Chapter 181
Chapter 181
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 181
Chapter Title: Deception of the Mimicry Organ
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I've never seen my own appearance when altered by the Mimicry Organ.
The Mimicry Organ releases pheromones from countless slits in my exoskeleton, disrupting the senses of other creatures. As the producer of those pheromones, they have no effect on me.
That's why I have no idea how I look to others when I activate it.
From the reactions I've observed, it seems to evoke a subtle sense of unease. Like something inhuman trying to pass itself off as human.
The first time, they might not notice. But after repeated use, even enemies who aren't fools start sensing something off. Once suspicion creeps in, the organ's effectiveness drops sharply.
Just like how Red Mist, the terror born from mimicking a Player, has become yesterday's old news.
'But it's too valuable to discard over that.'
To overcome the Mimicry Organ's flaw—that inherent awkwardness—I put in a lot of effort. I practiced vocalization and gathered intel on my targets.
After countless trials, errors, and training sessions, I can now convincingly impersonate even someone I've never seen before.
Like right now.
"What's with you all? I'm asking for some help here?"
The Temple Guardians had spread out, staring at me warily. Tension radiated from them as they cautiously gripped their weapons.
Those wielding Galleron claw-swords stepped forward, while the ones with Demolishers aimed at my head from behind.
"What's the matter?"
"……."
Every time my voice echoed through the passage, their eyes wavered. It sounded like a comrade at first, but their Cult-honed senses rejected it.
The being before them wasn't 'Cult Selone.'
"What do we do?"
A Cult aiming at my head from behind asked. The woman glaring at me beside him spoke up.
"...We'll subdue first, then verify."
She was the only one with yak horns on her head, marking her as the leader of this group. Like her subordinates, she'd been confused at first sight of me, but now she seemed to have regained her composure.
The Cults advanced slowly at her command. The three with Demolishers kept their sights trained on my head or just above it.
'Hm. Interesting.'
The reason they aimed above my head was simple: they didn't see me as Selone. They probably thought I was projecting an illusion.
High-level illusionists like Red Mist or Sea Demons could fool even senses themselves. Victims would die from the hallucination alone, without physical harm.
But the Mimicry Organ's illusions weren't that advanced.
They knew my presumed illusion didn't reach sensory domination levels, so they'd countered accordingly. Even amid their fear, they'd likely discussed it via telepathy.
'Not a bad response, but...'
Unfortunately, it wasn't the best.
The Mimicry Organ manifests other intelligent beings through pheromones. It doesn't physically alter my body.
So what happens to my actual parts—like the Erosion Tendrils?
The answer's simple.
'They're invisible.'
The Erosion Tendrils extending from my back were already hovering over the heads of the Demolisher-wielding Cults. They had no clue anything was above them.
"……."
The Cults with Galleron claw-swords fixed their gazes on me as they closed in. They extended hands with Champion Shields activated, preparing to cast the psychic binding technique 'Restraint' to lock down my movements.
The moment every Cult here focused on me.
The Erosion Tendrils struck the rear Cults.
"Gasp?!"
"Ambush... ugh!"
Six auxiliary limbs on each tendril splayed wide, seizing their upper bodies. The mouths inside those limbs then engulfed their heads.
Each Erosion Tendril mouth was lined with dense, razor-sharp teeth. Even in their sturdy Dragonscale Suits, they couldn't withstand the prison of blades closing from all sides.
They died without so much as a scream, their upper bodies crushed.
"What the—damn it! It's hiding its body—brace yourselves!"
The moment I hit the Demolisher users, the enemy leader bellowed. The approaching Cults flinched and raised their shields hastily.
Too bad my plan to sweep them with my tail in one blow fell through. They took hits from my tail as I swept the floor, but their shields minimized the damage.
'Not bad.'
By my guess, she was the strongest Temple Guardian here—top five in the entire order, at least.
'Actually, this works out better.'
Joining up with the Cult Player would've been risky. Keeping the Mimicry Organ active, I charged straight ahead.
My targets: two Cult warriors scrambling to recover Demolishers. They backpedaled the instant they saw me coming.
My bulky frame crushed one Demolisher like a harpoon gun beneath my foot as I barreled past. The Cults barely salvaged the other two, rolling aside to evade my rush.
Bold moves worthy of praise if they were allies. They couldn't fully perceive my form yet gauged my size well enough to dodge.
Half-risen, the two instantly aimed their Demolishers at me. The fluid sequence spoke volumes of their experience.
But their problem was me as the opponent.
The Tooth Fairy nest at my waist burst open, unleashing a swarm of black carnivorous fleas. Their chomping, human-tooth-like maws targeted the faces of the aiming Cults. The Tooth Fairies latched on with rattling bites.
"Grr, graaah!"
"Get off... krrgh!"
