My breath caught as I stumbled further back, staring at the monstrosity that now loomed before me. The warm air turned suffocating, and the flickering light threw monstrous shadows onto the walls. My exhaustion was gone, replaced by a cold surge of adrenaline.
“Well,” I muttered, reaching over my shoulder. “I should’ve seen this coming.”
I drew an arrow from my quiver and nocked it, the familiar weight of my bow settling into my grip. The mimic hissed, its grotesque form quivering before it lunged. Its clawed legs slashed through the air, razor-sharp tips aimed straight for me. I barely managed to throw myself to the side, the claws scraping the stone where I’d been standing just seconds before. The momentum sent me rolling across the floor, my palms stinging as I scrambled back to my feet.
I didn’t hesitate. Raising my bow, I loosed an arrow straight at one of its spindly legs. The shot landed true, sinking deep into the creature’s hide with a sickening squelch. The mimic screeched, recoiling from the impact, but it didn’t stop. The sheets lashed out like tentacles, writhing and whipping toward me. I ducked one strike and sidestepped another, but the erratic movements kept me off balance.
I backpedaled swiftly, my fingers already drawing another arrow. I aimed for its center mass, letting the arrow fly. The projectile buried itself into the mimic’s writhing comforter-like flesh, but the creature barely faltered. Snarling, it twisted, sheets flaring outward like grasping hands.
Before I could react, one of the sheets coiled around my leg with snake-like precision. I yelped as it yanked hard, sending me crashing to the ground. Pain shot through my shoulder as I hit the stone floor, my bow slipping from my grip. The mimic wasted no time, dragging me closer, its maw opening wide in anticipation.
Gritting my teeth, I twisted onto my back, reaching for an arrow even as the creature loomed over me. I didn’t have the time or space to draw the bowstring, so I did the next best thing—I stabbed. I drove the arrow’s tip straight into the tendril wrapped around my leg. The mimic shrieked, its grip loosening just enough for me to kick free.
“Scan!” I shouted as I backed away quickly.
Enemy Entry 0036: Mimic: Level 10 (Penance-Infused Horror)
Mimics are shapeshifting predators that lurk in the ruins of Penance, disguising themselves as coveted objects to ensnare the desperate and unwary. While commonly mistaken for enchanted chests, these creatures are, in truth, the remnants of divine artifacts abandoned by fallen gods and twisted by centuries of punishment. Their deception extends beyond mere illusion—mimics take the form of lost memories, long-forgotten relics, or even weapons once wielded by the condemned. The most ancient among them are patient hunters, requiring no movement to strike. They simply wait, appearing as salvation, comfort, or escape, until their prey willingly steps into their jaws.
- Health: 500/500
- Potency: 12
- Precision: 7
- Gold: 1000 (50% chance)
- Cursed Relic: 1 (25% chance)
- Mimic’s Maw: 1 (10% chance)
- Soul-Tainted Key: 1 (5% chance)
- Penance Fragment: 1 (1% chance)
Three tendrils lashed toward me, moving faster than I thought possible. I barely had time to react.
I threw myself to the right, rolling as the tendrils slammed into the floor. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone, exactly where I had been standing.
Shit. If one of those hits me, I’m dead.
I didn’t wait—I knocked another arrow and fired at one of the mimic’s writhing limbs.
The shot landed deep, cutting through its flesh. The mimic shuddered, its tendrils momentarily curling inward. I took the opening to stagger backward, gasping for breath. But then, it did something I wasn’t expecting.
The wooden frame of the bed stretched, splintering into jagged limbs like twisted bones. The sheets that had looked soft before now hardened into thick, sinewy hide.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
My stomach dropped.
{Ah. It adapts. Almost as if it has an instinct for survival. Pity you don’t.}
“Oh, shut up.”
Instead of lunging mindlessly, the mimic faked an attack. I saw its maw wind up for a strike, so I braced to dodge right—
It swept my legs out from under me instead.
Pain exploded in my ribs as I hit the ground hard, my breath knocked out of me. Before I could even roll over, tendrils coiled around my left arm, pinning me.
I struggled, but the mimic’s grip was like iron. The maw loomed closer, acid-dripping teeth stretching wide. My pulse pounded in my ears. I needed to get out—NOW.
