to those.”
“But-”
“And don’t get me started on the glory hogs who just want to ‘teach’ me in order to elevate their own
status. I have to beat those pricks off with a stick as it is. So I’d really rather not invite a bunch of wand-
twirling pajama-wearing twinkle-fingers breathing down my neck!”
“… Twinkle-fingers?”
“Sorry. Heard that from a dwarf recently and it sort of slipped out.”
“No, I’m not mad. That’s actually surprisingly apt, all things considered. But, you’ve made your point. I
suppose since I’ll be here for another week I might as well show you the basics. Until then, please
consider getting a proper teacher.”
“I will! Thanks a lot!”
“Don’t mention it. I actually needed something to keep busy before my ride home showed up. Before we
start though, I’m gonna need a few things from you.”
The wolfkin stood up and reached into his robes, pulling out a notebook and an enchanted quill.
“Wait, we’re starting right now?”
“No, no, I’m far too tired for that. This is just prep work,” he explained. “Here, I want you to note down
all your Attributes, Jobs, Skills, and any relevant Perks.”
“Uh, what? Why?”
“Because I need to know what I’m working with.”
“No I meant-”
“I know what you meant. I’m just not a Scribe capable of Full Appraisal just yet. I can barely even do a
Basic one, to be honest. All your non-caster Jobs and Skills would fly over my head since I lack a great
deal of knowledge in that area. Besides, I wouldn’t want to put you through that gross-feeling process.
Nobody likes being Appraised, y’know?”
“Yeah… Thanks for the consideration, Nao. That’s very sweet of you.”
Nao blushed ever so slightly at Keira’s bright smile and kind words, both of which were positively
oozing with charm.
“D-d-don’t mention it. Hah! Ahahah! Ahah!”
The wolfkin ended up stuttering his way over to some cabinets with a forced, nervous laugh, as he was
unused to this sort of treatment from the opposite sex. He began rummaging through them while Boxxy,
who was currently feeling like it dodged an arrow, began writing out Keira’s Status in his notebook. Or
at least, the part of it that it wanted Nao to see. The wolfkin, in the meanwhile, had some trouble finding
what he was looking for, as he was a visitor here and didn’t know where everything was quite yet. He
finally found it a few minutes later, which had given Keira plenty of time to finish her task.
“All done?” he said while taking back his notebook. “Let me see here…”
“Uh, Nao? What’s that crown-looking thing in your hand?”
“It’s an aptitude scanner, don’t worry about it. More importantly, your Job Levels are kind of
ridiculous.”
“Uh, what? Why? What’s wrong with them?”
“You said here you’re Level 41 Ranger, a Level 39 Blade Dancer, a Level 23 Artificer. Skills are all
reasonably developed as well. And that’s not even counting the Level 25 Wizard Job you said you got
lucky with.”
“Okay? And?”
“It’s just hard to believe this is the Status of a sixteen year old who’s only been an adventurer for- How
long was it?”
“Little over half a year?”
“Well! It’s extremely impressive you managed to get so strong this quickly. What’s your secret, if you
don’t mind my asking?!”
“… Taking part in a war and going on grueling month-long treks through the monster-infested
wilderness. People tend to go up in Levels with that much death around them.”
“Ah… I apologize. I said something insensitive.”
“It’s okay. A lot of things happened, but I’m stronger for it. And if there’s anything being Jordan’s Hero
has taught me, it’s that you can overcome ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ or whatever as long as you have two things
- mettle, and the power to back it up. If I’m going to make the world stop treating me and my loved ones
like its playthings, then I need to harness every weapon I can. Be it the bow, the blade, the bomb, or a
Wizard’s magic.”
“… You are a lot more complicated than you initially let on. You know that, Keira?”
“Yeah. Story of my life.”
“Ahem! Right! Speaking of magic and blades and whatnot, I was wondering about something. Is it true
Blade Dancers can evoke Spells purely through motion?”
“What? No, not exactly. I mean, there might be a high-Level thing that can do that, but the most I can do
right now is conjure flames and ice through a Skill, not a Spell. I’d even say it’s more of a Martial Art.”
“Ah, so it was a Skill! Sorry, I heard it was magic that scaled with one’s Intelligence Attribute so I
assumed Spell, but if it’s not, then that makes me even more curious about it! I would be quite interested
in seeing it sometime, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh. Sure, I don’t mind.”
“Until then though, I still need to- Wait, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re holding one of the old swords used for Enchanting practice while taking up a
fighting stance…”
“Glad to see being such a bookworm hasn’t impacted your powers of observation,” said the catgirl with
a wink. “Better keep putting those to good use, you hear?”
“I said I would like to see it ‘sometime!’ Not here and-”
And before Nao could do anything to stop it, the genius at showing off that was Keira Morgana was
already at it. The dull blade in her hand was coated with a pure white sheet of ice and let off a fine mist
as both it and its wielder danced gracefully around the room. A series of long, flowing movements
blended together into a single sequence, each pirouette, spin or jump leading into the next motion.
“Nanananaaaah, lah-lah, lah-lah. Lararara-daaah, lah-lah, lah-lah. Narananaaah! La-la-la! La-la! La-
lah!”
She also made her own music to dance to, with a combination of her humming voice and the beautiful
sounds the ice-imbued sword made as it cut through the air. It was undoubtedly something meant to end
lives, yet the elegance, grace, and slow tempo with which the girl performed the technique gave it an air
of class and charm. It was a performance worthy of being in a palace, not a stuffy laboratory. Even
though she was moving so much in a cramped space with all sorts of apparatuses strewn about, she
never once bumped into or knocked over anything. Her limbs and her weapon came within millimeters
of colliding with various objects, but never so much as touched them. It was a feat that could only be
described as a masterful display of depth perception and precise movement.
Which was probably a good thing, otherwise Nao would not have been as enthralled as he was. Maybe it
was the sleep deprivation, or the oddity of his company, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he was staring
at a dream as he sat, mouth agape. He almost wanted to ask who was this mysterious creature that had
replaced the ‘complicated person’ he was talking to mere moments ago. It was as if someone had
distilled elegance and beauty into a physical form. Even the one-size-too-large plain blouse she was
wearing almost seemed like a billowing gown as its hem flapped around randomly. As for the head of
crimson hair, it was as if it had become a piece of living flame that flickered amidst a misty winter
wonderland.
“Pam! Pam! Tadaaah!”
And then, with a final flourish and a kneeling finish, the performance finally ended.
“So? What’d you think?” asked Keira as she jumped back to her feet, already back to her usual bubbly
self. “I’ve had plenty of chances to practice my moves lately. I’ve gotten pretty good, haven’t I?”
Nao didn’t think they were ‘pretty good,’ no. In his humble opinion, that performance just now was
marvelous. Beautiful. Stupendous. He would even go so far as to say it was literally enchanting.
“Y-Y-Yeah…”
Unfortunately, that weak response was all he could muster. Truth be told, he had already seen a Blade
Dancer in action once before. However, that was in the field during combat. Watching it from this up
close and in such an intimate setting had been a rather extraordinary experience. It opened his eyes to
the otherwise obvious fact that Keira was a young woman, and an extremely attractive one at that. It
reduced him from a scholar to a hormonal teenager whose mind had trouble thinking about anything
other than ‘I’m alone with a pretty girl!’
“Ah, it feels good to move my stiff body around first thing in the morning,” said Keira as she happily
stretched her arms out. “Now that that’s out of the way, you’re going to teach me about the tool in your
hands, right?”
“Right! Yes! Yes, of course! So, the, uh… the aptitude scanner…”
His thoughts were still somewhere else entirely, though, and he ended up unintentionally staring at
Keira’s face, especially her lips. They were thin, but looked incredibly soft all the same.
“Nao?” called out the catgirl, her sweet voice waking him from his stupor. “What’s wrong?”
“S-sorry. I’m, uh, still quite sleepy,” he deflected nervously. “So, like you said, this crown-looking
thingy. It, uh, you see all these colorful jeweled rods sticking in- out of it?”
“Yeah? There’s fourteen of them, right?”

