Caster lowered his mitten hands. There was still smoke and lingering sparklets of magic rising from them as he did.

What was that glass thing? Don’t tell me I missed it. Caster looked around the cabin, but he didn’t see any signs of the Mimic’s shimmer.

“Elenore!” Caster remembered his party as the adrenaline left his body.

He ran to his red-headed friend and shook her shoulder. The burn marks that had seared her skin had vanished. The short fight had made it seem like they should have taken way more damage than none at all. Elenore groaned, wincing as she furrowed her brow.

“Oh thank, God,” Caster sat down, breathing deeply.

“Keith?” Elenore said.

Huh? Oh yeah, him. Caster said nothing, standing once again. He made his way to the Rogue’s side, then nudged him with his foot.

“Wake up, lazybones.” Caster didn’t bother to pretend like he wasn’t playing favorites.

Keith too was startled awake. He was face to glance around and based on his first few frantic hood movements, Caster could tell he was surprised he had passed out. Still, he managed to stand after only a few seconds.

“You alright? I heard the water folk get hurt real bad from fire damage.”

“I’m fine. Neither of us took any damage in the real world since we all survived. The Mimic was using an Illusion style Ability.”

“An Illusion? For real? He had to have been a Cultist then!”

“Very likely. During my training, I was taught how to detect when you’re inside of an Illusion. It’s easiest when you know the exact moment you enter one. That way you can immediately attempt to find the user before it’s too late.”

“Ohh that’s why you went lookin’ around,”

“Exactly. I was unable to find anyone, but I did notice the boulder to the west. That in combination with Helga’s comment about being out west before it gets too hot tipped me off,” Keith looked out the hole in the house the Caster had created.

“So that old lady, Helga, was she just being mind-controlled?” Caster asked, realizing the old woman was in the Illusion too.

“It's possible. It’s also possible that the Cultist knew we were coming this way after our battle with Dagon, and so they called her and used her flesh in advance.”

“Ohh… but she seemed alive in the Illusion.”

“Then yes. She must have been mind-controlled, but she has been neutralized.” Keith looked over at Helga’s crumpled body on the floor at the far end of the living room.

Caster walked nearer to her, stopping only a pace away. Not a single movement came from her body. It was clear that she was no more.

“But… we didn’t take any damage. Why did she?”

“Death in the Illusion is death in reality. However, harm or damage, no matter how severe, does not carry over. To be hurt in an Illusion will leave the victim with a lingering ‘phantom pain,’ but it will only be in their heads temporarily.”

“Jeepers. That’s a little creepy ain’t it?” Elenore shuddered.

“It is highly abusable, yes. It is one of the many reasons why the primary Nations condemn, if not outright outlaw, the Occult Stat. It’s a very rare occurrence to fight against it, if ever. We’re lucky to be alive. Because of the Stat’s relationship with the Elder Gods, even having a single level in it makes you liable for questioning by the Inquisitor Apostles. Even though almost all Dungeons are powered by Occult magic. Typical Old God hypocrisy,” Keith spat.

“If I was paying attention, I could have saved her,” Caster mumbled, folding his arms in disgust at his incompetence.

“Oh, bud don’t say that. She seemed nice, but there wasn’t anything we could have done to help her,” Elenore placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“But what if I used my Disintegration Ray earlier and hit the Mimic? It would have been the one to die instead of her.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s true, you might have hit them both and then you’d just be blaming yourself for that too.”

“No, if the Mimic died to the Ray, the Illusion would have broken, and Caster would have stopped firing,” Keith corrected her.

Keith walked outside the cabin, following the trail Caster’s beam took while they were inside the Illusion. Elenore scowled but followed him to look at their enemy's corpse.

Caster lingered behind for a moment.

“I’ll avenge you, Helga,” Caster promised, his mitten hands straining under his rage.

Helga’s body began to waver like a mirage, the particles that made up her being began floating into the air. In a matter of seconds, there was nothing left, not even an essence. Caster could only stare at the now empty floor. There was nothing left for him to do here, so he turned away, and followed his companions. He caught up to them as they had stopped once they reached the boulder Caster had annihilated.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

On the ground was the body of the slimy Mimic that had nearly killed them. At least, it was half of the body. The other half Caster had turned into ash.

The body itself was pale, beyond pale. It looked like all the blood had been drained from its body. The upper half of its face, above its nose, couldn’t be seen. It was wrapped tightly in white bandages. It wore nothing but a dingy white robe, the type only common folk wore.

“A human a cultist? It’s not a Mimic?” Keith questioned.

“Maybe he was using some weirdo Occult Ability to make us think he was a Mimic to disguise his real self or somethin’,” Elenore added.

