[Status: Level 11 Iron-Bound Stalker Mimic]
[Current HP: 250/250]
[Hunger: 55/100]
The adrenaline of the hunt began to cool, replaced by the mechanical hum of my internal digestion. I had moved away from the main corridor, skittering through the "veins" of the dungeon—narrow maintenance tunnels used by rats and the occasional brave goblin. My *Muffle Step* was working wonders; my steel claws now hit the stone with the softness of a cat's paw.
But as I rounded a corner into a hidden dining hall—a room not marked on any map I'd seen Jax clutching—I froze.
My *Bio-Detection* didn't pick up a heartbeat. But my *Mana Sense*? It was screaming.
In the center of the dust-covered hall sat a massive, ornate Banquet Table. It was made of dark mahogany, draped in a rotting velvet cloth, and set with tarnished silver platters. It looked peaceful. It looked like a relic of a dead civilization.
It looked like my grandfather.
[Warning: High-Tier Mimic Detected.]
[Species: Great Banquet Mimic (Elder)]
[Level: ???]
"Sit," a voice vibrated through the air.
It wasn't a vocalized sound. It was the grinding of ancient wood grain, a resonant hum that vibrated through the floor and directly into my legs.
I didn't move. I shifted into a defensive stance, my lid slightly ajar, ready to eject a *Coin Shot*.
"Easy, fledgling," the Banquet Table groaned. A section of the velvet cloth lifted, revealing a massive, milky eye the size of a dinner plate. "If I wanted to eat you, you'd already be a pile of splinters in my belly. You're fast, but you lack... mass."
I slowly lowered my body, my steel legs clicking softly as I approached. "You can talk," I thought, projecting my intent through the vibration of my own hinges.
"I can resonate," the Elder Mimic corrected. "A few more decades of eating poets and scholars, and you'll learn the trick too. You're the one they're talking about, aren't you? The 'Hopping Vault' of the first floor."
I felt a spark of pride. "I've been busy."
"You've been reckless," the Elder snapped. The silver platters on his back rattled with his irritation. "You think the Dungeon is an all-you-can-eat buffet? You think the humans will just keep sending scouts for you to snack on?"
"They're greedy," I argued. "Greed is predictable."
"Greed is a flame, fledgling. And a flame brings the moth-catchers." The Elder's mahogany surface rippled. "There is a man coming. A 'Cleaner.' They call him Sir Alistair the Purge. He is a Level 30 Paladin of the Iron Cathedral. His hammer has shattered more Mimics than you have teeth. He's not here for loot. He's here for *sanitization*."
I felt a cold shiver run through my wood. Level 30? I was Level 11. That wasn't a fight; that was a demolition.
"Why tell me this?" I asked. "In this dungeon, everything is a competitor."
The Elder went silent for a long moment. One of his table legs—thick as a tree trunk—scratched the floor thoughtfully. "Because the Dungeon is changing. The 'System' is thinning out the weak. If Alistair clears this floor, he won't stop at the small fry. He'll come for me. And frankly, I'm too heavy to skitter away like you."
The Elder's silver platter flipped over, revealing a small, glowing shard of obsidian. It pulsed with a dark, familiar energy.
"Alistair is methodical," the Elder continued. "He clears room by room. He uses a holy incense that forces our kind to reveal ourselves. You can't hide from him using *Deceptive Stillness*. But you... you have that 'Stalker' essence. You have legs."
"You want me to kill him?" I clicked mockingly. "A Level 30 Paladin?"
"Don't be a fool. I want you to *distract* him. Lead him to the Ogre's Den on the west wing. Let the Boss handle the heavy lifting while you nip at his heels. In exchange, I'll give you this."
[Item Offered: Essence of the Mimic King (Fragment)]
[Effect: Grants a temporary 50% boost to 'Mimicry' skills and unlocks the 'Mutation Tree' prematurely.]
This was a quest. A high-risk, high-reward gambit. My system pinged with a notification, confirming the Elder wasn't lying.
"What's the catch?" I asked. My experience as a human taught me that 'Elder' NPCs never gave anything for free.
"The catch?" The Banquet Table let out a sound like a landslide. A laugh. "The catch is that Alistair is fast. If he catches you once, you're kindling. And if you fail to lead him away, I'll make sure the Goblins find your 'Spawn Room' and burn it to the ground."
I looked at the obsidian shard. I looked at my own legs. I was a predator, yes, but I was also an opportunist. If this 'Purge' was coming to wipe the slate clean, I needed to be the one holding the eraser.
"Deal," I vibrated.
I reached out with my tongue and snatched the obsidian shard.
[Quest Accepted: The Purge of Alistair]
[Objective: Lead Sir Alistair to the Floor Boss's Chamber without dying.]
[Reward: Mutation Point x5, Fragment of the Mimic King.]
"He'll be here by the next bell," the Elder groaned, his eye slowly closing as he returned to his 'Deceptive Stillness.' "Don't try to bite his hammer, fledgling. It tastes like sunlight and regret."
I didn't stick around. I skittered out of the dining hall, my mind racing. Level 30. A Paladin. Holy Incense.
I had been playing the game as a slasher monster in a horror movie. Now, the genre had shifted. This was a survival game.
I headed toward the main hall, but I didn't stay on the floor. I needed to see the 'Purge' before he saw me. I needed to understand the rhythm of his hammer.
[Hunger: 50/100]
[Status: Quest Tracker Active]
As I climbed into the rafters of the Great Hall, I heard it.
*BONG. BONG. BONG.*
The dungeon bell. The signal for the shift change.
And then, a new sound. The heavy, metallic strike of a warhammer against a stone wall.
*CRACK.*
"By the Light, this hall shall be cleansed," a voice boomed. It was deep, resonant, and filled with a terrifying lack of doubt.
I peered over the edge of a stone pillar.
Down in the hallway, a man in gleaming, white-and-gold plate armor was walking calmly. In his hand was a hammer that glowed with a soft, blue radiance. Behind him, a trail of white smoke billowed from a thurible hanging from his belt.
The smoke hit a nearby decorative vase. The vase shivered, its disguise failing, revealing a Lesser Mimic. Before the small creature could even growl, Alistair swung.
*SHATTER.*
The Lesser Mimic didn't just die; it disintegrated into glowing dust. No loot. No body. Just... sanitization.
My wood grain tightened. The Elder was right. This wasn't a hero looking for gold. This was a man looking to fix the world.
And I was the broken part he wanted to fix.
"Okay, Shiny," I thought, my legs tensing as I prepared to drop a single gold coin near his path. "Let's see how fast you can run."
[Skill Activated: Coin Shot (Bait Mode)]
The hunt was on, but for the first time, I wasn't the one at the top of the food chain.