“Yes, yes, quite right. So, uh, this tool samples a bit of your MP - just a tiny bit, nothing to worry about,”
he added in a hurry. “It then determines which magical element you’re most in tune with.”
“And… this is important?”
“Quite a bit, yes. Magic comes in all shapes and flavors, so it’s important to know what you’re naturally
good at before you start. Luckily for you, Wizards have the potential to use all of the elements, so you
should be able to stick to your strengths. Usually our people are predisposed towards fire, wind, and
light, but those can vary from person to person. Hence why this thing is necessary when teaching new
magic users.”
“Wow. Sounds complicated.”
“It’s really not. Here, let me demonstrate.”
The Hero of Magic then placed the ‘crown’ on his head. Four of the gems lit up instantly, though the
pink-ish one was much brighter than the white, deep blue, and dark green ones.
“See, in my case my strongest element is space, followed by cold, water and scourge,” he explained by
pointing to each glowing stone in turn. “It’s a bit of an awkward combo, but normally it would mean I
should look into becoming a Cryomancer rather than a Pyromancer.”
“Oh, I get it! So it lets you know what your talents are? That’s pretty neat!” noted the catgirl while
leaning in closer to Nao as if to get a better look at the thing on his head. “There’s quite a lot of these
gems, though. Is each one representative of a different element?”
“Y-yeah, something like th-that…” he stammered nervously, unsure how to deal with the invasion of his
personal space.
“What happens if I use, uh, an unattuned element?”
“Well, st-statistically speaking you’ll be more prone to messing up the Spell, or it may produce a lesser
effect than expected. Experienced Spell-slingers can overcome this after several years of, well,
experience. For a rookie like you though, you should definitely, uh, stick to your strengths.”
“Hmm, hmm, I see,” said Keira while vigorously nodding along. “Can I give it a go, then?”
“Be my guest,” he said weakly as he handed over the item.
Roping in the shy wolfkin aside, Boxxy was quite eager to find out how this would turn out. It had no
idea this aptitude test was even a thing, but then again it hadn’t really looked into applying for a magic-
centric guild as a newbie. The only thing Hidden Arrow asked of Keira before letting her sign up was a
basic fitness and hand-eye coordination exam. One that was so easy that only those with crippling
disabilities wouldn’t be able to pass. Which was probably the point of it in retrospect.
Either way, even if the shapeshifter used magic quite a bit, it had no idea what its ‘strongest’ element
actually was, so it put the aptitude scanning device on with high expectations.
“Well?” asked Keira excitedly. “Which one is it?”
“Huh. Now that’s weird,” said Nao scratching his left ear. “I mean, usually you’d see anywhere between
two and five of the things to light up, but in your case… I don’t see any.”
“Uhm, okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hmm, let me think,” said Nao while tapping his chin. “The magical charge extracted from the user…
path of least resistance… can’t be none of them… maybe too many paths? … Okay, tell you what,
Keira. You know how to work magic tools that run on MP, right?”
“Yeah, my Artificer Mentor showed me how to work her spot-welder.”
“Then try to channel some MP into the item. Only about five or so points, though. It’s quite sensitive, so
it might break if you overdo it.”
This was going to be hard. Nao didn’t know it, but what he was asking of Boxxy wasn’t as simple as it
seemed. What the Mimic had to do was akin to tipping over a bathtub full of water until precisely three
drops landed in the cup below. Hence why Keira had to close her eyes and concentrate as hard as she
could.
*SNAP*
But, in the end, she couldn’t do it. She had overloaded the aptitude scanner, cracking all fourteen
crystals at once.
“So it’s like that after all,” mused the Hero of Magic.
“Sorry!” apologized Keira while taking the thing off. “I’m still a newbie so-!”
“No, nevermind that. See here,” he said, taking the item from her head. “Notice how flawlessly you
cracked all of these right down the middle? Well, aside from the one for lightning. That one seems like it
put up a bit of a fight, but it still got an equal charge as the rest.”
“… And that’s a good thing?”
“It is! I think I’m starting to understand why Fabio is so interested in you! Keira, you have a rare gift!”
“I do?! What is it?!” she asked, her face brimming with anticipation.
“You’re something us scholars like to call a polymagus! Meaning you’re completely average in all the
elements! Not a single one is special!”
“… I’m going to slap you now.”
“… Okay, in retrospect, I probably should’ve phrased it better.”
“Too late.”
*SMACK*
Boxxy woke up within the aptly named Vessel of Dreams, which was located in the depths of its
personal dungeon. It crawled out of the mithril chest in its natural Hylt Creeper form, then rapidly
moved through a series of bodily transformations in rapid succession. It became a wooden chest, a perky
catgirl, a tower mercenary, a mini-Nagnamor, a goat-headed toad, and a giant porcupine with swords for
needles, only to end up back where it started.
These ‘morning stretches’ were something it had been doing quite regularly lately, as its body had been
feeling strangely stiff whenever it woke up. That oddity was troubling to say the least, but not as much
as the frequency with which it happened. Whereas before the shapeshifter could go for a few days
without bedrest, these days it found it hard to stay active for more than twenty hours or so. It wasn’t like
it was getting weaker or slower or anything, it was just feeling inexplicably tired all the time, to the
point where it had slept every single night ever since Keira’s official return to Azurvale four days ago.
Initially it had attributed this lack of energy to pushing itself on Mortimer’s Quest, but it was having
serious doubts whether fatigue build up was the cause of this. It was ludicrous to think someone with
Legendary Endurance would succumb so easily to something as simple as exhaustion. Was this caused
by some weird disease? Or perhaps it being a plant hybrid was to blame? Trees did enter a sort of
dormant state during the winter, so perhaps the vegetative part of its confusing physiology was trying to
hibernate?
No, that wasn’t it. Even if that was somehow possible, Boxxy was part Hylt. Those titanic trees
continued to produce fruit and maintain their foliage even while being pelted by blizzards. If it inherited
even a tiny bit of that absurd vitality, then there was no way the cold was having an adverse effect on the
creeper. It was unlikely it would be a disease, as Legendary Endurance made it so all but the most
ridiculous of illnesses would fail to so much as cause a sniffle. And if the creature had been infected
with something like that, it would be suffering a lot more than some exhaustion and stiff joints.
The only other thing it could think of was that something was going on with the doppelganger side of its
body. Unfortunately, it had nobody to ask. Reggie still hasn’t made contact ever since going dark,
making Boxxy wonder if the old ‘ganger just skipped town entirely. Well, it expected that sort of thing
when it cut the elder monster loose, so it really shouldn’t have gotten mad at him for running away to
preserve his own life.
It shouldn’t have.
But it still did.
This was another issue Boxxy noticed ever since coming back to its lair - it was way too easily agitated,
getting needlessly emotional over seemingly inconsequential things. Granted, the Mimic was by no
means a bastion of rationality and logic, but it still found itself getting incredibly ticked off at even the
smallest thing. Its temper had gotten so bad that it even started spilling out into its Facade despite its best
efforts to remain calm, due in no small part to that antagonistic bodyguard.
Speaking of which, it was about time to get back into character.
“Snack, how goes it?” it called out telepathically.
“Good morning, Master. I am almost done eating breakfast with the elf. I’ll be out of the house and on
my way to the Central Consortium within minutes.”
The ex-succubus had been filling in for Keira so that her master could sleep in peace within its shiny
bed. It didn’t help its fatigue much, but it was still the preferable sleeping arrangement.
“Alright, let me know when you’re out of the house so we can swap. After that you’re to resume tending
to the alraune seedling.”
“Ugh. That fucking thing again?” groaned Xera. “Can I not?”
Boxxy and its demonic posse had been able to acquire said plant during their trip through human lands.
The djinn was the one who led the shapeshifter to the source of the mountain alraune that Ambrosia had
taken a liking to. Yet she had quite a few reservations about handling it, mostly because of what she was
forced to do in order to secure it. It was not a tasty experience, to say the least.
“You know full well you’re the only one who can care for it, so don’t slack off and do it seriously.
Ambrosia’s expecting a prime specimen, and you do not want to disappoint her. Or me. Understood?”
“… Yes, Master.”
“Arms, how are things on your end?”
“Hey, boss. Still as fucking quiet as ever,” reported Kora.
“Hmmm, perhaps you were a bit too subtle last time?”
“Pfahahaha!” burst out Xera, unable to contain her laughter. “Subtle?! That meathead?! Aaah-
hahahahaha!”
“Shut it, Snack!” snapped the Mimic. “Claws, find Arms another target to crush. Something a bit more
high profile.”
“You got it, Boxxy!” responded Drea in high spirits.
The intent here was to have the archfiend serve as bait to draw out the Foundation. She was the most
easily recognizable of the Sandman’s minions, so having her trample a few small time illicit businesses
was sure to catch their notice. She was, of course, not the most observant of demons, which was why
Claws was on hand to act as her eyes and ears. It didn’t have to worry about either of them getting
captured, either, as even if they could be overpowered and subdued, the addendum to their contracts
would allow them to flee at any point. Admittedly whether such a crude tactic would actually work on
an organization as secretive as the Foundation was… questionable, to say the least. However, the Mimic
couldn’t just keep reacting to things, so it had to try something.
At the very least the living embodiment of violence that was Kora was able to bring back a decent
amount of loot from her outings. Not just gold and gems, but also alchemical supplies, raw materials,
enchanted gear and other illicit goods. She was actually getting rather good at discerning the value of an
item beyond ‘it looks shiny,’ which was a pleasant surprise for boxxy. Perhaps her claims that she
wouldn’t be a singularity of stupidity forever had some weight behind them, though Xera naturally
remained sceptical.
After sorting out its shady business for the day, Boxxy swapped places with Snack and assumed the
guise of Keira. It continued on its way to the Central Consortium while mulling over its recent health
issues, for lack of a better term. Nothing had changed since earlier that morning though, so it still
couldn’t think of how to go about addressing them. Not even a dunk in Ambrosia’s Waters of Life had
cured it, so it was already out of options.
No, that wasn’t quite true. There was still Whatshisface the gazer demon, the one that Arms met during
their last dungeon crawl. Hiring him as a dungeon master in exchange to poke at the information in his
centuries-old mind was definitely an option, but not a tasty one. Demons were inherently devious and
untrustworthy beings, and the ‘rankers’ were even worse. The business with acquiring the alraune
seedling in particular showed just how unpredictable they could be. The Mimic therefore continued to
resist the temptation to hire him, at least for the time being.
Boxxy gave up running in place mentally when it arrived at the Central Consortium building and
focused its attention on the task at hand. Keira walked into the lobby and, with her trademark smile and
cheerful voice, called out to the beastkin that was waiting for her.
“Hey, Nao! I’m not late, am I?”
“Morning, Keira,” he replied. “No, you’re right on time as usual. Did you, uh, sleep well?”
“More or less. What’s tall, dark, and gruesome doing here?” she asked while pointing at the bodyguard
standing behind him.
“My job, ya little shit,” responded Kuro “You burned off Nao’s eyebrows yesterday, so I’m tagging
along to make sure you don’t take off his head next.”
“That was just Chaotic Disposition randomly going off! It wasn’t like I was trying to harm him on
purpose!”
“Oh, so you’re saying you only accidentally set people on fire? That’s not exactly helping your case.”
This was bad. Boxxy seriously could not deal with this guy, as his hostility towards its Facade was a
major source of ire. It was well warranted, all things considered, but that was besides the point. The
shapeshifter needed to make an effort not to engage with him, otherwise things could get out of hand
real fast.
“Yeah, okay, I guess you have a point,” conceded the catgirl with a sigh. “Intentional or not, it was my
fault. I’ll try and be more careful from here on.”
“Now, now, don’t beat yourself up over it,” said Nao reassuringly. “Random magical emissions aside,
you’re getting the hang of things much smoother than I anticipated. I guess being a polymagus isn’t just
for show, huh?”
This ‘polymagus’ thing did turn out to be relatively tasty, despite how badly the Hero of Magic had
phrased it at first. Apparently it was a trait that was exceptionally rare amongst people, but present in
nearly all dungeon-born monsters, including Boxxy. The important part was that, while a polymagus
didn’t have a ‘strongest’ element, they also didn’t have a ‘weakest’ one. They had the potential to wield
all forms of magic at a reasonably high degree of competence, though actually doing that would take
considerable training, study, and dedication.
“I fail to understand why lightning seems the odd one out though,” remarked the Hero of Magic while
cupping his chin. “You seem to struggle with it a lot more than you should. Perhaps it’s some form of
psychological block or mental trauma? Can you think of anything like that?”
Boxxy naturally knew full well what ‘psychological block’ was causing this. It was because lightning
was its Bane, so channeling the element filled it with a sense of primal loathing bordering on fear. It
made it profoundly difficult to successfully cast either the Lightning Bolt or the Spark Blast Spells. It
could still do it if tried hard enough, though, and it wouldn’t even get hurt. At least, not unless it was
stupid enough to stand within Spark Blast’s area of effect.
However, all things considered, this wasn’t something the shapeshifter was planning to risk using in the
heat of combat. Nor was it about to divulge that information to its teacher. Luckily, it knew just the right
scapegoat to blame for keira’s inadequacies.
“… Well, I suppose there was this one incident during the war,” she said quietly while scratching her
neck. “I’m not going to go into details, but the gist of it was that a superior officer subjected me to a
rather harsh and unwarranted jolt of electricity. Right after waking up from being in an inexplicable
coma for a few days, no less.”
“O-oh. I, err, wow,” stammered Nao. “I suppose that would have caused you to have some reservations
about the element. But it’ll be okay! I’m sure you’ll overcome it and get the handle of lightning if you
put your mind to it!”
“I can’t take all the credit,” she replied with a smile. “You’re a pretty good teacher, you know.”
“Eheh! Hehe…”
Seeing him laugh in a goofy manner at a such superficial and stereotypical compliment gave Boxxy
pause. Nao had steadily been developing a crush on the redhead catgirl over the last few days, which
was perfectly in line with the monster’s plans and goals. However, the same couldn’t be said about
Keira’s. She wasn’t the sort of girl who’d fool around on her significant other, nor was she dense enough
to not notice the awkward wolfkin’s affections. There was no way this could carry on for much longer.
Strictly speaking, it was already something of a miracle this had carried on for as long as it did. Not only
was Keira’s romantic relationship with Rowana not a secret anymore, but it was still something of a hot
topic within the capital’s rumor mill. Then again, Nao was the shut-in bookworm type, so he probably
didn’t have a lot of chances to gossip.
His sworn brother Kuro was another matter entirely, however. He may have been rather crude and
vulgar, but he didn’t seem like the type that would miss a saucy rumor like that. It was therefore in the
catgirl’s best interest that she be the one to clear this up, lest she be suspected of stringing Nao along on
purpose. The only reason someone like her would do that was if she was buttering him up for her own
personal gain. Either that, or she secretly played for both teams and was about to become a cheating slut.
And, as stated earlier, Keira wasn’t that sort of girl.
“Nao, I really need to tell you something,” she said in serious tone.
“Wh-what is it?” he responded with more of his awkward stammering.
“We, uh, we should probably go to the practice range first. It’s kind of… personal.”
It wasn’t like there were that many people around. In fact, the place was pretty dead during winter since
the very few adventurers were willing to undertake Quests in this sort of weather. However, the lobby
was still a public space where anyone could walk past and overhear something sensitive.
“Oh. Yeah, okay. Let’s go, Kuro.”
The beastkin trio headed towards a certain room in the building’s basement, one large enough to be an
auditorium. The walls here were heavily fortified with magic dampening enchantments and lined with
bronze to further raise their durability against Spells while various target dummies shaped like common
monsters were strewn about the place. This was a space where magic users could practice their craft
without fear of hurting or inconveniencing others, and was the site of Nao and Keira’s private lessons.
The chamber normally had quite a few people in it, but when the Hero of Magic requested to reserve it,
the Broken Mirror guild that owned it were more than happy to oblige. His title carried quite a bit of
weight within the robed community, after all.
“So, what’s this about Keira?” asked Nao.
“Well… Uh… Wow, this is harder than I thought it would be… I guess I should start by saying that I’m
sorry. I might have unwittingly sent you some mixed signals and given you the wrong idea.”
“… Okay? And what idea would that be?”
“Sweet Brandon this is awkward! Look. I like you, Nao, and I don’t want to hurt you, but if you’re
going to be like this, then I’ll just come out and say it.”
Her words understandably confused the wolfkin. He was happy to hear ‘I like you,’ but the context filled
him with unease and dread. Which were well warranted, considering the bomb Keira dropped on him
next.
“I can see clear as day that you’re… attracted to me, and while I appreciate the sentiment, I’m already in
a serious romantic relationship, so I can’t be with you.”
“Oh… That’s…” muttered Nao, obviously not sure how to cope with this news. “So you don’t… feel
anything towards me?”
“I do! Just not in that way.”
“Why not in that way?!” he shouted, his voice cracking and taking on a weird tone. “What’s wrong with
me?! Is it because I’m not ‘man’ enough for you?!”
“No! For real, it’s not because of you! You’re great guy that any girl would be lucky to-”
“That’s what women always say!” he snapped back. “I’m not an idiot! If you have a problem with me,
come out and say it! I’d rather have the truth than your pity!”
“Nao. She is telling the truth,” butted in Kuro. “This girl here? She’s a carpet muncher.”
“… A what?” he blurted out dumbly.
“She’s not into men, but into women. Really girly girls, too, the way I heard it.”
“So you knew? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I just heard it recently from the receptionist here, okay? Besides, it’s not like you would’ve listened to
me with all the blood rushing to the wrong head!”
“That’s so not fair!”
“Neither is getting angry at me. I’m not the one you have a problem with right now.”
“Yeah, about that!” shouted Nao, his outrage snapping back to Keira after being skilfully deflected by
Kuro. “How come you didn’t tell me sooner?!”
“I thought you knew!” she countered. “It’s not like I went out of my way to hide it! I mean, what sort of
relationship do you think I had with Rowie for us to be living together in a one-bedroom house?!”
“… I thought you were roommates or cousins or something.”
“Lovers, Nao! We’re lovers! Girlfriend and girlfriend! The kind that take long moonlit walks through
the park and do naughty things together!”
“… At the same time?” interjected Kuro from the side.
“You stay out of this, Fido!” snapped Keira.
“Okay! Okay, I get it!” yelled Nao, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I never stood a chance! You didn’t
have to rub it in!”
“Yes, I did!” she insisted. “You may be smart, but you’re way too dense! Otherwise you would have
realized this on your own!”
Thinking back on it, the baby-faced Hero realized she had a point. Though he only saw them together
for a little while, Rowana and Keira were indeed exceptionally close. Intimate even. He was so
overjoyed there didn’t seem to be a ‘mister Morgana’ that he turned a blind eye to the possibility of there
being a ‘missus.’
“Again, I’m really sorry,” apologized the catgirl for the upteempth time. “I didn’t mean to string you
along and give you false hope, but it just sort of happened.”
“No, no, I get it,” he said in a quiet, quivering voice. “It was my fault for assuming that I, uh… That you
were… You know…”
“We can still be friends,” said the catgirl while putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’d very much like that,
to be honest. Us Heroes, we need to stick together, y’know?”
“I, uhm… I don’t… I just… Exc-excuse me, I’ll be back in a bit.”
Nao left the practice range and ran into an adjacent storage room to sulk in peace, leaving Keira alone
with Kuro. The two maintained an awkward silence for about a minute before the catgirl finally
addressed the elephant in the room.
“He’s going to be okay, right?”
“Of course he will. Even if he acts and looks like a kid, he’s still a grown-ass man in his mid twenties.
He’ll get over this misunderstanding without too much drama.”
“That’s good. I was really worried how this would turn out.”
“So did I, to be honest. You were the first girl he’s allowed to get so close to him in a long time, so I
wasn’t sure what to do. Heh. Y’know, it’s kind of ironic, but you turning out to be a carpet muncher
might turn out for the best in the long run.”
“Please stop calling me that. I’m not completely sure what it means, but I’m betting its something
vulgar.”
“Yeah, yeah. Still, I’m glad I misjudged you, kiddo. Don’t tell Nao I said this, but I’d appreciate it if you
looked out for him, even if it’s as a friend. Goddess knows he needs more of those.”
“Oh? Does this mean you’ll finally get off my case?”
“Fuck, no! You may not be a two-timing skank, but you’re still a cheeky brat!”
“And you’re still a troll masquerading as a person, so I guess we’re even.”
The two glared at each other yet again, though the atmosphere this time around was more akin to rivalry
than outright hostility. It would appear Boxxy had made the right move, as Keira coming clean and
resolving this matter on her own had clearly alleviated some of the worries the bodyguard had about her.
He wasn’t about to join the fanclub, but at the very least he would be more tolerant of her presence.
“We could always just work out our differences in a hand-to-hand duel,” suggested Kuro with a very
Arms-like grin. “They say fists speak louder than words.”
“No, ‘they’ don’t. Nobody says that. Nobody’s ever said that. That’s idiotic. Even for you.”
“Yeesh, what a spoilsport.”
Silence filled the room again until Nao returned about twenty minutes later. He had freshened up quite a
bit, but it was obvious by his puffy red eyes that he had been crying the entire time. He and Keira made
up, and the Hero of Magic declared that he would indeed like to remain friends. Even though he had his
affections so completely rejected, he still appreciated her company. Especially the way she treated him
as an equal. That was the main the reason he developed a crush on her in the first place. Not to mention
that, now that all the cards were on the table, he found it much easier to communicate with Keira.
Something both parties were silently grateful for, though admittedly for very different reasons.
The magic lessons began more or less according to plan as Keira launched Spell after Spell at the target
dummies while Kuro kept an eye out for any random magical discharges. There was a delay of just over
a second between Chaotic Disposition triggering and the effect manifesting itself. This gave the
Berserker enough time to cover Nao with his body, assuming that the catgirl warned them the instant she
got the message.
As for the Hero of Magic, he kept watching over his pupil, giving her various tips regarding chanting
whenever appropriate. Some of his advice was obvious, but a good deal of it was things one would be
hard-pressed to find in a book or from a Skill. One such trick was the technique of ‘cooking’ Spells,
whereby the caster would delay uttering the last part of the incantation in order to unleash it at an
opportune moment. All of his hints were seemingly little things like that, but Boxxy was more than
happy to feed off Nao’s expertise and experience. The Mimic naturally did not forget to act out a few
total failures here and there though, as the catgirl it was portraying was supposed to be a total beginner
at magic.
Practical tricks aside, the theoretical knowledge it picked up over the past four days was the truly
valuable part of these lessons. For instance, the Mimic was now aware that Spells were made up of two
major parts - the shape and the payload. The first of those referred to what form the magic took when
invoked. The delivery method for the payload, in other words. ‘Missiles’ such as Shadowbolt and
Fireball were the most common, but by no means the only ones. The others five basic forms were beam,
field, wave, injection, and cloak. Respective examples of each of those forms were the Scorching Ray
and Inferno Spells from Snack’s repertoire, followed by Dark Explosion, Ebonfire, and Shadowbind
from Boxxy’s.
The payload portion of a Spell was where things got more complicated, as this part employed a
combination of up to three of the fourteen magical elements. Keeping track of each of those and the
relationship between them was proving harder for Boxxy to memorize than anticipated. It could still call
them up with Legendary Intelligence’s ‘rewind’ feature, but that had a time limit. So, until it was able to
commit everything to its long term memory, the Mimic had Keira prepare a little cheat sheet for itself,
which it kept on a scrap of paper inside its pocket:
Opposites:
Heat - Cold
Dark - Light
Lightning - Earth
Wind - Water
Mind - Force
Space - Gravity
Cure - Scourge
Complementary:
Heat - Wind - Lightning - Space - Light - Cure - Force - Cold - Water - Earth - Gravity -
Dark - Scourge - Mind - Heat - (Repeat)
Admittedly most of these were quite obvious, such as light being the polar opposite of dark, or that cold
and water worked exceptionally well together to produce ice. At the same time, some of the other
relations were far more obtuse. Like the fact that wind and water were opposites, even though it made
very little sense at first glance. Thankfully Nao was on hand to point out that neither of those things
could coexist within the same space. Even if things like water sprays and bubbling pools existed in
nature, it was impossible for an air current to dwell beneath the surface of a lake.
Then there was the scourge element, which prompted its own set of questions. Boxxy had no idea this
was even a thing until these tutoring sessions started, it since then learned that pure scourge manifested
itself as disease, decay, poison, and the like. Combining it with other elements would produce magical
ailments usually intended to impair rather than outright kill. Its opposite being the only restorative
element made sense in that context, but its supposedly cooperative relationship with mind magic? That
seemed rather puzzling to say the least.
But in the end the shapeshifter couldn’t argue with the effectiveness of the combo. Its Hysteria Spell,
much like the most of the Domination school of magic, turned out to be a composite incantation of mind
and scourge. The auditory and visual hallucination it invoked upon its targets could easily be described
as ‘a malady of the mind,’ so it definitely made sense. After that, it began to pick apart other magics it
knew of in an attempt to figure out what components they were comprised of.
Fireball, for instance, was a missile-shaped lump of heat and wind, the latter facilitating the explosion of
fire that came out when it hit something. That last part was how it differed from a Wizard’s Firebolt,
which, just like all Basic Spells, had only a single element. This made it less flashy, but arguably more
deadly since the magical power was more focused. It was similar in that respect to Ruin magic’s Reality
Slash, which was actually a narrow wave of pure force. However, being so straightforward also meant
that it was easier to defend against them, even if they were technically more damaging than Spells with a
composite elemental makeup.
Needless to say, most Spells that employed multiple elements used ones that were relatively close
together on the ‘complimentary’ chain. ‘Most’ being the operative word in that statement, as Spells that
used ‘distant’ elements most definitely existed. A good example of this was Snack’s Purge, which could
get rid of toxins in the body by burning them away while also cauterizing wounds. It was an unbalanced
and counterintuitive injection of cure and heat, which naturally led to it causing a bit of damage to the
one being treated. The upside was that the Spells’ aggressive nature made it work much quicker than
other magical remedies.
Polar opposites, however, could not be mixed into the same Spell. And it was those relationships that
interested Boxxy the most, as it was finally starting to grasp how to put the Pandomenium Spell to good
use. With enough practice and study, it would be able to predict exactly how a Spell would react when
filtered through this magic-flipping field. Interestingly enough, even the shapes appeared to turned into
their opposites. Missiles became beams, fields turned to waves, injections transformed into cloaks, and
vice-versa.
In other words, Snack’s Fireballs became flashes of freezing beams the instant they passed through
Pandomenium’s area of effect. Boxxy’s Shadowbolts - which were missiles of volatile darkness
stabilized by gravity - became rays of bright light that tried to disintegrate whatever they hit. Those were
the straightforward ones, though. Complicated ones such as Shadowbind were more difficult to predict.
In that case, the ‘cloak’ of earth and darkness that normally produced chains to physically hold people
down transformed into a magical malady that periodically shocked its victim from within.
And yet all that was barely scratching the surface of the science of magic. The topic gained another layer
of complexity when Nao was explaining the secret behind the divine mystic arts. The Holy school of
magic was more than just a mix of cure, light and/or mind. It also required, as the Hero of Magic so
eloquently put it, ‘a little bit extra.’ The secret behind its function wasn’t a formally recognized fifteenth
element, but more of an alternative power source. Priest and Paladin Spells supposedly converted the
mana that dwelled within one’s body into something called ki, otherwise known as one’s spiritual energy
or divine spark. It was the same mysterious force that Monks used to empower themselves and their
strikes, and was the main reason why Holy Spells behaved a little differently from magic fueled by
regular mana.
The wolfkin gave a wonderfully detailed explanation on the subject, which was befitting of one aiming
to become the greatest scholar of his generation. Unfortunately he got a bit too technical without
realizing it, leading to much of the information sailing squarely over both Boxxy and Keira’s heads. At
the very least the Mimic was able to assert that this ‘spiritual energy conversion’ was something it had
been doing unwittingly whenever it performed the stupidly long Transfamiliar incantation. It was likely
all of the Beyond-related Spells gained through the Demonic Insight Skill were like this. It would
certainly explain why their chants were so long, or why none of them completely conformed to the
conventional framework of magic that Keira was still learning about.
“Alright, now let’s try this one last time,” said Nao as he was wrapping up today’s lessons. “Try putting
some more vigor behind the trigger phrase this time around, it’ll help solidify the image.”
Keira nodded in response and turned her attention towards the troll-shaped wooden dummy at the other
end of the practice range, some fifteen meters away. She gripped the practice staff she was given tightly
and pointed it at the statue while keeping it level at her hip. She then took a deep breath and began
uttering the words of power while focusing on the mental image of a room full of air being stuffed into a
kickball.
“From sandy beaches to mounds of snow, all shall move if the wind wills it so! Air Hammer!”
A green-tinted transparent lump of compressed air shot out of the staff and flew into the inanimate
monster. It crashed into it with a dull thud and a gust of wind, the concussive force of the rapidly
expanding air making the troll doll wobble violently for a second before it settled down.
“Gah! Still can’t knock it down!” grumbled Keira. “You sure I should be able to do that?!”
“Quite so. Even a Level 15 Wizard should be able to kick over a hollow carving of that size with a
decent Air Hammer.”
“Then what gives?!”
“It’s because your Air Hammers are still sloppy,” said Nao in a stern tone. “Your chanting is on point,
but it seems your mental image of what needs to happen isn’t sharp enough. Which is weird. I thought
for sure blowing wind at a dummy would be natural for an airhead like you.”
“… If you’re going to be snarky about being dumped, you need to get better material,” replied the catgirl
with a disappointed pout.
“I’m still working on it, give me a day or two. I was serious about the first part, though. You’ll be fine so
long as you practice visualizing it better.”
What the Hero of Magic didn’t know, however, was that Boxxy was ‘visualizing’ the Air Hammer
exactly how it wanted to. The shapeshifter never once struggled with that part, actually, ever since it first
got the Warlock Job. The knowledge of a Spell was like a recipe or a blueprint, so all it needed to do was
execute the formula and magic would come out. It wasn’t sure whether it was because of this polymagus
thing or not, but the fact still stood it struggled more with the chanting than the mental imagery. It
honestly had no idea why people found that part challenging to begin with.
Could it be that Boxxy was a genius at magic all along?
Wild fantasies aside however, if the Mimic were to use magic like normal, then the resulting Air
Hammer would’ve done a lot more than knocking over a wooden troll doll. It would rip it to splinters,
and maybe even punch a hole through the reinforced wall behind it. That was why the Mimic had been
intentionally sabotaging its mental image. Doing so brought its otherwise considerable mystic might to a
fraction of its actual strength. It took some trial and a lot of error, but it had mostly nailed down how
much it needed to ‘muddy the waters’ so that Keira’s magic doesn’t seem more powerful than it should
be.
It was honestly kind of impressive how accurate its inaccuracy had become as of late.
“Can I try again?” asked the catgirl. “I feel like I can do it this time!”
“I dunno,” said Nao, scratching his cheek. “We’ve been at it for a while. You really should stop here for
the day.”
“I have plenty of MP left, though.”
“Magic stresses the body and the mind just like any form of physical exercise. You need to pace yourself
accordingly.”
“I’m a Ranger though. My conditioning is a lot better than your average weak-bodied twinkle-fingers.
Er, no offense.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Keira. Even if you think you have the power to keep conjuring Spells without end,
the build-up of mental fatigue can creep up on you and trip you up when you least expect it.
Overworking yourself is counter-productive, so let’s seriously stop here for the day.”
“…”
However, the catgirl did not answer, as she was too busy spacing out. Something about Nao’s words had
caused a particular phrase to resurface in Boxxy’s mind.
“Keira?” called out Nao, snapping the doppelganger out of its thoughts.
“… Sorry, I tuned out for a sec,” she replied as she put away the practice staff.
“Is something the matter?”
“No! No… Yes. There is, actually.”
The jolt to the Mimic’s memory from a few seconds ago had shaken loose a certain phrase. One it had
heard in passing and only amongst veteran adventurers. Something it had offhandedly dismissed at the
time as unrelated to itself since it was a ‘people problem,’ but in retrospect could potentially be related
to its recent health issues.
“Is it something I can help with in any way?” offered Nao.
“I don’t know if you can,” answered Keira, “but I’ll ask you anyway. Have you ever heard of ‘power
creep?’”
“Power creep?” repeated Nao. “Hmm, the phrase does ring a bell. I’m sure I’ve heard of it before
somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I think she means that PMS thing, bro,” called out Kuro from the side.
“Oh! Right, of course!” exclaimed the Hero of Magic with a clap.
“I see, I see, so that’s how it was,” said the catgirl with a smile and a nod as she casually unsheathed the
mithril dagger at her waist. “So you two want to get cut after all, don’t you?”
“What?! No! C-c-calm down Keira! Kuro was just kidding! Let’s put the shiny knife away and talk
about this!”
Even if Boxxy knew it was a joke, the terrible timing involved triggered a fit of anger which it failed to
contain completely. Suggesting that its health issues were somehow caused by Keira’s menstrual cycle
was ludicrous to say the least. Under normal circumstances the shapeshifter would’ve just laughed it off,
but Kuro’s talent for pushing its buttons was already at VIP level.
“Sorry, that joke was a bit overboard,” apologized Keira almost immediately. “I’ve just had it with that
guy’s attitude.”
“In my defense, that one wasn’t on purpose,” claimed the culprit. “It’s just that this guy here isn’t all that
familiar with adventurer jargon.”
“Yeah, I usually let Kuro handle the talking with strangers.”
“Okay, fair enough. Wait, then how come he wasn’t around when you visited my house?”
“I was, actually, but, uh, I got a bit lost,” he admitted reluctantly.
“… Lost?”
“Okay, listen, I don’t want you to go all knifey-wifey on me again, but I was trying to hit on your
girlfriend. I didn’t know she was taken back then. So, I escorted her on her shopping trip, but she was
having none of it. Then when the Clash warning popped up she disappeared in a huff and left me in the
middle of a crowd with no idea how to get back to your place.”
“You lost her?” asked Keira with an incredulous look on her face. “But you’re a Berserker and she’s just
an Alchemist! How do you lose someone like that?!”
“She’s a local! She knows all the shortcuts and back alleys! Not to mention the timing to those funky
flying platforms you people have around here!”
“Wow. I am almost speechless,” remarked the catkin as she shook her head. “You are like, the worst
bodyguard ever!”
“To be fair,” butted in Nao, “I was the one who agreed to him leaving. The city seemed peaceful enough
and I thought I’d be perfectly fine in that out-of-the-way house. Plus my visit was pretty low profile, so
very few people knew I was even here. Then you showed up with that impeccable timing that only a
Hero of Chaos can pull off. And once the misunderstanding was cleared up I sent him a Message to stay
away lest he complicate things even further.”
“… Oh. Yeah, alright, I guess that makes sense,” conceded Keira. “Wait, when did you manage to send a
message? I didn’t see a comm-cube or anything.”
“No, no, a Message, as in the Psionic Spell. Instant long-range telepathic communication. Picked it up
about a year ago when I was visiting the southern continent. More importantly though, I’m surprised
you’re asking about Milton-Presley Syndrome.”
“Who-the-what-now?” asked the confused catgirl.
“Milton-Presley Syndrome,” repeated Nao,” or MPS for short. Not PMS. That’s… something else
entirely. Point is, it should be far too early for you to worry about it.”
“Maybe, but I want to be prepared for when the time comes. Unfortunately, I’ve only heard of it in
passing, so I’m not sure what it’s actually about.”
That was more or less the truth. Boxxy knew that power creep was something bad that happened if an
adventurer that got too many Levels too quickly, but that was the extent of its knowledge. The monster
never had any problems with its explosive growth, however, so it had never worried about it before.
Something that the benefit of hindsight showed had been an error.
“I suppose someone with four Jobs is more susceptible to it than not,” admitted Nao while scratching his
cheek. “Well, I’m sorry to say, but I’m a bit sketchy on some of the details myself. It’s been a long time
since I looked it up, so I don’t trust my memory too much.”
“Oh. That’s okay. I’ll just look it up in the library or something.”
“There’s no need for that. I have one on hand, actually. Stand back a bit, if you don’t mind.”
Concentric rings of light shot out of the Hero of Magic, and Boxxy immediately recognized the pattern
as the Summon Familiar Skill. Seeing this happen second-hand for once left the Mimic a bit stunned, as
it wasn’t sure how to react, but it managed to keep its cool this time around. Keira had been in the
company of other people’s familiars before, so it would likely be fine. Even if the ‘Boxxy Show’ was
popular over on the other side, Hamilton had forbidden any denizens of the Beyond from divulging
anything they might have seen in it to mortals. Its secret was probably not in any direct danger, but it
still undid the MLG hidden in Keira’s torso. It was a precaution just in case the one called out was a
beholder that might be asked to scan the room for anomalies.
This proved to have been a wise decision, as the demon that popped out of thin air did indeed look like
one. He had marble white skin, a single giant eye with a triangular blue iris, and a total of six eye stalks
growing out of its floating head of a body, which was about one and a half meters in diameter. He didn’t
seem all that impressive at first glance, but Boxxy knew from its Demonology Skill that the peculiar
shape of that eye was something no common demon would have. A triangular iris was the sign of a
beholder that had Ranked Up into a gazer, and this revelation immediately put the Mimic on edge. This
was the first time it had seen another Warlock with a ‘ranker’ under their command, so there was no way
it wouldn’t grow more wary of Nao.
The Hero of Magic, it would seem, was potentially dangerous in more than one ways.
As for the demon, he took a brief look at his summoner and barely even glanced at Kuro, but his stare
then lingered on Keira and her forced smile for several seconds.
“Hah. Hahahaha! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA!”
At which point he began laughing in a deep, booming voice.

