Chương 10: Targeted

Ch 10: Targeted I rose from the chair I had been sharing with Sahirah, still wrestling with a single question. Now that Zira and her people had changed their minds out of desperation, should I still charge only 250 credits for a copy of the system? With a neutral expression, I looked into her fearful eyes. There was no trace of the arrogant elf from earlier. Her pointed ears had flattened against her head, perhaps a sign that she understood exactly what I was thinking.

Right now, I could charge whatever I wanted, and she'd pay it.

The alternative was sending her people back to live in fear that any one of her people might be a Mimic. I took a deep breath.

"Quite a different attitude from before," I said.

"Why do you suddenly think I'm skilled enough with runes and that my system is worth the price?" Even terrified as she was, her fists clenched. For a moment, I thought she was about to insult me again. She didn't.

"Because the Grey don't seem to care enough," she said.

"And you're our only option." There it was. The plain and naked truth. A wide smile spread across my face.

"It's still 250 credits," I said, already reaching across my desk to deactivate the last sphere. Her eyes widened, and her ears perked up. Yeah, she'd definitely been prepared to pay a premium.

"Why didn't you raised the price?" she asked. I smirked and crossed my arms.

"Because this is a matter of life and death for your people, isn't it? That doesn't mean I suddenly like your attitude any more than before. It just means I don't dislike you enough to profit from the possibility of your friends dying." Zira accepted the sphere with a thoughtful expression. Only after our credit crystals glowed and the payment went through did she speak again.

"Is that all?" She was already turning to leave. I noticed she hadn't even said thank you. Still, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was desperate, and she probably wanted to get back to her people as quickly as possible.

"One last thing," I said.

"I got my hands on a book with combat spells, and I was wondering if your people would be interested in joining a little extra training session to learn to defend ourselves against the Mimics. Think of it as an evening class where you can learn things the Grey won't teach you. Interested?" Her gaze shifted between Sahirah and me. After a few moments of hesitation, she nodded.

"I can't speak for the others," she said, "but count me in." Then she hurried out of the room, forgetting to close the door behind her. Sahirah and I exchanged a long look. Her expression made me wonder why an open door had annoyed her so much. Was it the cold draft?

"Do you show your spellbook to every girl you've known for five minutes?" Well... it was safe to assume by now that the cold draft wasn't what had bothered her. Instead of defending myself with words, I simply picked up the Fire Moon book, opened it to the table of contents, and showed her the notes I'd scribbled beside each chapter as soon as Elitha had given it to me.

It read: Chapter One — Defensive Spells (use to make friends) Chapter Two — Offensive Spells (use to make friends) Chapter Three — Compound Spells (keep to myself)... Chapter Eight — Dual Cultivation (share with Sahirah) That did the trick. The annoyance vanished from her face as though it had never been there.

"Shall we begin now, human?" The panic that hadn't struck me when I'd been falsely accused finally hit me. The cause was simple. Performance anxiety.

"Tomorrow," I said immediately.

"I skipped sleep last night making copies of the system. The last thing I want is to fall asleep halfway through our first attempt." She laughed as she stood slowly and walked toward the still-open door. Stopping at the threshold, she looked back and smiled.

"Don't you dare to forget," she said.

"Tomorrow after class, we have an appointment."

After the night, and a good part of the morning, had passed, I found myself standing in front of the library. As usual, I was skipping classes. And if I wasn't mistaken, Sahirah and the other good students should be in runes class right now, a class I only planned to attend whenever there was a new test.

Before stepping inside the building, which stood apart from the dorms and was only loosely connected to the rest of the school, I paused to check the five folded sheets of paper sticking out of my jacket pocket for easy access. My first combat spells. I'd made them before sunrise, despite barely sleeping. Considering how exhausted I'd been the night before, I'd expected to oversleep. But the truth was, the Mimics had me on edge.

They had already killed two people, or four, if they'd abandoned their original hosts to possess new ones. And even though nothing had happened to me personally yet, I was under no illusion that Principal Dickhead considered me a priority worth protecting. That thought alone had been enough to drag me out of bed before dawn, even if it meant enduring yet another miserable day in a world that didn't even have coffee.

