The Tales of the Legendary Mimic : Momo

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A golden-haired boy appeared in a grand temple, his body materializing in the heart of the sacred hall surrounded by golem frog dragons. Towering pillars stretched toward the heavens, etched with golden runes that pulsed with an ancient, unseen force. A serene incense filled the air, Tension could be felt with deep displeasure from a Elder who had a dragon staff with a long golden strands hair and white beared . Draped in flowing robes, his eyes were sharp like celestial blades, yet held a depth that spoke of wisdom carved through centuries.

The boy fell to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cool marble floor in deep reverence.

"Disciple greets Master."

A long silence followed, thick with unspoken rebuke. Then, the teacher finally spoke.

"You failed to stop them, indeed not your fault but you shall bear guilt for all race ."

The words were neither loud nor reprimanding, but they carried enough weight to make the boy’s bones feel heavy.

"Master…" he started, but the older man simply raised a hand, silencing him.

"I will not waste words. Too little time to do so. You have failed the sect and clan for having yourself fooled by a mere slave and spy. Only way for you to avoid the trouble after this Will be to enter the Illusionary Realm in the name punishment of baby sitting."

The boy stiffened as tear drops appeared in his eyes

Even now…

Even now!!.

His master is trying his all to keep him safe.

"Master.. I..” steeling his self the boy tried to make words

Of in mixed emotions

His teacher's sighed and turned with a fling of his sleeve

"You will guide and protect your fellow disciples inside,not much can be said,you may leave."

The gold hairded boy bowed in the direction of his leaving

Teacher's silhouette

A Owl on one of the pillar *Ku* a few times before closing its huge golden eyes to sleep

Even it felt like it should prepare for the coming trouble

****

System Alert:

[Sir Lorne's Direct Transmission]

> "Max, listen carefully. Some old ancestral figures are being very active lately, a battle is happening near a fissure not far from the one you guys are in. It's been 3 days for you but 6hours over here…. SoSo you should have time to prepare just in case battle ensues.”

> "You should meet IX69 immediately. No delays."

Max’s expression was dull and confused as he absorbed the message. The Seal? That name alone felt ominous. He exhaled sharply, muttering, "Noted."

Closing the system prompt, he straightened his posture. He had no idea what IX69 was, but if Sir Lorne thought it was urgent, then he had no choice.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Max made his way towards the three friends who have taking more steps ahead after they left the cafeteria with him earlier.

On joining them, they all decided to head to their dorms.

Max was contemplating on whether to talk about what he heard from sir Lorne or not. He was just scratching his head his hands caressing one another as Momo ruffled his hair after they reached the dorm-more precisely, Lira’s room.

Everyone took different parts of the room. The girls were together tho. Near a dressing mirror which had a Fry pan next to the shelf it stood.

“what's the pan for.. “Sarah who was giving Lira’s room a scan asked feeling confused and creeped out from the weird arrangement. There were different fauna by the edges of her walls and a metal basket in one corner that reekes, in it one would find purple dregs. Poison!

It just had to be.

Tazan entered the costume wardrobe provided by the clan. The wardrobe was actually a room opposite Lira’s room. Everyone from this specific dorm can use it. Tho. Most people here are either special kids or don’t make friends.

“who wants to go fishing.” Tazan exited the wardrobe, while on odd bamboo hat and shoes with a straw on his lips and straw made robes for typical peasants and a shovel like fishing rod.

The girls took a dazed gaze at him, but then ignored

Dumb boiz everywhere

I don't know who we must have offend to have to face all this*

To think that Max used to be My mom's young master.. Ah.. Good thing the apocalypse came.. We can only thank our luck*

*grrr*.. Tazan growled in annoyance

But

Bang* Lira threw the pan by the Mirror square on as she continues to mind her business with sarah

“Huh..who knows anything about ancestral ones?” Max asked while uprooting Momo’s claws of his face and at the same time ignoring Tazan

Sarah raised a brow. "The Ancestral what now?"