“What is it this time, Ogbolg?” asked Nao, clearly miffed at this disrespectful behavior.
“Aaaah, it’s nothing, master,” said the gazer with a toothy grin. “I was just thinking it would be amusing
to watch you and that pretty face of yours get ripped apart by a vicious monster in a dark cave
somewhere. A creature that is like nightmares made real - a merciless whirlwind of steel, teeth, and
death.”
This guy, is he trying to expose me?! panicked Boxxy inside its head.
“Tch, that guy’s still quite the charmer, ain’t he?” said Kuro from the side.
“He… does this every time?” asked Keira.
“Pretty much,” confirmed Nao. “Ogbolg here doesn’t like it that I only use him to remember stuff in my
stead. He talks big, but I keep him on a tight leash, so he’s harmless.”
“Foolish mortal! We’ll see who is harmless when the unspeakable horrors of the Beyond pour through
the gates of this reality, eager to tear into your magic-rich blood and devour your very-!”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure I’ll suffer greatly,” he said dismissively. “Now shut up about that and tell us
everything you know about Milton-Presley Syndrome.”
“… The phenomenon formally referred to as Milton-Presley Syndrome and is informally popularized to

as ‘power creep’ or ‘leveling fatigue’ is the anomalous occurrence whereby an overabundance of
amplification sources begins to overextend the legitimate and essential characteristics of a physical
vessel, both of biological and inorganic composites. Research into the condition was spearheaded by the
humans Ashor Milton and Jennifer Presley, for which it was ultimately and officially named after,
despite being widely known as ‘power creep’ or ‘leveling fatigue’ within the various non-scholastic
circles and communities for centuries prior.”
“Have a seat,” whispered Nao to Keira. “This will take a while.”
The two of them sat on a nearby bench as the demon continued divulging the requested information.
However, his dull and drawn-out tone of voice combined with the needlessly pretentious wording and
tautologies threatened to put his listeners to sleep. Kuro failed to resist and dozed off in his chair off, but
the other two were not so easily swayed. The Hero of Magic was actively taking notes while Boxxy
listened attentively to every syllable. The doppelganger was eager to get the full scoop, as it had only
heard of the term in passing and as such only knew that the idea behind it was that ‘too many Levels too
quickly can be bad.’
As it turned out, that wasn’t entirely accurate. According to the lecture, MPS manifested itself whenever
an adventurer gained too many permanent Attribute bonuses, be it from Jobs, Skills, Perks, or ‘special
actions.’ Attributes dwelled within the body and amplified certain mental, physical, and, in the case of
Natural Affinity (AFF) and Faith (FTH), spiritual traits. However, such supernatural luxuries were not
without their burdens. There was only so much ‘boosting’ a living being could take before the
cumulative stress upon the body caused side-effects to manifest.
Unfortunately, that was all Boxxy was able to gather before it lost track of the presentation. The deluge
of words pouring out of Ogbolg’s mouth made it extremely difficult to follow along and understand him.
Terms like ‘fait accompli,’ ‘arcanophilogical’ or ‘ventral superluminal resistance’ in particular made it
seem like the demon was speaking in a foreign language altogether. The whole thing was likely the
gazer’s way of exerting his ‘right’ to malicious compliance. He was technically fulfilling his master’s
orders, but was trying to do it in a way that rendered the exercise largely pointless.
Yet Nao didn’t seem to mind in the slightest as he continued scribbling in his notebook without being
perturbed by Ogbolg’s verbal diarrhea. Whether it was because he understood all the technical mumbo
jumbo or because he was used to such shenanigans was unclear, but Boxxy couldn’t help but be
impressed. The Hero of Magic didn’t even wait for the gazer demon to finish his lecture before he cut
him off, tore out a page from his booklet and handed it to a thoroughly confused-looking Keira.
“Here.”
“Uh, what?”
“This guy likes to throw big words around for no reason, so I took the liberty of jotting down the
important bits without all the filler,” he explained.
“Oh, you did all that for me? Lemme see!”
The catgirl took the piece of paper and eagerly gave it a once over.
Power creep / Leveling fatigue / MPS
Varies between people, but usually starts at around 2,500-3,000 AP (Attribute Points) in
non-rankers. Which symptoms manifest first depends on AP distribution. MPS can easily be
avoided by focusing only on 1 main + 1 or 2 side Jobs, more than that is not advised. For
reference: Lv 50 Job + max Skills = 700~800 AP; Lv 100 equiv = 1,700~1,900 AP.
Stage 1 - Appears 1-3 days after exceeding AP limit. Causes relatively minor problems, but
should not be ignored!!
Symptoms: lethargy, sore joints, mood swings, difficulty concentrating, tooth pain/decay
Stage 2 - Appears 400-500 AP after Stage 1. Causes sensory problems and resistance to
restorative magic
Symptoms: blurry vision, partial deafness, periodic numbness of left side of body,
alchemical intolerance, reduced effect of healing Spells received.
NOTE : MPS starts getting worse over time from here on out, even if no AP is gained.
Stage 3 - Appears 200-300 AP or 30-40 days after Stage 2. This is where the brain starts
being affected.
Symptoms: memory loss (short+long term), dementia, blacking out, sleepwalking, spasms
Stage 4 - Appears 7-10 days after Stage 3 sets in regardless of AP gain in interim.
Symptoms: full body paralysis, coma, death (not really a symptom, but whatever)
NOTE : MPS becomes terminal, incurable and untreatable if allowed to progress this far.
Treatment options:
1. Grow up - Those under the age of 15 are far more susceptible to MPS than adults.
2. Bulk up - Building up body muscle mass through physical exercise and eating right can
stave off physical symptoms of Stage 1 MPS. DO NOT USE ALCHEMICAL
SUPPLEMENTS FOR THIS!!
3. Job Removal - bit extreme, but AP reduction is the quickest and surest way to get rid of
MPS. Highly recommended for stage 2 sufferers.
4. Rank Up - Raises AP tolerance by a factor of 2 (double all the AP numbers above). Can
theoretically cure even Stage 4, but no confirmed cases.
Boxxy greedily soaked in all the concisely written information and began processing it. It wasn’t sure
how much it could trust it though, as this data had been gathered with people in mind. It obviously
wouldn’t apply to a monster directly. Especially one that had Ranked Up three times and even changed
species once.
However, the shapeshifter could not deny that its current abnormal condition could easily be attributed
to the early onset of power creep. Not to mention that its combined Attribute scores clocked in at around
a staggering 7,300. This was two-to-three times higher than the average limit for baseline enlightened
beings, which surely should not be ignored. Then there was the fact that it had gained over five hundred
Attributes during the latter half of its last trip, so the timing was definitely a fit.
With the diagnosis out of the way, the next question was an obvious one - how could it address this?
Aside from the obvious desire not to make this MPS thing worse, it also hated being temperamental and
constantly feeling tired. It wanted to be rid of it post-haste, yet none of the treatment options listed here
were especially tasty. That was okay though, as the Mimic had already came up with a fifth one that
should work in theory.
However, that was something it would test later tonight. Right now it still had a Hero’s favor to curry.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Keira. “You managed to get all of this from that?! And in such clean,
beautiful handwriting, too! Nao, you’re amazing!”
“Ehehehe,” he laughed awkwardly at the sincere compliment. “W-well, I knew a good deal of that
already. Just had to double-check my facts, is all.”
“Still, you went out of your way to arrange this, even after I shut you down earlier. I really don’t know
what to say, other than thank you! You’re the best!”
The catgirl then leaned over and gave the beastkin sitting next to her a quick peck on the cheek.
“You’re gonna make some woman very happy one day,” she added with a brilliant smile.
“… Sure it can’ be you?” asked the blushing wolf-boy.
“I’m pretty certain I’d have noticed if I’d have developed a craving for men over the last two hours,” she
said while rolling her eyes. “But if that happens in the future, you’d be the first to know.”
“Uh, thanks? I guess?”
“Pfaaahahahaha!”
The gazer demon abruptly burst out laughing at that exchange, clearly aware of the literal man-eater
hidden behind Keira’s cheerful facade. The sudden loud noise made Kuro stir from his drivel-induced
coma. The Berserker mumbled something about ‘five more minutes,’ then continued napping.
“Your pain shall be legendary, whelp!” it taunted in-between fits of guffawing. “I shall forever treasure
your inevitable demise!”
“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” declared the demon’s master. “Away you go!”
And with that, the security risk in the room had been forcibly dismissed and sent back whence he came
from, much to Boxxy’s relief.
“Again, sorry about that,” said Nao to Keira. “I always struggle to keep that guy’s bad attitude in check.
I’d tell him to shut up, but that would defeat the purpose of using him as a portable personal library.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I already know all demons are jerks. Frankly speaking, I’m surprised you
even have a familiar. You didn’t mention you were also a Warlock before.”
“Because I don’t consider myself one. The Job’s only at Level 16 since I was curious about the
Demonology Skill and the knowledge it offered, but I had to also get Summon Familiar since its a
prerequisite. It wasn’t like I went out of my way to make a contract possible. I haven’t even hired
anyone besides Ogbolg, though I’m rather ashamed that I have to rely on that asshole in the first place.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Nao. I trust you know what you’re doing when it comes to
this sort of stuff. Besides, even if they’re insensitive pricks, I’ve seen first-hand how scarily effective
demons can be in a pinch, so I try not to judge.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d say that. I just wish everyone else was as understanding as you,” he added
while furrowing his brows. “People who catch wind of me having Summon Familiar take one look at my
boyish face and instantly assume I’m a hormonal teenager who wanted a succubus for immoral
purposes. It can be quite frustrating trying to explain I only have Ogbolg.”
“Sounds troublesome. How come you don’t have more demons, though? Seems odd to have the
potential yet not use it.”
“… I’m afraid of what would happen if I have to keep tabs on more than one of them. I’m not very
perceptive. Or attentive. Or confident. Or strong-willed, for that matter.”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” grumbled the catgirl, interrupting the one-man pity parade. “But even if it’s one at
a time, having more options couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, no offense to Kuro, but look at him.”
The bodyguard in question was still quietly snoring while laying back in his chair.
“Oh, that? Don’t worry about him. Looking after me can be a bit demanding, so he needs to get all the
sleep he can,” deflected Nao. “You’re actually to blame for that, you know. We were supposed to remain
incognito as much as possible, but our meeting kind of blew it.”
“Th-that was then, this is now,” insisted the catgirl. “And what that guy is doing right now hardly seems
proper behavior of a protector.”
“I trust him to know his limits,” insisted the younger wolfkin. “He has a good nose for danger, so he’ll
wake up the instant he feels a threat is near. Not that I expect anyone with malicious intents can get to us
down here, in the Consortium’s basement. Unless it was someone who could barge past the collective
security forces of several adventurer guilds, but Kuro wouldn’t be able to stand up to that sort of absurd
being anyway…”
“But a fiend might,” was Keira’s counter argument. “They’re stupidly strong and tough, after all. Or one
of those spider-things could catch them unawares. Or maybe that Oldblob or whatever his name was
could see the threat coming before it gets here, giving you time to escape. What I’m getting at is that
even if it’s only one at a time, demons can still be made to keep watch. They don’t need food or sleep or
anything either, so they’re perfect for the job!”
Nao opened his mouth and raised a finger as if to protest, but stopped himself in the next moment as he
realized that was a very valid point. Using demons as sentries was by no means a strange concept. Just
like Keira said, they were uniquely well-suited to such duties. It was also possible that, should his gazer
be given something more to do in the physical realm than just holding onto information, then he might
actually mellow out a bit. The Sandman himself had supposedly earned genuine loyalty from his
familiars, and he was by no means the first one to accomplish such a feat.
Granted, one usually needed to be an unbelievably scummy piece of shit to be liked by the denizens of
the Beyond, so Nao always took such suggestions with a pinch of salt. However, Keira’s words had far
more weight behind them than he expected. Heroes often led turbulent lives and had to be ready for
anything, but none embodied this more than the Hero of Chaos. Unforeseen consequences and extreme
circumstances were more than just an eventual possibility for the spunky redhead in front of him. They
were a way of life. He had seen for himself how unsettling and upsetting the random occurrences of
Chaotic Disposition could be, yet she still handled them with grace. Aside from the rare fit of strangely
creative swearing, at least.
Bottom line was that Nao would be a fool if he dismissed her sincere advice regarding his personal
safety without at least giving it proper consideration.
“Yeah, you may have a point,” he said after mulling things over. “I’ll think about it.”

“… Oh, crap.”
It would appear that Keira’s gentle nudge had set in motion a chain of events that, given the context,
would probably end up affecting the Hero of Magic in a major way. This entire conversation was
supposed to be Boxxy offering some helpful hints free of charge, as it seriously wanted Nao kept alive.
He had been such a wonderful source of information that it would honestly be a shame if he were to bite
the big one, especially after all the effort it put into him. The Mimic wasn’t going to risk its life for the
guy or anything, but it wouldn’t mind stopping an assassination plot or two if it happened to stumble
upon them. But if the flows of chaos were going to have their way with him, then a coward like Nao was
unlikely to escape from them unscathed.
“What is it Keira? Did something happen?”
Meaning that this was probably the right time to tell the Hero of Magic he was in for a wild ride. While
the outcome of Agent of Chaos was largely unpredictable, the existence of free will meant that it wasn’t
necessarily set in stone. It was possible it could be steered towards a relatively favorable direction, so
long as one knew that ‘something’ was coming. Of course, the mere act of notifying the man might
backfire and make things worse, but it would probably be better if he was on high alert for the time
being.
“Remember the Agent of Chaos thing I mentioned? It just popped up in my head, so I think you need to
be extremely careful how you handle those demons of yours.”
“Oh.”
“…”
“…”
The two stared at each other in total silence, but it wasn’t the ‘contemplating how to handle things’
silence. It was more of the ‘nice day, isn’t it?’ sort of atmosphere.
“… So?” asked the catgirl.
“Hmm? So what?”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“About what?”
“About the Agent of Chaos!”
“Did something happen?”
“Yeah, it just activated.”
“What did?”
“The Agent of Chaos Skill! It just became active!”
“I don’t follow.”
“Argh! Listen to me!” she screamed while shaking him by the collar. “I’m telling you some weird shit is
about to go down!”
“Hey, hey, hey! Put him down!” shouted the freshly woken up Kuro as he broke the two of them up.
“What’s this all about?!”
“It’s about that dense guy over there!” she insisted. “I’m trying to warn him something extreme is going
to happen to him in the near future!”
“Him being a bit slow is hardly cause for you to accost him like that,” he said sternly. “You already
know he can’t deal with violent girls! You should be helping him overcome that, not making it worse!”
”That’s not the point!”
“Then what is it, ya psycho?”
But no matter how much she tried to tell them that something big was about to happen, the message
simply failed to sink in. It was as if her words didn’t even reach them, or at the very least like they were
literally going in one ear and out the other. The crafty catgirl tried writing down her warning instead, but
that also failed no matter how many times she tried. Either the quill would snap, the page would tear, or
Kuro would sneeze into the paper and his snot would make the writing illegible. Not even roundabout
explanations or awkward flailing that may or may not have been interpreted as language were getting
through to either of the beastkin.
It had become readily apparent that this was Cornelia’s meddling, and that no amount of effort on
Boxxy’s part would allow it to overcome her divine influence. After it had a chance to think about it
why this was happening, it remembered the Goddess of Gambling once said something about hating
spoilers. It would therefore make sense that some sort of divine censorship would keep the ‘secret’ from
spilling out and possibly affecting the outcome. That was the only reasonable explanation why the only
thing Keira had to show after five minutes of trying to warm someone that ‘some funky shit is about to
go down’ was a pair of confused-looking wolfkin.
“What’s this really about, Keira?” demanded Nao. “I know we’ve not known each other for very long,
but this sort of cryptic attitude doesn’t seem like you.”
No. I’m being extremely direct with you right now, retorted Boxxy inside its head. I’m being so honest
that it actually hurts a little.
But, with no other options on the table, the Mimic had to give up on that, and so decided to move on
another topic.
“… Okay, I’ll stop beating around the bush and say it. I want to find out what happens if we fully charge
and set off the maybe-Divine item I showed you when we first met.”
No amount of examination from the Hero of Magic was able to reveal a single thing about what that
blasted pink gem’s main function. He therefore determined that the only certain way to figure out what
would happen if it was activated was to, well, activate it.
“Ah, I see. Hmm,” responded the younger sibling while rubbing his chin in thought. “I must admit, even
if it’s dangerous, I’m itching to find out what it really does.”
“Here we go again,” groaned the older one while rolling his eyes. “You and that mystery fetish of yours
are gonna be the death of one or both of us. And this one smells especially fishy. You know what they
say about curiosity and cats, right?”
“Careful Kuro, you’re starting to sound like Ogbolg,” cautioned Nao while still lost in thought. “Alright
Keira, tell you what. I don’t feel confident about setting that thing off by ourselves, but it should be fine
if we ask lady Imiryl for assistance. She was once my teacher, so she should understand my concerns
regarding safety and secrecy.”
“Great! Let’s do that!” suggested Keira.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “she’s currently away on some business for her guild, the Broken Mirror,
and won’t be back until a day or two after the new year celebration.”
“More like she’s off to booze it up where her drunken self will cause the least amount of collateral
damage,” mumbled Kuro while shuddering slightly. “The last time I saw her party it up unsupervised
she turned the Seven Spires of Solitude into the Seven Piles of Rubble. We spent the next five weeks
cleaning that up.”
“… Nao? Is that why you were saying something about putting mountains back together?” asked Keira.
“W-w-well, that doesn’t really matter right now,” he claimed dismissively. “The important part is that I-
uh, we should wait for her to return so she can lend us her expertise.”
He also mumbled something about ‘if she’s sober’ under his breath, but Boxxy pretended not to hear. It
had a more pressing question in mind.
“But… that’s going to be after the next year rolls around, right? Will you still be here when she comes
back?”
“Where else would I be?”
“I thought you had to leave in, like, four days from now.”
“You do realize the new year starts the day after tomorrow, right?”
Keira’s eyes opened up so much that one would think they were trying to escape the confines of her
face.
“I completely forgot!” she shrieked.

With all the magic lessons, fruitless Foundation baiting and power creep business going on, Boxxy had
completely forgotten about that affair. It wasn’t like the turn of the year held any special significance to
the monster though. It was just another day in the calendar as far as it was concerned. However, it was a
very special day for Keira. More specifically, for Rowana and her family, who she was supposed to
celebrate it with.
“I need to buy presents for Rowie and her folks! I should also get something for Lia and the others! I
also have to get a new dress! And shoes! Oh no, I even promised I’d get my hair done for once, but I
haven’t made an appointment! I can’t be wasting my time here!”
The hyperactive catgirl paced around in a circle as she listed off all the things she neglected to arrange,
then abruptly turned on her heel and ran towards the exit. She was already one foot out the door before
Nao realized what was going on.
“Wait, hold up!” he called out to Keira, stopping her in her tracks.
“What?! Oh, sorry about this, but I really need to get going!”
“Can I borrow that mithril dagger you, uh, showed me earlier?”
The catgirl cocked an eyebrow, then unsheathed the weapon from her belt and held it up so everyone
could see it.
“You mean this?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I want to run some experiments on it.”
“What kind of experiments?”
“Oh, nothing special. Just some minor things to satisfy my curiosity.”
“… Can you swear my shin- my treasure will survive your ‘curiosity?’ I only just got it on my last
adventure, you know.”
Keira’s Boxxy-ness very nearly spilled out in the middle there, but she managed to keep her act together.
Despite what its Facade had stated, that weapon had been the shapeshifter’s constant companion for
almost as long as Snack and Arms. It wasn’t like the blade held any particularly special meaning or
sentimental value, but it getting ruined in some magical malfunction would not be tasty at all.
“I’ll give it back better than new,” promised Nao. “Even if I somehow break it, I’ll make sure to replace
it.”
“… I’ll hold you to that, then. Hey, Kuro-!”

Keira flipped the weapon in her hand and grabbed it by the blade with three fingers.
“-Catch!”
She then abruptly threw it at the towering Berserker a bit faster than she should have.
“Hey, watch it!” he exclaimed as he just barely managed to catch it by the handle. “If I didn’t know any
better I’d think you were trying to- Aaaaaand she’s gone.”
The frantic catgirl had already shut the door on her way out, long before he could finish voicing his
complaint.
“… Must be nice,” lamented Nao.
“What is?” responded Kuro while handing him the borrowed blade.
“Having so many people to give gifts to.”
“Meh. Seems like just a waste of time, energy and money if you ask me. I don’t need some fancy
holiday to go get pissed with my buddies, you know?”
The younger wolfkin ignored the snide comments as he looked at the old yet tenderly cared for weapon
in his hand with a soft smile. He wasn’t initially sure why his patron insisted coming all the way here
would be a learning experience, but now he understood. One could study arcane sigils, ancient artifacts
and peculiar pink gems all they wanted, but it was people who remained the biggest mystery of them all.
And Keira? She was definitely one of the major ones. He wouldn’t go so far as to say meeting her had
changed his life, but gaining her friendship had certainly been… enlightening. Just like a book that
always had another page, he couldn’t help but feel there was always more to her than one would think.
That enigmatic personality was what initially intrigued him about her, though the pretty face, nice
figure, flawless skin and cheerful demeanor certainly helped draw him in further. It was a shame their
relationship didn’t pan out like he was hoping, but it couldn’t be helped. Nor would his failed attempt at
romance dissuade him from giving his new friend the type of gift only someone in his position could
give someone like her.
“Come on, Kuro. I’m eager to find out how much mana this thing can hold!”
An enchantment that only a truly inspired Hero of Magic could produce.
“Just take it easy with this one, okay? My back still hurts from the last time you had that ‘inspired’ look
in your eye.”
“Oh, nonsense! We got all the shrapnel out, didn’t we? Besides, that axe was steel, not mithril, so it’ll go
much better this time around. In theory.”
Provided the weapon survived the treatment, of course.

