F-Rank Mimic Chest: My SSS Mimic Skill Lets Me Become Anything

Dane’s sound wheel left the balcony and entered the narrow stone tongue.

Cool root air moved along his left side. Reed air moved along his right. Both outer routes kept running clear while a shallow skin of central water crossed the stone beneath him and spilled into the waist-deep channel on either side.

The tongue held still from the rear dogleg to the far shell lip.

Behind Dane, Voss’s coffer put its two chosen feet toward the crossing. Four habitual ones tried to back into the open service room.

Voss tapped the coffer. “Put the two chosen feet forward. The rest can panic where they are.”

The four feet stopped traveling and continued to tap.

Buk’s litter stayed behind Dane on its own poles and lines. The coffer’s chosen pair held one side. Marda took the other with her empty cord loop tied short. Lye Scar waited beside them with his left leg straight and enough stone reserved for two shortened steps.

Kril paid Dane’s low guide toward the far lip. Vera held the higher rear line with her left elbow tucked. Ada walked at ferrule range. Orsa’s split pole tested the stone ahead, and Serrick kept his dry wedges wrapped until she found somewhere they would matter.

Brant listened with both arms bound against his chest.

Brant turned his head. “The center strike is shortening. Its next pass reaches Dane’s wheel.”

Dane rolled before it arrived.

His sound wheel reached the middle of the tongue. The late wheel followed without catching. Water crossed beneath both rims, thin enough to leave stone load in every contact.

The next pulse struck his sound side.

Pressure tried to carry that wheel forward. One beat later, a second pull found his damaged right quarter and asked the ferrule to follow around the raised axle gap.

The compensation was exact.

Dane locked the sound wheel instead.

He folded the low sound-rear corner of Door into a dry groove on the tongue. Living grain took his weight diagonally, the same ugly brace that had refused Torven two platforms ago.

The first pull passed through empty motion and spilled from the tongue.

Marda’s boot struck stone behind him. “Torven is beyond the far lip, waist-deep with his right arm in the inner ring.”

Water snapped around Dane’s planted corner.

A second yoke climbed the groove and seated over the Door grain. It pulled from sound rear toward his front band, matching the diagonal the central stream had practiced all watch.

The planted corner became a pivot.

Dane’s Wagon body yawed across the fixed tongue. His sound wheel swung toward the far lip while the late wheel dragged toward the channel edge. The dead front-left rail went out over open water and hung there, unable to take a finger of load.

The rear guide climbed Dane’s grain.

That rise reached Buk’s litter line. One pole lifted while the other stayed on stone, rolling Buk toward the low side.

The coffer’s two chosen feet drove apart and caught the pole between them. Its four habits started backing again.

Voss stamped one shortened hook beside the nearest. “The two that chose are holding. The rest of you stay out of it.”

Two feet held. Four scraped without moving the litter farther.

Lye Scar had already placed his sound foot on the tongue. The tilted litter blocked his retreat. He kept the left leg straight while water climbed the edge below his boot.

“My sound foot is down,” he said. His breath failed before the rest of the sentence. “The litter took the way back, and the left leg can’t turn.”

Dane tried the efficient answer.

He let the sound wheel begin the old compensation. The first yoke tightened toward the ferrule. Its outer bridge traveled along black fiber and stopped one finger from the end of its permitted path.

Ada’s palm struck sound exterior grain beside it. “The bridge has one finger left. Give it no impact.”

Dane reversed the wheel.

The second yoke pulled harder across his planted Door corner. He began moving his retained ballast toward the supported sound rear, the ordinary correction that had saved him in open water.

Normal load increased on the pivot.

Wet pressure closed around the Door grain. Dane’s Wagon rotated another fraction. The late wheel lost half its stone. The guide pulled Buk’s raised litter pole high enough for his shoulder to strike the binding cloth.

Dane returned the ballast by the same grain and stopped.

Sound wheel fed one catch. Ugly brace fed the other. Putting his weight where it could help only gave Torven more of him to turn.

The water pulled again.

Dane held cold and still around the planted corner.

Vera’s rear line went slack.

Her right boot entered the narrow stone beside his sound wheel. The left stayed on the balcony side of the seam, elbow held against her ribs. She bent from the hip and put her right palm on living sound grain.

The next pulse loaded the yoke through both of them.

“Still here?”

Dane felt her voice through the palm on his grain.

He struck the stone once beneath her hand.

Vera kept her palm there. She offered no direction.

Dane found the Door corner under the wet yoke. His retained mass rested on the near side of that line, where every successful correction said it belonged.

He moved it forward.

