The Tales of the Legendary Mimic : Momo

CHAPTER 1: And so It Begins

a sunny day nearing its end, the Kingdergale estate stood proudly against the backdrop of a vibrant 

sky. 

A large mansion drew attention with its high pitch and profile, embroiled in golds and greens of 

both nature and man’s touch.

The rumble of the luxurious car’s engine faded as it glided to a smooth stop in front of the grand 

estate, the polished marble glinting in the late afternoon sun.

Maximus Broderick Kingdergale, still in his crisp private school uniform, slid out of the back seat, a 

grin plastered across his face. He gazed up at the towering mansion, its imposing facade a monument to 

his family’s legacy.

“Thank you, Mr. Lorne,” Max said, flashing a charming smile at the family butler who opened the 

car door for him.

“As always, Master Max,” Mr. Lorne replied, bowing slightly, his tone refined yet warm.

Max strode through the marble-floored corridors, the echo of his footsteps mingling with the distant 

ticking of antique clocks.

The air smelled faintly of lemon polish and aged leather, a comforting 

reminder of home. He made his way to the study, where his father, Magnus Kingdergale, awaited him.

The room was dimly lit, its walls lined with towering bookshelves groaning under the weight of 

ancient tomes. A massive oak desk, cluttered with papers, maps, and an assortment of strange trinkets, 

stood in the center.

“Ah, Maximus,” Magnus greeted, his deep voice resonating through the room. He stood by the desk, 

an imposing figure in his tailored suit, his piercing eyes softening as they landed on his son. “Come 

Here, Maxy.”

Max flinched at the nickname, the weight of it pulling at his pride. He approached with a confident 

stride, his goofy grin unwavering. 

“What’s up, Dad? Did I ace my spelling test again? And why do you call me weird stuff that doesn’t 

match my cool regal code?”

Magnus chuckled, reaching for something on the desk. In his hands was a peculiar stuffed toy, 

reminiscent of a Charmander with floppy ears, round, expressive eyes, and a mischievous grin stitched 

onto its gray-and-white face. The teddy sat upright, its small bow tie crooked yet charming.

“Take care of this,” Magnus said, handing the teddy to Max.

“Seriously?” Max’s brow furrowed as he examined the plush toy. “Dad, I’m eight now. I’m all 

grown up. I don’t need a teddy anymore.”

Magnus smirked, shaking his head. “You’re never too grown to take care of something precious, 

Maximus. Momo here will keep you company.”

Before Max could protest further, Magnus’s phone buzzed on the desk. With a sharp intake of 

breath, he glanced at the screen, his expression tightening. He placed the teddy firmly in Max’s hands.

“Stay here,” Magnus instructed, picking up the call.

Max watched, confusion stirring in his chest, as his father’s face darkened. The calm demeanor he 

was used to was replaced with an unsettling unease. The tension in Magnus's tone twisted Max's 

stomach into knots.

After a terse exchange, Magnus ended the call, turning to the butler, his voice low and urgent. 

“Lorne? Take care of Max. Keep him close and have him guarded while I'm gone.”

“Of course, sir,” the butler replied with a subtle nod.

“Dad? Why are you leaving so soon?” Max called out, the quiver in his voice betraying his bravado 

As he clutched Momo to his chest, the toy felt oddly comforting.

Magnus crouched down, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Listen, Max. No matter what happens, 

you hold onto your will. Promise me.”

Max hesitated, his usual bravado crumbling under the intensity of his father’s gaze. “I promise... and 

yeah, I really am not too old for a teddy,” he finally admitted, his small hands gripping Momo tighter.

Magnus stood, his eyes lingering on his son for a moment longer before he strode out of the study. 

The heavy door clicked shut behind him, leaving Max alone with Mr. Lorne—and a growing sense that 

Life as he knew it was about to change forever, and it did.

its been five years now, and no one heard or seen Magnus. Max was enjoying the tea Lorne had served him.

"Around this time that very year wasnt?"

"Yes, young master. It's been five years today that your father left."Lorne affirmed with a nod and a head.

Max turned his chair around in a smooth twirl and said

"Well, if he won't come to us, Iwill go find him myself."

 "it isnt safe out there after that strange phenomenon, our world isn't the one from our memories."

"So, what sort of son does nothing while his father goes missing?" with a clenched fist and sober gaze, just after putting on his coat, his hand stiffened on the door handle, but clicked in a minute.

"Not me," the butler didn't try to stop Max anymore; he wasn't the same 13-year-old; he would be 18 in a while. A man be birthed in a boy one day.

Max reached the hallway,

His footsteps echoed through the marble halls when, suddenly, the floor beneath him convulsed violently, cracking the polished stone. The wall before him exploded outward in a shower of debris. A colossal 

mantis thrust its head through the gaping hole, mandibles snapping with wet, sickening clicks. Viscous 

fluid—blood from its last kill—dripped from serrated appendages that could slice him in half with a 

single swipe.

Beyond the monster lay not the usual manicured gardens of the estate, but a hellscape of twisted ruins and mutated vegetation that writhed as if alive. Predatory shapes stalked through the overgrowth, hunting. 

Above it all hung a blood-red dome where blue skies should be, pulsing like the membrane of some 

vast, cosmic egg.

"SKREEEEEEAAAAARRRRGH!" The mantis's roar hit Max like a physical blow, rattling his teeth 

and bones. Its compound eyes locked onto him, promising death. In seconds, he would be nothing but 

another fluid dripping from those razor mandibles