The Tales of the Legendary Mimic : Momo

Parties of shadows and races of fate

### **Chapter 6:*

Beneath a shadowed moon, a castle loomed, its spires gleaming like black glass. The structure stood as a relic of a bygone era, its dark marble walls reflecting the fractured light of the broken sky. Beside it sprawled a ruined garden, wild and untamed—vines coiled around crumbling stone, wildflowers glowing faintly under the unnatural moonlight. At the garden’s heart stood a shattered fountain, its stagnant water shimmering eerily, as if holding secrets of the past. The air hung heavy, silent, until the distant thud of hooves shattered the stillness. Shadows stirred as the sound grew louder. The night waited, breathless.

---

**Swung* Swung***

The whistling of a heavy weapon cut through the air, its violent pace betraying the resolve of its wielder. A man clad in a dark singlet and thick pants swung a broadsword forged from gel ore, its purple blade glinting dimly under the cold light. Sweat streamed down his face, his breathing steady but labored. Each swing of the blade was precise, calculated, as if he were carving his will into the very fabric of the night.

"You're falling behind," a voice drawled from the shadows. A figure emerged, his golden ruby eyes scanning the garden with deliberate precision—observing, analyzing—yet his expression remained utterly disinterested. "We've been here too long. They should have caught up by now."

The swordsman exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he steadied his stance. "If it comes to that, I’ll just run. As long as they stay away from him, it’s fine. It’s not like they can end it all early."

"How certain are you?" the shadowed man asked, a glimmer of amusement in his voice.

"He’s sure," a cold, sharp voice interjected, lingering in the air before its owner materialized.

She stepped into the moonlight, her attire a curious blend of modern and traditional—red, black, and white fabrics adorned with a filmy veil and rugged pouches. But what set her apart was her hair—long, flowing, and alive, writhing like venomous tendrils, exuding a sinister, almost sentient aura. Her presence was both mesmerizing and terrifying, a paradox of beauty and danger.

The shadowed man raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Hmm?" He removed his hat, tracing a finger along his jagged, pointed fangs, his grin lazy yet unsettling. "And here I thought you’d be busy playing with your little pets, Katierah."

Katierah’s lips curled into a smirk, her hair pulsing with a sickly glow. "Pets? Please. Those things are hardly worth my time. But this... this is interesting."

A low rumble trembled through the night, faint at first but growing stronger.

Hoofbeats.

All three turned sharply, their senses heightened. The sound was unmistakable—heavy, rhythmic, and closing in fast.

"They’re here," Katierah murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "By the way, where’s the wolf-bred pussy?"

The man with ruby eyes sighed, his tone laced with exasperation. "Ancestor-level Race progenitors aren’t for your mockery, Katierah. He went to investigate the trails near the ruins. Thinks they might hold answers to the Disaster theories some bastard cooked up."

"Ooh, really?" Katierah’s smirk widened. "Well then, let’s go greet the invasion control haunting our friends’ planet out of curiosity."

"bunch of hypocrites."

The swordsman tightened his grip on his broadsword, his feet firmly planted. "Let’s have some real training. My bones were in need of it anyway."

The man with the fangs chuckled, tilting his hat back. His grin widened, revealing the full extent of his unnaturally long fangs as wings of darkness sprouted from his shadow. "Hehehe... Now this is interesting. Way better than saving a helpless human woman in an alley."

**Brump***

The shadows around them twisted and curled, as if the night itself had awakened. The tension in the air was palpable, the calm before the storm.

***

Garage

The garage stood like a steel-and-neon fortress hidden in the industrial wasteland. Its massive doors creaked open, revealing a treasure trove of battle-damaged vehicles—some sleek and futuristic, others grotesque and monstrous. The air was thick with the scent of rust, oil, and ozone, a testament to the garage’s long history of mechanical warfare. Holographic blueprints flickered on the walls, displaying schematics of ancient-world cars and legacy spotcars, their designs a blend of artistry and brutality.

Max strode forward, his eyes scanning the options with a mix of awe and excitement. "Something strong and cool should do, right?" he said with a grin, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

Momo, perched on his shoulder, folded his arms and nodded with a serious expression. "No windows. No unnecessary talking. And most importantly, it must qualify as a great snack maker. I’m testing the yummiest first!"

IX-69 ignored them, his synthetic eyes scanning the vehicles with clinical precision. He walked past a hydro-vascular frame and a spider-tired car that could dismantle its wheels to walk on spider-like limbs. His attention was drawn to a massive, matte-black monstrosity—a ten-wheeled armored vehicle with no windows or frills, just a blocky fortress on wheels. A holographic display flickered above it: **IX-69 Recovery Transport – Military-Grade.**

"Looks horrible," IX-69 grumbled, his voice devoid of emotion. "But it’ll do."