(215) Interlude Family Reunions Are Always
Awkward
It was a cold and windy evening, four days before the Necromancers of the Order of the Black Wand
were slated to be wiped out at Fort Aynor. Two demons were traversing a snow-covered forest, each in
their own way. One was bulldozing her way through it, knocking over trees and ploughing through rocks
as if she was paving the way for a new section of the imperial highway. The other hovered silently just
above the treetops, massaging her temples at the annoying cacophony coming from below.
“You sure this the right place?” asked Kora impatiently. “I don’t see shit around here!”
“I’m sure of it,” replied Xera. “I’ve been here only a few times, but it should definitely be- Yes! I see it!”
The djinn spotted the two demons’ destination from her aerial vantage point. Being able to fly
everywhere really was quite convenient, and Kora couldn’t help but be envious of that ability. Mostly
because she wanted to drop down on people from a few hundred meters to see them go splat, a source of
entertainment rather than a tactical advantage. Still, the archfiend didn’t complain too much since Xera
was able to successfully direct her towards the place they had been looking for on behalf of their master.
The red-skinned demoness made her way through the pinewood forest with renewed vigor, until she
rushed out into a large valley with rolling snow-covered hills in the distance beyond it.
A settlement stood in the middle of this oddly serene scenery, though perhaps ‘village’ was too strong a
word to describe it. There were barely even thirty houses here, and all of them looked to be quite old,
despite them being in a good state of repair. The hamlet looked like it wouldn’t even reach a hundred
people even in its prime, which had obviously passed by long ago. It still had a few dozen people living
in it, if the number of pedestrians milling about in broad daylight was any indication.
However, upon closer inspection, any visitor to this place would immediately notice two odd things
about its residents. For starters, rather than being middle-aged or elderly country folk who had a rough
edge to them due to the rural conditions they lived in, all of the citizens were nubile women, both young
and mature. Pretty faces, alluring hair styles, bewitching figures, stylish clothing - it was like a
cornucopia of beauty entirely unbefitting a settlement this far out in the sticks. Their outfits in particular
would make anyone easily confuse them for the high-class jewels that dwelled in prestigious places such
as the nobles’ district of the royal capital.
The second oddity could be seen in their behavior when they saw Kora stride towards the settlement
confidently and unhesitantly. This caused something of an uproar, which was only to be expected given
that a random and potentially unbound demon was approaching a modest hamlet with seemingly no
defenses. However, it was the nature of the commotion she stirred up that was strange.
“My, my, it seems the average Intelligence of the ranch suddenly dropped by a few dozen points.”
“How did she get here, though? Was it a fluke? It was probably a fluke.”
“Must be a stray bitch. It’s honestly a miracle a witless moron like that hasn’t forgotten her head yet.”
“To be fair, she’d probably be alright even if she did. She uses the head down below a lot more than the
one up top anyway.”
“C’mon girls, give her some credit. She can walk and breathe at the same time so she’s definitely better
than your average fiend.”
“That’s not saying much when the average for their kind is so low I’d need to hire a mole-beast to dig it
up! Ah-hahahahah!”
Rather than being treated with apprehension or suspicion, she was instead being ridiculed and belittled
from all sides. This visibly ticked her off, which she demonstrated by twisting her face into a snarl and
letting out an aggressive low growl. Any more of this and she would surely start killing, pillaging, and
raping everything in sight, despite coming here with peaceful intentions. Well, ‘peaceful’ by fiend
standards, at the very least.
“Take it easy, fuck-for-brains! I told you to wait for me at the outskirts!”
Kora’s rage was just about to boil over from all the insults and jeering when Xera descended from
above. Rather than in her djinn form, she had disguised herself as her old succubus appearance. Seeing
the winged demoness float down and sit herself on the fiend’s shoulder while slapping the back of her
head, the surrounding women instantly grew silent. One of them, a blonde bombshell with bright blue
eyes wearing an eye-catching fur coat with unnecessarily fuzzy sleeves and neckline, stepped forward.
“Xerababadubuth,” she called out in an authoritative voice. “I see you have returned to us.”
The not-a-succubus smiled sweetly and nodded her head in greeting while still seated atop the fiend’s
shoulder.
“I have indeed,” she answered respectfully.
“And what of your… baggage?”
“Baggage?!” snapped Kora. “You’ll be the one with baggage when-!”
*SMACK*
“Shut it, jizz-nozzle!” yelled Xera after slapping her on the back of the head again. “You’re speaking to
your betters! Just stick to the deal we had and let me handle this!”
The fiend grumbled in an unintelligible fashion under her breath, but didn’t say much else. The
demoness on her shoulder turned towards the blonde woman and once more bowed her head.
“I apologize for the rudeness of this cretin. I just sort of picked her up after we duped our summoner. I
hope it won’t be too much of a problem.”
The local leader raised an eyebrow in wonderment, but decided there were far more important things to
address before dealing with the random fiend intruding on her territory.
“Rejoice my children!” she yelled out with a wide smile. “For your sister has returned to us!”
All of the women suddenly erupted into cheers, each of them firing off various Spells high up into the
air like fireworks. Xera looked on happily, letting nostalgia overwhelm her as she couldn’t help but feel
somewhat elated at this extravagant welcome.
“It is good to be back, mother,” she said while beaming excitedly.
“It is good to have you back, child,” replied the blonde. “Now, would you be so kind as to explain the…
thing you brought with you.”
“Ah, I suppose introductions are in order. Everyone! I’d like you to meet my new toy! Her name is…
uh… What was it again?”
“It’s Koralenteprix, you insufferable whore!” snapped the fiend. “Koralenteprix Khusuuszun
Caonthioxxaa!”
“Yeah, that. She may be dumber than she looks, but she still has her uses. I believe she could be of
service to you and my sisters, mother, which is why I have brought her here.”
This den of demons was filled to the brim with unbound succubi from all across the continent, brought
together by the demon called Yuukhiolelelari L’okrelaila. ‘Yuu’ herself was no mere succubus, but a
higher form of demonic being known as an alcubus. It was the type of demon Xera would have normally
Ranked Up into, were it not for the extraordinary circumstances through which she evolved. And, as
expected of one who has reached the next level, Yuu could do things that low-class demons could not.
Such as having children, or at least as close to that as demons could get. The process involved two
Ranked Up demons working together to deliberately mold the raw negative emotions swimming in the
Beyond into a new demonic being. There was no actual mating, pregnancy or conventional blood
relations involved, and it was more of a responsibility rather than a privilege. Nor was it something
exclusive to the alcubus, as any combination of ‘rankers’ could partake in it, though it was traditionally
carried out by a male-female pair.
However, even though it lacked the physical aspects of mortal procreation, it was still a deeply intimate
experience. Creating life from essentially nothing was no easy feat, and required that each parent put a
little bit of themselves into their progeny. It was therefore only natural that the offspring of such a union
would feel a certain familial bond towards their parents, which was more often than not reciprocated.
That was why demons, despite being inherently selfish, devious and untrustworthy, treated those they
saw as kin more favorably than others.
Relatively speaking, of course.
“I have no need for dumb muscle, Xera,” said Yuu coldly. “The only thing she’ll do is jeopardize our
cover should visitors show up.”
Even if it seemed like this place being a succubi den should have been obvious from the get go, mortals
were much easier to deceive than they would like to admit. Any unwitting traveler that happened upon
or, as was more often the case, was lured into this place would become instantly enamored by all of the
otherworldly beauty around them. Even women who didn’t swing that way would find themselves
charmed and taken in by the extravagance of seeing so many succubi in one place. In such a state, it
would take them far too long to realize something was amiss before they were trapped here.
But that only worked so long as they remained ignorant, and having a gigantic bright-red demon strut
around town was sure to ruin the illusion. One could argue she could be used as security, but each and
every demonic resident of this place was a formidable magic user in their own right. Any bandits or
monsters that showed up with ill intentions were instantly obliterated, though this society of sorcerous
seductresses tried to subdue the former whenever possible.
“I disagree, mother,” said Xera resolutely. “If I recall correctly, this place had a number of problems.
Tell me, is there still a shortage of livestock?”
“… Indeed,” admitted Yuu. “No matter how many we capture and chain down, it is never enough for
this ranch’s needs.”
Men caught in this honeytrap would be imprisoned in one of the hamlet’s basements, where they would
have their life force harvested for their captors’ enjoyment until they expired. Which, given the
insatiable nature of demons, didn’t take longer than a week or two, three at most if the prisoner was
especially sturdy. As for the women, aside from the odd squirter, they were usually turned into thralls
and made to do menial labor unless Yuu claimed them as her playthings. Even though she was originally
a succubus with the same cravings as her daughters, the alcubus had eventually developed some more…
unique tastes.
“Well, this is where dicks-on-legs here comes in handy,” declared Xera with a wide smile. “Allow me to
demonstrate.”
She hopped off of Kora’s shoulder and shifted the fiend’s battle-dress to the side to reveal both of her
members, which were already standing at full attention.
“It may not be the real deal,” explained the blue-skinned vixen, “but her spunk is quite enjoyable all the
same. She has stamina and vitality in spades, too, so you can be sure she’ll last a looooong time.”
“Interesting. Though I find it hard to believe an uppity fiend would just let us do as we please.”
“She has no choice in the matter, mother. She lost a Devil’s Gambit with me, so now she has to listen to
me and do everything I say until one of us is sent back to the Beyond. See?”
She dug her nails into Kora’s shafts hard enough to draw blood, but the fiend did nothing. She didn’t
even wince in pain. Seeing the fiend restrain herself despite being humiliated like this, Yuu and the rest
of her brood would find it quite difficult not to believe her wayward daughter’s story. Their common
sense dictated that there was no way one of those meatheads would let anyone - least of all a succubus -
get away with making a fool of them without going berserk.
Unless, of course, a Devil’s Gambit was involved. This was a wager made official by a devil, and the
loser was forced to submit to whatever demands the winner had established prior to making it ‘official.’
It was an agreement that was on par with summoning contracts in terms of strength and strictness, so it
was the only plausible explanation for Xera and Kora’s supposed relationship. Unless, of course, any of
her sisters had seen a single episode of the Boxxy Show, but that was extremely unlikely. It had been
years, decades or in some cases even centuries since any of them had returned to the Beyond, so it was a
safe assumption that none of them knew of Charles’s latest Hero.
“Is… is it really that good?” asked a red-haired demon from the sidelines. “Fiend cum, I mean.”
“It’s not all that great when compared to sucking the life out of mortals,” said Xera with a finger on her
cheek, “but what she lacks in flavor she makes up for in volume. The only problem is it takes a bit of
effort to wring it out of her.”
“I wanna try!” exclaimed the redhead while undoing her disguise.
“No, me first!” insisted a brunette from the side as she did the same.
The two demons stepped forward while licking their lips and discarding what looked like their clothing,
but was more akin to a second skin. The former’s real form had a rich, ocean-blue color to it, while the
latter’s body turned fiery pink. Both of them were stunning beauties with impossible proportions that did
not lose out to Xera’s in the slightest. Lesser men would probably fail to even notice the clearly demonic
tails, horns and wings with such a feast for the eyes in front of them.
“You can share if you want, girls,” Xera said with a smile. “I’ve already told her she’s forbidden from
resisting or harming any one of us, so knock yourselves out. Just keep in mind not to completely wear
her out. She’s mine, m’kay?”
“Thanks for the meal!”
With a unified cry, the two ravenous succubi jumped the fiend and knocked her to the ground. Since they
didn’t have Xera’s eccentricities, they didn’t even try to take those monstrous shafts inside them.
Instead, they sandwiched both of them between their pillowy breasts and began licking and sucking on
one each. Two more of their sisters joined in almost right away to assist with the lewd act, as there was
simply way too much dick to go around. The rest of them sort of formed a line behind them, eager to try
out this new plaything her sister had brought before them while the demoness in question stood off to
the side.
It was then that Xera saw something odd. A succubus with luscious red skin to rival Kora’s grinned
wickedly as she approached the fiend’s head. She caressed her nether regions for a second before sitting
on the much larger demon’s face with a sort of ‘since nobody else is using it’ demeanor. She ground her
genitals into Kora’s face while demanding she put that useless tongue of hers to work. And judging from
the ‘O’ shape her lips made the next instant, the fiend had begrudgingly complied.
“Huh, that’s unexpected,” mused Xera to herself as she stared at the deviant. “Since when is Pria into
that sort of stuff?”
“Priadraossiuz has awakened since her last contract,” commented Yuu as she walked up next to her
daughter.
“Awakened? What do you mean?”
“Her summoner was apparently a lonely girl that had called on a succubus to relieve her desires,
foolishly thinking herself safe due to her gender. Long story short, that child had learned the pleasure of
being serviced orally, and has been pursuing it ever since.”
“And this is… a good thing?”
“In a way. I have found that succubi that have embraced their inner kink and eagerly chase after it are far
more likely to Rank Up. But then again, you probably already know all about that, don’t you?”
The ex-succubus stared wide-eyed at her mother, who simply gave her a knowing smirk.
“You cannot fool me so easily, stupid child. Come, follow me.”
The two demons left the scene just as Kora reached the first of what were bound to be countless
orgasms. Her sizable load flew up into the air like she was some kind of perverted sprinkler, much to the
joy of those around her. It had been so long since they tasted the stuff, that many of them found her
supposedly subpar substance to be extremely sweet and gathered around her to ‘feed.’ The fiend herself
wasn’t enjoying this in the slightest, however, as she was totally being treated like the bottom bitch. The
‘Devil’s Gambit’ may have been an excuse, but the fact still stood that her master’s standing orders
prevented her from going against her co-contractor’s instructions.
Yuu and Xera left the developing orgy behind, going inside one of the better-looking houses to get some
privacy. The older demon reverted to her true form, causing her breasts to deflate at an almost alarming
rate. When she was done, she was left in the shape of a sweet looking young girl on the cusp of
womanhood who seemed to radiate innocence. Her blonde hair and blue eyes remained the same, while
her caucasian skin turned several hues whiter. Her clothes consisted of a surprisingly chaste one-piece
dress that enhanced the illusion of purity. Even the tiny black horns on the sides of her head and the
miniature bat-like wings on her back looked cute rather than menacing. It was an appearance akin to a
rare flower, something that demanded protection and elicited emotional attachment rather than sexual
desire.
Unless, of course, one happened to be something of a pedophile, but that was besides the point.
“Well?” she said demandingly. “Aren’t you going to reveal your true self?”
Xera sighed in a defeated manner and undid her succubus-like transformation. Hers was the opposite of
her mother’s, becoming even more stacked and obscenely dressed from how she was moments before.
Yuu raised an eyebrow at this visage, as she was able to confirm that her daughter had not followed in
her footsteps.
“So. You’re really not an alcubus after all, are you?” she said with a disappointed tone.
It wasn’t the voluptuous body that had given that away, though. Even though all succubi had the same
overall shape, their natural appearances varied wildly after their Rank Ups. Yuu’s in particular was the
result of her lusting after cute young girls. It was by no means the standard fare. In fact, most alcubui
retained the buxom forms they had prior to their Rank Up, so she was definitely an oddity among them.
However, Xera was clearly not one of those. Her crown-like horns and exotic garb in particular were a
dead giveaway to Yuu’s experienced eyes. Although admittedly she had more than just eyesight to go
on.
“You know, I thought I was being lied to when I heard you’d become a djinn, but I’m not stupid enough
to deny what’s in front of my eyes.”
“Wait, you knew?”
“Of course I did, child! I acted along with the rest of your ignorant siblings since I didn’t want to spoil
their fun with that present you brought them. You probably thought it would serve as a distraction while
you butter me up, and while I appreciate the sentiment, I am a bit insulted you thought I would fall for
it. Did you honestly believe someone with my experience I couldn’t tell both of you had Ranked Up
with a glance?”
“I don’t buy it. Since when did you have a nose for that sort of stuff?”
“Okay, you got me,” admitted Yuu with a cheeky smile. “I was mostly guessing just now, but I was
expecting something like this after hearing how the most stubborn of my daughters went and got herself
contracted to an extremely interesting Hero of Chaos.”
“What do you mean you heard?”
“I have my sources.”
“… I see. It was my father that told you.”
“Might’ve been.”
“Figures. That guy never could keep his mouth shut.”
“Indeed. He was actually bragging about his exploits during Overlord Nagnamor and the Flaming
Legion’s most recent incursion into the mortal realm when he offhandedly mentioned he caught a
glimpse of you in the materium.”
“Wait, since when is he in the Flaming Legion? Wasn’t he living it up in some lavish hardcore dungeon
in the southern desert?”
“His contract got terminated some forty years ago. Apparently the owner of that place wasn’t too keen to
have someone with such a volatile temper roaming about the place.”
“Well, he never was the type to willingly follow orders, but that only makes his joining up with the
Legion harder to believe though.”
“Don’t act so surprised, child. There aren’t a lot of employment opportunities for an ifrit sultan. Come to
think of it, he’s probably partly to blame for you turning out like this. You may have gotten my ravishing
looks, but that bizarre obsession you have with fire is definitely his.”
“Yeah, yeah… Wait, how did he tell you about my master in the first place?!”
“I heard about that loudmouth Nagnamor showing his dumb face during the recent war, so I called your
father to congratulate him on his first official invasion of the mortal realm.”
“That’s not what I meant. I thought the Progenitor forbade demons from leaking information about my
master.”
“Yes, he did. To mortals.”
Xera rose a finger as if to protest, but realized that would’ve been a terrible idea. Instead, she merely let
out a defeated sigh, followed by a groaning complaint.
“At least it’s good to see you haven’t gone senile in your old age, mother.”
“Nevermind that. What in Queen Shridiaphrial’s fuckable nipples is going on with you, my girl?!”
“… I guess I happened to meet the right master,” said the djinn with a surprisingly pure smile.
“Yes, yes, but what’s it really like? Having a monster for a master?”
“Like nothing else on this world. Much like you said, I had been awakened to pleasures of the flesh I
had never experienced before. It took a little while for me to embrace that side of me, but once I did, it
felt like my world had suddenly expanded. At some point, my Master started catering to my new desires,
both regularly and, mmmm, vigorously.”
“And what needs would those be? I’d rather hear it from your own mouth rather than believe rumors and
hearsay.”
The djinn laid back as if she were resting on an invisible lounge chair and stared dreamy-eyed at the
ceiling.
“I was humiliated beyond belief and torn limb from limb until my mind broke, until I could no longer
differentiate pain from pleasure. My insides were ravaged by insertions you wouldn’t believe, stretching
me out to the point where I would burst open, and would then be devoured while still clinging to life.
Hnnnng! It’s the absolute best!”
“Yeesh,” said Yuu with a grimace. “Even for a kink that’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
“I can’t help it mother! My Master is just that good! Just thinking about being dominated by it gets me
going like you wouldn’t believe! If it wasn’t drilling me on a regular basis, I’d probably have gone nuts!
”
“It’s far too late for that, methinks. I must admit, I’ve never imagined one of mine would turn out to be
such a… submissive.”
“Yet it was inevitable! My master isn’t some weakling human or elf held back by worthless things like
morality or common sense! It’s a monster of unparalleled cruelty and deviousness. Hnnnnng! Boxxy
really is the best Master a worthless shameless slut like me could have!”
“Stop that, will you? You almost make it sound like you’d fallen for it.”
“Oh, but I have.”
“… Come again?”
“I love my Master. Or at least, I think I do. I cannot bear the thought of never seeing it again. I had my
contract severed twice now by outside influences, and both times it hurt like nothing else ever had. Not
in the tasty way, either.”
“Wow. You really have it quite bad, don’t you?”
“I’m afraid I do, mother.”
“It’s not necessarily a bad thing though,” said Yuu with a sagely tone. “I as well have felt such flights of
fancy long ago… I don’t want to ruin it for you, but let me just say this. That terrible feeling you
mentioned? It’s going to hurt even worse when you eventually outlive the thing. So enjoy yourself while
you can, but learn to let go.”
“I like how you assumed Boxxy will succumb to something as trifling as death.”
The alcubus rolled her eyes with her arms crossed. She hadn’t heard of that shapeshifter’s resurrection
yet, so she just took Xera’s comment as ‘the folly of the young.’
“I think that’s enough chit-chat,” she declared. “Frankly speaking, your presence here does not put me at
ease. Nor does the fact that you revealed this place to a mortal. So I’m going to get straight to the point -
what does that master of yours want with this place?”
“… My Master demands one of your alraune.”
“Ah, it ‘demands’ one, does it?” asked Yuu with a cocked eyebrow.
Xera walked over to a nearby table and slammed her forehead into it hard enough to make herself bleed.
After administering the ‘self-punishment’ as per her master’s telepathic instructions, she turned her
glossy eyes back to her mother.
“I misspoke. My Master requested your assistance. I am the one who is demanding you honor its
wishes.”
“That’s more like it. What would a monster want with one of the plants from our ranch, though?”
“Does it matter? It’s not like losing one or two would put your livelihood at risk.”
“Of course, it will. Mishandling of those things could jeopardize everything I’ve worked to build here.”
“Well, if you must know, it’s not for personal use,” claimed Xera. “My Master has a request to bring one
to a dryad up north, across the border.”
“Hmmmm, is that so?” mused Yuu while crossing her arms. “I suppose I might agree to that request
then. However, I am naturally not doing this for free. I will have this master of yours assist me with a
few simple requests first.”
“My Master makes no promises, but asking is free.”
“Quite. Well, for starters, I need you lot to promise me you will depart this place as soon as our business
is done. I want to avoid having the Inquisition snooping around because you’ve been spotted in the area,
and I’d rather avoid any chance for… hostilities.”
“That’s fine by us. Getting a mountain alraune is the main reason we’re here to begin with.”
This ranch was located at the foot of the White Peaks, a pair of peculiarly-shaped mountains in the
south-eastern part of the Empire. It was something of a detour Boxxy had taken while its plans regarding
the Order of the Black Wand took shape. It would be several more days before it could act on those, so it
had decided to make the most out of that time by tackling Ambrosia’s request. It wasn’t sure when it
could afford the time to come all the way down here in the future and it was quite eager to experience
the new nectar flavor the dryad had promised it, leading to this surprise visit.
“What else?” asked the younger demon. “Neither of us can imagine you’d want to part with your
exclusivity for a simple non-aggression pact.”
The knowledge and seeds required to raise and care for a mountain alraune was something that could not
be found anywhere else on this world. This ‘ranch’ was, after all, where that particular strand of the
monster had first originated. It shared many characteristics of the more common variants from across the
southern ocean, such as the ability to use a combination of magic and pollen to mentally unbalance their
prey. With their inhibitions loosened and their judgement clouded, the monsters would draw its potential
victims in even closer with promises of pleasure, be it from intercourse or their incredibly sweet honey.
Those who failed to resist the temptation would have the life choked out of them and be used as
nutrients. It was a hunting pattern not to different from that of succubi, but the two races were
completely unrelated.
Or at least they were until several hundred years ago. It was at a time when Xera was still the demonic
equivalent of an infant when her mother started this little commune as a place her kin could come to
relax. A vacation spot in the mortal realm where they could play around without having to worry about
looking over their shoulders all the time. However, they needed a cover, one that would make a
settlement full of nothing but beautiful women seem innocuous. This was where the alraune came in.
Yuu had brought them over from the southern continent and planted them all around the area to start the
world’s first - and only - alraune ranch. The exotic honey they produced could be sold or traded for
bribes and favors, and their presence here would serve as the perfect smoke screen.
For example, if anyone were to question why there were no men among the ‘staff’ here, Yuu would just
have to point out that women were naturally more resistant to the alraune’s pollen. Enlightened females
were more in control of their emotions and desires, and were generally known to be mentally superior to
men, even if their bodies were physically weaker. That was why the gender ratio among the world’s
greatest magic users was skewed in favor of the fairer sex. As for the sheer beauty of the employees, it
could easily be attributed to the widely known fact that alraune honey was the ultimate cosmetic
product. It did wonders- nay, miracles for one’s skin and figure if applied correctly, which was allegedly
why all of the women at the ranch were so pretty.
It was also ‘regretfully inevitable’ that some stray travelers or unauthorized intruders would disappear
due to the monstrous vegetation. The wind could spread their hypnotic pollen far and wide, after all, and
keeping track of upwards of fifty of the plant-girls at the same time was quite difficult. The locals
therefore knew full well to keep clear of the area lest they become another statistic. If any shopping
needed to be done or deliveries had to be made, the residents would handle the legwork by themselves.
In fact, the only visitors this place saw was the Imperial authorities who came to collect tax, but those
people knew to take precautionary measures against the alraune’s allure. These official were hardly
unwelcome, though, as they were ultimately the source of the humans’ complacency. As long as one
paid their dues to the state in full and on time, then the authorities had no reason to suspect anything.
The ranch was also in excellent standing with the nobles as well, due in no small part to all the gold,
honey and sexual favors they sent their way as ‘gifts.’
Xera had explained all of this to Boxxy, and the enterprising young shapeshifter did not fail to see the
secrets it was requesting probably had a hefty price attached to them.
“My, how perceptive,” stated Yuu in a slightly mocking tone.
“My Master wishes you would state your price outright,” reported her daughter. “It has brought gold,
jewels and numerous magic items with it, so it is prepared to meet any reasonable cost immediately.”
“Well, I can see that master of yours is still a little naive. Money is not exactly high on our priorities here
at the Honeypot Ranch. We have more than enough of that to cover our needs, and it’s not within our
nature to chase after material things. There is only one thing an unbound demon truly wants - to fulfil
their desires. To fill the void that is an eternity in the Beyond. To that end, I request your master’s aid.
Have it do a little favor for me, and I shall give you what you seek.”
“… My Master wishes to complain,” was the slightly delayed reply. “‘Why is it that everyone with some
modicum of power wants to deal with favors instead of shinies?’ it asks.”
“Because there are things money cannot buy, of course.”
“… My Master will hear out your request, but it wants you to know it will refuse to engage in anything
that would endanger its life.”
The promise of Ambrosia’s enhanced nectar was an enticing one to be sure, but it wasn’t something
worth getting killed over.
“Oh, it’s nothing that dangerous,” claimed the elder demoness. “There’s no fighting involved, and it
shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”
“Then say it, my Master requests.”
“Very well. For starters, I heard this shapeshifter contractor of yours has a certain… preferred form. A
petite little number with a healthy brown countenance. I wish to see it for myself.”
“If you insist.”
The djinn kicked her Conjure Mirage Skill into high gear, instantly producing an extremely lifelike
illusion before her mother. One of a polished oaken treasure chest, bound together with braces of
shimmering steel.
“… What is this?”
“You said you wanted to see my Master’s favorite brown shape, right?” said Xera with a shit-eating grin.
Yuu closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. It was her own fault for being
needlessly cryptic, so she had nobody to blame but herself. In retrospect she really should’ve seen this
coming, but the detail about how annoyingly mischievous djinn were had slipped her mind.
“No, not that one,” she said plainly. “I meant the beastkin girl. The one that supposedly tricked an entire
nation. And I don’t want to see an illusion, I want to be able to touch it.”
“Should’ve said so from the start.”
Xera undid the illusory rendition of a false chest and rapidly transformed into a naked Keira, her evil
grin turning into a pleasant smile. Yuu greedily ogled and groped her as she marveled at how flawless
yet natural she looked. The combined impact of the adorably pretty face, the perky developing breasts,
the gently swaying tail and the twitchy triangular ears made her momentarily forget this was her
daughter.
“Ugh, could you not?” groaned the young not-a-catgirl as she pulled back with a look of disgust.
“Ahah, do forgive me child. I was just surprised, is all.”
The alcubus demon had a feeling about this, but seeing it first-hand proved her suspicion that Keira was
just her type. Young, energetic, and with a face that was almost lethal in its cuteness. She wasn’t what
most people would outwardly call ‘sexy,’ but at the same time it was an appearance that almost anyone
would find themselves adoring.
“This is quite the sight,” cooed Yuu as she leered closer and sniffing at the air. “Even the scent is
splendid.”
“Okay, you’re officially creeping me out,” stated Xera as she pulled further away.
“And the voice, too! Oh, you are just a treat!”
“I don’t think I like where this is going…”
After recollecting herself somewhat, the elder demon got straight to the point.
“Look, I’ll stop beating around the bush. Your master, you have to tell it everything I say word-for-word,
yes?”
“Uh, yeah? Why?”
“Because I’m going to take the liberty of speaking ‘directly’ to it for this final request. You see, Boxxy,
was it? Someone with my tastes finds it difficult to satisfy herself in this sort of environment. It can
honestly get quite frustrating at times watching my daughters enjoy themselves while I am denied such
things. I therefore wish to lay with this facetious persona of yours while she remains completely in
character. I have a feeling the memory of such an act will help me cope with particularly lonely nights
for years to come.”
“My Master says that it will not, under any circumstances, go anywhere near you, so it will have to
reject your offer.”
Intercourse with a succubus was dangerous enough on its own under normal circumstances, so doing it
with an unbound and Ranked Up one? That was more than a little suicidal, even for a box with not a
single drop of libido in its body.
“No, no, you two misunderstand. While I will not give up one of my plants until I have that scrumptious
little thing diddle my twat, I never said the master was the one who had to administer the payment.”
The shorter-yet-older demon leaned in and gave the Keira-shaped and wide-eyed Xera a thoroughly un-
motherly look.
“I hear you’ve filled in for the girl’s ‘duties’ plenty of times, yes?”
“Uh… what? Where did this come from?!” she replied with a unique mix of shock, panic and fear on her
face.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to do it with one of my children, but none of them would
ever agree to it.”
“Of course not! I don’t want to do it, either!”
“I’m afraid you don’t get a say in this, my dear. This is an agreement between me and your master. So
what say you, ‘o Hero of Chaos on the other side of my naughty daughter’s thoughts?”
When Boxxy left the province the next morning, it did so not only with its very own alraune starter kit,
but also with all of its shinies intact. Not a bad day, to say the least. Admittedly it also had an archfiend
with a demolished ego, an emotionally violated and traumatized djinn, and a webstalker who was
annoyingly grateful for being left out, but all things considered?
Not a bad day at all.
(216) Year Of The Chest 1