I thrashed, but the mimic’s tendrils wrapped tighter, pinning my arm to my side. My bow was still in my grip, but my movement was restricted. The mimic’s massive, tooth-filled maw yawned open above me, black ichor dripping onto my chest.
No! I jerked my body to the side, trying to wrench free, but the mimic dragged me closer.
My mind raced. I had one hand free. My bow was still in it. That meant I could still shoot.
I twisted my wrist, angling the bow awkwardly with barely enough room to move. I had no time to aim—just point-blank instinct. I fired.
The arrow buried deep into the mimic’s tendril, and it screeched, recoiling. Its grip weakened just enough for me to rip myself free and roll backward.
I hit the ground hard, panting, my leg still sticky with mimic ichor.
{Amusing. I was almost convinced you were going to get yourself eaten. Again.}
"You know, for a being of ultimate wisdom, you're really not helpful."
The mimic twitched violently, its body shifting between a half-dissolved bed and something even worse—a mass of writhing red tissue covered in teeth. I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding. The mimic reoriented itself, shifting its limbs, preparing to lunge. Then I saw it.
Beneath the layers of shifting flesh, there was a throbbing core of red muscle that glowed gold. A weak spot. I steadied my breath, pulling back the bowstring with everything I had.
"C'mon... just a little closer..." The mimic lunged. I let the arrow fly.
The shot tore straight through its core. The mimic shrieked, its entire body convulsing, thrashing wildly as black ichor gushed from the wound. It reeled back, parts of its form flickering between solid and liquid. But it wasn’t dead yet.
The mimic’s rage was instant. It slammed itself into the walls, sending stone and debris crashing to the ground. I dove left, then right, barely avoiding the falling wreckage. Then a tendril whipped forward. I wasn’t fast enough.
Pain exploded through my ribs as I was thrown backward, skidding across the floor. My back slammed into the opposite wall. I gasped for air, vision swimming. The mimic’s tendrils lashed out again, wrapping around my ankle.
No. No, no, no—
I twisted, reaching for an arrow, but the mimic dragged me forward, toward its gaping mouth.
{Rod, if you die like this, I will never let you live it down.}
"Shut UP, Aurentum!"
I kicked wildly, but the mimic’s grip was iron-tight. Its massive maw loomed over me, jaw unhinging wider than before. I reached for an arrow. The tendrils tightened around my arm. My fingers barely managed to close around the shaft. I only had one shot. I couldn’t miss.
I forced my arm up, twisting my body just enough to get an angle. The mimic snapped forward. I fired.
The arrow shot through the roof of its mouth, embedding deep into the pulsing core. The mimic froze mid-motion. Then, violently, it convulsed. Tendrils spasmed, flesh curling in on itself, its entire form collapsing inward. The sheets deflated. The frame snapped apart. The gurgling, twisted mass twitched one final time—then stilled.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My hands were still locked in position, bow half-raised, fingers curled around an arrow I no longer needed. The mimic lay still, its once-writhing form nothing more than a collapsed, twitching heap. Its black ichor pooled across the stone, hissing softly as the last remnants of its body melted into nothing.
I let out a long, shaking breath. My arms ached, my ribs throbbed from the impact, and my leg was still sticky with mimic ichor. Slowly, I forced myself to sit up, wincing as pain flared along my side. Everything hurt. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, smearing black residue across my skin in the process. My whole body felt heavy, like the weight of exhaustion had finally caught up to me.
That was a bed. A bed had just tried to eat me.
“I hate this place,” I muttered, voice raw.
{Technically, not everything. I’m quite fond of your suffering, but I wouldn’t eat you.}
I shot a glare at Aurentum, who was glowing faintly, his usual smug energy radiating from every angle.
“Oh, that’s so reassuring,” I deadpanned.
{Oh, I live to serve.}
I exhaled sharply and rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness setting in. I needed to check the loot. Maybe something useful had dropped from the mimic. Maybe—
My gaze flicked to where the mimic’s body had been. Sitting among the melted, steaming remains was… a blanket.
I stared at it.
{...You should pick it up.}
I kept staring.
{What? You killed it. It’s probably safe now.}
It took every ounce of willpower not to punt Aurentum into a wall. Would that even work? And now I had to sleep on the damn floor because the bed tried to eat me.
I sighed as I entered the next room.