"Horrible?" Sir Lorne’s voice chuckled through a wall panel, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You haven’t been inside."

Sarah ran a hand over the vehicle, her eyes gleaming with admiration. "I think it’s nice."

"What do you know? Someone likes my artwork just the way it is," Sir Lorne laughed, his voice warm and teasing.

The synthetic snorted and opened the back hatch, revealing a spacious interior with reinforced seats, a holo-table for navigation, and a mini-room filled with emergency equipment. "Now this is a ride," Max said, his grin widening.

"More like a fortress," Sarah muttered, her tone a mix of awe and disbelief.

"Lame! No snacks, no coolness. Boo, I hate this junk!" Momo hopped around comically, his tiny arms flailing in protest.

IX-69 activated the engine, the ion engines roaring to life with a thunderous growl. "No time to gawk. Let’s roll! And don’t touch anything!"

The Tec-Mobile lifted off the ground, its ten wheels dropping into place as it rumbled out of the garage. The steel gates crumpled behind them, the sound of metal grinding against metal echoing through the wasteland.

"First test drive, huh?" Sarah cracked her knuckles, her excitement barely contained.

"Screaming, unforgettable!" Max said, his voice filled with anticipation.

"Just don’t touch anything," IX-69 warned, his tone stern.

"Alright, alright," Momo and the others cried out, their voices a mix of annoyance and resignation.

*****

…Flora Seal

Flora Seal should have been a sanctuary, its golden towers piercing the sky, its crystal rivers flowing through streets of gleaming stone. But what Goruk and Tazan found was a ruined kingdom—smoke curling from shattered buildings, the cries of the wounded mixing with the shrieks of scavengers. The once-proud city was now a valley of flames and destruction, its beauty reduced to ash and rubble.

Tazan gritted his teeth, his heart aching as he watched his clansmen fight to protect their burning home. "Goruk... why are you just standing there? Go help the rest! I can save myself!"

"Protecting you is my priority," Goruk said firmly, his gaze aloof but his stance unwavering. "I must ensure your safety."

Near the central palace, Ahlia, Tazan’s mother, fought valiantly, her dual blades cutting through a horde of Xerion—mutated humanoids with ashen skin and glowing red eyes. But exhaustion slowed her movements, and a Xerion warlord loomed over her, blade raised.

"NO!" Tazan surged forward, but Goruk held him back.

Ahlia turned to them, her face streaked with blood and tears. "Go... NOW!"

The warlord’s blade pierced her chest. She trembled but smiled through the pain, her eyes locking onto Tazan one final time. "Live... my son."

The light faded from her eyes.

Goruk dragged Tazan away, the boy screaming in grief as the kingdom burned behind them.

Above the devastation, a man in black stood, his mouth masked in black metal. Cards with a gruesome lich necromancer hung from a chain at his waist. Screams of souls echoed around him, though only those who truly knew would recognize them as real lost and forgotten that went against deadly Tarons and the beholder. They called ... **The Death Dealer.**

"Hmm? Seems like there were more of those monkey people. Anyway, it matters not. As long as the Floral Seal remains...pssshk, naming a town after after an ancient treasure what an obvious red flag." Dyroth said with a yaw as if he found it distasteful."Hehehe, but matters not as it's for my gain. Finally getting a worthy Taron for my permanent card Fix is such a great feeling."

as Death dealer enjoyed his Satisfying moment.

A quivering were-hyena guard approached from his behind. "Sire... Dyroth. The Flora Seal... it’s gone."

Dyroth turned, his face darkening. "Huh..you mean..but how?..Don’t tell me the Seal was stolen while you were on patrol?"

"No, no! It’s just... gone!"

Dyroth sighed, his expression turning sinister. "Oh well, it’s all fine. But you can’t escape punishment. Kekekekeke."

■¥【】**Summon Superior Card Avatar... KURLKAN THE ABYSSAL NECROMANCER LICH!**【】^♧◆★

A ghastly figure of a lich necromancer clawed its way out of the card pack, its soul flame eyes pouring out encroaching green flames. The were-hyena guard screamed as his life force was drained, his soul consumed.

"Run! The Death Dealer is in rage!" the other guards cried, fleeing the area.

"Hmm... ants," Dyroth muttered, his grin widening.

^****

Hours later, Goruk and Tazan stumbled upon the Tec-Mobile, battered and exhausted. Max and his crew had stopped to rest when they spotted the duo.

"Damn. They look like hell," Sarah said, kneeling beside Tazan.

"Flora Seal is gone. We barely made it out," Goruk panted. "Please, let us follow you. I’ll g..give y..you m..my life...e!"

Max frowned. "So you’re looking for a new home? Who are you people? And since when do animals talk?"

Sarah coughed awkwardly, gesturing at Momo. "You shouldn’t be the one saying that. Your ‘stuff toy’ practically talks."