None of the three moved closer than a pace away from the body. They made a silent agreement that their target was dead, and turned away from the corpse, following the dirt trail toward Boyerton they had been on before the battle.

“Come on Caster,” Elenore sighed, getting down to one knee so Caster could climb back into her rucksack.

“Wait, that thing could mimic people – or at least absorb someone’s form then pretend like it was them, right?” Caster asked.

“Yup, that’s why they’re called Mimics, goofball. Why?”

“If anybody asks why I ‘look like a Minion from The Arena', I’ll just tell them that I’m a Mimic. That would be normal, right?”

“Huh… well, I wouldn’t say normal, but not unheard of. Mimics tend to be monsters that hide in places they shouldn’t be, trying to collect all the new forms they can get. But it might just work.”

“So, can I stay out of the rucksack and walk on my own now?”

“I reckon so. Wonder why The Agency didn’t think of that. Bunch of overpaid geezers if you ask me.”

Caster pumped his fists. That was two huge wins in one day. Killed a Mimic who was sent by an Elder God to kill him and his party, and he finally regained his freedom to walk around.

His moment of victory would have been complete if he could smell the scent of the budding flowers and feel the land beneath his feet - but those senses would return to him soon enough. It felt like Becoming Human was just around the corner.

“Anyway, I knew you had it in ya!” Elenore cheered, patting him on the back as she stood again.

“He backed us up after we fell in the battle. He did his job, just as we have done multiple times in the last day. Nothing to coddle him over. It’s about time he pulled his weight,” Keith shrugged.

“You know what, I’m tired of your attitude mister! Caster just saved our hides and didn’t say anything about it. Every time we’ve helped him you’ve acted like you’re the Gods’ gift to Perdita, but when he finally gets to carry us, you pretend like you had it all under control.”

“You have so many opinions, yet I’ve done so little asking,”

Caster awkwardly glanced between the back of Elenore and Keith’s heads. Elenore’s face was nearly as rosy as her hair. Caster hadn’t seen her this mad even in combat. He decided it would be better for him to stand a few feet behind them while they argued down the trail, just in case.

Then, he heard something from behind. Caster spun around, looking in the direction of the boulder. It was moving. The Cultist was still alive. Slowly, bracing its body with its hands, it rose. Standing tall was the shimmering silver body of a Mimic that replaced the image of a dead man. Caster raised his hands, starting the charge for his Disintegration Ray.

The thing cackled. It was laughing at him.

“Carter, you damned fool! You nearly killed me! And after all I’ve done to find you after Spooky hid you from me, that jokester.”

“My name’s Caster not… How do you know me?!” Caster asked.

“To think after all, we’ve been through that you would forget me. Oh, the misery! I jest! I mean you no harm. It seems that Cultist of mine had gotten overzealous in trying to rescue you from your Agency captors.”

“Captors? What are you talking about? Those are my friends.”

My Disintegration Ray is ready. I can release it any second if he makes any sudden moves. Where are Elenore and Keith?!

Caster listened carefully, realizing that his two-party members were still in the middle of a heated argument, walking farther away from him.

“Are you not Carter reborn? The Data says the both of us knew each other in the last Age, before the Old Gods’ Edicts. Well, the old versions of us knew each other, at least. You and I were once great allies, Carter.”

“What… what are you talking about? I don’t know anything about the Old Gods or last age. You’re not going to trick me, you murderer! Eat this!” Caster stepped forward, widening his stance just before he would have released his overwhelming magic beam.

“Ha! It truly is you. Here, allow me to be the Key and the Gate to your truth once more. This may sting.”

“What-” Caster didn’t finish his question before a lance made of silver and gold light shot from the center of the Mimic’s body, flying through the air faster than Caster’s eyes could track it.

It landed over Caster’s heart, then continued, leaving a cauterized fist-sized hole in his chest.

-6HP. Caster’s remaining HP: 0/0

Caster barely staggered from the impact. It didn’t even feel like the phantom spear had even hit him.

He tried letting go of the Disintegration Ray, but it shot for less than a second. The beam itself hit the ground between Caster and his opponent, then it ripped a trail across the grasslands as he slowly tipped backward, losing his balance. The Disintegration Ray stopped, its tail end flying into the sky.

A pair of arms caught him before he hit the ground. Caster couldn’t move. He couldn’t look in any direction but up. He saw Elenore’s face, screaming in panic while shaking him as if that would keep his already disintegrating corpse alive.

The victorious Mimic glared at Caster’s companions. Then, a single bolt of white lightning landed directly on top of the Mimic, and he vanished from the scene.

Did I escape The Arena… just to die here? I didn’t even get to be alive for a whole weekend. That’s just not fair.

Oh dear, you have died!

Connection to the Monolith lost...

Please wait - attempting to reestablish...

Reviving at the Cosmic Center