The Tales of the Legendary Mimic : Momo

god of miscreants

Soon after the training, everyone cleaned themselves up, especially Marc, who was becoming more and more grumpy. It wasn’t odd for someone who had fallen into a pile of mutant dung. He began acting more distant, even with his cousin Jane, who also happened to be the captain. He had changed a lot; it was as if he was losing his personality.

That was a question for another day. As they walked out to load their gear into the vehicle they had managed to pull over, a thrumming sound filled the air as a military plane finally arrived. Jane was actually surprised, as this was one of the six planes in their possession, and they would never use it for less serious situations. But now that she thought of it, the fact that Garfield’s experiment could close the gap in power between man and monsters was enough reason. The military was doing everything they could so the Merc Association wouldn’t rebel and take over. They needed to create a suitable, workable power system to boost their soldiers.

Then came Project Q12—KAN—which Garfield was directing. He had already reached a groundbreaking stage, but he needed a sample of energy that could boost or cause growth to perfect the samples and serve as a catalyst for creating the new technology. This was why the nest core was necessary.

Soon enough, everyone boarded the plane. Lorne and Garfield shared a small cabin as they continued their chess battle; Garfield couldn’t find an excuse to escape, and he was bored by the wait anyway. Sarah volunteered to join and watch. Henrik, who was in charge of off‑loading, decided to do a thorough scout of the plane to be sure nothing creepy had attached itself or that no hidden danger was lurking anywhere. He still didn’t seem to have gotten over Rios’ death.

Marc went to another cabin, mumbling to himself, his locket glimmering like a forbidden rainbow in a dark sky. He slammed the door behind him. All one could hear from within was mumbling, scribbling, and the awful scratching of paper—or whatever material he was working with. Jane chose to ignore it, hoping it was nothing serious. Unfortunately, this would cost them in the future, as a fearsome monster that would threaten their well‑being would soon be born—and right now, its seed was being sown.

“So you are saying instead of enhancing my flesh, I should concentrate it on my attack, making it some sort of air bubble that explodes on contact with the enemy? Wouldn’t that backfire on me?”

“Huh, you mean my own energy shouldn’t damage me… Of course, teacher, you are a genius. But do I really have to do this while doing a headstand?”

“Ahh, master, I think I broke my spine… but the energy is condensing.”

“Cough… it backfired again… huh? Eh? I should go again? You’re the boss!”

Boom… boom…

The corridor shook from whatever explosion went off behind a conspicuous door.

Jane shook her head as she passed by Max’s cabin, which seemed to have been ransacked by the fanatic One‑Eyed. She wasn’t sure anything good would come out of it, though it was nice that the incredibly troublesome mercenary was being humble for once. One had to know One‑Eyed was among the top mercenaries, and he was also a D‑Rank—which was currently the highest attainable level—making him extremely valuable.

“Hey, you better not crash this plane, eh? I don’t think I want any more survival games, and especially not in this forsaken place!” she yelled, shaking her fist to send the message.

The place quieted down with Max’s apology, followed by One‑Eyed’s. Jane then entered the cockpit, greeted the pilot, and asked about the time span left in their flight. After a while, she finally got him to leave for his break early, with the plane on autopilot.

Once she was sure he had departed, Jane’s eyes drifted to the ammo dispatch controls.

“Betraying your race for a monster or pagan god… Even if others were to forgive you, I wouldn’t be that merciful,” she muttered, her eyes red with malice as she recalled her encounter with that ‘god’. Her life had never been so threatened. She wasn’t sure how those savages had done it, but there was a chance they could cultivate another monster—or that they were still in contact with that god—so she had to do something to prevent that from happening.

She set the range of attack on the radar, placing the coordinates over an area around the warehouse and the warehouse itself, in a bid to end a god and his believers. Intelligent creatures like that god would learn quickly from battle as they progressed. Max might not have noticed it, but she had seen how the god adapted, and at times it was as if it could peek at future moves. It hadn’t truly developed divinity, so it wasn’t yet at full strength, but it still gave Max and One‑Eyed a hard time defeating it.

“Um, sorry, little one, but…”

Click*

Ding** Ding!

“To protect humanity… It’s enough of a threat battling mutations. Now the supernatural is showing its claws. I can only choose to wipe you all out.”

A missile left the launch chamber and struck the warehouse, then another hit a small village near it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw two plumes of flame expand, wiping out life as guilt flooded her heart. But she had gotten this order since her earlier report. In fact, if not for the fear of looming danger, they would have cleared the targets before the rescue team even arrived.

Just like that, the civilization and the remnants of its god were wiped out… or so Jane thought.

…Somewhere on the plane, a man who had been scribbling while seated cross‑legged suddenly gripped his heart as his grey eyes gained light again. He had finally escaped the trance and lurched to his feet.

“Grrr… ahhh…

What… happened!?

The last thing he remembered was being captured by the half‑spider, half‑bat god. His consciousness had begun to seep away—and so had the locket on his neck, which had sent him into a panic.

“But then it didn’t…” Marc’s thumb and index finger rubbed the locket before he pried it open, feeling the still‑intact nest core chip inside. This alone should fetch him a fortune on the black market.

“Foolish mortal, you want to sell an Origin Core? Hehe… Let’s do this: why not give it to me, and also retrieve the one in the care of that old fogey, eh? What do you say?” The voice hissed in his mind, using a dark art that corroded hearts to bewitch Marc.

The sudden, strange voice in his head made him jerk back, his mouth stuttering, eyes wide in shock.

In front of him was what he had scribbled while in his trance.

Paper was stuck all around the cabin, covered in weird symbols—some with infinity signs and triangles, others with scorpions, snakes, and smoke‑like markings. At his feet were two models. One was written in a language he understood, and it was even familiar.

On it was written: “Marc De Salva…?”

“Heheh, this is a little pentagram of evil that helps me project my power. All you have to do is bleed a bit to complete the ritual, and then you will have unimaginable power.”

His eyes were glued to the pentagram. His fingernails pierced his palm as blood dropped onto the triangle eye separating his name and the other model.

And like this, the first apostle was born.

“Hahaha… welcome, my vessel. Hehehehe.”