"Half a morning making defensive spells just to collect a hundred credits," I muttered. Books weren't my goal today. I was here in front of the library to collect my monthly allowance. Not that I desperately needed it anymore. Between the five hundred credits Elitha had paid me and the seven hundred and fifty I'd earned selling copies of the system, I already had 1, 250 credits. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Still, what kind of startup CEO leaves free money on the table? Letting out a long sigh, I glanced once more at the folded spells in my pocket, wondering whether I'd be able to draw one quickly enough without tearing the paper if I suddenly needed it. Another concern weighed on my mind. I hadn't even started studying the spells from Fire Moon. Everything in my pocket was just another variation of the illusion spell, the only spell I could honestly claim to understand.

"A hundred credits is a hundred credits," I told myself, finally walking inside. The first thing that struck me was how empty the library was. Since arriving on Navar, I'd never seen it like this. Rows upon rows of chairs sat vacant, where students normally filled every seat from morning until night. The Mimic infestation really was changing people's behavior.

That thought was still on my mind when I spotted the intake clerk, who, on days when the Riftstorm hadn't brought new arrivals, was simply the school's librarian. The old Grey sat behind the counter as always, quill in hand, reading some document through the same old spectacles. I walked over, oddly relieved that the building was so empty. Fewer people meant fewer chances that one of them was housing a Mimic. The old Grey looked up and smiled the moment I approached.

"Eric Nevermore," he said.

"First human in twenty years. Here to collect the second installment of your allowance." A smile spread across my face. Being recognized so precisely gave me an odd sense of reassurance.

"Hey, old Grey, you're in a better mood today, aren't you?" I said, remembering what he'd told me the first time we met.

"No speech about how your people were better off when you dealt with immigrants by killing them instead of sending them to schools infested with Mimics." To my surprise, he laughed. I didn't remember this one having a sense of humor.

"The Mimics have made my job easier," he replied.

"Far fewer furred and scaled beasts dare visit the library, and I haven't had to deal with a single claw-scratched book today." Yep. That sounded like the old Grey I remembered.

"Well then," I said, "I'd like to collect my hundred credits."

"One moment." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a large credit crystal.

"Place your student crystal here." Everything seemed perfectly routine. I took my own crystal from my pocket and set it where he indicated. The crystals lit up, and the number +100 appeared. Then a hand clamped around my wrist. The grip was impossibly strong. An icy chill shot through my body, so sudden it overwhelmed even the small rush of satisfaction I'd felt from receiving the credits.

"What the fuck?" The curse escaped before I could stop it. The old Grey's face began to twist. Muscles shifted beneath his skin in impossible ways, facial tissue bending into expressions no Grey face should have been capable of making. Then it spoke in a voice that was wrong. It sounded like several voices trying to speak in perfect unison but never quite matching.

"Reporting to the Hive," it said.

"By individual decision, I have determined that the loss of this host is an acceptable price for the life of the system maker." The way it addressed me barely registered. While the thing spoke, my free hand was already reaching into my pocket, carefully pulling out one of the folded spell papers without tearing it. Then the old Grey's jaw snapped open. Far wider than any mouth should have.

His lower jaw kept stretching until it nearly reached his chest, skin tearing at the corners as something pale pushed its way out. A thick white worm forced itself through the opening, wet with saliva and blood. It had no eyes, face, or nose. Just an enormous circular maw lined with rings of hooked teeth that peeled open like a grotesque flower. It lunged straight at my face. As if it intended to crawl down my throat. Panic burned inside me.

I couldn't break free from its grip, but I managed to activate the illusion spell just in time. Mana poured out of me as the paper in my hand lit up. The Mimic froze. Just as my design intended, its mind had been caught by the full force of a forbidden illusion spell. Unlike the harmless version inside my system, this one didn't pull a name from memory.

It reached into the target's deepest fears, dragged the worst one to the surface, and trapped the victim inside a full-immersion nightmare where illusion and reality became impossible to distinguish. Even so... I still wasn't free. Worse yet, the paper was slowly burning away in my hand. The mana consumption of a fully immersive attack was far beyond what ordinary mana-conductive ink could withstand. I kicked, twisted, and thrashed. The Grey's grip refused to loosen.

When I saw the paper beginning to crumble into ash, I acted on instinct. I bit down on the hand holding me with every ounce of strength I had. It worked. The creature released me. But with the illusion gone, I found myself staring directly at the nightmare. The Mimic had completely emerged from the Grey's mouth. It balanced on the floor with the front third of its body raised high, swaying like a striking cobra.

Except this thing was nearly as thick as the widest part of my arm, and its only feature was that endless mouth full of teeth.

