Dark Souls Chest Mimic Novels & Stories

"The apocalypse survival game begins now. From this point on, I'll be watching your every move. Everything you do will be visible to me. Everyone must follow the rules of the safe house. "The first rule is that everything in this safe house will be distributed on a set schedule in fixed amounts. No one is allowed to take anything on their own. Second, once the game starts, there's no stopping or backing out. Third—" Before I could finish speaking, a voice from below cut me off. "Screw you. Who do you think you are, giving us orders?" The speaker was one of Tristan's men. I nodded to the burly men beside me, who stood nearly seven feet tall, signaling for them to go down and teach him a lesso

Leah shouted, her voice a whip-crack of authority. The creature’s violet sockets pulsed. It wasn't just light; it was a rhythmic lure, designed to freeze the nervous system through the optic nerve. Daniel, ever the analyst, had already averted his gaze, focusing instead on the creature's center of gravity. Victor, however, was trembling, his hand hovering near a heavy branch on the forest floor, his knuckles white as he fought the urge to stare into the abyss. "It’s a mimic," Daniel hissed, his voice clinical despite the sweat beading on his forehead. "Bio-organic feedback. It’s using Alden’s voice because it’s the last authority we recognized. It’s not just hunting us; it’s deconstructing u

Determined. Something stirred within Chloe, battling against the fear that wrapped around her like cutting chains. Whatever it was waking up inside of her reacted to the presence of this male as he dominated the space around them. The winds had cut across his cheeks and nose to leave them pink and flecks of snow clung desperately to the wisps of jet black hair peeking out from under his woollen hat. He looked different in what appeared to be fatigues. There were crisp sharp edges that were almost as deadly as the assault rifle strapped to him. The black of the material seemed to absorb the light around it. He looked deadly and it had Chloe's mouth drying up as a curious thirst wracked her. A

The bad type. Chiara ceased writhing, and her breathing returned to normal. She appeared to have lost consciousness. Yet, what truly disturbed me was the movement beneath her skin. I thought I was hallucinating at first; howbeit, I saw it again. This time, it was creeping out of the open wound on her chest. The creature looked like a large slimy slug at first, but at a second look, I came to realize what it really was. It was a Simus. A soul eater.

“Help me! It’s me! Don’t attack!” Some wolves hesitated, lowering their blades in confusion. I shouted immediately, voice cutting through the chaos. “They are not our own! Do not hesitate! The echo will show you the truth!” Jacob roared from the front. “They are shadows! Cut them down!” He charged forward and slashed through the construct that wore a familiar face. The mimic dissolved into black smoke with a shriek. Riven followed, cutting down two more. The hesitation broke. Our wolves attacked with renewed fury.

From the far end of the hallway emerged two figures—Resistance soldiers, faces grim. But one of them wasn’t blinking. Ivy's heart jumped. "Don't move," Asher warned, raising his weapon. The second soldier lunged—too fast, too smooth. The mimic. It dropped its disguise mid-leap, revealing a swirling, featureless face with Ivy’s reflection glimmering in its surface. Asher fired three times—once to the chest, once to the head, once to the wall behind it. The mimic shrieked as it hit the ground, spasming before dissolving into ash.

The three mimics on the floor below lit up in Jack's perception like counterfeit bills under ultraviolet light, their false signatures suddenly, obviously wrong. Jack folded space. He materialized in the corridor of the forty-seventh floor face-to-face with a perfect copy of himself. Same dark-gold eyes. Same gauntlets. Same predatory stance. The mimic smiled with Jack's smile. "Hello, Father-blood." Jack didn't hesitate. He drove the compass directly into the mimic's chest. The device's reality-frequency resonance clashed with the construct's void-language foundation. The mimic shrieked, its form destabilizing, Jack's face melting into grey static.

I am Cassandra. “Yes, you heard it right… I am Cassandra Felix'' I said and showed him my necklace that surprised him more, and I know it will happen and the expression on his face makes me laugh. He looks like seeing a ghost, shocked and frozen. I know that he is still trying to absorb everything that is why I help him absorb what is going on, because I don’t want to kill him just like that. Of course knowing the reason is more satisfying than killing him, just like that. In just a snap.

Well, he’s already dead and His Majesty just made use of his corpse as an offering to gain entry in the Prison of Despair. I followed Kal when he started to move from where he was watching. I can no longer hear the Bloodhounds, though I can hear the sound of flesh tearing and bone crunching every now and then. “They retreated to the shadows,” Kal assured me, entwining his fingers with mine. When we crossed the threshold, the air smelled of damp and fresh rain with a hint of blood and...and— “Rotting corpse,” Kal gulped as we halted before what looked like the body of a decaying Mimic. Those vile shape-shifting creatures really have no match for the Bloodhounds.