Lira blinked in amusement and then glanced at him,”I do but what do you know.. And wait how do you even know about the question itself. “

"Well I don't know alot to be even sure if we should worry. ."Max scratches his head

Tazan sighed dramatically. "So nobody wants to go fishing with me?"

“it wouldnt matter then. ”Lira gave Tazan a non chalant look before started started arranging some pile with Sarah as she gave max a response.

"well,it probably does."Max sighed before sharing what he heard with Lira. Who froze.. A little before calming down after she heard the info is from the main world timeline.

“ Huh.. Cough*.. Well, Ancestral ones are usually beings that ruled a race. Or the first kind of a particular race. Like Dracula and Vampires, while Fenrir and Lycanthropes. When have Undead and zombies too. But their Ancestral title is unknown.” Lira’s gaze scrolled the group her eyes spotted the shovel like fishing rope that Tazan dropped out of fear her gaze lingered a bit before she continued

“In the end, beings like that have power levels that spells danger. The weakest at lest being in the rumored Alpha Rank. One hard to know that our present time line only supports Monarch level unlike the main time line you are from that has no limit.“

The atmosphere suddenly felt heavier.Max felt his chest tighten in fear. Then it dawned on him.

They were to weak to even feel bad and hurt. They weren't even Knights yet.

Checking his interface

#####

Host: Max Broderick Kingdergale]

**[Rank: Unranked > PAWN ( 2 Star)]**

*[Type: Human (Synthetic Mimic Augmented)]**

**[Stats:]**

Strength: E

Constitution: E

Spirit: F

Agility: F+

Sense: F+

**[Energy: Full]**

**[Orbs: 1 of 9 Mimic Core]**

Orb 1 skill: using Blueprints of slain monsters and beings on the Mimic Ancestral(Momo). To make it take their shapes and forms but without the real power.

It can also pick a weaopen form of the beings but strength differs based on the blueprint characteristics.

Note: Can be gotten from killing of beast and at a higher level by having The Ancestral devour the Dead Arsora or Savage beast.

Forms of Blueprints : Made from beast soul

Made from Aura (inanimate items)

ORB 2:UNLOCKED (NOT AWAKENED)

ORB 3-7 : LOCKED

Available Blueprints:[01]

- **Type: Grasshopper Mutate**

- **Potential: Low**

- **Rank: Prun**

- **Skill: Bite and Mob**

Note: Normal insect mutated after Damascus.**

- **Fusion: LOCKED**

####

“Huh, how did I become a 2 star expert?” Max got shocked by the result that his interface showed him.

His body seemed to have evolved to a higher existence on its own which shouldn't possible cause once one star has been identified it can't be changed or more precisely it was fundamental.

One star means 2 attribute growth normally without outside influence or treasure. 2 star means 3 attribute, and 3 star means 4 attribute and so on until five star which includes a physique or special affinity which is rare. They were known to be just rumors but were told to the kids of tomorrow who couldn't help but dream.

"If I can increase my Expert mark stars just by unlocking Mimic cores then how much more can I grow. Can even become the legendary chosen of heaven 5 stars?"

"Let's find out!!"

****

The next morning, the academy was abuzz with excitement. Students gathered in clusters, murmuring in hushed voices as bright-colored fliers floated through the air, distributed by mechanical drones that weaved effortlessly between the buildings.

Max caught one as it drifted past him. The paper was smooth to the touch, with bold letters stamped across the front:

"ILLUSIONARY REALM EXPLORATION"

Opportunity for Growth, Power, and Secrets Unveiled!

THE REALM OPENS TWO WEEKS FROM NOW.

Eligibility:

Must be at least Knight rank or higher.

Must register within 30 days of this month.

Teams will be assigned based on individual assessment.

Warning: Survival not guaranteed.

--

Max’s eyes lingered on the last line. Survival not guaranteed? They weren’t sugarcoating it.

Around him, students were already discussing their options.

"I heard the last batch of explorers either got stronger or never came back. Most of the time it was the later."

"It's risky, but think about the rewards!"

"Only Pawn rank and above can enter? Guess that weeds out the weaklings."

"I heard if one gets a good inheritance from the realm and trade with the clan, one can even be given an Elder title."