"No freaking way I'm dying here." I jumped backward, snatching up a chair and raising it between us. I didn't activate another spell. That single attack had drained nearly half my mana. Oddly enough, I could tell. Ever since that first meditation session with Sahirah, I'd developed a faint awareness of how much mana remained inside me. I hadn't had the chance to test that sensation until now, but apparently surviving a monster attack was as good a field test as any. The Mimic watched me. Then its body morphed.

Its pale flesh shifted color, grain spreading across its skin until it blended almost perfectly with the wooden floor.

"Oh, shit." The moment it disappeared from sight, real panic set in.

"Shit... shit... shit..." I kept backing away, treating everything around me as a potential Mimic. Fortunately, my brain decided to cooperate, overriding instinct. I moved away from the bookshelves. Away from the counter. Away from anything the creature could hide behind. An open space gave me the best chance of spotting it before it reached me. I checked my right. Nothing. I glanced left, ready to kick. Nothing. Then I looked over my shoulder. There! It shot toward me, and I didn't think.

I swung the chair with everything I had. Wood slammed into flesh. The Mimic was knocked sideways, but the impact ripped the chair from my hands and sent it flying across the library. Still, I barely noticed it. My eyes stayed glued to the creature. It twisted in midair, struck the floor, and in a single fluid motion coiled upward again, rearing almost upright as its circular maw spread open, ready to lunge once more. A wave of revulsion struck my stomach.

I yanked another illusion spell from my pocket, my thumb landing directly on the mana-drain circle needed to activate it. The paper was already glowing before it fully cleared my pocket. This time I didn't try to fight. I ran. The spell drank my mana as I sprinted for the exit, hoping the few seconds of terror it inflicted would be enough to give me a head start. My eyes widened the instant I crossed the library's threshold, but something solid blocked my path. And I crashed straight into it.

"Don't even think about running," Principal Zorik growled.

"I saw you vandalizing the library through the surveillance globe. You're not escaping prison this time, human." For the first time in my life, I was genuinely relieved to see Principal Dickhead. And as much as I disliked him, nothing compared to the sweat feeling that someone stronger than you had just arrived when you were about to die.

"Mimic," I gasped, pointing inside. The principal frowned, but he didn't question me. His eyes immediately shifted toward the library. And without another word, he shoved me aside hard enough to nearly knock me over. Normally I'd have complained. Right then, I couldn't have cared less. I stayed by the doorway, watching as Zorik walked to the old Grey's body. For a brief moment, something complicated crossed his face. Regret. Anger. Disgust. Then he raised one hand.

A magic circle blossomed above his palm before erupting into a blinding flash. This happened at the same time a pulse of mana swept through my body. I shielded my eyes. When the light faded, Zorik walked back toward me.

"Hideous creatures," he muttered.

"They're fearless when hunting the weak. Yet the moment they sense real power, they flee faster than most prey animals."

"It escaped?" I asked.

"But... how?"

"A crack in a wall. A ventilation shaft. An open window. The body of another weak student like you." As he spoke, he pressed a hand against my forehead, and a ring of runes flashed around his wrist before vanishing almost instantly.

"Fortune is not on my side today," he sighed.

"You are safe, human." He wanted me dead and regret I was safe? Well, screw him! But I still needed him to answer me a question.

"How can you scan me so easily." I remembered well how tight and convoluted was the scanning process near the food court.

"When exposure is recent, scanning takes no effort." Only then did the terror finally leave me. And immediately, my brain returned to more important matters. No. A funny title in his status window wasn't enough anymore. When my system became world-spanning infrastructure – when it handed out quests, skills, and rewards – there would be a certain Principal who would always receive the worst quests, the worst skills, and the worst luck. And if he ever asked whether it had been intentional... I'd deny it forever.

Just fortune that wasn't on his side. Nothing more.

"See you around, Principal," I said, already walking away.

"Aren't you afraid I'll imprison you again as a murder suspect?"

"Nah." I grinned over my shoulder.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who wants to taste Mimic twice." I headed straight for my room. Sahirah and I had a taboo training session waiting for us, and I needed to organize that extra combat class with the other species as soon as possible. After today's near-death experience, one thing had become painfully clear. I needed a spell that could kill. And it needed it fast. And now that I'd seen exactly what a Mimic looked like, I could finally start designing one specifically to kick its ass.