"Momo isn’t a stuff toy! He’s flesh already. And I can’t bear the thought of an extra "it" in the world, No offence momo, just Can't take such 'Comparisons'of Shameless Nature of there being another 'Gentle' mimic ," Max said, shivering.

"Goch.. it..sh, mash er," Momo said while munching on a bag of chips.His words barely audible.

Sarah glared at the chip bag snatcher, offended but kept the grudge for laters."Anyway, how can we help?"

"We need to get stronger," Tazan muttered. "I won’t be weak again. Please, help us."

IX-69 scoffed. "Not my problem."

Sarah sighed. "Max?"

"Huh? What?" Max blinked foolishly.

"Just tell the big guy to let them join the cohort, okay?" Sarah said, her tone exasperated.

After some squabbling and a few tosses of Max by an angry IX-69, the synthetic finally agreed. "If you follow us, your lives are in my hands. You came willingly, but you can’t leave against my will. Make your choice."

"We agree," Goruk said, ignoring Tazan’s pleading gaze.

The Tec-Mobile roared forward, its engines thundering as the group grew by two.

*****

**Run! RUN!**

The words echoed in Koldson Qubrin’s mind like a mantra, his heart pounding as he sprinted through the chaotic streets of a museum with mostly Egypt antics.

Though this wasn’t egypt it was on some africa outskirts which was weird since this used to be England but since weird red dome phenomenon. Climate change and weird world shifts occured causing different amd weird world changes with most of them turning out to be dangerous. The most weird part is how nee land pop out ,out of nowhere and some even came with civilisation as if they were from another world or another timeline.

Ignoring the not so important thoughts.

Koldson’s breath came in sharp gasps, his hand clutching his deck of cards tightly. He could still remember the day he’d met the strange, blindfolded man with blue hair—the day his life had changed forever. The man’s words echoed in his mind: *“The world has a lot to offer. Hold on to your deck and play your cards right.”*

“No! I can’t die here,” Koldson muttered, his voice trembling but determined. He had fought hard to master the power of Tarons, and he wasn’t about to let it all end now. His fingers brushed against the glossy bear card—the first card he’d ever obtained. It was the foundation of his deck, its image imprinted on the back of every other card. But his consumable cards, though versatile, were no match for another dealer’s power. He needed to evolve his deck, by strengthening his core card—the glossy bear. But how?

Behind him, the sound of footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the faint clinking of metal. The Death Dealer was closing in, his presence like a shadow that refused to be shaken. Koldson could almost feel the man’s cold, calculating gaze boring into his back.

“You can’t run forever, Koldson,” the Death Dealer’s voice called out, cold and unrelenting. “Your legacy belongs to me.”

Koldson ducked into an alley, his cards glowing faintly in his palm. He slapped one against the wall, summoning a barrier of sand and stone. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it bought him a few precious seconds. He glanced at his cards, their light flickering weakly. He was running out of energy, and the fissure’s instability wasn’t helping.

“Think, Koldson, think!” he muttered to himself, his mind racing. He needed a plan, something to throw the Death Dealer off his trail. His eyes darted around the alley, searching for anything he could use. A stack of crates, a loose stone, a hidden passage—anything.

Then he remembered the *Synergy Card*, one of his two Samsara cards. It was a risky move, but he had no other choice. He shuffled his deck, pulling out the card and activating it, looping it with some consumables to create a *Luck Testing Card*.

**Whim… wung!**

A spectral bunny in a tuxedo materialized, holding a carrot adorned with gem rings. It posed dramatically before vanishing into pixels of light, leaving behind a colorful whirlpool that returned to Koldson’s deck. The *Synergy Card* had done its job, but the rest were consumables—gone for now. He’d have to create more later. For now, he had only one consumable card left.

***Luck Point: 3***

*Note: Fortune ahead if spotted.*

“Bingo!” Koldson whispered, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. Without a second thought, he leaped into the dark veil, the world around him twisting and spinning like a turbo washing machine.

When the spinning stopped, Koldson found himself in a place that defied logic. The air shimmered like a mirage, the boundaries of reality fraying at the edges. Towering pyramids loomed in the distance, their golden peaks glinting under an unnatural sun. The streets were alive with activity—merchants hawking wares, children playing, and guards patrolling in ornate armor. But something was off. The people wore ancient Egyptian garb, their language foreign, their eyes glazed as if unaware of the situation beyond their homes.

Koldson took a moment to catch his breath, his modern clothes drawing curious glances. He needed to blend in, but how? Before he could think of a plan, a group of guards spotted him, their eyes narrowing at his strange attire.

“You there! Halt!” one of them barked, raising a spear.

Damn..Gulp**

There was no way out…Game over..!!

Oh boy

........so much for fortune...

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