There's Space Behind the Pillar (2)

Contrary to Ludwig's assurances, the mimic was extraordinarily fast.

Having arms and legs was bad enough, but seeing the thing scuttle forward on all fours was pure horror. Even Ludwig let out a hollow, dumbfounded chuckle, as if this was the first time in his long life he had ever laid eyes on such an abomination.

"Why! Why are you only chasing me?!"

"Kuaaaargh!"

The creature completely ignored the rest of the group, fixating solely on me in relentless pursuit. Was it holding a grudge because I had interrupted its peaceful nap, or was it drawn to the fact that my body was brimming with dense mana? Frankly, both seemed entirely plausible. Desperate, I shouted over my shoulder at Ludwig.

"Hey, mister! Do something!"

Having fled alongside me initially, Ludwig had stopped to catch his breath the moment he realized the mimic wasn't paying him the slightest bit of attention. At my frantic urge, he stared intently at the four-legged chest. He reached down, scooped up a jagged chunk of orichalcum from the floor, and hurled it with pinpoint precision.

Smack!

The chunk struck the mimic squarely in the knee joint. The beast lost its footing and stumbled sideways. That was my opening.

Slash!

The moment it wobbled, I pivoted on my heel and swung my blade in a sweeping horizontal arc. Since the monster was crawling forward like a feral beast, the clean cross-cut severed both of its forearms in a single stroke. It crashed face-first onto the stone floor.

All that remained was the finishing blow. Fearing that massive tongue might whip out and snag me, I channeled aura to end it from a safe distance.

Thrust!

I drove the aura-clad blade directly into the partially ajar lid of the chest. The mimic recoiled violently, its long tongue stiffening straight into the air. For a creature with such a terrifying appearance, I thought the ordeal was finally coming to an easy close—until strange sounds began bubbling from its throat.

"...Gulp."

"Huh?"

"Gulp. Gulp."

This lunatic of a treasure chest was chugging down my aura like sweet wine. It didn't vacuum it up all at once like the Earth Guardian or a mana sponge, but watching my energy vanish down its gullet was thoroughly disconcerting. Fortunately, having dealt with bizarre appetites before, I wasted no time switching tactics and unleashed my extreme cold.

Crack! Cra-crack!

Frost bloomed from the inside out, spreading rapidly through its core. The speed at which it swallowed my aura slowed to a crawl, and within moments, thick ice coated its entire exterior. The mimic's thrashing ceased completely.

"Phew..."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I had been terrified that even my frost might fail against it, but thank goodness, the cold worked like a charm. Realizing the danger had passed, the rest of the crew trotted over one by one, inspecting the frozen, limbed monstrosity with open fascination.

Clatter!

"Kyuak!"

"Peeek!"

Even though it was frozen solid to the core, the chest gave a violent, shuddering jerk. The bastard was still alive. We had to dispose of it properly—and more importantly, figure out what on earth was causing that bright glow inside its belly. To do that without feeding it any more energy, I needed to scramble its insides using a plain, un-enhanced blade.

"Tyrano. Can you manage a breath?"

"Piii!"

"Mister, you know what to do once the ice starts melting, right?"

Ludwig answered by gripping his Mithricon Sword with both hands. With all preparations in place, I instructed Ggobongi to pin the mimic's lid shut so it wouldn't go wild the second the frost thawed.

"Tyrano, fire now!"

"Piii!"

Fwoooosh!

A modest stream of dragon breath billowed from Tyrano's maw. Watching tiny sparks spill from its mouth whenever it wrestled with Wonmo had given me a hunch, and sure enough, a dragon was still a dragon, even as a hatchling. It possessed the instinct to breathe fire from infancy.

Sssssss—

Steam hissed into the air as the ice thawed, and the mimic resumed its frantic squirming. If Ggobongi hadn't been pinning the lid down with his overwhelming ape strength, the thing would have rampaged across the cave.

"Now!"