High above the city of Azurvale, in the jungle-like environment that made up Ambrosia’s canopy
directly beneath the star-filled night sky, there was a single shapeshifter. The monster, currently
disguised as a middle-aged elven woman wrapped in thick furs, sat cross legged on top of the tallest and
flattest branch around. The biting wind whistled and howled as it tossed both ice and snow around, but
failed to actually reach the heavily clothed figure due to the thick, layered dome of stalker webbing
around it.
Boxxy had a hunch this was the same place where it once performed the Ritual of Unholy Wealth, but it
couldn’t be certain. All of the scorch marks from that time were healed up and the area was bathed in
snow. Not only did it look the same as everywhere else, but it was also completely different from the last
time it was up here. Yet it still felt somewhat confident this was the place, as there weren’t all that many
good spots to perform demonic rituals.
Which, incidentally, was exactly what the monster was there to do, though a bare branch was ill-suited
to its needs. That was why Boxxy had, with permission from Ambrosia, constructed a square two meter
wide wooden platform out of a bunch of planks and nails. It had then drawn a six-pointed star on the flat
surface using troll blood, with each point being punctuated by a demonic sigil. The Mimic itself sat in
the middle of this macabre formation and was currently busy whispering mystic gibberish-sounding
words.
As it approached the end of the chant, the demonic rune directly in front of it facing began to heat up,
the blood evaporating off the wooden planks in a puff of rust-colored smoke. Boxxy produced a curved
iron dagger from its cloak, which instantly soaked up the gaseous substance and took on a corroded and
aged appearance despite it being brand new. The monster then held out its other hand and cut open its
forearm with the empowered knife as it continued mumbling under its nose.
Copious amounts of dark red blood flowed freely from its open wound as the borderline black fluid was
being forcibly pulled out by the supernatural forces the shapeshifter had summoned. It rose up and
floated through the air until it splashed against the iron dagger and wrapped around it like a crimson
sheath. Boxxy winced a bit at the un-tasty sensations involved, but did not fail to utter the last words
necessary to complete the ritual.
“Dolor sit amet.”
At that moment, the blade in its hand let out a crumpling noise as blood and steel joined together to
create a bright green lump of crystal that seemed to glow with a tiny spark within.
A special action has been performed. AGI -50.

You have created a Greater Quintessence of Agility.
Boxxy breathed heavily from the ordeal, the air from its lungs turning white the instant it made contact
with the freezing air. This wasn’t the first time it had performed the Rite of Jul-Keshir, but it was
impossible to get used used to having its strength and speed literally sucked out like that. It was just as
tiring and unpleasant as it sounded, but it was necessary if it was to fight off the power creep symptoms
without having to get rid of any of its Jobs or Skills. Those were far more valuable to its combat abilities
than Attributes. This method would allow it to keep targeting monsters in an attempt to seize their
abilities, so it was highly likely it would have to repeat it at a later date. It wasn’t a perfect solution
though, as the Rite of Jul-Keshir could only be used on the six base Attributes - STR, AGI, DEX, END,
INT and WIS.
Having recovered a bit from the ritual, the monster grasped the newly formed green crystal and carefully
snapped it off the dagger’s handle. It had to be wary of unintentionally damaging them, as these
Quintessences were quite a bit more brittle than one would expect from such a highly valuable and
versatile crafting material. They could be ground into dust and distilled into a potion, fashioned into a
gemstone and used to create magic items or be used as offerings in certain other rituals. They could also
be eaten raw for a permanent Attribute boost, but that would only bestow a tenth of the amount that was
used to create it. Hardly the best use of the item, to say the least.
As for Boxxy, it didn’t really have a use for this right now, so it casually placed it in its Storage before
starting its climb down the Hylt tree. It left the ritual site intact mostly because it was a bother to tear it
down and put it back together, and realistically speaking it was nigh-impossible for someone to
randomly stumble upon it. This canopy was its own monster-infested ecosystem and its altitude
amplified the frigid winter conditions to the point where even the Palace of the Crystal Maiden felt
warm by comparison. In other words, it wasn’t the sort of place one went for leisurely walks.
When the monster returned to its pet dungeon, it immediately relocated itself to the hidden treasury. It
took a long, prideful look at its ever-growing hoard of gold and jewels before going over to a mostly
vacant spot. It reached down and put a hand on an enchanted steel treasure chest, albeit one so small it
would be more accurate to call it a deposit box. Having recognized its owner by the unique signature of
their mana, the safe-like container unlocked itself with a loud clicking noise and Boxxy opened the lid to
reveal it was currently empty.
That wouldn’t last for long though, as the Mimic pulled four unrefined crystals from its Storage - a
green, a yellow, a blue and a white one. These were the freshly made Greater Quintessences of Agility,
Dexterity, Strength and Intelligence, respectively. It carefully placed them inside the lockbox and then
sealed it back up, though this was not to deter thieves. The only way to access this space at all was
through the dungeon core’s Nexus Access function, as entry through either physical or magical means
had been blocked off. Therefore, the only threat to those precious items was, in a fit of mild irony, the
one that made them.
The Mimic felt it was perhaps being a bit paranoid by going this far, but it really couldn’t risk them
getting smashed up on accident. Not after it had poured a total of two hundred Attributes into them. It
was by no means a minor investment, and the process was quite tiring. It was also a pain in the ass since
the Rite of Jul-Keshir failed to activate within the dungeon’s confines, probably due to the ambient mana
causing some sort of interference. So, having gone through all that trouble, it had decided locking them
up in a strongbox was probably for the best, even if it only served to ease its peace of mind.
Perhaps this was what people meant when they said it was better to be ‘safe’ than sorry?
Unfortunately there was no way of telling if a sacrifice of ‘just’ two hundred Attributes was going to be
enough to eliminate the power creep symptoms until some more time passed. It certainly didn’t seem
like it was helping at this point in time, as the shapeshifter felt much worse right now than it did before
starting the procedure. This was probably because of the literally physically draining nature of the ritual,
so it felt confident it would recover with some rest. With that in mind it decided to retire to the Vessel of
Dreams for the night and let Snack handle Keira’s night and morning duties.
That night Boxxy overslept once again as it failed to wake up until it was already around noon. When it
actually got up, however, it immediately noticed the fatigue and lethargy it had been plagued with over
the past week or so was no longer there. If anything, its body felt significantly lighter and positively
bursting with energy, despite the fact that it was technically weaker than the day before. It wasn’t feeling
quite at a hundred percent yet, but it decided to give its body a bit more time to recover before doing any
more rituals. Not only because it didn’t wish to part with its Attributes unless absolutely necessary, but
because it needed to remain as alert as possible during that evening’s proceedings.
For today was the date when one of the most significant events in the calendar of every civilized society
took place - the new year’s celebration officially known as Aurora Eve. Even though every nation and
culture had its own holidays to look forward to, this was the one day when the people of the world
celebrated as one since time immemorial. The origins of the holiday were naturally shrouded in mystery,
but legends said it marked the day when the enlightened first appeared on Terrania.
Unfortunately there was no solid evidence to suggest this was indeed the case. Just the contrary, actually.
The year that was about to pass was 4,523 SE - short for ‘Since Enlightenment’ - yet the existence of
primitive buildings, tools and weapons that were much older than that could not be denied. Whether they
actually belonged to a civilization of people or were signs of an old, forgotten society of monsters was a
topic that was both debatable and ultimately pointless. Even if it turned out that the holiday merely
commemorated when some random ancestor started counting the passage of time on a whim, it wouldn’t
matter in the slightest to the common folk. The date was so ingrained in people’s lives that the thought
of changing it over a bunch of sharpened rocks and cave paintings was ridiculous to say the least.
The preparations for Aurora Eve therefore continued unhindered, as per usual. Even bandits and thieves
were wary of doing anything during this season despite there being plenty of prime targets around. This
was because there was an extremely widespread belief that anyone who dared harm their fellow
enlightened on this sacred day would be met with a year of terrible misfortune. It seemed like a silly,
baseless superstition at first, but it was such a commonly shared one that it was impossible to disregard
it off-handedly.
After all, this world was home to a deity whose entire existence revolved around manipulating
seemingly random events, meaning there was a non-zero chance that the ‘Aurora Hex’ was a very real
thing.
When it came to the celebration itself, every household honored the passing year in their own way in
accordance to their own traditions and customs. However, there were three things that no Aurora Eve
could do without - good food, strong drink, and a generous amount of merriment. The prestigious Slyth
family of Azurvale was no different, other than the fact that they threw rather exuberant amounts of gold
at their parties. Well-known chefs, imported dwarven liquors and all sorts of games and performances
were lined up to make the evening a truly momentous one.
However, such luxuries were not acquired simply for the benefit of one household, nor did they hold
such extravagant parties every single year. The Slyths were but one of a number of affluent families in
Azurvales, the unofficial nobles of the Republic. Each of these well-off bloodlines took turns hosting the
big Aurora Eve party that all of them would attend every year. Which was why Rowana and Keira found
themselves in a luxurious carriage while on their way to a strange place neither of them had been to
before.
“Ugh, I wish I could spend today with just the two of us,” grumbled the catgirl with a pout as she stared
out of the window.
“You and me both,” agreed the elf with a sigh. “Normally I’d be able to talk my parents out of dragging
me into these pompous gatherings since I’m not all that important, but this year was a no-go.”
“What? Why not?”
“… I’ll give you three guesses,” said the elf with a rather accusatory glare.
“Right, stupid question.”
There was no way a socialite like Doris Slyth would pass up on taking advantage of Keira’s popularity,
so she probably strong-armed her daughter into bringing both of them along. Which was something of a
problem for Boxxy, as it had no idea how it was supposed to act in such a formal setting. Granted,
neither did a teenage adventurer like Keira, but it wanted to avoid making a fool of itself if at all
possible.
“Well, it’s not all bad,” said Rowana reassuringly. “You’ll at least get to finally meet my big brother.”
“Your brother? Oh yeah, he was studying alchemy and business out of town, wasn’t he? Is he back for
the holiday?”
“Hah! ‘Holiday.’ Today’s just another day on the job for him. He’ll be too busy socializing with the big
shots and making connections of his own to truly enjoy himself.”
“Money doesn’t rest, huh?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Speaking of which, I have a question about these dresses you picked out for us.”
“What’s with that dissatisfied tone? Didn’t you say it looked good on me?”
“No, it does, but that’s not the issue here.”
Rowana was wearing a pure white gown with a rather daring neckline. It covered the shoulders and arms
in intricate floral-patterned lace, and a matching pair of leggings could be seen poking out from beneath
the calf-length skirt. It was a fancy piece of clothing to be sure, but one made positively shiny by the
countless flakes of Fool’s Diamond sewn into it. The synthetic gemstones made the garment flicker and
sparkle with every movement, which Boxxy wasn’t about to complain about. Nevertheless, it had one
very legitimate concern about it.
“It wasn’t me and you that paid for them, right?”

