The Tales of the Legendary Mimic : Momo

Flowers and Four sins.

Max stood before the trial chamber, his emotions calm yet his thoughts ever-moving. He had expected to step forward immediately, but instead, he was told to wait.

"Prepare yourself," the receptionist had said. "The higher-ups haven’t sent someone for you yet."

So, Max waited.

He took in the grand hall, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows across the marble floor. The scent of aged parchment and incense filled the air. Disciples walked past, whispering, some casting lingering glances in his direction. He ignored them.

He lowered himself onto a wooden bench, closing his eyes. His heartbeat slowed. Meditation wasn't something he often indulged in, but he needed clarity. His breathing steadied. The world faded.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Max finally rose and approached the receptionist. "Has anyone come yet?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

Just as he turned away, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. A sharp, clipped voice followed.

"Ah. So you’re the one waiting?"

Max turned to see a tall man in ceremonial robes, his sharp features twisted in a look of displeasure. The air around him carried an oppressive weight.

"I am Elder Hagan. I’ve been sent to assess you."

Something about the way he said it told Max he wasn’t welcome.

Hagan glanced at the receptionist with suspicious urgency in eyes."I assume no one else has stepped forward? Then let's begin—"

But the doors swung open before he could finish.

"Has Max entered yet?" A deep voice filled the room.

The receptionist quickly stood. "No, Elder Voren, I was just abou—"

The new arrival, Elder Voren, had a commanding presence. His piercing eyes scanned the room before settling on Hagan. "That’s enough, I'll take him."

Hagan's expression twisted for the briefest moment before he regained composure. "Ah, of course. But he was just about to—"

Voren ignored him, gesturing for Max. "Alot of people hold grudges but some owe favours as well., Come.."

Max stepped forward but paused, turning back to Hagan with a faint smirk.

"Thanks for the company and foresight," he said evenly. "I really don’t know how terrible it would’ve felt to miss a grand occasion like this."

Without waiting for a response, he followed Voren out.

"hmmm that kid.." Hagan was almost boiling as fumes rose from his ears.

hmph..

before walking off in annoyance

***

As they walked, Voren finally spoke. "A Blessed Realm is opening soon. Only the best will enter. A competition will decide who qualifies."

Max’s mind processed the information. He had come here for a trial, but this was beyond what he had imagined. He let the thought settle, then exhaled.

“A man who fears to step forward will forever remain in the shadows,” he murmured.

Voren gave him a glance but said nothing.

Then Max straightened. "I should share this with Sarah."

And so, his search began.

.......

In a ban with all sorts.

The air was thick with an unbearable stench. A sickly-sweet rot that coiled around Sarah like a curse, making every breath a battle. She sat cross-legged in the middle of a bed of dark purple flowers, their petals shifting slightly as if breathing with her. Fumes of pink and grey mist coiled around her, pressing into her skin, seeping into her lungs.

Sarah gagged, covering her nose. "This is disgusting! It’s worse than rotting meat!"

The Shadow Flower Goddess stood nearby, arms folded beneath her deep purple robes, unbothered by the stench. "Then leave."

Sarah’s head snapped up. "Really?"

"Yes." Her master's silver eyes glowed faintly in the dimness. "You may leave... when..huh..it no longer stinks.Yh ..when that.."

Sarah’s stomach twisted. What kind of nonsense test was this?seems too fishy,there's no way that doll is letting me have a leeway so easily. Though it seems like that but I can't help but fear.

Sarah mind wandered a little then she shifted uncomfortably, the poisonous petals brushing against her legs like damp silk.

"That’s…This impossible," she muttered.

The Goddess' lips curled slightly. "Then perhaps you are not fit for the Purple Assassin Night,then eh?."

Sarah clenched her jaw. Tch. Of course, it had to be a test of endurance.

She shut her eyes and forced herself to breathe, though each inhale made her stomach roll. Time passed—minutes, maybe an hour—and the stench didn’t fade. If anything, it seemed to crawl under her skin, settling in the pit of her bones like a sickness.