As the blinded Cults hesitated, I whipped my tail at them—to finish both them and the Tooth Fairies in one stroke.
But this time, my intent was thwarted. The leader with yak horns leaped in, slamming her Champion Shield into my tail.
'Huh?'
Normally, she'd have been flung away, but incredibly, she redirected my tail. The pincer at its tip smashed harmlessly aside.
The ice passage wall shuddered violently from the impact. Unfazed, the Cult leader swung her axe at my tail with her free hand.
'Damn.'
"You okay?"
"Fine!"
"Regroup, everyone!"
Pain surged through my tail; I retracted it immediately. The spot her axe had struck showed damaged plating on my sturdy carapace.
'Tch.'
That black axe in the Cult leader's hand—I knew it. A reward for clearing Quest Stage 10.
'Dragonslayer Quest, right?'
Its name was 'Judgment.' Forged from a Black Galleron horn, part of the Dragonslayer set. Some Player here must've given it to her.
'Troublesome.'
Judgment's effect was straightforward: it boosted the wielder's physical prowess to Galleron levels.
And that enhancement was no joke—as proven by her batting away my tail with a Champion Shield.
'...One more reason not to drag this out.'
No telling when the Cult Player might change his mind and rush here. Her wielding Judgment suggested he had the full Dragonslayer set.
Meaning I couldn't afford to deal with annoyances like her.
I leaped at the reformed Cult line.
One warrior fired a Demolisher at me. Its signature indigo energy bolt streaked toward my head.
I jerked aside swiftly, but it grazed my rear carapace. True to its matter-disintegrating nature, the touched area vaporized instantly.
Ignoring the hit, I charged to flatten the Demolisher Cult. Panicking at my relentless advance, he flung himself sideways.
'Where?'
I lashed an Erosion Tendril at him.
"Guh!"
My tendrils were as thick as sturdy logs. No armor absorbed that fully. The struck Cult spewed blood, tumbling across the floor.
As another tendril flew to finish him, a different Cult intervened. The warrior leaped high, slashing my tendril with a white sword-knife forged from Galleron claws. A chilling scrape like hooks on glass sparked small flames along it.
Every part of me except the carapace was covered in synthetic scales, boasting high defense. The tiny scales on the Erosion Tendril absorbed the blow, leaving mere scratches.
But that didn't mean it was painless. I snatched the landed Cult swordsman with a combat arm.
"L-let go!"
Before he could tense his sword arm, I clenched hard. A sound like a water balloon bursting from a high-rise echoed. Warm fluids oozed between my four long fingers.
I shook off my hand casually and slammed my head down on the Cult who'd fallen earlier.
"N-no, nooo!"
He scrambled desperately, but too late. His lower body, Demolisher and all, was pulverized under my head.
"Damn it all!"
The remaining Cults cursed at their comrades' deaths but held back from rushing. Instead, they opted for a Cult-exclusive strategy: psychic power assaults.
Two with goat horns thrust both palms wide toward me. My body suddenly felt heavy, like sodden cotton.
'Gravity Control?'
A psychic technique manipulating gravity—highly versatile control skill. Similar to No. 26's favored 'Restraint.'
The floor beneath me cracked; my upper body lurched downward unwittingly. As the goat-horn Cults pinned my movements, a mountain goat-horn warrior and the leader unleashed psychic attacks.
The warrior's was Psychic Whip, a superpowered lash. The leader's resembled a purple spear: Pain Spear.
Pain Spear boasted high penetration; Psychic Whip's power varied wildly by user skill.
Both were techniques I'd faced in the space city against the Yujin Family's shadows, Code Black. The ones that nearly ended me—now flying at me again.
'But...'
The purple whip lashed my combat arm; the slender spear pierced my head carapace. Scales shredded from my arm; a hole bored into my skull.
'...I'm far different now.'
From devouring the Swamp King: the trait 'Psionic Reflection Armor.'
Its effect: reflect 30% of psionic damage back at the attacker.
As if time reversed, the whip and spear hurtled back toward the Cults.
"What?!"
"No way!"
The leader hastily raised her Champion Shield; the goat-horn warrior rolled aside. Choices that sealed their fates.
"Ngh!"
True to its penetration, Pain Spear pierced the shield but only grazed her left arm.
The mountain goat-horn warrior wasn't so lucky. The reflected Psychic Whip savaged his ducked upper body.
"Gaaaaah!"
From his left shoulder blade to chest, split open—he howled in agony. The goat-horn Cults' eyes shook at the gruesome sight.
Seizing the opening, I hit one Gravity Control caster with 'Gaze of Terror.'
Eerie patterns like eyes on my head carapace glowed ominously.
A downgraded version of Abyss Fear, Gaze of Terror inflicted horrifying visions on a single foe. Perfect for chaotic moments like this.