The second the interior had softened enough, Ludwig and I plunged our swords deep into the gap on my signal. We didn't stop at a single thrust; we thoroughly stirred and shredded its inner vitals.

"Kweeeugh..."

Only then did all resistance drain from the creature. Its thick, fleshy tongue flopped limp over the rim, confirming its demise. Though its sudden ambush had wasted some time, putting it down hadn't been particularly difficult.

"So... what now?"

"#%?"

"Doesn't it just spit the loot out?" I asked, miming pulling something out of my own mouth. I had assumed that once a mimic died, it naturally regurgitated whatever treasure it was hoarding. Ludwig caught my meaning immediately and offered a very helpful demonstration.

"#%#$%."

He shoved his hand forward into an imaginary maw. In short: reach in and pull it out yourself.

I glanced back at the carcass. The slack tongue was coated in thick, glistening slime, and the depths of its gullet looked far worse. The mere thought of plunging my bare arm into that muck turned my stomach. I turned back to Ludwig with an ingratiating smile.

"...Rock, paper, scissors?"

I tentatively held out a fist. Who knew if rock-paper-scissors even existed in this world, but Ludwig seemed to grasp my intention right away. He stared at me blankly, then pointed a finger at his own eyes. The gesture was painfully clear: I don't have mana-detecting vision, but you do. Besides, you're the one who dragged us in here. Take responsibility for your expedition.

"......"

Cornered by flawless logic, I grimaced and resigned myself to the task. Screwing my face up in utter disgust, I thrust my hand deep ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into the mimic's maw. A vile, lukewarm stickiness slithered over my skin, accompanied by the greasy squish of its tongue.

Please let it be something good...

If some worthless piece of junk came out after all this agony, I swore I would smash it to dust on the spot. Praying fervently for adequate compensation for my suffering, my fingers brushed against something hard and solid. The moment my grip closed around it, I yanked my arm back without hesitation.

"Hup!"

"......"

As I hauled the object out with vigor, a generous spray of mimic drool splattered directly across Ludwig's stoic face. Just to be clear, it was entirely an accident. I hastily offered a silent apology before wiping the grime away to inspect our prize.

"...What is this? A statue?"

Resting in my hands was a small, intricately carved stone figurine. Though drenched in viscous saliva, its fine craftsmanship was unmistakable. It was downright baffling.

Gleam! Gleam!

Even under the layer of muck, the stone pulsed with a steady, rhythmic luminescence. My senses hadn't deceived me. The real mystery was why such a tiny statuette radiated such an immense reservoir of mana.

Better wash this filth off first.

Using the clean water we had brought along, I rinsed away the slime to get a clear look. The carving depicted a knight clad in plate armor, unmistakable in its martial silhouette. A majestic pair of wings unfurled from its back, and its hands rested atop a massive, imposing tower shield planted firmly on the ground. A full visor obscured the face, yet even the helm's vents and ridges were chiseled with breathtaking detail. The wings and shield gave the entire piece an extraordinary, solemn aura.

"...Cain?" Ludwig murmured softly beside me.

I turned to find his eyes wide with profound shock. Evidently, he recognized the figure.

"Who did you say?"

"Cain."

"Cain?"

When I asked again, Ludwig nodded solemnly. It seemed the man depicted here went by the name Cain. Naturally, the name meant nothing to me, which meant it was time to consult the collective wisdom of the Gallery.

Still, what kind of statue radiates this much mana?

Found deep inside an orichalcum cavern, tucked away in the gut of an ancient mimic... Everything about it screamed that it was no ordinary trinket. It was definitely worth keeping. I slipped the figurine into my sub-dimensional backpack and turned back toward the entrance. We had accomplished everything we came for; all that remained was returning to camp. I left the mimic's hollow husk behind. Empty chests could be bought on the forum anytime, and we had already drained every drop of utility out of the creature.

When we stepped out into the crisp open air of the forest, however, an utterly bizarre spectacle greeted us.

"Cluck-cluck-cluck!"

"Cheep! Cheep!"

