Alpha Strike: [An interstellar Weapon Platform’s Guide to being a Dungeon Core] (Book 2 title)

 

//End of Audio Video Log//

Grim sighed to herself. That was the last bit of recording she had. It took a few moments, but she’d finally gathered the courage to wander back up the mountain, helped in no minor part by the hungry stare Little Red was giving her, this was the scene she’d come across.

A burning house with wiggling walls.

A giant tree that had appeared from nowhere,

Mr. Gopher, sitting on the top of said tree, wreathed in fire,

And Icy Lady kicking the top half of the not-so-nice-little-old-lady. Grim felt she didn’t want to know where her bottom half had gone.

{What exactly did I miss?!} She wondered to herself. Good thing she could ask questions now. While she watched the recordings of the previous events, Grim had been reviewing the lexicon that the Boss gave her when they last spoke (he was so nice!).

Now she was feeling confident enough to finally put it to use! Grim had sooooooo many questions.

Like why was Icy Lady so cold?

How did Tree Guy do the magic trick with the vines??

Why did they keep sticking dead things inside her cargo?

Or why was Mr. Gopher on fire?!

That last one seemed particularly important. Not that the gopher seemed to mind much…

Grim practically vibrated with excitement as she rose into the air once more. The fires were dying, and Icy Lady looked like she’d calmed down. Now was as good a time as any to fly over and ask ALL the questions.

Before Grim could fly very far, Icy Lady turned toward Tree Guy. A large ball of snow formed in her hand from nothingness, and she tossed it at the young man. As large as his head, the snowball struck Tree Guy with enough force that the young man lost his grip on the massive black tree.

Icy Lady walked over and called out. “Hey, treehugger, are you done? You could have helped me with the Mimic, you know…”

‘Treehugger’ (Grim liked Tree Guy better) wiped the snow off his face and tilted his head. “Mimic? What Mimic? What are you talking about, Jill?”

Icy Lady, whose name Grim had just learned was ‘Jill’ and who was looking a bit more… crispy than Grim remembered, sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She then pointed behind her toward the still-twitching remains of the old lady. “That one, Jack.”

‘Jack’ (which Grim found a far better name than Treehugger), turned to look in the direction she was pointing. His eyes went wide, and he jumped to his feet and pointed at the old lady as well. “Holy Sisters above Jill! What did you do to that old lady?!”

Jill hit Jack with another snowball.

Grim wondered why. After all, that was a good question.

Jill sighed again and spoke to Jack while the latter sputtered under a small pile of snow. “That’s not an old lady, you idiot. That’s a Mimic. An Elder Mimic, if the size of its body says anything.” She pointed toward the burning remains of the cottage, some of its walls writhing in the flames in a way Grim was almost positive walls shouldn’t do.

Jack turned and stared back at the cottage, his brow furrowing. He then turned back and looked at the old lady. Then, back at the cottage. Then, back at the old lady. Finally, he turned to Jill and asked, “Wait, so the cottage was a Mimic? Then what about the old lady? I’m confused.”

Jill walked over toward the upper half of the old lady and kicked the body over. The body looked withered and dry, as if it had been out in the sun for weeks. She shook her head, then turned back to Jack. “They both were. Or rather, they were the same Mimic. Elder Mimc’s can create artificial bodies to help them lure in prey.”

“How did we not notice anything before, though? Mimics are dangerous, sure, but they’re easy to spot once they know what you’re looking for,” Jack said, still unsure.

Jill shrugged and answered. “Elder Mimics are a different breed. All Mimics have some level of psionic ability. It’s part of what makes them so effective. They can lure you in through various means. Greed, hunger, fear; they mess with your mind and make you lower your guard. Like a turtle using its tongue to lure in fish. That’s why one of the first rules they teach you in Halirosa is not to let your greed overcome your common sense. Many people have lost their lives rushing toward a random chest, overcome with greed to question why there would be an intact chest or a table full of spirit herbs in the middle of a decaying ruin.”

Jack nodded sagely, “Except the turtle was a cottage, and the ‘tongue’ was a nice old lady who messed with our heads…”

Jill nodded as well. “Right. Elder Mimics take that idea and crank it all the way up. Treasure chests become dragon hoards. Tables of spirit herbs become mystic glades filled with treasures. Abandoned shacks become cozy mountainside cottages. Coupled with their stronger psionic abilities, Elder Mimics become far more effective hunters than their younger kin.”

Jack brushed the last of the snow off his robes and asked, “Good to know… So, is it dead? It looks like you did a number on her… it?”

Jill shook her head. “I’m not sure. The explosion destroyed its prime body. This puppet, its ‘lure,’ was already dying by the time it rounded the corner. In such a weakened state, I managed to kill it while you were… busy… with your tree—”

Jack blushed and looked away, while Jill continued, “But Elder Mimics are tricky beings by their nature. It’s part of how they survived long enough to become elders in the first place. From what I’ve read, they should have natural abilities similar to a later stage [Earthly Transcendent], meaning they can revive if their core isn’t destroyed.”

“Should we look for the core, then?” Jack asked, turned toward the burning, writhing wreckage.

Jill paused for a moment, then shook her head again. “No. There’s no telling what that explosion will attract, and I’d rather be as far away from this place as possible. We can always report what we found later to the guild. It’s not like the Elder Mimic will revive anytime soon,” she said.

Jack turned to look at the massive black tree growing out of the Mimic’s remains. “Eh, I don’t think it’s the explosion that you must worry about attracting something…” He responded.

Jill followed his gaze and narrowed her eyes. “What is that thing? I’ve never heard of a tree like this. The sheer amount of fire energy it’s giving off is insane,” she asked.