Aggregate ballast crossed his interior by less than one handspan, passing over the line of the planted corner toward his unsupported sound-front grain. The dead rail stayed empty. Every exterior contact that remained on stone was living wood.

The move took weight away from the Door pivot.

Torven’s yoke pulled where Dane’s mass had been.

The unloaded corner folded.

Wet pressure slipped past the grain and snapped into the dry groove. Dane’s released rear half skated Vera’s palm across him. His now-forward-heavy Wagon tipped along the fixed tongue toward the far lip.

“His corner is free. Pull before the water finds it again.” Kril crossed both sheathed blades over the low guide and hauled.

Marda took the rear line below her hip. Vera released Dane’s grain, kept her left arm close, and added her right hand to Marda’s pull.

The guide drove Dane forward while the lost yoke slapped uselessly behind him.

His sound wheel struck the fixed far lip.

The impact climbed the living rim and stopped before the damaged quarter followed. Orsa jammed the broken end of her pole behind a dry shell tooth above the wheel. The old split in the pole opened farther but held the tooth.

Ada caught the ferrule bridge with both palms. “Bring the right wheel slowly. The bridge cannot take the lip.”

Dane returned the shifted ballast at once. It traveled back less than one handspan to its prior internal position. His forward tip settled. Sound grain stayed on the far lip while the late wheel came across the tongue one shallow turn at a time.

The ferrule followed around its axle gap. Its outer bridge returned along the black fiber without striking stone. Rod one remained seated. The old split kept its width.

Behind Dane, the second wet yoke tried to find the folded Door corner again.

Brant turned his head toward the channel. “One long pulse, then two short. Move the litter as soon as the long one leaves.”

The long pulse passed under the fixed tongue and pulled at empty groove.

Marda and the coffer’s chosen feet leveled Buk’s poles. The four habitual feet scraped backward; Voss struck the coffer twice with his closed hook and they froze long enough for the chosen pair to advance.

Buk crossed with his litter carrying him and nobody else. Both poles stayed outside Dane.

Lye Scar followed on the space the litter cleared. Sound foot. Straight left leg brought forward with Marda’s support. Sound foot again. He reached the far lip before the first short pulse and sat with the wrapped thigh clear of water.

Serrick passed one polished wedge around Dane rather than over him. Orsa seated it beside the shell tooth with the dry side of her pole. Kril transferred the low guide to the far shelf. Vera stayed rear-high and let every pull go slack after it finished.

Voss crossed on the coffer’s two chosen feet. His surviving right hook opened only to its third notch and closed without taking a brace. Four habitual feet came last, each placing itself in the track the chosen pair had already tested.

Marda stepped across. Kril followed. Ada kept one hand beside the ferrule until both wheels rested on the far shelf. Serrick brought the remaining dry tools. Orsa withdrew her pole from the tooth after the last boot cleared.

Brant crossed by voice and foot, calling the two short pulses before they reached stone.

Vera came last.

The central water struck the planted groove once more. Its second yoke closed around empty stone, traveled to the far lip, and found no Wagon corner beneath it.

Marda watched beyond the channel. “The ring slipped off his arm. He’s still moving.”

Water displaced around a narrow body. One arm came free with a wet scrape. Torven backed through the connected channel on his own feet, his wake passing under the far shelf and narrowing toward deeper water.

The yoke sagged into the current.

Three full pulses crossed the tongue without catching Dane, litter, line, or boot.

Ada checked the ferrule bridge, rod one, and both edges of the split. “Bridge is home. Rod and split are where they were.”

Lye flexed his sound foot and left the wrapped leg straight. Buk drew a complete breath beneath the litter cloth. Voss settled on the coffer while its two chosen feet folded and its four habits continued marching in place.

“The four fools may stop now,” Voss said. “They have crossed enough stone for one watch.”

The four feet completed one more useless step before obeying, and the cleared channel stayed free of guide lines.

The far shelf widened beyond Dane’s sound wheel. Air circled ahead with the smell of stone and reed rot; shell ground slowly over shell.

Orsa’s pole struck an edge that moved away before she could press twice.

Marda tracked the moving edges. “Six wedge platforms, all turning around the same black hole.”

The nearest wedge passed the far shelf with its point leading. Water climbed one face and spilled from the other without slowing it. A second followed lower, then a third above Dane’s lock band. Their intervals refused to match.

At the center, a black drain swallowed each impact and returned the sound from a different depth.

Marda and Kril lowered Buk’s litter onto dry stone. Lye rested beside it. Dane held both wheels on the shelf while the last clear pulse crossed behind them.

Ahead, all six wedges kept turning.