The highway smelled of burnt rubber and stale panic.
I limped toward the cargo crate overturned in the middle of the asphalt. My steps were heavy. The wound on my right thigh, though doused in alcohol and bandaged, still sent dull signals of pain every time my heel hit the ground. My stamina was in the yellow zone.
Three survivors on the sidewalk watched me.
They held baseball bats and iron pipes. Not with shaking hands of fear, but with aggressive, defensive postures. They looked at the black blood on my jacket and the chain whip at my waist, then whispered to each other.
One of them—a man in a varsity jacket and a bicycle helmet—stepped forward. He didn't back down.
"Hey," he called out. His voice firm, though his eyes were wild. "Stop right there. This is our sector. We cleared this street of Goblins earlier. The loot in this area belongs to us."
I paused.
Territorial ownership logic. Reasonable. In a lawless world, whoever pees on the tree owns the tree.
But I looked at the baseball bat in his hand. Dented. A crack in the handle. Their chests heaving unnaturally.
"You killed one Level 1 Goblin," I said flatly, my eyes remaining locked on the cargo crate. "You spent five minutes, wasted 30% stamina, and degraded your weapon durability to a critical point. That's not a territorial claim. That's poor resource management."
The man growled, offended. "Who do you think you are? There's three of us. You're alone and limping."
Valid argument. Numerically, I was outmatched. My condition didn't allow for a barbaric brawl.
But I didn't answer. I kicked the cargo crate over.
CRASH!
The box shattered. Its contents spilled onto the asphalt.
Not gold. Not weapons.
It was a pulsating black blob.
It was the size of an adult cat, shaped like liquid asphalt trying to solidify. Four stubby legs, a short tail, one large purple eye, and a mouth that was far too wide.
Right now, that mouth was chewing on a piece of an old car tire.
[Rare Entity: Abyssal Mimic Larva]
[Level: 1]
[Status: Voracious]
"What the hell is that?" exclaimed the woman behind the varsity guy.
The Mimic stopped chewing the tire. Its single eye swivelled around, then locked onto me.
Or more precisely, onto the [Shredder Gloves] on my right hand.
It didn't see a human. It saw an Uncommon item containing Mana.
It hissed. A sound like a leaking steam kettle.
Without warning, it leaped.
Fast. Too fast for a blob of fat.
I raised my hand to swat it away.
Mistake.
It didn't collide. It opened its mouth.
CHOMP!
Its jaws clamped onto my wrist. Its needle teeth scraped against the metal plating of my gauntlet.
SCREEECH!
The glove screamed. The metal dented.
The Mimic's teeth pierced the plating layer, scratching my skin.
"Let go!" I snapped.
I shook my hand, slamming it onto the asphalt.
It didn't let go. It locked its jaw like a pitbull. It started chewing.
My gauntlet's durability dropped drastically before my eyes.
[Equipment Durability: 85%... 78%...]
"Dammit," I cursed. This asset was trying to eat my other asset.
The varsity guy—Leon—laughed nervously. "Look! That thing's eating him! Attack now while he's busy!"
They moved forward. I was in trouble. One hand being chewed by a monster, three humans preparing to beat me.
I needed an instant solution. I needed a distraction.
This Mimic hungered for quality material. My glove was tasty, but hard to chew. I had to give it something softer but of equal "value."
I opened the Grimoire with my left hand.
Took out the Scrap Metal Plate I got from the Alpha Boss.
This was an Uncommon crafting material. Could be future armor. High value.
Throwing it away was a financial loss.
But losing a hand was a bigger loss.
[Materialize].
The charred iron plate appeared. I jammed it forcibly into the side of the Mimic's open mouth.
"Eat this, glutton!"
The Mimic tasted new metal. Thicker. Richer with the flavor of burnt residue.
It released my hand and bit into the plate.
I kicked it away.
It tumbled back, but didn't care about me anymore. It hugged the iron plate and started chewing it with terrible crunching sounds.
I looked at my glove. Severely dented. Deep teeth marks.
[Durability: 72%].
I had just lost a Rare raw material and damaged my main weapon in ten seconds.
A red opening balance sheet.
But I saw a change in the Mimic.
Its black skin rippled, absorbing the properties of the iron it ate. Its color shifted to a dull metallic gray.
[Entity Fed.]
[Trait Acquired (Temporary): Iron Skin]
[Loyalty: Neutral -> Interested]
It belched, then looked at me. Its tail wagged.
Not out of affection.
But because I had just given it the most expensive lunch of its life. It looked at me like an investor looking at a rising stock chart.
"You're not a pet," I whispered, holding my aching wrist. "You're a parasite."
Leon and his team stopped advancing. They watched the Mimic destroy the iron plate like a cracker.
"It... it eats iron..." Leon went pale. The baseball bat in his hand suddenly felt very fragile.
Two Goblins appeared from behind a burning car, attracted by the noise.
They carried rusty knives.
I had no stamina to fight. My gloves were damaged.
I stared at the Mimic.
"You ate my capital," I said coldly. "Now pay your price."
I pointed at the Goblins.
"Work."
The Mimic didn't understand language. But it saw the knives in the Goblins' hands.
Iron. Food.
It rolled forward fast.
The first Goblin stabbed. The knife hit the Mimic's new skin.
Cling.
Didn't penetrate. Iron Skin trait active.
The Mimic leaped onto the Goblin's face. Not biting the neck, but devouring the knife along with the fingers holding it.
CRUNCH.
The Goblin screamed, running away fingerless. The second Goblin saw his friend mutilated by a living iron ball, and chose to flee.
One minute. Threat neutralized. Without me breaking a sweat.
The Mimic returned to me, chewing the remains of the knife.
It looked at me, then looked at my gloves again.
Hungry. Still hungry.
I took a step back.
"Don't even think about it," I warned.
I opened its status panel.
[Name: ???]
[Species: Abyssal Mimic Larva]
[Next Evolution: 50kg Iron]
[Warning: Overfeeding may cause 'Frenzy State']
I ignored the warning in the last line.
Frenzy State.
Berserk condition. Loss of control.
The system had warned: if I fed it too fast, it would explode.
But I needed a Tank that could protect me from humans like Leon right now.
I chose short-term risk for instant security.
"Miri," I said. Taking the name from a brand of industrial shredder in my warehouse. A brand known for being stubborn and prone to jamming, but devouring absolutely anything.
[Name Set: Miri]
Leon was still standing there. Trembling.
"You're crazy," he whispered. "That thing will eat you while you sleep."
"Maybe," I answered honestly. "Unless I feed it more than it can eat off me."
I walked past Leon. He didn't block my path this time. He stepped aside, pressing himself against the wall, afraid of the black ball walking behind me.
I won not because I was strong. I won because I brought a monster scarier than they were.
I looked at the road ahead.
Rows of abandoned cars. Thousands of tons of scrap metal.
To anyone else, it was trash.
To Miri, it was a buffet.
To me, it was a free army.
I looked at the system warning again: [Overfeeding may cause Frenzy].
I smiled thinly, the kind of smile a gambler has when pushing all chips onto the table.
I knew this would blow up. The question was just when.
"Come on, Miri," I beckoned, kicking the bumper of a wrecked car.
Miri lunged at the bumper.
SCRUNCH!
The sound of metal being torn was ear-splitting.
As Miri swallowed a large chunk of iron, its body shook violently. Its black skin glowed red for a second, as if there was a fire inside its belly. Hot steam hissed from between its teeth.
The system blinked red for a moment, then went silent.
It was growing. Fast. Too fast.
"Eat," I whispered. "Let's see how long we can hold back the explosion."