Max folded the flier and shoved it into his pocket. He had bigger concerns right now, but something told him this was more than just an ordinary academy/ Clan setting event.

Lira peered over his shoulder. "You thinking about signing up?"

Max shook his head. "Not yet. But I have a feeling we won’t have a choice, especially with that robot man about the place.. I bet it's gonna end up being training for me."

Sarah crossed her arms. "It does sound suspiciously convenient, doesn’t it? Right after Sir Lorne’s message about ancestral figures and The Seal."

"yeah,it's as if the universe has it all planned.. Yeah.. This usually happens to Main Manga characters like me.. Momo we have got to be hero" Max and Momo punched their fist in the air while the rest of the crew where so bitten and couldn't find where to hide in shame.

Tazan let out a dry laugh. "I don’t know about you guys, but if they’re handing out free power-ups, I’m in."

Momo got into Sarah pack and took a chip pack before landing on it's landmark spot of Max shoulder, watching more students eagerly grabbing fliers as it chewed it's yummy crispies.

" Hey, did anybody see my chips again. Not surprisingly, it actually went missing again."

Ooh wait when does the illusion realm opens anyway

“well it says here that two weeks from now. “

"Two weeks? You might as well ask us to sprout wings and fly to the moon."* Sarah scoffed, kicking a pebble off the sect’s training cliff. It vanished into the mist below.

Max thought about it, and figured it wasvery through.

From having stats of a degenerate to a prun which he his. Ranking up was tough

CRUK - F-(atleast one of 5 stats, spirit, Agility, Sense/Instinct, constitution, strength) as to be at F minus to be in CRUK rank

Prun - normal F to F+ (well built ppl)

Pawn - E stats (heavy weight champion)

Primal– D (on the level of a colossal beast)

Knight - C(not in The range of normal any more) requires 2 Stat to reach C

General (sub rank that can be skipped

Max clenched his fists. *"Then we find another way. There’s always a—"*

**"There is a way."**

The voice came from nowhere—smooth, effortless. They whirled to see **IX69** leaning against a twisted pine, as if he’d been there for hours. Moonlight glossed the scars along his knuckles.

Sarah tensed. *"How long have you—"*

*"Long enough."* He pushed off the tree. *"The Sect Market opens at midnight. Come or don’t."*

Max exchanged a glance with Sarah. Her lips pressed into a thin line. *"What’s the catch?"*

“well.. “

The synthetic words trailed as the scene fades into the shadows of moonlight.

Far off from here

Shadows covered everywhere as if it was a betrothal of evil, whispers of old ancient could be heard. The dead maybe be asleep but not ignorant.

An underground tomb.

There were mummy soldiers sleeping at sides of the wall as if welcoming their king. Where a huge serpent like golem made of tape mummy with ash gems to adorn on its scales with harsh marks on them, curled up to a mini mountain. It had a crown like isigna at the crown of its head. It's eyes took on a scarlet shade moon shape and color.

The spices and mummy tape curled like a living thing, their surface clogged with the cloying smell of myrrh and crushed coriander. Hisses of serpents current through the room, its words echoing off the walls of the tomb as if stones were speaking. The soldier mummies seemed to be shaking but one couldn't be sure if it was out of fear or by impulse of the wave.

“What brings you here” a hiss reverberated from the serpent’s crown where a futon was seated at it's edge.

“I am unto the white ghost moon Monarch inheritance. “ Frasa said the words he had been told by Seer earlier.

“Huh.. Hmm, and what makes you deserving of it, outsider. “

Frasa lingered on the pool's rim. The fluid was not water—not really. It was a preservative broth, a slurry of embalming solution, spice powder, and unraveled mummy wrappings that squirmed like eels beneath the liquid. The reek of rot and spice punched his throat.

He had no option.

Inhaling a breath, he plunged in.

The instant his body burst through into the surface, the tapes *moved*. They wrapped themselves around his limbs, constricting like snakes, pulling him down. Spices battered his eyes, burning like acid. The farther down he went, the more thick the liquid was, until he was paddling through something more like clotting blood than water.