Keira had brought home a rather substantial sum of money from her latest adventure. It was something
Boxxy had already written off as a necessary expense, but that wasn’t to say it wanted to see it wasted
on such frivolous things. Even if the clothes were shiny, they were far too impractical to warrant the
hefty price tag that most likely accompanied them.
“Of course not, don’t be silly. It’s not like we can afford something like this on my pharmacist’s salary
and your adventuring income. Just think of them as gifts from my mother and father.”
“Really? Then how come mine is… like this?”
Keira’s dress was a bright red one, though it wasn’t made to sparkle like Rowana’s since the fabric was a
bit too thin to let that happen. Not being shiny wasn’t the issue though. It was the fact that the outfit
itself was, to put things mildly, rather scandalous. It covered up her stomach and breasts, but her sides,
shoulders, arms and collar were left completely bare. The slightly tight skirt of it was so short that it
didn’t even reach her knees, yet the genius that designed it still added a slit on the right side.
And that wasn’t even the most eye catching part. The dress was backless to the extreme, revealing the
entirety of Keira’s back all the way down to the base of her tail, just above her rump. Any lower than
that and the catgirl probably ran the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure. Especially since a
single glance would put the presence of undergarments into serious doubt.
In short, it was the sort of thing one would expect to see on a succubus rather than a law-abiding citizen.
“I’m pretty sure neither of your parents would buy me something like this,” she added.
“They may have paid for it, but I was the one that picked it out for you,” stated Rowana calmly.
“And you’re sure there were no… I don’t know, more decent ones?”
“There were some, but they were not nearly fashionable enough for this sort of party. That’s what
happens if you wait until the last moment to pick out an Aurora Eve dress - you end up with clothes only
insa- extremely bold people would wear.”
“Uh-huh. So you just so happen to find one that fits me perfectly at the last minute?”
“Don’t be silly, of course it fits. It’s a magic item, after all. How else do you think it stays on even when
there are no straps to keep it in place?”
“No, I’ve seen how the Well Fitted enchantment works, and this definitely isn’t the same. This dress fits
me so well that I can’t help but feel it was made for me specifically. With my measurements. Even
though I’ve only ever gone to a tailor twice, and you were with me both times.”
“Ahah. Is, uh, is that so?”
“Rowie.”
The elf tried to act dumb, but crumbled quite quickly under Keira’s accusatory stare.
“… Oh, alright! Truth be told I had this made months ago, but then you suddenly got that you-know-
what on your back so I couldn’t bear to bring it up! But then I saw that the thing was completely healed
so I sort of… went for it.”
Technically speaking there was still a bit of the soulstone left, but it had diminished so much that Boxxy
was able to conceal it by covering it with a layer of skin without making it look weird.
“You ‘sort of went for it?’ You do realize people will think I’m a slut if I go out in public in such
clothing.”
Panic dawned on the elf’s face and beads of cold sweat started running down her forehead. It didn’t take
a genius to figure out she was looking forward to seeing her girlfriend in that amazing dress so much
that she neglected to take third parties into account. She had originally intended to have Keira wear it in
a far more intimate setting, but it was far too late to do anything about it now.
“Then again, there are already a bunch of dangerous rumors floating around about me so being called a
loose woman might actually be an improvement…”
“Ah. Ahah. Hah…”
A strangely awkward silence descended upon the cabin as Keira returned to staring absentmindedly out
of the window. Rowana wasn’t sure if it was her place to speak up since her own selfishness might have
caused some trouble for her girlfriend, but the more she stared at her, the less guilty she felt. After all,
Keira looked incredibly stunning tonight. It wasn’t just the extravagant mini-dress. The fact that she had
agreed to have her previously untamed hair styled into a straight bob cut made her look like a
completely different person. She exuded such a refined sense of beauty that it boggled the mind to think
she was the same person that choked on and subsequently spit out a lump of meat because she was
talking too much while eating her lunch.
“Rowie. You’re drooling.”
“Ack! Crap, sorry,” said the elf as she wiped her saliva off her chin. “You just look so terrifyingly
beautiful that I couldn’t help but stare.”
“Well, at least try to keep from getting wet until we get back home.”
“I fear it may be a bit too late for that,” she confessed with a slight blush.
“… Your dress, Rowie. I meant your dress.”
Another, round of awkward silence overcame the carriage. Thankfully it didn’t last long, as the vehicle
reached its destination less than a minute later. The driver opened the door and helped both ladies off
while shielding them from the cold winds with a Climate Baton, a magic item that was essentially an
umbrella on steroids. The two ladies linked arms and proceeded down the stone path while the driver
escorted them in order to maintain the bubble of warm air around them.
“Since when did you get so good at walking in high heels?” asked the elf.
“Since your mother made me practice while we stayed at her place for a few weeks,” explained Keira.
“Huh. That’s unexpected. I mean, you were pretty vocal about how uncomfortable they were last time.”
“That hasn’t changed. I still think they’re terrible footwear. I’m actually of half a mind to take them off
and go barefoot.”
“Please don’t do that. They look so cute on you.”
“… Alright, I won’t. Only because you asked nicely, though.”
The extravagant mansion the pair were headed towards this evening was the house of Bryric, an
influential family of rich elves. They weren’t merchants or alchemists like the Slyths, but a line of
landlords that started out as adventurers. Their aptitude for real estate was made obvious by the fact that
they had a house this damn big on ground level rather than on a street-sized Hylt branch. Acquiring so
much land on actual soil was harder than one might think when it came to a place like Azurvale.
Once the pair had reached the front gates, they were greeted by a sharply dressed butler who guided
them to the main hall where the event was taking place. When they stood before the grand double doors,
however, the two were asked to wait a moment while the staff prepared for the introduction.
“… Introduction?” whispered Keira nervously.
“Just smile and wave, sweetie,” she replied. “Just smile and wave.”
The massive doors then flew open to reveal exactly what one might expect from such a high-profile
gathering. The decor was needlessly fancy, what with the art lining the walls and the chandeliers heavy
with magical lights. About a hundred or so important-looking men and women in expensive clothes
were having polite conversation over cocktails while a dozen servants darted up and down the place
carrying trays and plates. There was even a stage with a band performing a soft, calming tune that just
barely overpowered the general murmur.
Yet all of that buzzing about seemed to come to a screeching halt when those two entered the ballroom.
“Now announcing,” shouted the porter loudly and clearly, “the Hero of Chaos, Keira Morgana, and her
partner, miss Rowana Slyth.”
The elf, who was still linked at the elbow with the catgirl, gave her lover a light tug to make her walk
under the accompaniment of total silence. Even the band had stopped to stare at the two. Boxxy was,
just as it had expected, quite unsure of what to do. It had studied up on formal elven etiquette somewhat,
but it wasn’t sure what the proper response to this sort of situation was. Not having many other options,
it ended up following Rowana’s advice and had Keira wave lightly at the crowd while putting on her
best smile.
The guests immediately stopped gawking when they saw that and, as if on cue, went back to whatever it
was they were doing as though nothing had happened. There were a few who lightly applauded the
catgirl’s entrance, but other than that her introduction to high society was more or less over. Rowana
flashed her girlfriend a small, cheerful nod to reassure her and the two were then escorted over to their
table, where the Mr and Mrs Slyth were waiting for them. Both were wearing clothes the color of fresh
snow just like the eldest daughter, which was probably a tradition of sorts.
“Well!” exclaimed Samulus, the current head of the family. “I must say I’ve never seen an entrance quite
like that.”
“What?” asked Keira as she took her seat next to his wife. “Did I do something wrong?”
“It’s not something you did,” answered Doris with a chuckle, “it’s what you’re wearing.”
“… It’s too much, isn’t it?”
“If anything I’d say it’s too little,” said Samulus while taking a sip from the champagne in his glass.
“Not even Doris would be bold enough to show up in something like that, and she once fought off a
wyvern in nothing but her-”
“What my husband is trying to say,” interjected the wife with a strict tone, “is that it caught us by
surprise. Well, I suppose that’s only to be expected of the Hero of Chaos, but frankly speaking I already
knew my daughter had ordered a rather… creative garment. I just didn’t expect you to actually wear it.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” replied Keira as nodded sideways towards Rowana. “A certain
someone insisted this was the only fancy dress left in town.”
“She probably wasn’t wrong, demand really gets ridiculous every time Aurora Eve rolls around,” noted
the husband. “The Ularics and their ‘special line of winter outfits’ made a killing by waiting until the
last moment to sell their stuff. They do that every damn time.”
“That’s because their products are low quality,” came a voice from behind Keira and Rowana. “The only
way they’d make any real money off of those shabby clothes is by waiting until the last moment when
the prices are at their highest. It’s borderline fraud, if you ask me.”
The one who had spoken just now was an male elf, who by the look of things was Rowana’s older
brother. He had the same platinum blonde hair and green eyes as her, and he looked to be around her
age. His face was quite handsome and well groomed, and his relatively short hair was pulled back in a
short ponytail. He was also wearing a pure white suit similar to his father’s.
“Elias Slyth,” he introduced himself with a polite bow. “A pleasure to finally meet you, miss Morgana.”
“Ah, yes. Likewise. You can call me Keira, by the way!”
“I will take you up on that offer, then.”
Elias then took his seat at the table and the four family members began chatting mostly amongst
themselves. They made small talk about inconsequential stuff relating to Rowana’s day job, Doris’s
hobbies or Samulus and Elias going on about the family business. As for Keira, she didn’t get much of a
chance to speak up, though she did make an effort to get more familiar with the heir to the family
business. He seemed to be quite the serious and hard-working type, an attitude which he supposedly
inherited from his father. Just like his sister had guessed, his mind had been too preoccupied making
connections to truly enjoying the party.
Actually, Boxxy wanted in on that action as well as it was important to get to know influential people
besides the Slyths. However, they’d probably try to use Keira’s popularity as much as Rowana’s mother
did, so it was better to start off small, as it were. To that end the catgirl asked that Elias introduce her to
any other affluent adventurers that were in attendance. Unfortunately it seemed like the most of the big
shots had gone to a different party - the same one as Imiryl, Hilda and Lichter were currently at - so she
was the only adventurer around. It made sense, in a way, as people in Keira’s line of work were typically
ill-suited to this sort of posh gathering. There were a few rich kids who went on ‘adventures,’ though
they were mostly just playing around rather than treating it as a way of life.
“Still, you made quite the impact earlier,” said Elias with a grin. “I think this is the first time I saw Mr
and Mrs Bryric stare slack jawed at someone. It was quite amusing.”
“Yeah, well, they’re not the only ones. Rowie here hasn’t stopped leering at me ever since we left the
house.”
“I do not leer!” protested the woman in question.
“Then explain the drool on your chin.”
“Ah, crap!”
“Hahahaha!”
Elias let out a light-hearted laugh while his sister awkwardly wiped her face with a napkin.
“Dear oh me, Samulus,” stated Doris in mock surprise. “I do believe our son is actually having fun. Next
thing you know the sun will rise from the north!”
“Well, they say miracles happen on Aurora Eve, after all,” said the husband with a light chuckle.
“Say, Elias, I’ve been wondering about something.”
“Ahah! Ahem! Sorry about that. What is it Keira?”
“You seem a lot more accepting of my relationship with Rowie than her dad was.”
“Oh, that? I was pretty sure guys weren’t her type since way back, so I wasn’t too bothered when I heard
the news.”
“Wait, what? Really?” asked Rowana, wide-eyed.
“Of course. I like to think I knew you best when we were growing up, so there’s no way I wouldn’t
notice something was… off. I think it was those constant sleepovers at the Stocktons’ place that were the
biggest giveaway.”
“… Come to think of it, the Stockton girl was quite attractive, wasn’t she?” asked Samulus while
rubbing his chin. “I mean, I didn’t think much of it back then, but I didn’t know-”
“Dad!” protested the daughter. “Please don’t read too much into this!”
“The Stocktons are old friends of me and your mother so I feel like we deserve to know if… you know.
You fancied her.”
“Being homosexual doesn’t exclude me from having female friends, dad. Just because Viessa was pretty
didn’t mean I thought of her that way.”
Keira, who had been momentarily distracted by a passing gentleman with a mouth full of solid gold
teeth, suddenly turned her head around when she heard that name.
“Viessa? Isn’t that the ‘Vi’ girl that took Rowie’s virginity?”
The table went deathly quiet at the catgirl’s utterance of the v-word. It made everyone present more than
a little uncomfortable. Especially the family’s only daughter, who was currently hiding her beet-red face
in her palms out of shame.
“Rowana,” called out Samulus in a stern voice.
“Oh hey that’s a good song I’m gonna dance and we can talk about this never!”
She let out a quick barrage of words that sounded like the world’s flimsiest excuse and essentially ran
away by dragging her girlfriend along by the shoulder.
“What was that about?!” she complained in a shout-whisper once the two were out of earshot. “I told
you to keep that a secret!”
“You also told me I had no other choice but to wear this dress,” replied the catgirl in a serious tone.
“You what?! You said that to get back at me?!”
“I get mad sometimes too, you know.”
Rowana’s willingness to protest Keira’s actions suddenly disappeared. She was usually the one getting
angry at the catgirl, so this reversal was a rather sour pill to swallow.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I guess I earned that.”
“It’s fine so long as you understand.”
“However, that means the dress is now paid for in full, right?”
“Uh, what?”
The elf raised her hands and started waving her fingers around in a slightly unbecoming manner.
“I can enjoy leering at you to my heart’s content, right?!”
“Rowie, your eyes are a bit scary,” mumbled Keira as she pulled back slightly.
“Anyway, jokes aside,” stated Rowana as she put her hands down, “that dress is definitely staying on
when we get home later tonight.”
“W-well, if you insist. I just hope it’s stain resistant…”
“Anyway! Shall we go have that dance now?”
“Yeah, okay.”
The pair didn’t actually made it to the dance floor, though, as they managed to bump into a familiar face
on the way there.
“Good evening Keira, miss Slyth. Both of you look stunning tonight.”
“Oh hey Nao! Didn’t expect to see you here!” replied the catgirl.
“A pleasure to see you again, mister Shoki,” responded the elf.
The Hero of Magic was wearing royal blue robe embroidered with gold and a solid black shirt
underneath. It was definitely fancier than his regular outfit, but wasn’t anywhere near as extravagant as
one would expect from such a high profile place.
“Where’s your bodyguard?” asked Keira while looking around. “Oh wait, nevermind. I see him.”
It was rather impossible not to see Kuro and his off-white military uniform loitering around the buffet
table now that the redhead was actively looking for him. In fact, it was rather surprising she didn’t spot
him earlier considering he stood out like a sore thumb that was on fire. He wasn’t exactly shirking his
responsibilities though, as his eyes were darting all over the place as he sized up each and every guest as
if they were potential threats.
“I know this might sound rude, but may I borrow Keira for a few minutes?” asked Nao while trying
really hard not to stare at the catgirl. “I have some Hero stuff I need to speak to her about. Away from
prying eyes and ears.”
The elf looked like she wasn’t completely okay with it since she very much wanted to dance. In the end
she decided not to protest since her girlfriend had an obvious look of ‘I should go’ about her, but didn’t
want to let her off without a little parting gift.
“Yeah, okay, you can go,” she agreed. “However-”
*SLAP*
“Kya!”
The elf delivered an open-palmed slap to Keira’s butt, causing a high-pitched yelp of surprise to escape
the younger woman’s lips.
“-don’t keep me waiting,” she whispered while lightly groping her sensitive behind.
The elf then slinked off to hide from the rest of her family while the pair of red-faced beastkin went off
towards one of the ballroom’s side entrances. Having noticed the two of them were on the move, Kuro
began making his way over as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“What’s going on, Nao?” asked the younger not-really-a-beastkin as they moved through the crowd.
“Bad news?”
“No, no, everything’s fine,” he replied quickly. “Better than fine, actually.”
“Then why not just tell me?”
“It’s not something I can explain in a few words.”
“Sure it is. You’re a clever guy, so you can definitely give me something to work with.”
Nao stopped in his tracks and looked around while nervously scratching the base of his canine ear. Once
he seemed satisfied nobody seemed close enough to overhear them, he leaned in began whispering.
“It’s about that mithril dagger you loaned me. Something rather unexpected happened to it while I was
working on it.”
The Hero of Magic took another few glances at his surroundings before resuming with a smile so goofy
it made him seem like a little kid.
“It became an Artifact!”
The Bryric mansion’s atrium was something of a sight to behold. Fresh green grass, fruit-bearing trees
and flower-sprouting bushes could be seen everywhere in this spacious indoor garden. The arched roof
was made out of clear glass panes held up by a steel frame, allowing for an unobstructed view of the
cosmos. It was a rare sight in Azurvale since there were very few sizable gaps in the Hylt canopy to
allow stargazing from the ground. Such spots were highly valued by both businesses and pedestrians, so
the fact that the Bryrics had monopolized one of them made for a powerful statement.
The romantic view wasn’t why Nao had brought Keira here, though. It was because this area was as
close to a private space as he could find inside the mansion. There were some guards posted around the
edge of the atrium and there were two or three guests admiring the scenery, but it was practically
deserted when compared to the main ballroom. There would be very little risk of anyone overhearing
about the birth of a new Artifact in here. Even if it was a momentous achievement that would earn him a
lot of fame and praise, that wasn’t what the Hero of Magic wanted. He felt this was a deeply personal
affair so he wanted to keep it as private as possible - the exact opposite of Keira’s usual way of doings
things.
Meanwhile the catgirl in question was desperately trying to contain her inner Boxxy-ness while Kuro
followed along because he wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard otherwise.
“You sure clean up nice for a scrawny little runt,” he told her casually. “Almost thought someone was
impersonating you when you were introduced earlier.”
The elder wolfkin sibling was being his usual abrasive self, but this time around it wasn’t bothering
Boxxy in the slightest. It sure felt nice not having that power creep stuff to deal with. However, Keira
and Kuro were something that could be called ‘frenemies,’ so it was important to keep up appearances.
“Uh, thanks, I guess,” she said with a slight cringe. “This outfit was the girlfriend’s idea, so I didn’t
exactly have a choice.”
“I’m kind of in the same boat. That Clash of Fate stunt you pulled told the entire capital we were here,
so we were dragged into this fancy-pants party more or less by force. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“C’mon, it’s not that bad. The food smells amazing and… and…! Hatchoo!”
Both of the males let out a snorting giggle each. They had no idea that Keira had such a cute sneeze,
even though she normally tried to act tough.
“Ugh, this place is much colder than the main hall,” she mumbled while rubbing her shoulders as if to
get warm.
“Is it? Doesn’t seem that bad to me,” commented Kuro.
“You’re wearing more than a single scrap of fabric though.”
“Oh, right. How does that thing even stay on anyway.”
“Magic.”
“Figures. Certainly isn’t your tiny tits holding it up. And are you actually wearing anything
underneath?”
“You wanna die or something, ya overgrown fleabag?” she growled in response.
“A little. Would beat being bored out of my skull, at least.”
“Give it a rest you two. It’s Aurora Eve, for pity’s sake. Here, Keira, you can borrow this for now.”
Nao had opened up his Item Box and taken out a folded, blue-colored and fur lined overcoat while the
two were squabbling, and was now presenting it to Keira. It was naturally a magic item, one meant to
insulate travelers from the harshest of cold climates.
“It’s a bit of an overkill, but should keep you nice and warm.”
“Oh wow! Thanks, Nao!”
The catgirl eagerly accepted it and unfurled it, though rather than putting it on right away, she instead
brought it up to her nose and inhaled deeply.
“Don’t sniff it!” protested the owner.
“S-sorry, it just smells really nice,” she commented with a fascinated smile. “Did you shampoo the fur or
something?”
“Just put it on already! And button it up so the magic can do its thing!”
The scantily clad girl did as instructed and threw on the blue coat, much to Nao’s relief. He was hiding it
well, but in the end that ridiculously skimpy outfit was too much for a pure-hearted virgin like himself to
keep a straight face around. This solution wasn’t ideal since the coat did little to cover the catgirl’s
smooth legs, but it was a definite improvement. At the very least his robes were quite roomy and a bit
thick, so he didn’t have to worry about disguising his awkward boner. As for Kuro, he wasn’t all that
interested in her since he liked his women like he liked his pancakes - sweet, stacked, and, if at all
possible, covered in syrup. And from his point of view, the Hero of Chaos was neither of those things.
The trio kept walking around until coming to the base of a rather large oak-like tree, though the blue
leaves made it clear it was no regular piece of vegetation.
“Yeah, this will do,” said Nao with a nod. “Here, Keira. This is for you.”
He then casually reached into his Item Box and pulled out a glass case with a blue cushion, upon which
rested a single mithril dagger. However, this one looked distinctly different from the one Boxxy had lent
him. Although the material was the same, the blade itself was asymmetric and slightly curved, making it
appear more like a miniature cutlass than a stabbing weapon. It also had a ball-like lump of mithril at the
end of the hilt as a sort of pommel and a slight pink sheen to the edge of the blade.
“… You sure this is mine?” she asked while cocking her head.
“Quite sure. The weapon underwent something of a metamorphosis when I unlocked its full potential.”
“Hmmm, so it was like that,” responded Keira as she took the glass box from him. “How did you even
manage to make this happen?”
“… I’m not completely sure, to be honest. I guess you could chalk it to me getting carried away with my
experiments. I really put my all into enchanting this, you know. Was trying to give it the Recall
enchantment when it showed an anomalous reaction I’ve never seen before. The result of that is in your
hands.”
“Recall? What’s that?”
“Kuro, a demonstration if you will? Just try not to damage our host’s lovely garden.”
“Sure.”
The towering Berserker whipped his arm out, causing a rather large combat knife to pop out of his
sleeve and into his waiting palm. He grasped it and then flung it at a nearby planter, burying it up to the
hilt in the moist soil. A few seconds later the weapon disappeared with a tiny flash of light and a barely
audible popping sound, only to reappear in Kuro’s hand the next instant.
“Oh! That’s pretty cool!” remarked Keira. “You’d never have to worry about being disarmed or running
out of throwing knives!”
“That’s kind of the point, girlie,” stated the elder sibling as he hid the blade. “Well, this is more of a
backup weapon, but it does the job.”
“How did you get that past the guards, though? I thought weapons were not allowed inside.”
“Oh yeah, they tried to confiscate it, but I took a page out of your book and dared them to take it from
me while giving them the psycho-stare. Worked like a charm!”
“I- I see… Glad I could be of help, I suppose…”
“Well, that was a lie though. Nao just said he wouldn’t come if we had to give up all our weapons, so
they made an exception for us..”
“… So what about mine? Does it do the same as yours now?”
“It was supposed to,” stated Nao, “but like I said, there was an anomalous reaction.”
“Oh, right. And you’re sure that’s never happened before?”
“Quite sure. That’s why I find this case so intriguing! I ran a few more experiments after the fact and
was able to determine that the weapon had a rather ridiculous affinity with spatial manipulation magic.
Mithril is something of a living metal and has been known to adapt and evolve to its environment, but
that’s precisely why that specific affinity is so rare. I can’t even begin to imagine what sort of things this
item has been through for it to develop such a thing!”
Boxxy could, though. The weapon in question was one of its oldest possessions. It and its twin had spent
almost nine months inside the monster’s Storage, a pocket dimension sustained by what was
undoubtedly space-attuned magic. If mithril really was as adaptable as Nao claimed, then that was the
rather obvious cause of this quirk. Not that Keira would reveal such a thing, though dropping a hint
could turn out to be worthwhile.
“I wouldn’t know either,” she lied. “I only just got it on my last adventure. But if it’s about space magic,
then perhaps someone kept it in an Item Box like yours for a really long time?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he admitted, “but it’s not possible. An unenchanted piece of forged
mithril would need to spend centuries in such a space to be affected. And by my estimate, this one is
only around ten years old. Fifteen tops. Something truly extraordinary must have happened for it to turn
out this way.”
Keira returned her gaze to the weapon as she mulled over those words, her eyesight fixated on the
distinct pink glow around the blade’s edge. It was then that Boxxy realized that the supposedly Divine-
ranked gemstone it had was most likely to blame. After all, its shiny stabber was one of dozens of items
that bizarre thing returned to it after the contents of its Storage had been temporarily following its death.
This revelation also led the shapeshifter to consider whether Agent of Chaos had a finger in this, but the
Skill was still doing its thing behind the scenes as far as the monster was aware.
However, the matter at hand was far more important than a bunch of what-ifs and maybes.
“So… what sort of options did you end up giving it?” asked Keira.
“R-right!” stammered Nao. “I had it written down somewhere… Oh, found it! Here you go.”
Boxxy snatched the piece of paper it was given rather greedily, eager to see what this shiny new thing
was capable of.
Riftcleaver
A dagger forged out of pure mithril by the dwarven smiths of Einharvel. It boasts superior
sharpness and a high affinity for teleportation and spatial manipulation magic. The weapon
has gained a unique ability as a direct result of the collaboration between Nao Shoki, Hero
of Magic, and Keira Morgana, Hero of Chaos.
Type: Dagger
Quality: Artifact
Offensive Ability: A-
Defensive Ability: B-
Durability: C+
Magic Amplification: 15% Space
Enchantments: Severing Edge, Self Repair, Lesser Dexterity, Bound By Blood

