[Hunger: 92/100]
[Status: Stalking]
The pair of adventurers were cautious, but not cautious enough. Jax was a Warrior in mismatched plate, and Elara—not the same Elara I'd eaten before, apparently it was a common name for archers—was a Scout with a twitchy nose. They were "Bronze-Rank" fodder, the kind of people who spent more on ale than they did on decent gear.
I watched them from the ceiling, my four steel legs tucked tightly against my obsidian frame. I could have dropped on them. I could have ended Jax in a single *Heavy Slam*. But my *Bio-Detection* told me something interesting: there were more of them. A larger group was trailing about a hundred yards behind, likely their main party.
If I killed these two now, I'd be swarmed. I needed to be subtle. I needed to be… architectural.
[Skill Gained: Mimicry: Object Morph (Lvl 1)]
[Current Forms Available: Standard Chest, Iron-Bound Chest, Simple Door.]
I skittered ahead of them, moving through the shadows of the ceiling vaults with a speed that defied my weight. I found what I was looking for fifty feet down the hall: a small alcove, a shallow indentation in the stone wall that led to nowhere. It was a dead end, a mere architectural hiccup.
It was perfect.
I dropped silently to the floor.
[Activating Skill: Object Morph – Simple Door]
The sensation was far more intense than a simple evolution. It felt like my very atoms were being reshuffled. My four spider-like legs didn't retract; they flattened, merging into the vertical edges of my body. My black oak wood stretched, losing its boxy dimensions and becoming a tall, flat rectangle. My iron bands melted and reformed, shaping themselves into a heavy frame and a set of rusted hinges.
But the most important part was the handle.
My purple, muscular tongue didn't disappear. It thinned out, coated itself in a layer of cold, deceptive brass, and curled into a sturdy-looking door handle.
[Transformation Complete.]
[Status: Deceptive Stillness (Active)]
[Note: Movement is impossible in Door-Form.]
I waited. I looked exactly like every other door in this hellhole—sturdy, weathered, and promising a way out.
"I'm telling you, Jax, I saw something move up there," Elara's voice whispered, closer now. Her torchlight flickered around the corner, casting a long shadow of my "handle" against the opposite wall.
"And I'm telling you, it's the light playing tricks," Jax grumbled. He stepped into the corridor, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He stopped just ten feet away from me. "See? Nothing. Just another hallway."
Elara pointed her torch at me. I felt the heat of the flame, but I didn't flinch. I was wood. I was stone. I was the door.
"Wait," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Was that door there on the map? I thought this was a straight shot to the Second Floor stairs."
Jax pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. He squinted at it, rotating it three times. "Maps in this place are garbage, Elara. The dungeon shifts. You know that. Besides, look at the dust on the floor. Or the lack of it. Someone's been through here recently."
He was right. My *Skitter* legs had left faint scratches on the stone, but in their greed and haste, they interpreted it as "previous explorers."
"It looks like an escape route," Jax noted, his eyes gleaming. "Or a treasure vault. The main party is still dealing with those Skeletons back there. If we find the loot first, we don't have to share the 20% finder's fee with the Captain."
Jax approached me. My *Bio-Detection* was pounding. I could feel his heartbeat—*lub-dub, lub-dub*—vibrating through my brass handle. He reached out. His gloved hand gripped my tongue.
He twisted.
It was a strange sensation. For him, he was turning a handle. For me, he was massaging my primary weapon. I felt a surge of predatory glee.
"It's locked," Jax grunted, putting his shoulder against my "face." "Sturdy, too. Elara, get the crowbar. If we can't pick it, we'll bust it."
"Wait, Jax, let me check for traps first," Elara said, stepping forward.
She leaned in close. Her face was inches away from my wood grain. She was looking for tripwires, for poison needles, for pressure plates. She was looking for everything except the fact that the door was breathing.
I held my breath.
"It's… it's strange," Elara whispered. "The wood feels warm."
"It's a dungeon, Elara! Everything is weird!" Jax snapped. "Move aside."
Jax shoved her back and gripped my handle with both hands. He planted his boots against the floor and pulled with all his might. He was trying to rip me open.
*Mistake.*
I didn't wait for him to realize I didn't have a keyhole.
[Skill Activated: Digestive Acid (Localized)]
[Skill Activated: Lid Snap (Door Variation)]
The "brass" handle suddenly became soft and sticky. Jax's hands were glued to my tongue. His eyes widened as the metal turned into purple flesh before his very eyes.
"What the—?"
Before he could finish the thought, I unhinged myself.
I didn't open like a door. I split down the middle, a vertical maw of serrated steel teeth and acidic bile. Jax, still pulling with his full weight, flew backward—directly into the center of my gaping throat.
[SNAP!]
My "door" slammed shut.
The sound was muffled, like a heavy book closing on a fly. Jax's scream died instantly as my internal spikes pierced his lungs.
[Enemy Defeated: Human Warrior (Lvl 12)]
[Experience Gained: 600 XP]
Elara stood frozen. Her torch dropped to the floor, sputtering in a puddle of water. She looked at the wall where the door had been. I was no longer a door. I was shifting back, my spider legs erupting from my sides, my body boxy and black once more.
"M-m-mimic," she stammered, her face turning as white as a skeleton's bone.
She didn't try to fight. She turned to run, her boots skidding on the stone.
"Oh, no you don't," I thought. "You're the alarm bell. If you get back to your party, my dinner party is over."
[Skill Activated: Skitter + Ambush Leap]
I didn't walk. I blurred. I launched myself off the wall, over her head, and landed directly in her path. I stood tall on my four legs, my lid dripping with her partner's blood, my tongue flicking out like a hungry snake.
"Klak-klak," I chirped.
She tried to scream, but I was already in the air.
[Devour Complete. Extracting Attributes...]
[LEVEL UP!]
[Iron-Bound Stalker Mimic -> Lvl 11]
[New Skill Unlocked: Muffle Step (Passive)]
[Effect: Your movements produce 50% less noise. You are the silence in the hall.]
I sat in the dark hallway, the only sound being the slow, rhythmic grinding of my internal gears as I digested two bodies at once. My *Mana Sense* told me the rest of their party was close. They would be here in minutes, wondering where their scouts had gone.
I looked at the alcove I'd just used. It was a good spot. But the "Door" trick only worked once per hallway.
I looked at the ceiling. I looked at the dark corners.
"Time to see if I can mimic a chandelier," I thought.
[Hunger: 40/100]
[Status: Satiated. Evolution Progress: 15%]
The dungeon was no longer a prison. It was my kitchen. And I was just getting started on the appetizers.