Jack shrugged and responded. “I hadn’t a clue when it was small, nor do I know now. Even pulling off the few branches I did took up most of my mana. Whatever this thing is, it’s powerful. I was serious about what I said before, Jill. If we could have taken this thing back when it was small… there’s a good chance it would be just as valuable, if not more, than the [Pure Waters].”

Jill sighed. Well, that figured. There was no taking it along with them now, of course. Maybe the samples Jack collected would be worth something. At the very least, they could sell the location of the tree and the Elder Mimic and make a decent profit.

“Well, no point in crying over burned nuts. What do you think the Mimic wa—Jack… why is the gopher on fire?” Jill asked in a monotone voice.

Jack turned and stared up at the burning gopher, still munching on what remained of the bright red fruit. He turned back to Jill and shrugged. “Iunno. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, so I kinda just ignored it.”

Jill froze and gave her brother a long, hard look. The man in question just tilted his head in confusion. His sister sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jack… You can’t just let your pets eat random fruits from mysterious, unknown trees. It could be dangerous. Or valuable!” she yelled.

Jack waved her off, scoffing, “He’ll be fiiiine. Besides, we’d be Mimic food if it wasn’t for him. I thought he deserved a treat.”

Jill frowned and responded. “Jack… He’s on fire.”

Jack looked up into the treetop and scratched his chin. “Well… I mean… sure… but he doesn’t seem to mind. Besides, I don’t think it’s really fire. It looks more like an aura flare.”

Jill narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze back to the gopher, really looking at it this time. To her surprise, Jill found her brother was right. The gopher didn’t seem harmed by the flames at all. In fact, the more it bathed in the fire, the more its fur seemed to become silkier, and it took on a deeper crimson-brown color.

An aura flare was a phenomenon that occurred when [Earthly Transcendent] cultivators underwent intense internal cultivation, such as during closed cultivation. It was a lesser version of the “Worldy Manifestation” that happened when a [Firmament Breaker] cultivated. At its simplest, it was the cultivator’s spirit energy acting on the world around them, manifesting in various ways.

But that’s why it didn’t make any sense.

That would mean a root gopher, one of the weakest spirit beasts, barely more than a base animal, was breaking through to [Earthly Transcendent]. Sure, she knew the creature was strong for its species, maybe even a rare variant, with a powerful talent for earth manipulation, but that… was insane.

That was another thing that confused her. The gopher’s aura flare showed a strong affinity toward fire when Jill knew for a fact it was highly earth-aligned. She’d never once seen it use any other affinity, in fact.

Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at what little remained of the fruit in the gopher’s paws. Had it been the fruit that caused this? But what kind of spirit fruit could cause such a drastic change? Or had it only been the catalyst? Had it already had this potential inside, waiting for the right trigger?

Either possibility sparked more questions than they answered.

Jill bit her lip and scanned the treetops, half hoping to spot another round, red fruit among the golden leaves. Such a strong fire affinity… maybe… just maybe, it would be enough to melt the chilling energy coursing through her veins…

There was none she could see from her position, however. Internally, she sighed. Maybe that was for the best. Her spirit root was mostly water and wind-aligned. Earth had a far better synergy with fire than either of those did. It would likely damage her foundation, even if it was enough to solve her problem. She would stick to the [Pure Waters].

Turning away from the tree, lest she be tempted, Jill looked at her brother and softly whispered. “Hey… Jack. That gopher… do you… think he might be a P—.”

“So Mr. Gopher is going to be fine?! That’s good to hear! I was really worried there for a moment. My data archives say most biologicals don’t do well when lit on fire. That was repeatedly emphasized for some reason.” Grim cut Jill off.

Both Jack and Jill’s heads snapped toward the floating delivery drone, their eyes wide.

Grim spun her optical sensor in the way she’d often seen the Boss do so and asked. “What? Do I still have meaty bits on me? I promise, that was Mr. Gopher’s idea! I don’t have a thing for vore!”

Grim waved her arms and spun around in the air, trying to see if she’d missed any.

The next moment, she eeked in surprise as both Jack and Jill pointed at her and yelled in unison.

“‘YOU CAN TALK!?’”

————————————

What remained of Morgana felt… lesser. Diminished.

The power and intelligence of a Mimic was directly proportional to their mass.

And Morgana hadn’t been this weak in centuries. Not since that bastard Yeom Ki had hunted her down for the first time. It had been a long road to recovery, but she had bounced back. She always did. Elder Mimics weren’t born; they were made. Mimics didn’t become powerful enough to be called an Elder variant without being sly and resourceful.

So, losing most of their body wasn’t too great a setback.

No, what truly pained her wasn’t her body. It was the loss of her tree!

Her beautiful tree!

She had spent decades carefully cultivating the tree, growing and caring for it. Morgana had known it was something special from the moment she’d found it in the mountains all those years ago. She’d even taken the pain to lure experts in the fields of botany and herblore to learn more about it and better care for it. She’d even let some of them live!

Now, all that hard work, all that toil and pain, wasted on some overgrown… rat!

Just the thought of it as she watched the group from her hiding spot nearly boiled her blood. Or what counted for blood in a Mimic’s body, at least.

She would have wanted nothing more than to pounce on them and tear their pathetic bodies to shreds. No games. None of her usual flair and traps. Just raw, bloody slaughter.

But as she was now, that wasn’t a possibility. She was too weakened. If she showed herself now, all that awaited was true death.

So she would wait.

She had already marked the puppet; a small piece of her flesh melded with its metal shell. Through that, she could find them when the time came.

Yes, she would wait.

She would grow stronger.

And when they least expected her, these fools would learn what had rung true for countless centuries.

No one escapes Morgana in the Mountain.