Chương 22: Mimic Hunter

[Title - Mimic Hunter (Uncommon, I-Grade): Killed multiple mimics with a single attack, signaling hostility and/or dominance to the weakest members of their kind—while active, the bearer's eyes automatically track the movement of previously identified creatures hidden by equally or lesser graded Skills, making it impossible for them to escape peripheral vision once seen. The more numerous, unique, or powerful mimics defeated, the further this title's grade will increase and the more varied and potent its effects.] Huh. Didn't think the blood trick would work on bodies. Her blood grenade had sent a punch of force in every direction. She spun her blade. Caught it. Without any puddles or burst pipes around, she had nothing wet to grab, so the blood wave would have been a quick shove—a single missed step, then gone. She wondered if it worked on humans. The mer‑trait needed further testing, and she already had a mental list of volunteers who'd never agree. Kelly studied her new title.

Mimic Hunter, her second title after the Null. Prophecy immunity from The Null sounded great—if she wanted to make a bunch of fortune tellers hate their job. It was a neat little loophole in fate itself. In theory. But in practice? The workarounds were everywhere.

'Seers' didn't need to predict what she'd do next. They could just look at everything else. Her friends. Her past locations. New York itself. Hell, if someone wanted to get creative, they could divine whether her next pizza would arrive cold and track her from there. Meanwhile, Mimic Hunter had immediate, tangible use. The title straight-up tracked mimics once she spotted them, stopping them from slipping into blind spots or escaping her sight through perfect mimicry.

"Alright," she cleared her throat, decision made.

"Uh. Status, Set primary title to Mimic Hunter." Nothing. The remaining mimics began to rise, finally noticing her. She squinted.

"Activate Mimic Hunter? Load Mimic Hunter? Bear title, Mimic Hunter? Enable Mimic Tracker 3000?" Still nothing.

"God, just—fucking equip Mimic Hunter." [Title Equipped: Mimic Hunter (Uncommon, I-Grade)] Kelly grinned.

"There we go." She eyed the mimics as they twitched, eating the remains of destroyed machines, some jittering in anticipation, their legs coiling like springs. Her EQ lenses showed readings of 3. 8 and 4. 5 times stronger than baseline. The higher score was probably true for seventy percent of them. Maybe less.

Creature EQ readings were unreliable at the best of times, outright bullshit at the worst—when something could double its mass in an instant or sprout an extra set of limbs mid-swing, people tended to learn real quick to stop trusting non-human numbers and start playing things by ear. But still, it showed their dormant state—what they were before things got weird. What that guaranteed was they were faster than her. Stronger than her. If they rushed her all at once, she was dead. But they lacked strategy.

They were animals, predators reacting. Kelly noticed how the mimics had reacted to her first grenade, tracking every movement. When it hit the ground, they didn't scatter—instead they braced, lowering their heads to shield themselves without fear. A defense mechanism baked into whatever twisted biology ran under their plating. They instinctively understood that regardless of what happened next, their heads had and would protect them. That was all she needed.

"Alright, let's see how dumb you are." Kelly unclipped a grenade and lobbed it straight into the cluster. The mimics reacted instantly, heads down, legs locking, bodies going rigid to tank the blast. Kelly didn't wait. She crossed the gap in three strides, monomolecular blade swinging down before the first could lift its head. Diamond-hard plating split clean through. Two halves hit the ground before its brain caught up.

"Not that smart." That was the trick. They were built to adapt. They blocked explosions with their heads. They stopped moving when they braced. That meant she could control exactly when and where they froze—and when they froze, they died. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. They were strong. They were fast.

But they were impressively stupid—a shame the train's security units hadn't been armed with explosives, though Kelly supposed you couldn't worry about collateral damage and still blow up dangerous creatures.

"This is fun," she muttered, shifting angles. The remaining mimics started adjusting—some flinching at the sound of the grenade, but not bracing fully. Learning. Good. They could learn. Too bad she learned faster. She threw another grenade at the edge of the pack, forcing them toward the center. Then she repeated, but this time she didn't pull the pin; instead, she lobbed it past the next group, forcing them to pivot to protect their vulnerable lower bodies. Their heads whipped toward the sound, legs locking again.

The pause was small—just long enough. Her blade whistled as it cut through air. She lunged, weapon carving through reinforced plating before they could shift back into motion. One was severed clean through; the next crashed forward, still mid-brace, already dead before it fell. The instant they died—she moved. A single horizontal slash. Four fell at once. Kelly flicked blood from her blade. Then her eyes tingled.

