by Neven Iliev
Prologue
Chapter One - Death Comes In Many Forms
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Chapter Two - Eat And Grow
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Chapter Three - The Sweeper
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Interlude - A Cheap Drink
Chapter Four - Urges
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Chapter Five - Catalyst
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Epilogue
Afterword
Everybody Loves Large Chests
Volume One: Morningwood
A book by Neven Iliev
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?
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 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 disguised as 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.]
Chapter One
Death Comes In Many Forms
Part One
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 imitating 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 eighty centimeters long, thirty-five centimeters tall and forty centimeters on its side. Its ‘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 ten 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 torn 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 dozen 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. 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 exclaimed at the unexpected jolt of pain. It reflexively let go of the sword, which fell to the floor along with several drops of sticky yellow blood.
[You have suffered a shallow cut. HP -4.]
Another strange window popped up into its consciousness. Although it somehow understood the words, it 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 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 onto 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.
Part Two
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 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 within striking distance of the chest, he slowly lifted his sword arm up in preparation to slash at the wooden box. Worst case scenario, he blunted the blade a bit. Best case scenario, he avoided 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 pointy 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 and mumbled something under her breath. As she completed her incantation her hands glowed with a soft light.
“Quick Heal!”
After uttering the command word, the 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 that 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.
“YOU! YOUUUU!” she screamed. She was outraged. That much was obvious. However, she was a newbie Priestess and her offensive magic was practically non-existent. If her opponent was 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 spat the mangled 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 her swung a bloodied weapon around. She somehow mustered enough strength to turn and run away, but was too slow. The Mimic pierced through her chest from behind.
“GUAH
H! 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!]
[Congratulations, you are now a level 4 Mimic! All attributes +4.]
[Proficiency level increased. Sword Mastery is now Level 2. STR +2. DEX +2.]
There it was again, that weird window. And now that the Mimic 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 compared to your average Mimic, but in the end, that didn’t amount to much. Even now it was way too busy eating 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.
Part Three
The giant rat’s head splattered against the rocky ground. Bits of 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, the short, muscular dwarf shook it a few times in a futile attempt to shake off the filth. He gave up and settled for scraping off the remains of the former rat from the sole of his armored boot.