After Julies’s final strike, the towering shadow convulsed, its monstrous outline trembling like smoke under a harsh wind. Bit by bit, the mass began to collapse inward—shrinking, shrinking—until what stood there was roughly the size of an ordinary man.
"...Ooooh. My... thing..."
The words dripped from its mouth like a broken record, warped and senseless.
Then, impossibly, the black mist began to take on color. Flesh tones bled through the darkness. Hair grew where shadow had been. A familiar uniform—a crisp, black butler’s suit—materialized from nothing.
Amelia’s breath caught.
"Julies... has a twin?"
But no—she realized it almost instantly. The mimicry wasn’t natural. It was too exact, too deliberate.
A Parasite’s racial ability—perfect disguise.
The imitation stood there, a flawless copy of Julies down to the tilt of his head, the cut of his coat, even the faint glint of his blade. The only difference was the wrongness—the subtle, sickening distortion that made her skin crawl.
It wasn’t the sight of blood or battle that made Amelia’s stomach twist. It was the idea of something wearing another person’s body like a mask.
She covered her mouth, suppressing the sudden nausea clawing up her throat. Her hands trembled slightly, a primal instinct screaming that the thing before her wasn’t meant to exist.
Then—
"Wow. Would you mind not saying such things while using my face?" Julies said dryly, brushing dust from his coat. "It’s a bit distasteful, don’t you think?"
The tension that had wrapped around Amelia’s body shattered in an instant.
Even in the face of a monster copying his very being, Julies’s reaction was... maddeningly casual.
It was as if he was commenting on someone wearing the wrong tie at a banquet.
And maybe that was exactly why it was so terrifying.
No matter how perfectly the mimic had replicated his appearance, there was one thing it couldn’t imitate—his ease. The effortless composure that bordered on arrogance, the way his words danced between jest and cruelty.
Julies was still unmistakably himself.
"So, Lady Amelia," he said suddenly, turning toward her without looking back at the imposter. "Would you kindly summon the soldiers with the crystal?"
"...Now? Why?" she asked, startled.
"One knows their own weaknesses best." His lips curved into a faint, almost pleasant smile. "It’s to see whether it’s easier to deal with hundreds of soldiers one by one... or to burn through all that borrowed stamina while being hunted by them."
The parasite tilted its head, confused—its mimicry faltering for just a second.
Julies’s grin widened, sharp enough to cut. "Don’t worry. You’ll have your answer soon."
Amelia hesitated, her heart pounding. His words, his tone—it all carried a wicked charm, but behind that charm was something dark, calculating.
And yet... she found herself nodding.
Because whatever that thing was—whatever parasite dared to wear Julies’s face—she somehow knew he would destroy it all the same.
-----
Phase one had already ended.
The monster’s grotesque body had fallen apart, melting into the snow like tar dissolving under heat. Its every movement had been slow but heavy, filled with deceptive feints that punished impatience. Still, with coordination and timing, it hadn’t been too difficult to bring down.
Now, however, came the real threat.
Phase two.
The shapeless black mass began to twist, stretch, and pull itself together—its shadow shrinking into a humanoid outline. The next second, that darkness solidified into something horribly familiar.
"Your memory hasn’t rusted, I see," I muttered, narrowing my eyes.
The parasite had changed into a perfect replica of me.
It wasn’t just the face. Every movement, every stance, every flick of the sword—it was identical. Worse, the copy moved better. The swings were sharper, cleaner, and the magic flowing through its veins seemed endless.
"Catch him! Don’t let him escape!" someone shouted from the ridge.
"Ugh... Viger—! Come down, king!"
The soldiers scrambled through the snow, shouting orders as they tried to surround the doppelgänger. The parasite darted between them with my exact movements—mocking me by fighting as if it were second nature.
"Truly a piece of cake," I murmured, though my tone was flat.
Behind me, Amelia landed lightly on the snow, her staff humming with residual mana. Her expression was one of thinly veiled annoyance.
"You’re using our family’s elite soldiers like this?" she snapped.
I didn’t look at her, keeping my focus on the shifting shadow ahead. "It’s not a waste. Not a single one’s died yet—what waste are you talking about?"
Her mouth opened, then closed again. The logic was cruel, but undeniable. If we’d sent those same soldiers against the monster’s first form, they’d have been torn apart in seconds. Better to deploy them now, where they could actually buy us time.
After a pause, Amelia sighed and turned away, muttering under her breath. "So? We catch this demon and take it to Alice, and that’s it?"
"That’s the idea," I said quietly, though my eyes never left the mimic still dancing between the soldiers.