[Title: Mimic Hunter Grade I → II] [Additional Effect: Enhanced light sensitivity allows the bearer increased chances to detect subtle irregularities in surface reflection, increasing chances to detect mimics or hidden creatures even when perfectly camouflaged among objects.] So they do upgrade. Just as she'd suspected, and based on roman numerals, too. Which was odd, and raised a number of questions. For later. Now wasn't the time.

Especially not while being outnumbered by creatures that could bite her in half with a single lunge. Her Trait, Troll Marrowed, made her tougher—it made her hit harder, move faster, and absorb force without snapping like cheap plastic. She was thirty percent stronger, thirty percent faster, and thirty percent more explosive than before she'd broken reality. A few loops ago, these things would've pushed her to the edge. Now? They were still stronger, still faster—but she could keep up.

If Titles could be upgraded, then Traits could too, which opened up a world of possibilities—things she was dying to test out. Kelly pulled the pin and tossed another grenade toward them, watching as the largest ones did something unexpected—rather than react, they anticipated. Their bodies tensed the instant she moved, legs compressing like coiled springs. The moment the grenade left her hand, they launched themselves back in perfect unison, clearing the blast radius before it even hit the ground.

Without wasted motion or hesitation. They'd learned. The first wave had died bracing against explosions. The second had adapted. If they got close, it would be because they'd already decided the risk was worth the kill. The remaining creatures lifted their heads, broad and slick, armored with materials copied flawlessly from military casings. These ones were massive, dwarfing the ones she'd already sliced apart, their muscular legs coiled and dense like industrial pistons.

They regarded the broken bodies of their fallen peers with careful assessment, adjusting stances, clearly learning from what they'd witnessed. Taking these down was about to get much harder. Kelly yanked another grenade free, rolling it between her fingers, watching. The bigger ones didn't flinch, didn't crouch. They coiled instead, weight shifting, legs flexing like high-tension springs, confirming what she already knew. The grenades wouldn't work anymore.

Kelly yanked a stun baton and soundgun from her bag, hotwired police-issue gear she'd grabbed off the wreckage on her way here. Not exactly military-grade, but she wasn't about to complain—free was free. The stun baton was extendable and very high-voltage, meant for putting down anyone too stupid, drugged, or augmented to go down with words. It had settings, technically, but cops always cranked them to max anyway.

Nothing said "comply" like getting your nervous system hijacked by enough electricity to make your muscles forget who was in charge. The soundgun was worse. Handheld, sleek, designed to make resisting arrest not worth the trouble. It fired concussive blasts of selective frequency, scrambling the inner ear to cause extreme dizziness, collapsing balance, and making most people rethink their life choices as they hit the ground unable to tell up from down.

Standard issue for riot cops, because why waste bullets when you could incapacitate an entire crowd with a glorified speaker dialed straight to 'get wrecked.' Kelly spun the baton in her grip, feeling the weight. Good enough. She clicked the stun baton to maximum, blue sparks sparking along its length, and tested the trigger of the soundgun, feeling its subtle hum vibrate against her palm.

"Alright," she muttered, eyeing the largest mimics circling cautiously.

"You clever little idiots learned your lesson about grenades—but let's see if you remember what a bad idea it is to chase shiny things." She spun the stun baton casually, the charged tip flashing. Three of the larger mimics lunged instantly, responding to sudden movement like predators chasing prey. The first hit the baton head-on. The moment of impact sent a violent jolt through its structure, muscles seizing as it crashed to the ground mid-stride, skidding from its own momentum.

The other two snapped their limbs into a hard stop, nearly tripping over their downed packmate as they adjusted, but the delay was all she needed. Kelly raised the soundgun and fired—a concussive burst rippled through the air, striking both in their center mass. The effect was immediate: their balance snapped like severed cables, legs faltering as their own weight worked against them, sending them sprawling to the ground in uncontrolled tumbles. Kelly moved before they could right themselves.

The molecular blade cut down in a seamless blur, cleaving through the first as it writhed, its reinforced hide parting under the impossibly sharp edge. The second mimic scrambled, one leg kicking out as it fought for leverage, then connecting clean against her ribs, sending her tumbling backward in a controlled sprawl. She felt something fracture. Kelly let out a grunt, skidding against the ground, then snorted.

"Alright. That's unexpected. Didn't know you guys were handing out free flights today." The mimic tensed, preparing to lunge again. Kelly was already raising the soundgun. A concussive burst slammed into it, rippling through its dense structure. It staggered, limbs jerking in disarray, equilibrium shattered—which meant it wasn't dodging what came next. She surged forward, blade snapping up, driving the edge clean through the top of its armored casing.

It twitched once, momentum dragging it another foot forward as it stumbled for a final time, dead on its feet. [Rare Title: 'Giantbane (I)' gained!]