Whispers of the Mimic Beast
When Jinwoo's consciousness finally let go of the thread of reality once more, it wasn't the dry red dust of the wasteland that pierced his lungs.
A damp, fishy earth scent, thick with the aroma of wood and moss. Yet at the same time, a faint whiff of ozone and scorched metal lingered at the tip of his nose.
He opened his eyes in the heart of a ruined city.
But this was no city like the ones he knew. Asphalt lay shattered by massive tree roots, rusted cars entwined in ivy like green tombs. Skyscrapers dozens of stories tall stretched upward, their glass shattered, enormous trees sprouting from the gaps to claw at the sky.
What captured Jinwoo's gaze was the architecture.
Unlike the straight lines and rectangles of his world, these buildings curved in graceful arcs and asymmetrical spires.
A bizarre, beautiful design, as if giant plant stems had twisted upward in unison. But this splendid civilization had clearly perished.
Huge craters gaped in the structures, as if struck by unknown bombardments, and the ground was littered with human skulls alongside fragments of machinery he'd never seen—parts from a non-human intelligence. Remnants of a civilization built by some other sentient race, now vanished.
[Intriguing. Most intriguing.]
The voice of the Magic Grimoire rang from the pouch at his waist, higher-pitched than usual.
[The 'foundation' of this stage isn't your world's civilization. The outer gods must have plucked an entire ruined world from some other dimension—one that had advanced far technologically before its 'fall'—and shaped it into this 'field' for their amusement. Judging by the structures and lingering energy traces, it was a race far more sophisticated than your humanity. Though, in the end, they were just toys for the outer gods, doomed to destruction.]
"So the monsters here are from another world too? Maybe the ones who destroyed that civilization?"
[No. That's the twisted cruelty at the heart of their game.]
Deep contempt laced the Grimoire's voice.
[They prepare this grand, exotic stage, then fill it with actors screaming to their doom—and the predators hunting them—from things utterly familiar to you. It's staging to maximize your terror. Listen well, my master. The beast prowling these ruins takes the form of a four-legged creature cloaked in white fur, cunning above all as it mimics human voices to lure prey. It calls desperately in the voice of family or lover, or mimics a newborn's wail to stir pity—then shreds them with razor claws the moment they approach.]
A wicked four-legged beast mimicking human voices, shrouded in white fur. Jinwoo instantly knew its identity.
"...Jang-san-beom."
"Oppa...! Oppa, where are you...!"
Kim Sea crouched behind a moldy mattress and shattered furniture on the first floor of a ruined building, desperately muffling her sobs with her hand. How many days had it been?
Time had lost all meaning since she was dragged here.
The sky burned in eternal blood-red twilight, no sun or moon in sight. All she knew were the repeating agonies of death—and the far worse revival that always followed.
She had died more than ten times already. Countless times.
At first, there were others pulled in with her. A dozen terrified souls clung to each other. But that was the cruelest folly.
A middle-aged man, reassured by his wife's voice from the darkness, approached—only to be bisected by a white flash from the alley, gone without a scream.
The cheerful college kid who shouted, "Over here! Everyone, come on—it's safe!" met a sickening neck snap the next instant.
It was a trap, perfectly mimicking his voice. She hadn't been spared either. Lured by her beloved oppa's voice, tears streaming as she ran out—only cold claws pierced her gut instead of a warm embrace.
Hot entrails spilling, consciousness fading, she heard it greedily devouring her belly with satisfied growls.
Drawn by her late mother's voice into a building, it pounced from the ceiling, tearing her throat. Arterial spray gushing, she locked eyes with its hollow, emotionless gaze.
No feeling there—just the predator's cold efficiency.
Death wasn't the end. That was the horror. After blacking out in agony, she always awoke intact elsewhere. Death was no escape, just the curtain falling and rising on endless torment without respite.
The others dwindled one by one, souls ground to dust in the loop of death and revival.
Some went mad and charged the beast; others suicided upon revival, until one day they stopped reviving.
Now, she was the last 'toy' human left in these ruins. Her mind teetered on the brink of shattering.
At that moment, the Jang-san-beom hunkered contentedly in the shadows.
From the instant it fell into this bizarre urban forest—the stage—its purpose was seared into it.
Fashioned by great, incomprehensible beings (outer gods) and loosed here.
One purpose: mercilessly harvest the pure terror and despair from these frail, emotional two-legged beasts (humans) as an offering. Its ultimate amusement, proof of its existence.
At first, multiple prey. With infinite patience, it learned their voices, eavesdropped conversations, mapped bonds.
Lured husbands with wives' voices, tore them apart—then sons with fathers'. Prey revived dozens of times, but souls eroded with each death.
Watching hope turn to despair, despair to resignation, resignation to nothingness—it was ecstasy.
When the soul's flame finally guttered out, never to revive, it licked the faint remnants in euphoric confirmation of purpose.
Now, the last prey remained. The youngest, frailest—thus sweetest, most delicious in terror. Kim Sea. It hunted her with special care.
Whispering sweetest hope via her dearest family's voices, then crushing it most brutally. Every tear, every scream from her throat—the finest delicacy this stage offered.
Time for the final course of this long, delightful feast. It drew forth her most cherished, thus cruelest, voice from her memories once more.
Right then, the voice echoed again from the far end of the building's corridor.
"Sea-ya... Are you okay? It's oppa, I'm right here..."
A perfect imitation of her brother's voice, laced with worry and affection. But she wouldn't fall for it anymore.
In her terror-stricken eyes, a massive white-furred mass writhed in the corridor's shadows.
The Jang-san-beom approached for its final hunt, toying with her like a cat with a mouse.
She lacked even the strength to scream or flee.
She merely awaited the approaching death, the final agony of this life.
Tracking the Jang-san-beom, Jinwoo sensed faint signs of life inside a dilapidated storefront.
And there she was. Beyond the dust-caked display window, huddled amid broken mannequins, a slender silhouette trembling like an aspen in fear. Kim Sea.
Far more wretched and soiled than her photo—stirring an even fiercer urge to possess.
And opposite her, in the corridor's gloom, the massive Jang-san-beom slowly emerged, clearly savoring how to lure her into despair next.
Jinwoo tightened his grip on the dagger at his waist. Without speaking aloud, he commanded the Grimoire telepathically.
‘Conceal my presence.’
[As commanded.]
[O base creatures, you dare not hear the footsteps of the great archmage. Even his breath shall not be permitted to your filthy senses.]