Then—

A pulse.

***Thud.***

***Thud.***

The heartbeat was slow and measured, every thump causing a ripple in the gloom. Frasa kicked forward, his lungs burning. The snake had told him the dragon was dead, but the heart continued to beat. That could be only one reason: the creature was already in the stage of rebirth.

His fingers caressed something hard—a corpse.

The Destruction Dragon was man-sized, six feet of it bound in rotting bandages, scaled flesh sloughing away in strips. But its chest—its chest was *open*, ribs pushed apart as if something had burst out. And in the empty space, between shiny, charred veins, lay the heart.

It beat.

Once.

Twice.

Then it *saw* him.

The dragon's milky eyes opened.

***"Thief."***

The voice was not sound. It was vibration, pressure against Frasa's skull, a word inscribed on his bones. The dragon's hand extended, fingers closing around his wrist. When it touched him, the field of destruction *surged*.

Frasa's flesh turned black where the monster clutched him, necrosis spreading like spreading ink on water. He clenched his teeth, his other hand seeking the charm hidden in his belt—a piece of papyrus inscribed with binding sigils. He slapped it against the dragon's chest.

The rot slowed.

Not enough.

The dragon's claws closed, claws digging into his flesh. Frasa bellowed, ripping his arm free with a shrieking tearing. Blood—rich and black—swirled around them. He didn't wait. He stomped his hand into the dragon's chest and *pulled*.

The heart ripped out with a sucking tearing sound.

It pulsed in his hand, veins twisting, its beat unsteady. The dragon's form twitched, and lay still. The serpent had been correct—the beast was dead. The heart, though? The heart was *alive*.

And it was *starving*.

Frasa thrashed up, the pool resisting him every step of the way. When he broke through the surface, gasping, the serpent waited.

The tongue of the snake darted out, tasting the air. ***"The dragon will return,"*** it threatened. ***"Its heart will rouse chaos from a thousand miles. You have made the world its cradle."***

Frasa threw the heart on the stone ground. It thudded there, still pulsing, with a wet splat.

"Not my problem," he muttered.

The serpent's laughter was the dry scratch of sand on bone. Then it bit, its jaws swallowing the heart whole.

Frasa's fingers wandered to his sternum, where a slice of the heart now beat in his flesh he found a window into a box he had created beforehand and stuffed that shard of destruction inside.

The serpent swallowed the heart in a single gulp, unaware of a lost chump from the lower left chamber ouricle of it. It strikes on the power of chaos within itself as it strengthened.

"Good serpent," Frasa said. "May we continue now?"

The snake hissed, the hiss that could have been laughter. It started chanting, the words of old Egypt distorting the air.As tapes bound him in every direction like tying up an animal.

You lived. The serpent had its eyes speak with Crescent moon pupils glinting piercing Frasa that brought a burning feeling. If One looked at his head far away. It's easier to recognize a moon mark upon it. Glowing in gold and abyssal black.

Then more mummy tapes emerged from the pool to envelop Frasa in layers of linen that stiffened into armor and Melded with the ones that resembled chains to give him a costume similar to the legend of Moon knight but he had skirt on and his neck seemed to be wrapped in tape of ten which actually it was with space in between which actually proved this. His fingers sported the tips if the tape Flailing off it creating a sensation it might spring to life like a snake from the depths. A royal cloak was born, gold threads encircling the bandages—a travesty of pharaonic grandeur. Adding to the Medallion on his forehead that resembled a serpent.

Frasa eyes had turned white altogether even taking on a milky emerald color.

"The tapes hold us," the serpent retorted, and its body disappeared into mist which penetrated the robe. "I will aid you… when death clamps itself about your neck. No sooner."

"Well then, I may begin my own journey of fate but first.."

Frasa carved the pentagram into the tomb floor, dagger in one hand, scorpion venom in the other. He placed the black box—a relic from the Seer—at the center, surrounded by cursed artifacts: a rusted iron dagger, a desiccated scarab, vials of mercury.

The spell was short, brutal. The box vanished in a burst of green flame, the other materials crumbling to ash

With a flash