Her body wasn’t in pain, but something was changing.

Her lips tingled. Her fingertips felt strangely warm. A dull, heavy weight settled in her joints, like something unseen was awakening inside her.

Brethe in..Brethe out..

***

Koldson's muscles tensed as the guards rushed toward him, their movements swift and practiced. He could fight—his hand twitched toward his deck—but he knew better. In a world like this, where reality itself had been shuffled, playing blind could mean death.

"Looking at his strange garments,he should be a strange of here.” hissed one guard to another, eyeing Koldson's black pants and hooded jacket with open distrust. "Never seen anything like it, hmm young man where do you belong from!."

“ I —” Koldson was togue tied

“I see,you just have to follow Us. Grab him!”

Rough hands grabbed Koldson's arms, yanking them behind his back. The cold metal bit into his skin as they locked the restraints around his wrists. He suppressed a grimace as they pulled him forward, their voices harsh in a language that seemed to shift between familiar and foreign with each syllable.

"Pharaoh will decide his fate," one of the guards muttered, his breath hot against Koldson's ear. "He's been demanding we bring in anyone who looks... out of place."

*Pharaoh? Perfect. Straight into royalty's hands.*

Some shii luck….

As they dragged him through the bustling streets, Koldson's gaze darted across his surroundings. The people weren't merely dressed in ancient garb—they moved with an unnatural precision, as if following invisible strings. Their eyes widened at his appearance, whispers following in his wake. His black clothing stood out starkly against the cream-colored linens and burnished gold that adorned the citizens.

Then, a flash movement caught his eye.

A shadow detached itself from an alleyway—a figure that seemed to bend the light around it. It wasn't the strange clothing that caught his attention, but the unmistakable modern haircut and modern craft of the clothing with the aura that felt jarringly out of place in this ancient setting. Another person from his world? Here?

His breath caught in his throat.

"You—" Tried to reach out to see if the one in veil could help his circumstances.

A guard's armored fist slammed between his shoulder blades, sending him stumbling forward. When he regained his balance, the alley was empty, the figure gone as if it had never existed.

His mind raced. *What the hell was that? Someone else from my world?*

The guards shoved him onward toward a massive structure that dominated the horizon—a palace of obsidian stone that seemed to absorb rather than reflect the harsh desert sun. Gold hieroglyphs crawled across its surface like living things, pulsing with an energy that made the air around them waver.

Little did Koldson know that the Pharaoh awaited, a man both wise and reasonable, yet haunted by a prophecy that foretold his doom would come at the hands of strange visitors in odd clothing—visitors exactly like him.

Miles from the city's commotion, The one in pale veil —Frasa pressed himself against a crumbling pillar, his fingers tracing the faded lines on Seer's map. Every coordinate, every notation might mean the difference between success and oblivion. Koldson was the lightning rod—drawing eyes and attention—while Frasa pursued the true objective.

He smiled grimly, knowing the prophecy that had the Pharaoh so fearful was truly about him, not Koldson. Seer's guidance had been impeccable, leading him perfectly through the blind spots of the ancient warning,he really need to repay that old undead youth.

The ruins whispered around him as he moved, his footsteps disturbing dust undisturbed for millennia. Broken murals stretched across fractured walls, depicting deities with too many limbs and creatures whose anatomy defied reason. The tomb lay deeper, beneath strata of treacherous sand and unstable architecture.

He moved with the practiced silence of someone who had learned that noise meant death. Each breath was measured, each step calculated. Reality seemed thinner here, as if the border between worlds had worn away over centuries. The deeper he descended, the more the air thickened—charged with something ancient and aware.

Then he found it.

Between jagged stone formations lay a pool of liquid darkness, its surface barely rippling despite the hot wind that tunneled through the ruins. It pulsed with a sluggish rhythm, like something half-alive. According to the map, the tomb's entrance waited beyond this abyssal water.

