Mortimer, page 31
part #6 of Everybody Loves Large Chests Series
Lichter’s intuition regarding the Sandman’s pet slut was right on the money.
[Mist Form]
The djinn’s figure vanishes into a cloud of mist, becoming as untouchable as a fleeting dream.
Requirements: Level 15 Djinn Job
Type: Sustained
Activation Time: Instant
Cost: 250 MP/sec
Range: Self
[Effects]
Transforms the user’s corporeal form into mist.
Grants immunity to physical attacks while this Skill is active.
Increases magic damage taken by 100% while this Skill is active.
Reduces the MP cost of this Skill by 4% per Level of this Skill.
The mist also allowed Xera to maintain awareness of where she was, so something like wisping through the cracks in a pile of rocks was not difficult. She was also confident she could pass through solid stone walls with enough practice, but had to be very careful when materializing. While she wasn’t completely sure what would happen if she tried to turn solid in her current state, it was a fair assumption to say it would result in a very painful death. As alluring as that thought was, she still had a revenge mission to carry out, and was rather relieved when she was able to pass through the rubble and emerge on the other side without incident. Her conjured flesh reformed out of thin air, reverting to her new base form as an alluring djinn.
She wasn’t the only one who had done so, as the demon-infested Voidcaller staff followed her on her vaporous voyage and now rested loosely in her grip. She had bonded with the ifrit sultan imprisoned inside during her Rank Up, which allowed her some measure of control over the staff. This was good, as she wouldn’t be able to lift the blasted thing otherwise. She could also swing it around as a means of attacking, which would inflict a decent amount of damage due to the staff’s massive weight and nigh-invulnerable construction.
This thing was bound to prove very useful, considering Boxxy’s killer seemed to be completely unphased by fire. He probably possessed the Fire Affinity Skill much like her new self, so her fire magic would hardly even phase it. Even though a succubus’s Penetration Expertise allowed their Spells to bypass a portion of her target’s elemental resistances, she wasn’t sure her flames could overcome total immunity. It certainly didn’t seem to be the case when she was playing with herself last-
She shook her head. Now was not the time for such distractions, nor was there room for hesitation. No matter how miniscule her efforts, she had to find that thing and stall it long enough for those muscle-heads to arrive. Of course, the bastard was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t about to stop her. Xera raised both hands towards the obfuscated heavens and called upon another djinni power.
“Guiding Light!”
A tiny mote of pure white flickered into existence. No bigger than a beetle, the miniscule light bobbed up and down seemingly at random as it oriented itself.
“Gwoooahn?”
It stood in front of its owner’s face and requested orders with a low, drawn-out drone closer to a musical note than a voice.
“Go! Bring me to the one I seek!” commanded Xera.
“Chkwong.”
Having received its orders, the sprite darted off down the half-collapsed hallway with the former succubus following close behind. However, since Xera was still new at using this particular form of magical guidance, she was unaware that she had accidentally given it the wrong instructions. It was hardly the sprite’s fault. While it could almost unerringly locate what was asked for it, her request hadn’t been specific enough. Like anything of demonic origin, one had to be wary of the hubris in their words when addressing a Guiding Light. Rather than chase after Zilla, the semi-sentient lump of mana sought out another, deeper desire that the djinn harbored. The demoness may have had her mind focused on vengeance, but her greatest wish – perhaps the only thing she’d ever truly yearned for – was something else entirely.
Luckily for Xera, both the target of her revenge and the object of her twisted affections happened to be in the same room.
Part Three
Zilla arrived in front of Specimen 68’s cell in a huff, where Simmons and five more guards were holding their ground. On his way, he passed a steady stream of Foundation personnel heading towards the breach, so the other six guards were likely sent off to respond to the ongoing intruder alert at sector B-24. They didn’t stand a chance. Fodder like that was absolutely no match for a pair of Rankers and two unshackled demons of comparable power.
“Specimen 49?!” blurted out the surprised officer-in-charge. “What’s going on?!”
“Terrible news, Mr. Simmons,” said Zilla. “The intruders are Hilda and Lichter of the Central Consortium!”
“What?! Why are they here?!”
“I tried to talk them down, but they seem to be on some personal crusade and things turned violent. I was ordered to fall back and secure critical personnel, including Professor Honoka.”
“Fall back? What do you mean fall back?!” roared the elf. “You were designed to stop people like them, weren’t you?!”
“You overestimate my abilities, Mr. Simmons,” replied Zilla calmly. “If we were to engage, my chances of survival are less than three percent.”
He pulled the number out of his ass, but strictly speaking, even that was being generous under the circumstances. It also produced the intended result as Simmons’s shocked and outraged face became grim and serious instead.
“So, would you kindly tell me where Honoka is?” Zilla insisted.
“Very well,” replied the elf in a defeated manner. “We hid the Professor inside Specimen 68’s containment cell for her own safety.”
It was a bit unorthodox, but made a good degree of sense. Between its impregnable Stasis Field and absurdly solid adamantine door, it was one of the most secure areas in the entire compound.
“You lot,” Simmons turned to his men, “assist the rest of the staff with the evacuation. Torch whatever data can’t be salvaged, but prioritize their lives above all else. Move out!”
