Just a month ago, in this very forest, a lone figure fled in disarray. Closer inspection revealed a boy of fifteen or sixteen—his attire strikingly odd.
His upper garment shimmered with lavish embroidery, yet his lower half was clad in a simple white dress. The jarring contrast between opulence and plainness on one person felt deeply unsettling.
He kept glancing back, breath ragged. Something was chasing him.
“Prince Nefu, please stop,” a haughty voice called over the rhythmic thunder of hooves. “As the Empire’s prince, I’ll grant you a whole corpse.”
“Traitors!” the boy gasped between heaving breaths, fury sharpening his voice.
He was indeed Prince Nefu. During the recent coup, the old emperor—his father—had been slain by treachery, and he’d been hunted relentlessly to this forest.
“Damn it!” A snarl twisted Nefu’s youthful, unformed face. Though his body neared collapse, legs trembling uncontrollably, he dared not stop. Halting meant death.
As sheer will pushed him forward, a stray branch snagged his foot. He tumbled down the slope. When he scrambled up, darkness swallowed his vision.
*A cave?*
Ignoring scrapes from the fall, Nefu leaned weakly against stone. The backlash of exhaustion surged—his legs felt utterly numb.
*Is this where I die?* His breath rasped dry and heavy like a broken bellows. Darkness blurred his sight.
*I’m fading… Duke Pax—if I survive today, I will take your head!*
Nefu’s face contorted into a grotesque snarl, like a demon clawing from hell.
Suddenly, searing pain jolted his fading mind awake. *What…?*
He looked down. A white spike impaled him, protruding from his back.
*Drowsiness flooded his thoughts, yet pain held him razor-sharp. Then—he saw its source.*
“Mimic… beast…?” he whispered hoarsely.
Mimics were the dungeon’s most common monsters; even novice adventurers slew them easily. To fall to *this*…
*Is this my fate?* Nefu glared defiantly at the Mimic looming before him, its maw bristling with jagged teeth. Not a trace of fear lingered in his eyes.
He recalled the legend: when a Mimic consumed prey, it absorbed fragments of memory and power. *Then…*
Hatred surged to its peak. With a raw, bloodied voice, he roared:
“Remember this! My name is Nefu! I will slay King Alain of the Empire and take his head! To the adventurers surrounding this dungeon—I swear bloody vengeance! Had they not betrayed me, how could I be here?!”
*He* had urged the former king to support adventurers forming their guild. *He* had granted them countless privileges.
Yet when hunted, none aided him—they sold him out for mere temptation!
*They deserve death too!*
“Remember these words… and avenge me—gurk…”
The roar cut off. Only horrifying chewing and the sickening crunch of bone and flesh remained.
Outside the cave—
“Sir Mapu, tracks lead inside. Prince Nefu must be hiding there,” an adventurer said, voice dripping with obsequiousness.
“Mind your words,” Mapu chuckled lightly, dismounting and drawing his sword. Excitement gleamed on his face. *I’ll capture the little prince first. His Majesty will reward me richly.*
*Trying to escape disguised as a girl in a dress? Heh. I’ll make sure he wears plenty more later.*
A lewd smirk spread as he pulled a small vial from his pocket—a black-market potion from an anonymous alchemist, capable of altering gender.
*Turn the prince into a girl, sell her to slavers… extra coin.*
The thought of wealth and power tugged his lips upward.
“Sir Mapu—we found him!”
The group halted. Ahead, atop a rock, stood the boy they’d chased—muttering faintly.
*Not running? Shocked senseless?* Mapu’s brow furrowed. He’d wanted to savor the hunt longer.
“Shoot him down, sir?”
Mapu raised a hand to stop the archer, then advanced slowly, sword drawn. *I’ll subdue the prey myself.*
Closer now, he caught the boy’s murmured words:
“I… am… Nefu? Kill… A-Alain… slaughter them all…”
*Truly addled, babbling nonsense.* Mapu chuckled, pulled the vial, pinched the boy’s cheek, and forced the liquid down. The boy offered no resistance.
*Madmen fetch less coin… but better than nothing.* Regret flickered—then froze.
A piercing gaze locked onto him. He looked down. The boy’s eyes had cleared.
*Not mad?* Excitement flared—then dread. Those eyes burned with pure brutality, bloodlust. *Like prey under a predator’s stare.*
Before he could react, his vision spun violently. A pair of leather shoes filled his sight.
*Why so familiar? Wait… my shoes?! How—?!*
Horror dawned.
Darkness swallowed everything.
“Sir Mapu?!”
His subordinates raised torches. In the flickering light, a monstrous beast now stood where the boy had been.
A grotesque fusion of chaos—writhing tentacles, razor teeth—a sight that froze the blood.
The beast hesitated one heartbeat… then unleashed a storm of spikes and limbs.
Silence returned, broken only by chewing. By the dying torchlight, the creature began to shift.
Two thick tentacles reshaped into slender, pale legs. Blood-smeared maws sealed shut, morphing into full, shapely curves. Its form shrank steadily…
After an indeterminate time, a petite figure emerged from the cave, staggering unsteadily into the night.