Frasa clenched his jaw. There was no alternative path.

With a controlled exhale, he submerged himself.

The substance clung to him, viscous and wrong. It wasn't merely water—it seemed sentient, wrapping around his limbs like curious fingers. It pressed against him with malevolent intent, searching for weakness. He forced himself forward, each stroke a battle against the unnatural density.

Then a light of a being reflected from two glamorous eyes, a primal fear crept up his spine.

He wasn't alone.he could feel it…No he was certain of it!

The presence registered not as sound or sight but as a primordial warning etched into his DNA. Something ancient watched him, tracking his progress with patient malice.

His movements became desperate.

Breaking the surface on the far side, Frasa hauled himself onto cold stone, his lungs burning. The map, protected in its sealed case, remained intact. He was close—so close he could feel the tomb's presence like a weight against his consciousness.

Then—movement in the darkness.

The pool's surface broke silently as something massive emerged. Scales white as sun-bleached bone gleamed as water slid off them. Eyes like twin embers fixed on Frasa with terrible intelligence.

The white serpent rose higher, its body thick as a man's torso, its head hovering at eye level. This was no ordinary guardian—this was the Ancestral Mummy of the Legendary Pharaoh of sun and sand, transformed through millennia of dark magic and ancient rites.

It hadn't just been following him.

It had been herding him.

Frasa's hand moved slowly toward the artifact hidden beneath his cloak, his blood turning to ice as the creature's jaws parted to reveal fangs that glistened with promise. With Seer's guidance, he was about to achieve the unbelievable—if he could survive this encounter.

..Ma wei..

***

Phissh phsiii

A few figures appeared randomly arround a lonely segment. If Koldson was to be present he had identify it has the spot where he first appeared but there were no guards This time he could only blame his luck or be goad since those who arrived at the moment were Bad news.

“Finally, let's go catch that pesky dealer brat!”

Death Dealer moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. His presence was like a shadow—unseen but felt, a ripple of unease that spread through the marketplace. Behind him, a group of hyena men followed, their movements predatory and deliberate. Among them was a spiky-haired kid, his dark rainbow-blue hair and nose ring marking him as an outsider in this ancient world.

As they passed a stall, Death Dealer paused. The stall owner, a wiry man with a weathered face and eyes that seemed to see too much, was selling **konafa**, a traditional Egyptian dessert made of shredded pastry, nuts, and honey. The sweet aroma wafted through the air, drawing Death Dealer’s attention.

“Hmm?” Death Dealer murmured, his gaze narrowing as he studied the stall owner. There was something... off about him.

The stall owner—Seer in disguise—met his gaze with a calm smile. “Care for a taste, traveler? Freshly made, just this morning.”

Death Dealer’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Why not?” He tossed a few coins onto the stall and took a piece of konafa, biting into it with deliberate slowness. His eyes never left Seer’s, searching for any hint of deception.

The spiky-haired kid stepped forward, his movements restless. “Hey, what about me?” he demanded, his voice tinged with impatience.

Seer handed him a piece of konafa, his expression unreadable. “Enjoy, young one.”

The kid took the snack, his fingers brushing against the paper wrapping. As he bit into the sweet pastry, he frowned. Something felt... off. He glanced down at the wrapping, his eyes narrowing as he noticed faint markings—words etched into the paper.

*‘To quit slavery is to ruin the slaver, but does this heart be merciful to pain?’*

Beneath the cryptic message was an address: *Clock tower, Arold street.*

The kid’s heart raced. He glanced up, but Seer was already gone, the stall abandoned as if it had never been there.

****

You can do this..

You are strong and capable…

The smell shifted.

It no longer stank. The air felt lighter. Sweeter. A faint, intoxicating fragrance filled her lungs—dark, rich, laced with something powerful.

Sarah's eyes snapped open, her breath coming fast.

The Goddess was staring at her.

