The Tales of the Legendary Mimic : Momo

Secrets from Sorra

A shadowy man appeared before the tavern’s entrance and pushed the door open. Inside, the place was packed with rowdy mercenaries and scrawny merchants. He wrinkled his nose, his face creasing.

"The stench of wild men and deadly wine…" He inhaled a little more until a satisfied expression settled on his face. "One feels alive in the midst of mortals, right?"

The question didn’t seem directed at anyone but himself.

"Boss, we got your message. As of now, orders are already being sent out to begin the first phase," a lackey said, handing a mug to the man whose face seemed to treat shadows like clothing.

"How efficient. Now go get the papers I asked you to print."

The shadowy man sat at a free table while the lackey stood by his side, not daring to look him in the eye, much less think of sharing a seat with him.

"Yes, Your Highness." The lackey immediately ran behind the counter to fetch them.

A hefty, chubby mercenary walked up to the bar and slammed his mug down.

"More of those fiery combs. And some milk cubes. Here are your tars." He tossed a few coins onto the counter.

The coins rolled for a bit before spinning to a stop in front of the bartender. If Max were here, he would have recognized the man as the same bartender who’d followed the mercenaries on the retrieval mission. Max had already learned that it was normal for support-type experts to join missions to handle food and make survival in the wilds easier.

The bartender glanced at the coins and frowned. "I’m sorry, but we only trade with points and aura stones."

Aura stones were the common but weaker version of Nest Cores. They worked like batteries for almost anything. Mercenaries could absorb them directly or use them in their weapons—spirit blades, Evo-guns, and the like. More importantly, they served as excellent fuel for the newly modeled vehicles that were still waiting to be released by the heads of both the Mercenary Association and the Military. It was one of the few joint projects both organizations were managing together.

"Eh? Oh really?" The chubby mercenary let out a low chuckle. "Since you like stones so much, why not have a pellet of mine?"

With an evil smirk, he drew a pistol with a huge barrel in one fluid motion. But the bartender wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to play around with the rules.

A shadow flashed past the chubby assailant.

A clean line appeared along the gun’s body.

The weapon fell apart in neatly sliced chunks.

The shadow was actually a samurai tasked with protecting the bartender. He stepped back into the darkness, but no one could confirm whether he was still there or gone. Everyone knew of his existence, but no one was sure of his true strength. The chubby mercenary, however, was certain of one thing: if the samurai had truly willed it, his head would have been rolling across the floor.

The bartender continued serving customers, completely ignoring the cheapskate.

The chubby mercenary could only fume and leave. No one noticed the strange satisfaction on his face, as if he had gotten exactly what he’d come for.

I’ll get them later. For now, we at least know the one guarding the bar is a D-Rank as well… or even stronger. Which shouldn’t be possible, he muttered to himself as he exited the tavern.

No one heard the departing mercenary’s words—no one except a single shadowy figure at a nearby table. That figure wasn’t interested in the small scuffles. He was interested in a big steak.

A bell chimed as a figure stepped out from the back door behind the counter, stacks of paper in hand.

"Here, Your Highness. And here is your ink as well," the lackey reported after placing the ink and paper on the table. "Your Highness… we can always use a pen instead of a quill feather to write."

The shadowy man ignored him. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out once, then snapped them open and gripped the quill just as fast.

He began to write, his hand moving in a blur as he mumbled to himself. Before long, attention was drawn to him—not just for the speed, but for the sheer oddness of the sight.

"What sort of weirdo writes in a drunk’s den?"

"Wait… why do I feel like those hands are familiar?"

Those whispers caused a brief pause in the tavern, even from the shadowy man himself. He gathered the stack of papers and handed them to the lackey.

"W-What… t-this…? I should auction this paper you just scrambled on…?" The lackey’s face twisted. "No, no, Master, if I do that the samurai really might cut my head off for causing trouble…"

But a single flare in the shadowy man’s eyes was enough to change his mind.

So the lackey swallowed hard, walked toward the counter, and timidly presented the stack.

"What is he doing?"

"He dares to submit that trash? Who would buy it?"

"I wouldn’t even accept it as a lame gift, yet he wants to auction it. What a joke."

The crowd turned on the shadowy man with laughter and mockery. Many looked at the lackey with disdain for following the orders of a psycho, and at the same time with pity for the madman himself.

Pity, because in a time when proper hospitals were rare and medicine even rarer, people who went mad usually stayed that way. Fortunately, reaching E-Rank prevented most illnesses, or the tavern might have been full of them.

The crowd decided to watch the show. As expected, the bartender looked offended. A heartbeat later, the samurai appeared.

His blade was already at the lackey’s throat when something strange happened. The sword gave a sharp wung-chun hum.

The samurai paused, snatched the stack of papers from the lackey’s trembling hands, and began to read. His eyes widened as he reached the end of the first slip. He was about to open the third when a flash streaked past, forcing him to drop the pages.

It was just a quill.

Yet, for a moment, it had felt like a seething saber. If he’d been a moment slower, he might have had to change his title to the Pinky-less Swordsman.

The shadowy man resumed writing only after making sure the first message had been received. The samurai stared at him for a long second, then picked up the papers, tucked them into his bosom, and turned toward the counter.

He pulled down the slate hanging above the bar and scribbled a few new lines before vanishing back into the shadows.

Immediately, a crowd gathered beneath the sign to see what had changed.

Beneath the usual listing for Devil Tooth Crystal, three new lines had appeared:

Secrets from Sorra – How to Reach Rank C [Knight]

Price: 1,000,000,000 Aura Stones

Secrets from Sorra – 10,000 Mutant Materials: Uses and Fusions

Price: 1,000,000,000 Aura Stones

Secrets from Sorra – Monster Taming: A New Path!

Price: A Quest from Sorra

The tavern exploded into an uproar.

The world was about to be shaken once more.