Ignition Ability: Reverse Recall
‘Collaboration’ was perhaps too strong a word in this instance, but it was certainly one way of looking at
things. Unless Boxxy was mistaken, it was as much responsible for the creation of this Artifact as Nao.
Also, not that the Mimic was complaining, but how come the name of its Facade was the one being
recorded? Then again, Nao had no idea that Keira was not real, so this ‘enhancing’ of the truth was most
probably caused by his limited understanding of the situation at hand.
Looking at the item’s performance, however, Boxxy couldn’t help but feel a bit cheated.The offensive
and defensive ratings had gone up a bit and it had some useful-sounding properties, but it was rather
lackluster when compared to Voidcaller or Winter’s Bite. The durability rating had gone down too. Self-
Repair would probably help with that, but it was hard to call this outcome a straight up upgrade.
Ultimately though, the thing by which an Artifact was truly measured by were its unique properties.
“Reverse Recall? What’s that supposed to be?” asked Keira.
“It’s exactly as it sounds,” declared Nao. “Rather than returning to the owner’s hand, the weapon can
teleport the user to its position. It doesn’t seem to have a weight or distance limit per-se, but the cost
increases proportionally to both. By my estimate, it takes 1 MP to transfer 1 kilogram of matter 5 meters
away.”
“… What if I don’t have the MP to make it happen?”
“Then the magic will refuse to activate. You don’t need to worry about it backfiring or anything.”
“But, how do you know? You’ve never seen this Reverse Recall thing, right?”
“Nope, I haven’t. Which is why me and Kuro stayed up all night putting it through its paces. I assure
you, I’d never give you anything if I wasn’t sure it was safe.”
“G-give? You mean I can just have this?!”
“Of course! It was your weapon to begin with and I’ve learned a lot by working with it, so I wouldn’t
feel right if I charged you for it.”
“But… don’t you want it for yourself?”
“A little, but I wouldn’t have any real use for it. Replicating the enchantment is probably impossible
anyway since the base item was rather unique. Besides, the whole point of me borrowing it was because
I wanted to make you an extra special gift. Something to show you that there are no hard feelings even
though you dumped me.”
“Oh my God! Thanks Nao, you’re the best!”
Keira threw her arms around the wolfkin and hopped excitedly against him for a second or two before
pulling away with the case in her hands. As for Nao, he was left rather stunned, embarrassed, and just a
little disappointed. If he hadn’t given Keira that coat, then he probably would have felt a pair of soft
bumps pressing against his chest just now.
“I can give it a try right away, right?!” she asked while still slightly bouncing in place.
“Should be fine, I think. Just give it a few drops of blood to enact the Bound By Blood. I know, it seems
a bit creepy, but it’s necessary if the item is to recognize you and you alone as its owner. Otherwise it
wouldn’t know what to teleport, you see.”
“Oh, okay! Wait, you already tested it, right? Doesn’t that mean it’s bound to Kuro?”
“It was, but a Scribe with sufficient knowledge in contract magic can undo the binding. Right now it’s
dormant and eagerly awaiting a new owner, which is why I had to put it in that special container.
Wouldn’t want to risk anyone but you getting a hold of it, after all.”
“In that case, I won’t hold back!”
The catgirl opened the case and grasped the dagger without further ado. She then gave it a few trial
slashes to see how it felt. It was definitely the same weight and balance as before, just in a slightly
different shape and carrying various magical properties. She lightly pricked the tip of her finger with it,
letting a dollop of her blood run down the dagger’s blade. The resulting crimson streak was absorbed by
the radiant white metal, causing it to let out a dull blue glow that subsided as quickly as it had appeared.
Riftcleaver has now recognized you as its sole owner.
With that confirmation out of the way, Boxxy felt the familiar sensation of new information flowing into
its mind. It was made distinctly aware of the weapon’s position and orientation, almost as if it had
become a part of its body. It also completely understood how to actually activate the Reverse Recall.
The eager shapeshifter hurriedly took a good look around the garden. It made sure nobody was watching
and then threw the knife at the same patch at dirt that Kuro had aimed for earlier. It repositioned Keira
so that she was about ten meters away and then uttered the command phrase it had just learned about.
“Recallacer!”
A film of purplish light draped over the red-haired beastkin before it went away with an audible popping
noise. It was a similar effect to the regular Recall enchantment Kuro had demonstrated, just on a larger
scale, yet Keira had not budged a single bit. However, the same could not be said about the newly
created Artifact.
*SKRLANK*
The jarring sound of mithril snapping could be heard throughout the garden as the blade exploded into
over a dozen fragments. Thankfully it was buried in the soil, so the resulting sharpnel merely kicked up
a bit of dirt rather than causing any sort of collateral damage. Unfortunately, that was hardly consolation
to any of the parties involved. Except maybe for Kuro, because he was usually the one to suffer
whenever Nao’s experiments went awry. It was his personal experience with this scenario that caused
him to head off the approaching guards to reassure them that everything was under control.
“… So. That happened,” muttered Nao in a slightly too casual manner.
“‘That happened?’ Is that all you have to say?!” snapped Keira. “What the shit was that?! The stupid
thing self destructed!”
“I don’t get it. I ran so many trials and tests,” mumbled Nao as he crouched over the debris. “The mithril
was a bit destabilized from the transformation, but this sort of backlash shouldn’t have happened. I made
sure of it.”
“Don’t ignore me!”
Keira was about to go ballistic on Nao when Kuro stepped in between the two Heroes.
“Easy there, runt, there’s no need to go into psycho-bitch mode,” he grumbled as he held out one of his
own mithril daggers. “Here, you can have this as a replacement for the one my brother broke. I had a
feeling this would happen so I prepared one that’s every bit as good as the one you gave Nao, so please
forgive him with this. Just don’t interrupt him while he’s doing his thing, okay?”
The catgirl glared at the taller beastkin scornfully for a few moments before snatching the blade she was
offered. Boxxy could immediately tell it was just as light and well balanced as the one that just
shattered, but the make of it was different. Rather than a dirk, which was a long thrusting weapon, this
one was more of a parrying dagger due to the rather large curved guard at the base of the blade. It was
perfect for catching and enemy’s sword, but the protruding mithril would make it more difficult to slide
the otherwise lethal edge all the way into someone’s soft spot.
In short, the weapon was something meant for self defense rather than a tool used by assassins to gut
their victim. It wasn’t terribly useful to Boxxy, was perfect for keira.
“Mmmm, I’m no expert on daggers, but I guess this will do,” stated the catgirl after giving it a few
experimental swings.
“No expert, huh? Hard to believe coming from someone with a throwing arm like yours,” noted Kuro.
“That’s mostly due to Projectile Mastery though. Rapiers are one thing, but I’m a total newbie when it
comes to close quarters combat with blades this short.”
“That’s precisely why I’m giving you that one. It’s only got the standard suite of enchantments on it to
make it sharper and stronger. No Self-Repair, but has a decent Strength boost that should help you and
those skinny twigs you call arms block incoming attacks. It’s a lot simpler than the stuff Nao normally
comes up with, but that also makes it more reliable.”
The older wolfkin raised a very good point. Tricks and gimmicks had their uses, but once seen through,
their effectiveness would go down significantly. Even if Reverse Recall opened up a lot of options
regarding mobility, it would only work once against an observant opponent since subsequent
teleportations would be easily predictable and exploitable. A more powerful and durable weapon was
definitely preferable in that situation.
“Consistency trumps potential, was it?” mused Keira.
“Oh? Those are some nice words, pipsqueak. I guess miracles really do happen on Aurora Eve!”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, jackass, but it’s just something I read in a book somewhere. You should try
that once in a while, then you might graduate to being at least as dumb as you look. Anyway, I have
nowhere to put this, so while I appreciate the gesture, I’d prefer if you hung onto it for now.”
“Fair enough. I’ll leave it at your guild tomorrow morning.”
Kuro took the weapon back from her then hurriedly put it away under his coat. As for Nao, he continued
mumbling under his breath about ‘coefficients’ and a something called a ‘matter matrix’ while
inspecting a mithril fragment between his fingertips.
“Keira,” he called out after a while, “you wouldn’t happen to have any magic items on you, would you?”
“Err, not really? Other than my clothes, I mean.”
“Oh, right. Hmm… No, nevermind. Neither the dress nor the coat would cause this sort of reaction.”
“Which reaction? What is it that actually happened back there?”
“Well, from what I can tell the Reverse Recall ability outright failed, much like a person botching a
Spell. The dagger bore the entirety of the subsequent recoil, which was why it, uh, exploded. However, I
can’t think of any reason why this would happen, other than another piece of magic interfering
somehow. It’d have to be a powerful persistent enchantment of the opposite element - in this case
gravity - but you obviously don’t have anything like that on you.”
“Oh…”
There was such a thing on Keira’s person, actually. Two of them to be precise, both of which were
among the trio of plain-looking iron rings on her left hand. One of them reduced her mass by 40% while
another did the same with her weight. Both of those were gravity-based enchantments, and relatively
powerful ones, too. Yet despite wearing both of them at all times, the catgirl was still heavier than
someone of her size and stature should be, so there was no way Boxxy could openly admit to that.
Thankfully, the shapeshifter had an easy out for once.
“I’m sorry. It was because of Chaotic Disposition.”
Having Henry take one for the team would surely satisfy Nao’s curiosity whilst avoiding a thorough
investigation of Keira’s belongings. The shapeshifter claimed that the unpredictable Skill flared up at the
same time that the dagger took some of its MP, resulting in the catgirl being afflicted with a made up
gravity-based effect. The catgirl had supposedly been so startled by this catastrophic outcome that she
failed to realize it could be relevant.
“I… I see… so it was just some incredibly bad luck…”
None of that served to console Nao, though. This was his first Artifact, so having it break beyond repair
due to circumstances outside his control stung quite a bit. If it was because of his own incompetence or
due to an oversight of some kind, then at least he would’ve learned from the experience. But since this
was, as far as he was aware, a cruel twist of chance, then the only thing he had to show for his hard
effort and enthusiasm was a pile of shiny scrap. He didn’t even bother questioning how extremely
unlikely it seemed since it had happened to the Hero of Chaos.
“Or incredibly good luck,” pointed out Keira. “If this had happened to me out in the field rather than in a
controlled environment, then it could’ve gotten me killed.”
It was actually a legitimate excuse that the Mimic had used to convince itself it didn’t really want that
stupid Artifact.
“… I think I’ve caught a glimpse of why Gilbert chose you as her Hero, Keira,” said Nao with a tired
smile. “I’ve never met anyone with such a unique perspective as yours.”
“Uh no, I’m not really all that special. I’m just a natural pessimist that always considers the worst case
scenario. That way I’m either right and I’m ready for it, or I’m pleasantly surprised and can truly
appreciate the good things in life. It’s a win-win in my book. Being a Hero of Chaos is what made me
this way, not the other way around.”
“Heh,” chuckled Nao with a defeated smile. “The Hero shapes the God just as much as the God shapes
the Hero, was it?”
“… Where did you hear that phrase?”
“Hm? Oh, it’s something Lunar once told me when I asked her why she chose me specifically. Why do
you ask?”
“Because it’s weird. Vinny told me that exact same thing once as well, though the context was a bit
different.”
‘Different context’ was putting things mildly, though. What actually happened was that the Goddess of
Misfortune had uttered those words to Teresa during their confrontation and Boxxy just happened to
overhear them.
“Not surprising. Our patrons seem to get along quite well so stuff like this happens,” claimed the other
Hero.
“They’re friends? I had no idea.”
“It’s just my impression. Lunar’s tone the last time we spoke made me think she was rather fond of
Jabba-Jabba at the very least. I guess if our bosses get along then it’s inevitable we’d get along too.”
“Mmm, I suppose that makes sense, in a way. What are we going to do now, though? About the Artifact,
I mean.”
“Me and Kuro are going to explain to those stern looking men over there what happened and get their
help in digging up the remains. I hope you won’t mind if I keep the shards, but throwing away good
mithril like that would be a terrible waste.”
“Fair enough. Can I keep a few as a sort of souvenir, though? Even if it didn’t survive for very long, it
still had my name on it.”
“Haha, that it did. Alright, I’ll put aside a few pieces for you.”
“Thanks. And I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“That’s okay. Easy come, easy go, I suppose.”
“Yeah… Anyway, I don’t want to keep my date waiting any longer, so I’ll see you later. Ah, you’ll
probably want your coat back.”
“You should hang onto that for a while longer. The party will probably come back here in a few hours,
you can give it back after that.”
“Okay, if you say so. I’ll see you around then.”
The two Heroes parted ways and went about their respective evenings. Keira returned to the ballroom
and left Nao’s coat with one of the maids before seeking out Rowana. She found the elf mingling with
some other daughters of affluent families in an effort to avoid the rest of her family. The two of them
then finally had that dance, though the elf had already downed a few drinks and was feeling a bit tipsy,
not to mention frisky. She slipped a hand underneath Keira’s butt cleavage more than a few times as they
danced in order to massage her backside, though she was nowhere as discreet as she thought she was.
This dragged on for another half hour but the couple inevitably had to return to their table. It would
appear that Elias had pacified the parents somewhat and convinced them to postpone the topic regarding
their daughter’s chastity until they were at a more suitable time and place. The party continued smoothly
from that point on, with an extravagant dinner and a number of performances by dance troupes, singers
and actors. As the clocks approached midnight, the guests were kindly invited into the atrium for the
highlight of the evening, just as Nao had guessed. Keira therefore put on the borrowed coat once more,
much to Rowana’s dissatisfaction.
However, Boxxy couldn’t help but feel a bit curious as to why they were gathered here specifically. It
understood the moment when the year changed over was a significant one, but this seemed like a strange
place to celebrate it. Still, it made sure to play along since it couldn’t just say this was the first time
Keira had experienced her first new year’s party.
“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”
That was why Boxxy found itself looking up at the night sky along with everyone else while they
collectively chanted a countdown.
“Six! Five! Four!”
Seriously though, was something as trivial as the date changing over worth getting so worked up about?
“Three! Two!”
Even keeping in mind that its perspective and values were quite different from that of actual people,
Boxxy found it quite odd that even jaded-looking old geezers were so into this pointless ritual.
“One!”
And how come the staff were dimming the lights so much?
“Zero!”
It was at that moment that the starry sky was swept away by a mysterious multi-colored glow
reminiscent of a drunken rainbow. It swept across from east to west, rapidly drowning out the presence
of any and all celestial bodies until the heavens looked like an abstract art piece. The clouds of
seemingly solid light waxed and waned at random, filling the audience with a sense of childlike
wonderment as they cheered and applauded. The ethereal light show continued to linger as the sound of
celebratory bells filled the entire capital.
Keira felt Rowana hug her tight from the side, snapping her out of her stunned reverie.
“The aurora seems a lot more beautiful this year, doesn’t it?” she said dreamily.
I see, so that’s what this aurora thing is all about, concluded Boxxy.
As a connoisseur of all things shiny, there was no way the monster would fail to appreciate something
that splendid.
I want one.
However, its wish to obtain an aurora of its own was just as unlikely of being fulfilled as its ridiculous
dream of laying claim to an actual star.
“Also, that coat smells really nice,” commented the elf.
“I know, right?”
But as all the guests were busy looking up, a certain individual was looking down at them. A slender
woman, wrapped from head to toe in concealing clothing that obscured all her features aside from the
sharp black eyes and mutilated elven ears. She was lying down on the edge of a Hylt branch overlooking
the mansion where Boxxy currently was, looking over the well-dressed crowd through the glass ceiling
with the aid of an enchanted spyglass.
The highly suspicious individual then stood up and put away the compact telescope.
“The target’s presence has been confirmed,” she reported inside her head. “Commencing operation.”
“Understood,” replied the Psionic at the other end of the thought-link. “Let’s go nab ourselves a Hero,
shall we?”
And with that, the half-elf assassin codenamed Edge leapt off her perch, with many more shrouded
figures following suit.
The affluent guests kept admiring the radiant aurora long after the initial celebratory cheers had quieted
down. It was a piece of natural beauty that could only be seen once a year and only for about fifteen
minutes at a time. It was a rare sight one would never tire of regardless of how many times they’d seen
it. This was because the waxing and waning of the ethereal colors in the sky were not only entertaining
to watch, but were also quite moving on an emotional level. Just looking upon it seemed to remind one
of how petty their grievances and problems truly were, and kindled the forgiving and charitable spirit
present within all enlightened.
However, this phenomenon was considered to be magical in nature, as any warm or fuzzy feelings
brought on by the aurora would fade away rapidly once it dissipated. But until then, the people would
keep staring at the sky and enjoying the moment. Boxxy did the same, but for entirely different reasons.
The aurora had absolutely no effect on its psyche since it was a monster, but it was nevertheless a shiny
view it had never experienced before.
“Master! I’m seeing suspicious movement within the mansion!” reported Claws. “I think you have
guests, the uninvited stabby kind!”
The shapeshifter’s mind rapidly switched to business mode when it heard those words. Just as Boxxy
had expected, there were those who could not pass up on this golden opportunity. Strictly speaking, this
party was an extremely juicy target for anyone with nefarious motives. The guards were spread rather
thin, and there seemed to be very few magical security measures. Save for a few beastkin-shaped
exceptions, the guests were all unarmed weaklings that wielded political and economical power rather
than any form of martial or mystical might. Not only that, but all the big-shot adventurers were out of
town doing their own thing.
Honestly, it was almost as if Mr and Mrs Bryric wanted their party to be attacked.
“Is it those Foundation guys again?” asked Boxxy.
“I do not know, Master. The ones I spotted appeared to be human, but it’s hard to tell since they’re all
masked.”
“What are they doing?”
“I saw them take out a couple of guards and a waiter then dragging their bodies off somewhere. They
seem to be taking control of the mansion before they enact whatever plan it is they have.”
“Not very elf-centric, these intruders,” commented Xera. “I do not think it is the same organization that
tried to capture me, Master.”
“Who cares?! It’s an attack in force!” exclaimed an impatient Kora. “Let’s just stomp their heads flat and
sort out the details later!”
Since Boxxy was expecting something troublesome to happen, it had all three of its familiars on standby.
The webstalker was hiding in the yard keeping an eye on things, the archfiend was lurking inside the
sewers beneath the house, and the djinn was posing as a guest. Now that an enemy had shown
themselves, the immediate question turned to what their goals could be. Their objective was most likely
one or more of the high-value targets within the atrium, but there were far too many of those.
“Get in position to counter-attack, but don’t do anything just yet,” it commanded. “Let them make the
first move, then we’ll see.”
Therefore, it would be best to take the wait and see approach until the unknown enemy showed their
hand. Sure, there would be some innocent casualties, but Boxxy couldn’t care less about a bunch of
unimportant staff members. It was only about five minutes later when the aurora was starting to slowly
fade away when the shapeshifter finally noticed suspicious activity in its vicinity. Using its Ranger’s
eyesight, the Mimic noticed that the guards around the edge of the atrium were being killed off silently
and dragged away before their bodies hit the floor. It wouldn’t be long now before things turned hectic,
so it decided to take some last minute precautions. Not concerning its personal safety though, Boxxy felt
pretty confident about that. However, there was a certain valuable asset that it wanted to make sure
escaped this thing alive.
“Kuro, this is Keira. I think there may be trouble brewing, so be ready.”
The towering wolfkin’s ears twitched a bit when he heard the Whisper Wind message. He tore his eyes
away from the light show overhead and calmly looked around the atrium, noting that the guards that had
been there just minutes ago were now mysteriously absent. He then glanced over the crowd, his height
allowing him to easily locate the catgirl’s head of crimson hair. He gave her a tiny nod to signify he
understood while sliding a hand underneath the coat of his white uniform.
The party crashers proceeded with the crashing of said party about half a minute later. There were a
series of loud sharp bangs all around the gathered crowd, followed by a thick layer of gray smoke. The
guests naturally began to panic and grow unruly since their initial thought was ‘fire’ rather than ‘smoke
bombs.’ A misunderstanding that was cleared up when over fifty masked figures armed almost literally
to the teeth stepped out of the smog.
A slender woman who appeared to be the leader took a few steps forward.
“Happy new year, ya filthy twigs,” she said loudly and spitefully. “As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, me
and my associates have you surrounded, so nobody try anything funny lest they want a knife in the
face.”
The gathered elite of the elven society began buzzing amongst themselves when they saw the various
bladed weapons and miniature crossbows aimed at their direction. Thankfully nobody was stupid
enough to make any suspicious moves. Even if there were those among them that had combat-oriented
Jobs, they recognized that agitating these people would only lead to all sorts of casualties and collateral
damage.
“Very good! Now, if you rich fucks could just quietly hand over the fuzzy-eared Hero then we’ll be on
our way!”
All eyes immediately converged on Keira, causing Rowana to cling onto her from behind with a pale
face as if refusing to let her go. The catgirl responded by placing a hand on hers and giving her a quiet
whisper of ‘it’ll be alright.’
“No, not that one, you morons,” said the assault leader. “The other one.”
The center of everyone’s attention then gradually shifted to Nao and Kuro. The Hero of Magic had an
extremely worried look on his face, though it was not exactly a frightened one as this wasn’t his first
time being targeted. The same could be said about his bodyguard, whose sneer made it obvious he had
no intention of complying. Influenced by the aurora as they were, none of the guests seemed particularly
willing to just send him to the slaughter either. Something this intruder probably expected, judging by
the wide smile that could be seen even under her face mask.
“Well! Hard way it is th-!”