For the first time, there was a flicker of surprise in her expression.

"Never thought you would pass," she murmured, stepping forward, her voice smooth as silk. She bent down, plucking a single petal from the flowers beneath Sarah.

The petal shimmered faintly in the dim light. "Can you tell what you have achieved?"

Sarah blinked, glancing down at herself. That was when she noticed it—the deep violet stain at the tips of her fingers, her lips, even the edges of her knees and elbows.

A strange energy thrummed beneath her skin.

Her eyes widened. "That I can leave!" she blurted, her voice bubbling with excitement.

She clenched her fists, bobbing her face in victory, a triumphant smile spreading across her lips.

The Goddess chuckled softly. "Not just that."

Her fingers twirled the petal between them as she gazed down at Sarah with something between curiosity and satisfaction.

"This is... ."

She lifted the petal to the air, and Sarah watched as it dissolved into nothing before reaching the ground.

"For you to survive the stink—which should have made you ill, though it wouldn’t kill you—there is only one explanation."

The truth hung heavy in the air.

Sarah’s breath hitched. "And that is…?"

The Goddess' lips curved. "You have inherited the heart of the Purple Assassin Night."

“Huh..? “ Sarah was dumbfounded

"You have inherited the heart of the Purple Assassin Night." Purple Night said

The training ground was a dark field of mist and moonlight, lined with wooden dummies shaped like warriors. Each had sharp edges and shifting mechanisms, designed to mimic real enemies.

The Shadow Flower Goddess stood at the edge, arms folded beneath her robe, silver eyes gleaming. "Show me what you've gained."

Sarah flexed her fingers, feeling an unnatural sharpness at the tips. She swallowed. Let’s see if this really works.

She lunged.

Her hand slashed through the air—too slow. The first dummy whirred and twisted, dodging with a fluid, almost human-like movement. Before she could react, a wooden limb struck out, slamming into her ribs.

Sarah staggered back, coughing.

Her master’s voice was calm. "If you fight like a brawler, you will lose. Purple Assassins do not trade blows."

Sarah hissed, rubbing her side. "A little warning would’ve been nice."

"A true assassin does not wait for warnings."

Sarah wiped sweat from her brow. Fine. She shifted her stance, her movements becoming smoother. She inhaled deeply—and suddenly, the air smelled sweet.

She moved again.

This time, her hand barely grazed the dummy’s wooden neck. A faint, violet shimmer followed her touch.

For a second, nothing happened. Then—

The dummy froze.

A deep purple stain spread across its surface, creeping like veins beneath bark.

Sarah’s eyes widened. "Did I…?"

The Goddess smiled faintly. "Again."

Sarah exhaled.

She turned to the second dummy. This time, she flowed like mist, her feet silent against the ground. The dummy lashed out—she ducked, spun, and struck with two fingers to its arm.

The same violet mark spread, and the dummy locked in place.

She grinned. "This is insane."

"Do not get cocky."

A third dummy lunged from the mist. Sarah twisted, but this time, she wasn’t fast enough—a wooden blade raked across her shoulder.

She cried out, stumbling.

The Goddess watched impassively. "What did you do wrong?"

Sarah panted. "I got distracted."

"And?"

She clenched her fists, breathing heavily. "I relied on my power too much."

Her master nodded. "Poison is not strength. It is technique, patience, and control. You are not invincible."

Sarah exhaled, shaking out her limbs. The exhaustion was creeping in, but something inside her buzzed with energy.

She rolled her shoulders. "Alright. Again."

And this time—she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

Hopefully….

***

Somewhere off the course the bustle and tumble.

A youth could be seen treading with a confident scholarly pace. Seer moved through the narrow alleys of the city, his steps quick and silent. The disguise had served its purpose—Death Dealer had taken the bait, and the message had been delivered. Now, it was time to disappear.

