"What the hell is this? Why can't I move my hand?!"
The moment Maxwell's hand touched the corpse, a strange, tickling sensation crawled up his skin—like ants swarming from his palm, racing along his arm.
A violent shiver ran down his spine.
Sweat instantly soaked his palms.
"What the hell is happening? Did it leave behind some kind of parasite… something that takes over its victim even after death?"
A dangerous thought crept into his mind—maybe I should just rest…
let fate take its course.
But then he remembered everything that had happened so far.
The mysterious voice.
This strange world.
The opportunities he'd been given.
Giving up now would be an insult—to all of it.
Clenching his teeth, Maxwell resisted.
Seconds stretched into an eternity. Just when despair threatened to swallow him whole, his hand suddenly came free.
The sensation vanished.
Panting heavily, Maxwell stared at his hand.
A small mark—shaped like a hawk—had appeared on his palm. It shimmered briefly, then slid out of his skin, materializing into a living creature.
A bird.
Snow-white feathers.
The shape of a Cooper's hawk.
But the size… the size was closer to a golden eagle.
"What the— a Mimic Soul?"
His breath caught.
"So this is how mimics are formed? I thought it'd be way more… mystical. Then again, this is already insane."
A laugh burst from his chest.
"Unbelievable… my first kill actually left behind a Mimic Soul. Looks like that stupid voice wasn't lying—luck really is a skill."
Maxwell jumped around the cave, humming and laughing like a madman—until reality caught up to him.
"…Just great."
He slumped.
"I finally get a Mimic Soul, and I don't even know how to use it. No instructions. Nothing."
Frustrated, he reached for a stone to throw—only to grab his bag. He dropped it.
Then the sword. Dropped that too.
He finally spotted a rock and went to lift it.
It didn't budge.
Cursing under his breath, Maxwell kicked it—
Instant regret.
Pain exploded through his foot. He hopped on one leg, clutching it, before collapsing to the ground.
"Dammit! I can't even vent properly!"
His stomach growled.
"I'm already hungry again… I'll just sleep. Maybe time will pass faster."
He closed his eyes.
Instead of darkness, he saw himself.
"…What?"
He opened his eyes. Cave ceiling.
Closed them again.
Himself.
His heart pounded as he snapped his eyes open and rushed toward the snow hawk.
"So it's you, huh?"
He laughed, gently patting the bird.
It leaned into his hand, clearly enjoying the attention.
"Since you don't have a name… I'll call you Snowy."
Snowy chirped softly.
"Alright then. Show me what you can do."
Nothing happened.
Snowy just stared at him.
Maxwell tried everything—gestures, words, even lifting it—
It was way too heavy.
Exhausted, he collapsed onto the ground.
"If only this worked like movies and novels… just think 'fly' and boom."
He sighed and closed his eyes.
This time, his perspective shifted.
The cave shrank.
His own body stood below him.
He was flying.
Maxwell's eyes snapped open as his real body jolted upright.
"So that's how it works!"
Laughing wildly, he issued commands. Snowy flew around the cave, lifted rocks, even picked him up with ease.
Finally, it perched on his shoulder—nearly knocking him over.
"For a small guy, you sure weigh a ton."
Still, the results were undeniable.
Snowy was powerful.
"With this… I can survive here. If another snow hawk appears, I can escape."
Judging by its strength, speed, and intelligence…
"Diamond rank. Beast class. Probably"
Excellent.
Peering through a crack in the cave entrance, Maxwell saw nothing but snow.
He kicked the wall.
Immediate regret.
"…Worst day ever."
Taking a deep breath, he nodded.
"Alright, Snowy. Time to shine."
Snowy blasted through the entrance, scattering the snow outside.
Maxwell tried to block the entrance with the corpse.
Failed.
Returned to the cave in silent shame.
Sitting against a rock, he closed his eyes, ready to recall Snowy at the slightest danger.
The moment the snow broke apart, Maxwell understood—this world wanted him dead.