“Yes, sir!”
The former soldiers immediately ran off in the direction Zilla came from, while their boss placed his hand on the blue panel next to the bulkhead.
“I’ll leave the Professor in your hands. Make sure you have her seal the door behind you, though. Just in case.”
“Of course, Mr. Simmons,” said Zilla with a nod.
Having received the surprisingly honest answer, Simmons opened the heavy bulkhead by manipulating the blue panel next to it and ran off to join his men. Protocol demanded that he seal the visitors inside and let them out later, but protocol didn’t account for an invasion by two damned VIPs, so this particular protocol could go fuck itself. With free reign of the place, Zilla ran inside to find exactly what he was expecting – Honoka outside the cage of light, and Boxxy still trapped inside.
“Professor Honoka,” he called out to her. “We have to-”
“Stay away from me!”
Something wasn’t right. Honoka was visibly shaken by his appearance and actively backing away from him. The caged hylt creeper, on the other hand, was serenely staring at her in its base form. The next two puzzle pieces were its skin’s purple coloration and the lack of an Attitude Adjuster gas bubble. Honoka’s terrified scream and quivering lips served as final confirmation.
“Ah,” he exclaimed. “You and the prisoner have been having a little chat, have you?”
“How could you!? You were going to betray us? Betray me?! After everything I’ve done for you?!”
Something about that last sentence struck a nerve.
“Oh, yes! Everything you’ve done for me!” he started raving like a madman. “All the experiments, the body modifications, the months of mental and physical torture I suffered as a result! And let’s not forget how you tried to control my free will! Truly, what more could a piece of furniture ask for?!”
He took slow, deliberate steps forward while the flabbergasted elf backed away in a panic until her back pressed against the yellow cage of light.
“It’s okay,” declared Zilla magnanimously. “I forgive you. This damnable Foundation may have clouded your judgement and twisted your morals, but I know the truth.”
“T-t-truth? What are you-?!”
Honoka’s muttering was cut off by her former pet, who lunged forward and slammed his palms against the Stasis Field on either side of her head. With his arms flanking her and cutting off any escape route, Honoka could do little but whimper pathetically with tears welling up in her eyes.
“Deep down, my Honoka is a good girl,” Zilla spoke quietly. “That’s why I had to save her from the corrupt government’s lapdogs and make sure they pay for corrupting her.”
The same smile that had relieved and reassured her for years now seemed so incredibly sinister she wanted to believe this was just a nightmare. However, the skin-crawling sensation she felt when Zilla stroked her cheek confirmed this was reality.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” he continued whispering. “You’ll never have to worry about anything, my dear. Food, shelter, clothes – especially clothes – I’ll make sure you have all of those. As for the bullies that keep making you cry, that pit you against me, they won’t disturb you ever again. Just like the old days.”
Her eyes widened in shock as she seemed to grasp at what he- what it was implying.
“Y-you’re crazy,” she squeaked.
“Hahaha! Why, whatever do you mean?! After all, as you so succinctly put it, I am nothing if not a bastion of logic, reason, and common sense!”
“No… Noooo!”
Honoka finally recognized Zilla for the twisted monster it was and made a last ditch effort to escape. She ducked under his arm and ran a total of three steps before it grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and lifted her off the ground. She flailed her hands and feet wildly, but couldn’t stop what was happening. Zilla slowly slithered out of his armor while maintaining a grip on her, and his scarred humanoid body expanded several sizes into a fancy-looking wardrobe adorned with a head and arm. Honoka looked back over her shoulder, staring in horror as she realized that the scantily-clad elven women engraved on either door now bore her likeness. Not only her pudgy, pale face, but also her well-rounded proportions.
“Noo!” she began struggling anew. “You can’t do this! Please! Zilla! Don’t! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, let me go!”
No matter how much she pleaded and begged, Honoka was placed inside the living wardrobe all the same. What was once animate wood was now nothing but a shell covering a mass of writhing, red flesh. It seemed like the elf was being swallowed up by a gigantic slug, which only further amplified her horror. Her neck, waist, hands, and feet were securely bound by fleshy tendrils. Her lab coat, shoes, and three-week-old underwear were stripped and discarded because, even though they were technically clean, Zilla never approved of how they looked. Finally, a feeding tube intended to deliver nutritious paste and vital moisture was forced down her throat, gagging her protests and allowing only disgusting gurgling noises to escape her throat. Even those horrible sounds disappeared when the wardrobe’s doors shut themselves tight, sealing her off from the rest of the world.
“Finally,” said Zilla, a blissed-out-look on its face.
The creature finally felt whole, as if a part of it that had been torn away was finally back where it belonged. The monster wished to cherish the sensation forever. Unfortunately, he knew it couldn’t be. No matter how well he cared for Honoka, she didn’t possess a house mimic’s longevity and would surely expire long before her protector did. That was okay, though. Zilla had already thought of a workaround. After all, elves were capable of something no mimic could do, a way to leave a bit of themselves behind even after they had passed on. Granted, it would take a lot of doing to work out the details, but the monster had plenty of time to figure out this ‘insemination’ thing.