He reached the edge of the city, where the Nile stretched out like a ribbon of silver under the moonlight. A small boat waited for him, its sails already unfurled. Seer stepped aboard, his movements fluid and practiced.

As the boat glided away from the shore, Seer allowed himself a moment of reflection. The pieces were in motion—Frasa in the tomb, Koldson in the palace, and now the spiky-haired kid with the message. Each of them had a role to play, a thread in the tapestry of fate that Seer had been weaving for years.

He looked up at the stars, their light faint against the dark sky. “The convergence approaches,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “And with it, the end of everything... or the beginning.”

The boat disappeared into the night, leaving only ripples in its wake.

*****

Huuu..huu huu

So hot..!!!

Max thought While wiping of his face for the ten thousandth time as continues to intrudes the privacy of annoying disciples. He could only seek them for help since he couldn’t even be sure where she had go.

Disciples filled the halls, their whispers growing as he passed. Some eyed him with curiosity, others with scorn. He ignored them, his focus sharp.

"Have you seen Sarah?" he asked one disciple.

They shrugged. "She went towards the training hall."

He moved swiftly, weaving through the corridors. A sudden gust of wind rushed past him. Then—

A thud.

Max turned sharply. Ahead, a familiar figure but not so familiar face due to it being disformed from thick hard fist,Upside down he dangled from the tree, struggling against the ropes that bound him.

Tazan.

He seemed to have been punched all the way here

“Hey monkey boy did you call your friend for help soo soon..?” a huge framed shirtless disciple said while flexing his muscles on top of a Nearby Stadium pavement.

Hahahahahaha

“Yh, that friend of his might be able to help I heard he is the son of a benefactor of ours..hahhahh”

“What of the girl? She must be the angel birthed to be saviour for them.”

“Of course of course , saviour by giving herself to us in replacement of her friends freedom” A disciple with a lewd look said distastefully

Tazan felt bitter and Enraged as the bottlickers and jerks laughed him out.

“Bunch of weaklings , why not fight me on one no Gang up , and you with the Big chicken wings, ah yes you muscle head . TRY PICK PEOPLE YOUT OWN SIZE IDIOT!!!”

“You—...I will Kill YOU!!” The disciple shirtless disciple roared. Jumping to the air as he takes the pose of canon boy as he intends to ruin Tazan’s bones and brain.

[** SYSTEM PROMPT:#######

REA.DING ENERGY DATA

Result:”*

Name -unknown

Afilation- cloudsect

Rank- Pawn (★★)

Note: 3 attributes have reached E rank. Making him able to have focus in teo attributes.

Chosen Attributes: Strength .. Sense**]

Using his detection skill on the Disciple, Max knew he wasn’t his match as he wasn’t even a one star prun anyway.

Watching by the corner while Tazan has got handed tk him.He could obviously tell Tazan is being picked on but he couldn’t sacrifice to save him, a hero has to stay alive

Watching him grit his teeth,max hurriedly left to prevent attention being drawn to him or bring him trouble.

Max sighed but didn’t stop. He had no time for distractions.

Bringing off his back pack, and there he was..or it.

“Momo. Can you find where sarah is ?” Max asked carefully

“50 chips pack!”

“4!”

“Deal!!”

Immediately momo sprung to action as it's nose morphed into some kind Of huge hose as it sniffed like a Vacuum.

It's steps quickened until they finally reached a ban like building.

“She's here! Don't forget the deal, momo said hopping inside the pack again .

“Yh sure…as for now..”

Sarah.

Pushing the door open, Max saw a wrecked but standing building, the inside looked nothing right. The whole place filled with thatch and broken wood and a few scarecrow heads all about.

Looking Around to sight the familiar figure.

And there..she was..

Hanging upside down, stuck to the wall.

Max blinked. "...How did you—"

"Long story," she muttered.

Max barely had time to react before—

BAM!

Something crashed down nearby.

She groaned. "Watch out for the dummy."

"The what—"

BAM!!

Everything went dark.

ςศར