But even as I said it, something in the back of my mind twisted. The unease wasn’t just instinct—it was memory.
The fight wasn’t over.
If this really followed the same pattern... then next came something worse.
The phase no one ever wanted to trigger.
The parasite’s human form—its perfect imitation—was only the second act.
"What are you staring at?" Amelia’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and suspicious.
"Nothing. It’s nothing," I said quickly, forcing my expression back into calm.
In truth, Amelia was the worst possible variable right now.
If she made a move without understanding what was happening, it’d throw the soldiers into chaos. Her authority among them was too strong—and her magic, too volatile. One wrong move, and we’d have more than just the parasite to deal with.
’Still,’ I thought, my gaze flicking toward her staff. ’If it came down to it, I could handle someone like Amelia myself.’
At close range, even a skilled mage wouldn’t have time to chant. It would take only a second to close the distance, another to silence her spells.
"Kuh!"
A sharp noise snapped me back to the fight.
"Oh, the soldiers’ spears are sharp," I muttered under my breath as a few of them jabbed at the writhing parasite. Its human disguise had already started to peel away, skin bubbling like wax over fire. The battlefield stank of iron and decay.
And then, the tension in the air shifted.
Something in the creature’s voice cracked—its panic, its confusion. It staggered backward, clutching its head, veins darkening across its skin.
"Get away from me!" it howled.
The cry rang through the snow, raw and desperate, and before I could react—
—Woosh.
A blast of black magic surged from its fingertips.
I barely had time to process it before it struck, splitting the air with a sharp hiss.
It wasn’t clear who the target was—me or Amelia—but either way, someone was about to take the hit.
I braced myself to absorb it if I had to. Amelia, for all her power, wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of spell mid-cast.
"Lady Amelia! Are you alright?" I shouted.
Her voice came back, tight but steady. "I’m fine?"
That made no sense.
If she was fine... then who the hell—
Swish.
A sound like a blade cutting through wind.
A sudden chill raced down my spine as I turned toward the direction of the attack.
And there—bathed in the dim red glow of corrupted magic—stood the blonde woman we’d all assumed was still unconscious.
Her body trembled, barely upright, but her eyes were wide open—burning with a feral gleam that didn’t belong to Velra anymore.
I exhaled sharply.
"This is bad."
Not because she was awake—
but because something else was now awake inside her.
The air felt heavier.
Every breath came with the sting of ozone and blood, the snow beneath Velra’s feet melting into steam.
Her body swayed as though caught between two wills—her own, and something far darker.
Black veins crept up Velra’s neck like living roots, pulsing beneath her pale skin. They spread upward, converging beneath her eyes until her once-bright pupils dimmed—hollow, unfocused, and eerily still.
And in that instant, Velra—the proud, unshakable vampire noble whose presence could silence a battlefield—was gone.
[Boss]
[Velra — The Deceiving Ground Spider]
A system window blinked into existence before my eyes, bright and merciless.
[Warning: The enemy’s power level greatly exceeds the player’s current status.]
[Recommended Action: Retreat immediately.]
My heart dropped.
"No... this can’t be happening..."
All around us, soldiers faltered mid-breath, disbelief spreading through the ranks. Two hundred and four trained fighters—each handpicked for this mission—and yet, even they froze before the sight of her.
Velra, the woman who once commanded their respect and fear alike, now stood as their enemy.
Her long blonde hair shimmered faintly in the dying light, and for a fleeting moment, she almost looked like herself again. But when she turned, her gaze was empty—a doll moved by unseen strings.
"Velra? You should still be resting," Amelia said softly, her voice uncertain. "Just... lie down quietly."
I opened my mouth, but the warning came too late.
"Wait! Amelia—!"
Velra’s head twitched toward the voice, and suddenly—
Fwoosh—!
Flames burst to life, licking up from the ends of her golden hair like serpents of fire. They coiled around her, dancing with a violent, unnatural rhythm, and then snapped outward toward Amelia.
"Kyaa!"
Amelia stumbled back, eyes wide, but before the inferno could reach her, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her clear.
The blast seared the snow where she’d stood, leaving blackened ash and the lingering heat of raw magic.
"Are you okay?" I asked, steadying her.
She nodded shakily, clutching her staff. "Y-Yeah... thanks to you."
The fire didn’t follow. It hovered protectively around Velra, roaring and swirling like a beast on a leash—waiting for orders from a master who was no longer herself.
The wind carried the smell of burnt ozone and blood, heavy and suffocating.
I looked at her, at the woman now wrapped in her own cursed magic, and clenched my jaw.