Blood drained from the struck Cult's face.
"U-uaaaah! Aaah! S-senior! I'm sorry! I messed up!"
"H-hey! Snap out of it!"
He clutched his head and collapsed. The weight crushing me lightened.
I tilted my jaw toward the remaining goat-horn Cult. He gritted his teeth at me, but powerless.
I gaped my maw wide. A green mass surged rapidly from my throat and launched outward.
A glob packed with horrific acidic fungi targeted his palm. Gravity's grip kept it from flying far, but it didn't matter—any contact sufficed.
It hit his right hand.
"Wha—gaaaaah!"
As the fungus eroded, his hand melted swiftly. His ivory Dragonscale Suit tried repairs, but couldn't regenerate lost flesh.
To stay sane after losing a hand instantly—no normal being could.
Free of Gravity Control at last, I eyed the final foe: the leader.
"Cough, hack, hurrgh...."
"Eeeek! Senior! Please don't hit me! I did wrong! Eeeek!"
"Ugh, uuuugh...."
"……."
Her eyes flicked over her panicked comrades. Tension gripped her Judgment-wielding right hand.
The Cult leader seemed ready to die here.
'Not running?'
Her heartbeat raced, but more stable than before. No fear in her glare toward me.
If anything, relief.
'Wait—could it be?'
Seeing that, I realized why.
'The Player sent telepathy!'
Undoubtedly: I'll handle it, just buy time. Maybe the tactical shift earlier signaled his arrival.
I scanned via auxiliary organs. No potent energy flows yet.
'...Time to move.'
Not ideal for fighting him here. I turned and retreated.
My hunch was right; the Cult leader didn't pursue. She tended to the wounded instead.
'That leader's done for anyway.'
I still had one hidden trap: traits acquired long ago but unused till now.
'When it triggers,' she'd die.
I ignored her and dashed up the dark passage.
'...Damn it!'
Once the monster's presence faded, Aliya collapsed to the floor. She'd faced life-or-death battles against formidable beasts countless times.
Temple Guardians only mobilized for monsters too tough for standard methods.
But none terrified her like today's foe.
Her lover Jason's words rang true. It was a devil worthy of the name.
In her eyes, the 'Three-Headed Devil's' true strength lay in superior cunning. It fought several moves ahead of even veteran guardians like her.
Even now: it could've killed her but chose retreat. It had foreseen her lover's arrival.
'It's a threat to the Empire.'
After tending the wounded, she approached Billone, slumped against the wall.
Aliya knelt before her. Billone, paralyzed below the neck, wept bloody tears from bloodshot eyes.
'Jason said she's mind-controlled...'
Billone had to survive for the Empire's security—not Aliya's, the Empire's. The longest survivor by the 'Three-Headed Devil.' They couldn't let her die before extracting intel from her mind.
Sensing the love-hate in Aliya's gaze, Billone spoke.
"A-Aliya... s-sorry...."
"We're sparing you to aid the Empire. No need to apologize."
Aliya's tone was icy, but Billone's reaction felt off.
"S-sorry... sorry, so sor—urgh, uuurgh!"
"Huh?"
Billone dry-heaved repeatedly, then slumped her head.
"Hey? What's wrong...."
As Aliya leaned close, Billone's head snapped up.
It was no longer the Billone she knew.
Red vines sprouted from every orifice—eyes, nose, mouth, ears. The instant Aliya saw it, telepathy hit her mind.
'What?'
Before comprehending her lover's words, Billone's head exploded. Red vine shards sprayed Aliya like shrapnel.
"How did this...?"
Aliya wiped the vine fragments and unknown red fluid from her torso. Dazed, she stared at the headless corpse.
The clean neck stump writhed with worm-like red vines.
Revulsion barely registered before her left shoulder itched.
"Why suddenly... ngh?"
She thought it was healing from the earlier fight. Wrong.
The itch faded briefly, then excruciating pain erupted across her upper body.
"Grgh...?! Kyaaaaah!"
Like countless bugs crawling inside her veins beneath the skin. She raked her upper body with nails.
"Kaaaaah!"
The Dragonscale Suit's protection rendered scratching futile; she tore it off and clawed her bare, tender flesh bloody.
Thus, she never noticed the thin vine-like things wriggling inside her bleeding wounds.
'It hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts!'
Only then did she understand Billone's fate—and her own.
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
"Aliya!"
Amid mental haze, her lover's voice pierced the agony. Despite it all, she staggered toward the sound.
Love's instinct? Or the crawling things' command?
She'd never know.
"Fuck...."
Another incomprehensible word. Hearing it, Aliya felt no more pain.
Precisely: no sensations at all.
She couldn't grasp her beloved boyfriend's meaning.
Inevitably.
Even Cults die without heads.