*Fwahooon*
However, the one to make the first move was not her, nor was it Kuro, Nao, Boxxy, or any of its
familiars. A strange wave of something passed through the entire mansion, causing the glass ceiling to
rattle and momentarily distorting everyone’s vision. A large number of the people looked upwards
almost on instinct, only to realize that a stupidly large object was now looming in the sky. They could
only make out the underside of its silhouette against the aurora, which seemed strangely boat-shaped.
A full suit of solid adamantite armor crashed through the glass ceiling before anyone could do or say
anything, landing on the ground between the two parties with an earth shattering impact.
“Gotcha, ya sneaky shits!” shouted Hilda as she readjusted the grip on her stupidly large battleaxe. “We
have ye right where we want ye!”
The dwarven Berserker wasn’t the only one to drop down from the flying vessel, which was now shining
a series of blinding white lights down upon the otherwise gloomy atrium. Elven agents bearing official-
looking badges and insignias upon their chests and shoulders descended through the broken ceiling and
formed a protective wall around the civilians. There were quite a few big-shots among them, though
Imiryl the Wizard and Lichter the Paladin were the only other ones Boxxy had personally met.
“Attention, agents of the Gilded Hand!” said a magically-amplified voice from above. “This is the
Ishigar Republic’s Foreign Intelligence Bureau! You are outnumbered and outclassed! Lay down your
arms and surrender, or we will be forced to use lethal force!”
“Plan C!”
The leader of the would-be Hero-nappers obviously did not comply, and instead gave the order to have
her men fight back. She barely even finished saying the words when a large number of alchemically-
prepared smoke bombs were thrown towards the FIB soldiers. Many of the pellets were deflected or
disabled before they could do any harm, but some of them inevitably managed to disperse their payload.
The area was almost instantly covered by a thick, purple-tinged miasma, different from the dark gray
smoke screen from before. It was a powerful tranquilizer toxin normally reserved for crowd dispersal
and riot suppression. Both groups of spies had masks that shielded them from the effects, but the same
could not be said about the guests, who naturally began panicking. The situation instantly descended
into chaos as the Gilded Hand attacked indiscriminately. This forced their elven counterparts to defend
and bear the brunt of the attack while they got the unarmed civilians out of the danger zone.
A task that was being handled by the Wizard VIP in their midst.
“Gate!”
Imiryl created a large shimmering portal in the midst of all this, and the panicking noncombatants were
ushered through while the FIB agents held off the assailants. The guests were all successfully evacuated
in less than a minute. They were all coughing and wheezing with tears running down their faces and
their legs giving out as a result of the gas. A quarter of them had gotten injured and were bleeding, but
there had been no civilian casualties thanks to the swift response and sacrifices of the FIB. Keira,
Rowana and the rest of the Slyth family had also gotten out safely and were busy comforting each other.
They were still recovering from the shock when the catgirl suddenly made a startling observation.
“Nao? Where’s Nao?!” she screamed. “Oh no, he must’ve been left behind! I need to go look for him!”
“Keira, don’t!” shouted her girlfriend as she grabbed her by the arm. “You can’t! I only just got you
back!”
“Those guys were after my friend, Rowie! The whole point of me becoming an adventurer was so that I
wouldn’t have to abandon those I cared about when things turned out like this! If I ran away here and
something happened to him, I would hate myself for the rest of my life!”
“That’s just the aurora talking,”stated Doris in a serious tone. “You need to stop being overly dramatic
and calmly analyze the situation. If you go down there in your current emotional, unarmed and
unarmored state, you’ll only get yourself and others killed. Trust me, I tried clashing with a few of those
assholes on the way out, and they are not pushovers.”
The matron of the Slyth family held up her right arm, showing a massive gash that ran the length of her
forearm.
“Even if I’m retired, I’m still a high-Level Monk. It takes serious effort to pierce through my Ki-
reinforced skin. Please believe me when I say that a cub like you stands no chance against those
professional killers.”
The Hero of Chaos was not one to deny the reality in front of her eyes, so she was forced to give up on
getting herself involved any further. She collapsed on the floor and hugged her knees in defeat while her
girlfriend did her best to comfort and reassure her. As for the male half of the Slyth family, they were
busy taking in their surroundings. It would appear the evacuation point was the deck of the flying ship
that had come to their rescue. Both Samulus and Elias recognized the vessel as the Endeavor, a literal
flying ship that was kept in the air through a combination of the blimp-like balloon overhead and
powerful wind magic.
They had no idea how such a massive behemoth had arrived seemingly out of nowhere, though. The
thing was incredibly slow, making it impractical for anything other than a mobile playground for the
wealthy and powerful. It was a pleasure cruiser, not a military barge, yet the FIB had still commandeered
it. This was because, unbeknownst to the civilians, the Endeavor had been outfitted with an experimental
device called the Gate Drive. It was a magic mechanism based off of the principles behind the Forest
Gates, which allowed the ship to teleport itself and its passengers hundreds of kilometers away in an
instant.
However, such a fantastical feature came at a price. The strain of the act left the prototype Gate Drive in
tatters while also draining the ship’s magical power reserves. The Endeavor’s spatial transportation
systems would need to be replaced, repaired and refueled before they could be enacted once again. It
was a design flaw that the Gate Drive’s creators were unable to solve without making it at least twice as
big, but it would then be too heavy to fit on the ship. The important bit was that the FIB had to make this
trap count since, once committed to the operation, the Endeavor would be a sitting duck.
And that was going to become a bigger problem than expected, as it would appear the Gilded Hand had
a few surprises of their own.
“We have incoming from the south!” shouted a voice across the deck. “Royal griffins, three of them!”
All hands immediately looked towards the direction specified to see that a trio of massive winged
shadows were indeed on approach, which gave them chills. Griffins were mighty beasts on their own,
but these Ranked Up versions could wield powerful wind and lightning magic on top of their immense
physical prowess. They were obviously a diversion, but one the FIB could not ignore, lest the influential
civilians in their care become catbird food. Having no other choice, Imiryl, Lichter and a few other big
shot adventurers flew off to intercept them. The ones that stood out among the unfamiliar faces were a
male Cryomancer riding a piece of flying ice and a female Priest with a pair of angelic wings similar to
Lichter’s.
As for Keira, the only thing someone of her ability could do was sit, watch, and worry about Nao.
“That guy Kuro better be doing his job,” she mumbled underneath her breath.
Thankfully, ‘that guy’ was most definitely performing something that could be interpreted as ‘his job,’
though at the same time he was doing the exact opposite of ‘his Job.’
The towering wolfkin currently had his back to a corner, with Nao directly behind him. After getting
somehow separated from the rest of the crowd during the confusion, the two sworn brothers had been
forced to fend for themselves. It seemed like an easy win for the half-elf assassin codenamed Edge, as
taking down brutish oafs was something any Rogue worth their blade should be able to do. However,
there was one small problem.
“Damn, we’ve been had,” she grumbled while panting. “This guy’s not a Berserker at all!”
“Hahaha! Fell for it, did ya?” taunted Kuro as he twirled the pair of knives in his hands. “That’s what
you get for listening in on people’s private conversations!”
‘The bodyguard to the Hero of Magic is a Berserker.’ This was the notion that both beastkin brothers
worked spread wherever they went. It was an intentional bit of misinformation they went to great
lengths to reinforce, even if it meant subverting Appraisal reports or lying to a fellow Hero. Thankfully
Kuro’s personality was naturally confrontational and abrasive, so he fit the Berserker stereotype
perfectly whenever they were interacting with others. The Hero of Magic was a public figure that could
and has come under attack at any point, so such underhanded precautions were necessary. It allowed the
two of them to maintain an element of surprise in case they were ambushed, and it would appear the
trick had worked wonderfully.
In actuality, Nao’s bodyguard was a Blade Dancer, one that specialized in using a multitude of knives, of
which he had a rather ridiculous variety. Long ones, short ones, curved ones, straight ones, throwing
ones, stabbing ones, slashing ones, wired ones, multi-pronged ones, poisoned ones, flaming ones,
teleporting ones - he had them all. Yet no matter how many he threw or left behind, he didn’t seem to
run out in the slightest. It was to the point where one would be forgiven for thinking Kuro was a bunch
of knives held together by a military uniform. In fact, if one were to describe his fighting style in as few
words as possible, it would be ‘knives for days.’
The result of his handiwork could be seen all over the place. Two of the four masked goons that Edge
brought with her were dead on the floor, while the other two were riddled with wounds. The half-elf
herself did not have a scratch on her though, as she had used her subordinates as guinea pigs to see what
this man was truly capable of when backed into a corner. His fighting style was unorthodox to say the
least, but it wasn’t one she was unable to recognize.
The beastkin called Kuro was something known in the spy business as a ‘sand spider,’ an elite
combatant from the Pearly Dunes desert. Admittedly being buddy-buddy with the Hero of Magic had
given him access to a much wider array of trick weapons than the ones Edge had faced in the past, but it
was definitely the same fighting style. The retractable daggers hidden in the soles of his boots and the
way he used his flexible tail as an extra throwing arm were particularly telling. If they were on his home
turf then his specially designed and enchanted uniform would let him blend in with the pure white sands
to become practically invisible.
But now that his secret was out and the full range of his tricks exposed, Edge felt confident she could
take him. She had already managed to cut him on his shoulder and back while also breaking one of his
ribs with a point blank hand-to-hand technique, yet suffered not a single scratch in return. She was
without a doubt the faster of the two, and her opponent had to be mindful of the Hero-shaped handicap
behind him, so he couldn’t fight as wildly as he pleased. The odds were definitely in Edge’s favor should
the two of them go at it in a direct one-on-one confrontation.
Then again, she wouldn’t be much of a spy if she fought this guy fair and square.
“Yeeaaaargh!”
“Kuro?! What’s wroooaaaaaaah!”
Both of the wolfkin collapsed on the spot screaming and clutching their heads as the Psionic codenamed
Hook floated in from above.
“Took you long enough!” snapped the half-elf. “I hope you weren’t off trying to get another grudge
match against Imiryl!”
“Doesn’t matter, we need to move,” he deflected. “Bandit’s pets are keeping the twigs busy, but this
operation has dragged on too long. We’re attracting the wrong kind of attention!”
The bald man suddenly turned around and unleashed a wave of telekinetic energy with a swing of his
arm. There was a loud thwacking noise as a monstrous woman covered in an icy carapace and with six
bladed appendages poking out of her back appeared out of seemingly thin air. The tundra webstalker let
out an aggressive hiss as she tumbled backwards and came to a stop on all fours.
“Shit, what is that?!” shouted Edge as she and her subordinates turned to face the creature.
“It’s one of the Sandman’s pets,” stated Hook. “I’d know that creepy aura anywhere! Her Master won’t
be far behind!”
“My, how observant of you!”
A deep booming voice washed over the scene as the unmistakable silhouette of Azurvale’s resident
masked vigilante-cum-mercenary walked out from around a corner. He was well over two meters tall,
with a billowing dark blue cloak and mask obscuring all of his features aside from those glowing yellow
eyes. He also had a grim-looking black staff with a demonic skull for a head in his hands, though his
sheer size made it look more like a baton. There was no doubt in Hook’s mind it was the Sandman, as
the dreadful chill running down his back instinctively told him this was an enemy of humanity.
“Edge, grab the package and run, I’ll follow behind!”
The Psionic wasn’t deluding himself into thinking he could beat someone this notorious outright. He
was a Warlock of considerable power, so it was unlikely his Domination Spells - which were his main
weapon - would have any effect. However, his telekinetic abilities would allow him to easily stall the
guy and his pets for as long as necessary to let his colleague complete their mission.
“Yeah, about that…”
Hearing the assassin’s voice, Hook turned around on the spot only to see that a second Sandman had
appeared between them and their objective. He was literally at a loss for words, because he could not
feel the presence of a mind from within that figure. Hardly surprising, considering Mirror Images were
essentially meat dolls with no free will of their own. However, they could still use magic thanks to
Boxxy’s Spirit Echo Skill.
The body double unleashed a wave of pure force, similar to the Psionic’s blast from earlier. It crashed
against his defensive barrier while Edge took cover behind his back. The two grunts that were with them
were unfortunately not as quick on the uptake and got thrown away towards the arachnid demon. Drea
moved in and gutted them while they were still in mid-air then rapidly moved onto the other two,
forcing the lithe assassin to move in and intercept her. One would think she was crazy to jump in against
a thing with that many bladed limbs, but it wasn’t too different from fighting her way into that sand
spider’s flurry of knives. The real Sandman unleashed a horizontal Reality Slash at the pair, forcing
Hook to block it. It was much heavier than he anticipated, so he couldn’t send it back at its caster like he
had intended.
“Transfamiliar!”
The Mirror Image had taken advantage of this situation to finish that obnoxiously long chant, allowing it
to disappear in a puff of green smoke while holding onto Nao and Kuro. The beastkin pair had
thankfully passed out from the mental strain the Psionic put on them, so they were incapable of
protesting or asking questions. Things were going from bad to worse for the Gilded Hand agents,
however, as the body double had swapped places with a certain murder-happy archfiend.
Kora let out a primal roar as she descended upon the Psionic, who had trouble knocking her back with
his telekinesis since she was much heavier than the stalker. He still managed to stop her from getting
near by smacking her with an uprooted tree, but that was a very temporary measure. Edge was holding
off the other one by taking advantage of the fact that those scythe-tipped appendages couldn’t attack all
at once without getting in each other’s way. Nevertheless, the pair realized this was not a fight they
could win with just the two of them since there was nobody around to stop the Sandman from chanting
his magic. It was precisely the situation Boxxy had been aiming for. In fact, the shapeshifter was already
looking forward to seeing what Skills it could absorb from such prime specimens.
Unfortunately, the Sandman wasn’t the only one who had backup. The monster felt a reaction from its
MLG, informing it of a new threat approaching it from behind at high speeds. It was approaching so
quick that it had no choice but to abandon chanting its Spells and turn around to block the incoming
overhead strike. A deep gong-like noise resonated throughout the area as Boxxy’s Artifact-grade
adamantite staff clashed against another one. The force behind that blow was so severe that the
shapeshifter felt like its arms and legs were about to snap, even causing some damage despite being
blocked.
The one who had just barged in was a woman - a black haired yellow eyed beauty with a face so
thoroughly expressionless one might think she was dead on the inside. She was dressed as just another
of the Gilded Hand’s grunts, but it was plainly clear she was no ordinary assassin or spy. The absurd
amount of strength behind that one attack made it clear she was far above them in ability, and her choice
of weapon was completely unsuited to covert operations. Frankly speaking, Boxxy didn’t really need to
see the angelic halo above her head or the brilliantly glowing wings sprouting from her back to
recognize her.
She was the Ranked Up human who served as the personal secretary to Edward Allen, the former
Spymaster of the Lodrak Empire. The one who had killed her former teammate Milo Faehorn in cold
blood during the recent war. A person whose past exploits, once uncovered by the Inquisition, had led to
her gaining a rather outstanding bounty in both the Empire and the Republic. Yet at the same time, one
could argue it was by her hand that Edward Allen and his clandestine organization had fallen from
grace.
She was Jennifer Jackson, the operative bearing the codename Zone, and the woman who was about to
experience the sort of unintended consequences a careless Job Removal could have.
Zone’s eyes twitched ever-so slightly at having her full force blow being stopped dead in its tracks. It
was a sloppy block that diffused none of the momentum or force behind the attack, yet this magic caster
was still able to endure it. The fact that the Sandman was able to react to her presence and move fast
enough to pull that off was something of a surprise as well. Physical ability aside, his staff was also still
in one piece after colliding with hers, so his equipment was nothing to be scoffed at either.
Having instantly reevaluated the strength of her opponent, Zone immediately resumed her assault. Her
staff became something of a blur in her hands as she unleashed a barrage of strikes at her target, denying
the Warlock any opportunity to focus on using magic. Just as she had established moments earlier,
however, his martial prowess was far above what a Caster would normally have.
Despite coming at him from various angles and putting a ridiculous amount of strength behind each
strike, she was still unable to land a single hit. She was certain she had the upper hand when it came to
brute force, but this Sandman was definitely faster in spite of that towering body. He had the weight
advantage as well, so knocking him off balance proved to be quite difficult. Haphazard blocks became
parries and parries became evasions as her opponent rapidly adapted to her combination attacks, proving
he had fighting ability to back up his physical attributes.
However, unlike the time she fought Hilda during the war, Zone’s current opponent was lightly armored,
which left him vulnerable to her hand-to-hand techniques. The angelic Monk suddenly dashed forward,
momentarily letting go of her staff as she pushed into the Sandman’s wide chest.
“Flurry of Blows - Rending Assault.”
She then unleashed a combination of a Skill and a Martial Art. Her hands seemed to momentarily
multiply as she delivered a total of eight strikes in what felt like an instant. Her opponent had been
caught off-guard by the sudden change in tempo and took the brunt of the attack. His cloak was
shredded and his torso was left covered in deep gashes that bled profusely, almost as if he had been
mauled by a wild beast.
The attack didn’t end there, however, as Zone grasped the staff that had still yet to fall over due to
gravity and thrust it forward like a spear. It wasn’t a sweeping attack that could be stopped with a
glorified magic stick, so the Sandman was forced to defend with a cross-arm block. He caught the end of
it on the thick steel vambracers protecting his forearms, but they did little to defend against the Ki-
enhanced strike.
You have inflicted excessive blunt force trauma. Target HP -811.

Energy ripples through your target. Target HP -162.
Bones became splinters and skin split asunder as both of his arms were crushed by that one attack. The
armor, such as it was, had been cracked open like an egg while yet more blood spurted out of both
broken limbs. Zone swung her staff around to deliver a follow up blow, but a massive pair of metal clad
fists interjected themselves between the two. She instantly recognized their owner as that red-skinned
fiend from earlier and leapt backwards rather than try to take that absurd mountain of muscle head on.
“Hey!” yelled the demon. “Come back here and get crushed, skank! Ora ora ora ora ora!”
The barrage of fists that came raining down on the Monk threatened to overwhelm her while the
demon’s master slinked off to lick his wounds. However, each of those strikes were thrown haphazardly
and without any real intent or purpose behind them. Though this fiend appeared to be a Berserker like
Hilda, their fighting styles were completely different. Whereas that dwarf’s every strike flowed
seamlessly into the next in a calculated assault that had the sole purpose of ending a life, this demon
seemed to just be swinging wildly hoping one of those would hit. It was the stereotypical way of
fighting for one who had a lot of strength and no idea how to use it, so an experienced fighter like Zone
had no difficulty fending off the assault. In fact, half of those wild punches missed pretty much on their
own. And the more the two fought, the less and less the fiend had a chance of landing a clean hit.
For Zone was a follower of the Axel and as such possessed the Disciple of War Skill. The longer she
fought any one single opponent, the more she grew accustomed to fighting them, and the better she
could predict their next move. Unlike Disciple of Chaos, however, she wasn’t tapping into a pseudo-
precognitive ability, but was rather expertly reading her opponent’s movements. Muscle twitches,
breathing, eye movements, weight shifting - the more she saw of her target, the better she got a feel for
their fighting rhythm. This Skill was the main reason why Monks in service to the God of War were
considered to be the most troublesome duelists.
But, even if it gradually turned any one-on-one fight in the user’s favor, the effects of the Disciple of
War Skill would be reset if the Monk switched targets. But now that it had ‘spooled up’ again, it gave
Zone a lot more breathing room against this careless fiend than one might think. She took advantage of a
gap within the rush pushed the demoness back with a pinpoint staff thrust to her solar plexus. Granted, it
wasn’t as effective as it would’ve been on a person since demonic bodies made no sense, but it still gave
the Monk a chance to take in her surroundings.
It would appear that Edge had been momentarily webbed up by the stalker demon, judging by the sticky
strings clinging to her outfit. She had cut herself loose almost immediately afterwards, but that had given
the other side enough time to rotate out and pick better targets. The fiend was blocking the Monk, the icy
spider-girl was now playing cat and mouse with Hook, and the Sandman was bearing down on Edge.
Compatibility against one’s opponent was the most deciding factor when it came to high-Level bouts
like this, so it made sense that the enemy would want to take advantage of their various strengths.
The Psionic, for starters, was obviously struggling to keep his distance from that stalker in the relatively
confined space of this atrium. The tough and stubborn fiend was meant to keep the most dangerous of
the three busy while her boss attacked the weakest fighter of th

Everybody Loves Large Chests - Exterminatus

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Last updated: 2018-03-01 09:07

Volume one now available on Amazon! Featuring lots of editorial

(2) Death Comes In Many Forms 1

You suffered a shallow cut. HP -4.

“Yeah, I definitely heard something. Come on, let’s go check it out!”

“Oh! A chest!” the man exclaimed.

He approached the Mimic with a rather carefree gait.

“Mmwu! Don’t patronize me like that! We’re not kids anymore!”

“Fine, fine! I was just kidding, sheesh…”

“Ron!” shouted Gloria “Hold on!”

You suffered a minor scratch. HP -1.

“Quick Heal!” came a shout from the side.

“I’LL KILL YOU! PIECE OF SHIT!”

*CRUNCH MUNCH MUNCH*

(3) Death Comes In Many Forms 2

Species Human STR 13 MNT 43 Necromancer 16 35%

Age 21 years AGI 10 CHR 34

Name Level Proficiency

Forbidden Power 2 26%

Monster Domination 2 97%

Mana Affinity 3 45%

Wand Mastery 2 30%

“Maybe the cause is a random Cave Troll that wandered in?”

”Huhuehehehe! Or maybe a Werewolf!? Either one of those would be perrrrfect!”

Critical damage sustained. HP -145.

You are bleeding heavily from an open wound. HP -10.

You are bleeding heavily from an open wound. HP -10.

“Kuh! Kuhah! Koff!”

You are bleeding heavily from an open wound. HP -10.

You are bleeding heavily from an open wound. HP -10.

(4) Death Comes In Many Forms 3

“Hissyah ssah ssah ssah!”

General Information Attributes Job Information

Name Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress

Sex N/A DEX 44

Age 2 months AGI 34

Name Level Proficiency

Sword Mastery 4 87%

Skill List: Mimic

A special action has been performed. WIS +1.

Hmm? Strategy? What’s that? Does it taste good?

*CHOMP CHOMP MUNCH MUNCH*

General Information Attributes Job Information

Name Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress

Species Mimic (Lesser) STR 42 LCK 2 Mimic 15 2%

Sex N/A DEX 45

Age 2 months AGI 35

HP 252/252 (+0.4/sec) INT 35

MP 170/170 (+0.3/sec) WIS 38

Name Level Proficiency

(5) Death Comes In Many Forms 4

You have suffered minor blunt trauma. HP -2.

You have suffered minor blunt trauma. HP -5.

You are hungry. Automatic HP and MP recovery are now halved.

You are ravenous. Automatic HP and MP recovery are now disabled.

A special action has been performed. WIS +1.

A special action has been performed. LCK +1.

General Information Attributes Job Information

Name Name Value Name Value Name Level Progress

Sex N/A DEX 46

Age 2 months AGI 36

HP 156/256 (+0.0/sec) INT 35

MP 114/170 (+0.0/sec) WIS 39

CRUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

CHOMP CHOMP MUNCH MUNCH

CRUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

SNAP SLURP BURP