“Are you done yet?”
Zilla’s moment of silent reverie was rudely interrupted by a voice from below and behind. The freakish abomination in the shape of a wardrobe extended the neck attaching its human-like head to the rest of it like a serpent. Its annoyed face twisted around and stared down at the only creature that had ever come close to being its peer.
“Me? Done? Oh no, my friend. I am only just beginning,” it jovially replied.
“Well, you got what you wanted. I don’t suppose you would be willing to let me out now?”
“Don’t be silly. Even if I was capable of doing so, I’m not stupid enough to cut you loose.”
The house mimic naturally had no intention of letting Boxxy out of its cell. Even if things had gone according to plan and the hylt creeper had upheld its end of their agreement, Zilla surely wouldn’t have let it roam free. It was impossible to believe a monster had let go of its grudge towards its killer. The same went for the personal hatred it most likely developed against Honoka, the one who tried to enslave it. Wardrobzilla was sure of this because, if the roles had been reversed, the treacherous wardrobe would have definitely plotted to murder both its killer and its torturer.
“You can turn to dust along with the rest of this place once I’m done here. I’m sure you can understand,” he smugly added.
“Haaah,” Boxxy sighed with disappointment. “So that’s how it was, after all. I was hoping things would turn out differently, that you of all creatures would understand. But it would seem you’re just like the rest.”
“Am I now?” Zilla raised an eyebrow. “And how do you figure that, hmm? Please, do tell, in what way am I ‘like the rest?’”
“It’s so simple it’s pathetic, really,” said Boxxy, its gaze fixated on the freakish head. “You’re way too full of yourself.”
Zilla felt dozens of razor-sharp blades tear through its fleshy insides, rapidly shaving away its already diminished HP. By the time it was able to react, its ‘unwilling captive’ had already ripped through the wardrobe’s backside, revealing a vaguely humanoid creature that was very far from a female elf. It was best described as a bunch of knives in the vague shape of a person. Still unable to fully grasp the situation, the freakish wardrobe shifted into its monstrous, chimera-like form while lashing out at its attacker. The steel blender that stood like a man retaliated by throwing itself directly into the incoming scale-covered punch, causing even more wounds as the two clashed. Its struggle didn’t last long, but it still managed to get a few good cuts in before it was flattened into a pulp. The Mirror Image’s remains began rapidly disappearing as they returned to the mana that spawned them.
Covered in gashes and bleeding profusely, Zilla fell down on its knees. He struggled to shapeshift its wounds shut as the Hero of Death’s Fatal Promise tried its darndest to keep them open.
“My, my,” said Boxxy in a condescending tone. “Is it me, or do you seem to be in a spot of trouble, partner?”
The bird-headed hodgepodge of various monsters looked at it with a mixture of hate, apprehension, and fury.
“You! How did you get out of there?! No, forget that! WHERE IS MY HONOKA!?!”
“Why, she is a part of me now,” Boxxy declared triumphantly. “I couldn’t let the arrogant bitch think she could get away with trying to control me.”
The shapeshifter’s visage twisted into the face of Zilla’s obsession, its voice perfectly mimicking hers.
“I’m sure you can understand.”
“You… YOUUU-!”
Zilla went into a mad rage and blindly attacked Boxxy with every punch, kick, Spell, and other supernatural ability he could think of, yet all its efforts were rendered useless by the Stasis Field between the two monsters.
“You know, you really shouldn’t dismiss the ‘how’ of things,” stated the captive while its adversary continued to rage just outside its new shield. “Truth be told, I could’ve broken out of here any time. It’s amazing how much you can learn by reading the writing on the wall.”
The creature gestured at the lines of ever-shifting letters that crawled incessantly all over the walls of its cage before it continued to gloat.
“The only reason I didn’t do so earlier was because I wouldn’t have made it far. If push came to shove, I’d have probably tried it anyway if it meant I got to kill your shiny person before I died again. I don’t think I’d have too many regrets if I accomplished that.”
It stopped pacing around and extended its arms outward, as if trying to hug the mass of murder and malice beyond the solid wall of light.
“But this? This is soooo much better! I never knew despair could be so tasty! They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I must say, I think I much prefer the pointless heat of your laughable desperation and impotent rage!”
“Shut uuuuuup! Come out here and face me, Morningwood! If it’s come to this, then I’ll just eat your lifeless corpse and take Honoka’s remains with it! She will be purified in my belly, so that only your worthless matter will be shit out and pissed on! By me!”
Zilla continued to rave like a madman, spouting his wildly obscene and obscenely wild fantasies at the top of his lungs.
“Want me to come out, do you? Alright, I’ll humor you. Wouldn’t feel right unless I rip out your nasty life with my very teeth, after all!”
Boxxy started growing extra arms from its back and shoulders until it had a total of seven thin, gangly limbs. It reached forward with its three right hands and four lefts, pressing a single bronze-tipped finger from each appendage against the solid wall of light. It began calmly dragging them along the surface as it traced seven different symbols simultaneously, spelling out the phrase ‘out with the bad’ in the ancient language of the Gods.