"......"

It was the giant chicken we had crossed paths with earlier. Behind it, an army of fluffy chicks huddled together, peeping in unison. That alone was absurd enough, but the bird took things to an entirely new level.

"Cock-a-doodle-cluck! Cluck!"

"Grumble..."

"Cluck! Cluck-cluck!"

The colossal black rooster was strutting in circles around Largo, puffing its chest and fanning its plumage in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an unmistakable courtship dance. Largo, meanwhile, stared down with a profoundly deadpan expression, looking completely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unimpressed.

I was rendered utterly speechless. Judging by that massive comb, that chicken is definitely male... Wait, is Largo a girl?

More importantly, they weren't even remotely the same species! Did cross-species boundaries simply not exist in this bird's world so long as love was in the air? Talk about open-minded—this was beyond open-minded into sheer madness.

"...Mister."

"Mhm."

"Let's get out of here. Fast."

We beat a hasty retreat. Thankfully, Largo was far more obedient to our commands than she was receptive to the advances of an oversized rooster. Leaving the orichalcum cave far behind, we hurried along our way.

—COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOOOO!

A heartbroken rooster's mournful bellow echoed across the entire breadth of the Four Seasons Forest.

Once settled back at the shelter, I gave the statuette a thorough examination. In terms of size, it was roughly comparable to a plastic model kit or a collector's figurine, yet the detailing was so lifelike it seemed poised to step forward and breathe at any second. It had spent centuries stewing inside the stomach acid of a mimic, yet not a single scratch marred its pristine surface. There was undoubtedly a secret behind it.

It's practically overflowing with mana, that's for sure...

After a moment's thought, I snapped a clear picture of the figurine and uploaded it to the Gallery. Ludwig had identified it as Cain, so someone on the forum was bound to know the lore.

To sum up the responses: Cain was the very First Paladin, and the original bearer of the Guardian title. Hearing that Ludwig once held that exact same title put his past renown into perspective.

Damn, this old guy was an absolute legend, wasn't he?

Sharing the exact same title as a demigod who bridged history and myth was no small feat. Then again, if he hadn't carried that kind of weight, a single recorded testimony from him wouldn't have thrown the entire El Dorado theocracy into utter turmoil.

Well, if the opportunity arose, I figured I might hand it over to the head mod eventually. Hoarding it here wouldn't do me much good anyway...

"......"

Wait. Would it?

I glanced across the cave at Ludwig. He had sunk to his knees before the small stone effigy, hands clasped together in pious, solemn prayer. I had no idea what specific words he was offering, but I imagined he was praying for the preservation and salvation of El Dorado.

I should just leave it be.

For a devout man of the cloth, faith was essential. And Ludwig was a believer through and through. A steady faith anchored the spirit, hardening one's resolve—an invaluable asset for surviving in this hellish wilderness.

Not that I had any intention of joining him in prayer. I had chosen to resent the gods precisely so I wouldn't have to hate my fellow human beings.

Hey, statue. Your country is falling apart at the seams. Lend 'em a hand, will ya?

Still, for Ludwig's sake, I could offer that much of an inward nudge. After all, countless innocent people out there were praying for El Dorado to find peace again.

When Ludwig finally lowered his hands and concluded his prayer, I called out to him.

"Mister. Time to get back to work."

"......"

A man still had to earn his daily bread.

Grylls headed outside the cave accompanied by Ludwig and the entire menagerie. It was nearing time to prepare dinner, and several perimeter defenses still required their regular maintenance check.

Thus, the Cain statuette was left sitting all alone upon the rock shelf.

For a long while, the carved figure remained as motionless and silent as ordinary stone.

Flicker—

Then, impossibly, two needle-sharp points of golden light ignited deep behind the slit of its sculpted visor.

A voice, ancient and faint as settling dust, rasped from the miniature maw.

Snap.

The moment the solemn pledge ended, the golden gleam vanished into thin air, leaving only cold, silent stone once more.