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

Orsa’s boot sent a loose chip onto the nearest wedge.

Inward it went. The wedge’s point dipped, the black drain gave a deep swallow, and the chip came back fast enough to open Kril’s cheek.

Both sheaths rasped halfway before the chip struck the wall and broke into wet gray flakes.

”That was dry stone,” Buk said from the litter. ”I am also dry. Find something smaller than me.”

Kril wiped one knuckle along the cut. Fresh blood sharpened every tooth inside Dane. Both blades went back into their sheaths one at a time.

The six wedges kept circling.

Orsa and Marda called the shape between impacts. Each platform was broad at the outer rim and narrowed toward the drain. Water climbed under one heel, tipped its point down, then reversed and spat it outward. No two changed direction together. Their undersides struck the drowned tracks with blows Dane could follow through the dry shelf.

Orsa lay flat at the rim and lowered the broken end of her pole. The nearest wedge lifted it, dragged the wood toward the center, and let go only when she rolled her wrists. Her wrapped left knee stayed straight behind her.

”Six stone teeth under the points,” she said. ”They close around something soft.”

One full turn knocked past before Marda spoke from beside the high guide. ”Black sleeve in the drain. Gray roots around it. When the teeth meet level, they sit in grooves and miss the roots.”

The next two wedges reached the drain at different heights. One rough tooth scraped beneath the other. A wet cord snapped, and black water kicked through the gap.

The platforms shuddered toward the same height.

”It corrected them,” Vera said. Her boots shifted with the returning points while her left elbow remained against her ribs. ”Keep the points uneven and the teeth cut. Let them match and they cradle the throat.”

Brant listened from behind Buk’s litter, both arms bound close. ”One complete turn. Six roots. If those points meet, we start over with less room.”

Marda looped the dry warning line around her waist. Its near end ran through Vera’s right hand and over Dane’s sound rail. ”I call the return before it reaches the shelf. If this cord moves without my voice, the platform has me.”

Orsa set her pole across the first gap. ”I’ll take the inner face.”

”You take the face your knee can leave.”

Marda stepped onto the passing wedge before Orsa could answer. Her scarred right palm found the low inner fin. The platform carried her away from the shelf with the line sliding dry behind her.

Kril took the next wedge with one boot and both sheathed blades. Serrick waited for the third to rise, then drove a polished wedge under its outer track without closing either injured hand around the blow. Voss’s coffer reached the fourth with two chosen feet. Four habitual feet marched after the first and nearly walked its shell into the channel.

Voss hooked one of them at the ankle. ”The chosen two go. The rest stay with me.”

The habitual feet stamped in place. The chosen pair spread across the moving stone and took the side line between them.

Dane folded a low Door edge from sound grain and seated it beneath the near shelf lip. Ada stayed beside the ferrule. Lye Scar took the guide below his hips and kept his bandaged left leg straight. Buk’s litter rested across two fixed supports behind them.

Marda hauled her platform’s heel down while Orsa’s pole delayed the point ahead of it. One tooth struck high. Kril let his wedge rise and kicked the next point lower with a sheathed blade. A gray band stretched between the teeth and tore with a noise like wet cloth pulled through a closed fist.

Black fluid sprayed the inner stone. It smelled of old pennies, drowned fungus, and meat left inside a wall.

The drain convulsed.

Its return ran outward through all six tracks. Marda jerked the warning line once and shouted, ”High at the shelf.”

Dane lowered his Door edge. The nearest wedge shot over it instead of breaking against his sound wheel. Lye gave line from the hips. Ada kept one palm beside the ferrule without touching the bridge.

Serrick’s polished wedge made the third platform arrive late. Voss’s coffer made the fourth arrive later. Kril broke the fifth with a blade spine across its outer corner, and Orsa planted her pole beneath the sixth.

A second root tore, and every guide tightened on the next beat.

The platform under Kril learned his delayed heel. The one beneath Marda repeated her short shoulder pull. Serrick’s stone began striking the same notch without his boot. Across the circle, six points climbed toward one height.

A third turn drew all six guides tight together.

Cloth scraped inside the far wall. A small joint shifted as someone turned toward dry stone.

Hest clicked.

”Hest,” Marda said. ”Far slit. She’s crawling out. Left grip wet, feet bare.”

A curved rake knocked stone ahead of Hest’s knees. Her body arrived by scrape, breath, and weight; no current carried it. The far wedge took her, bucked once, and received the fixed left hand around its inner fin.

The heel dropped.

Hest let it rise almost to her ribs. At the last instant, cloth twisted across her hip and shoulder. Her wet hand rasped one short curve along the fin.

The wedge stopped between currents.

Marda’s waist line hung loose. Orsa’s pole carried nothing. Gray silt worked in Hest’s fixed fingers and returned the short rasp each time the water reversed. The wedge stayed between currents.

Marda’s warning call arrived late.

The near platform leaped. Dane took its edge against Door. Living grain bowed over the shelf lip, and his sound wheel rose. Lye’s guide snapped upward into his ribs.

”My left heel is loose,” Lye said. It scraped water and found no stone. ”If I pull, I go in.”

Ada stepped on the slack below his hips while Vera shifted the warning cord to her right forearm and hauled Dane’s sound rail down. By one finger, the platform cleared his wheel before slamming back into its track.

Across the chamber, a wet palm slapped the fin above Hest’s fixed grip. Her shoulder cloth turned once more through the same short path.

Orsa’s pole struck the stone between them. ”Marda, keep the scar out.”

Marda kept one hand on her dry line. ”You’ve counted that hand since the plate. Stop.”

”I don’t want the water making your next move.”

The dry line stopped sliding through Vera’s hand. It gave Dane no warning at all.

”I wanted you at the pipe.”

The next platform hit Orsa’s pole. The old split opened to half its length, and the wood dropped beneath the point. Orsa caught it before the drain did.

”I thought the side run was open,” she said.

Marda bent her knees as her wedge climbed. ”You thought a lot of useful things from somewhere else.”

Hest clicked, and Marda put her scarred right palm into the gray wash.

On the next rise she caught the inner fin. Her first turn fought the current and threw her shoulder backward. The warning line saved her from the drain.

The second turn followed Hest’s path. Shoulder, scar, hip. Gray silt pressed into the old seam across her palm.

On the third, Marda completed the curve without the line tightening.

The current reversed.

Her wet hand repeated the motion at exactly the same depth.

Marda’s breath stopped. She tested the fin against the next outward blow. The returned stroke met it before the platform could climb, holding her alone between the two currents.

Orsa reached the broken pole toward her. ”Come off that wedge.”

Marda took the dry warning line in her left hand and laid it across the rough tooth beneath the point.

The perfected stroke lowered the stone.

Dry fibers snapped across Dane’s rail into Vera’s waiting hand. The far half vanished into gray water under Marda’s heel.

The drain returned everything it had been holding.

Brant heard the blow after it began. ”Shelf side--”

The nearest wedge came out of the black water on its edge.

It struck Dane’s Door plane and folded the living grain against his sound wheel. The impact tore his brace loose and threw him backward into Buk’s litter supports. One pole jumped free. Buk rolled beneath the cloth while Ada went down beside the ferrule.

Lye caught the loose pole with both forearms. His left heel slid into the open channel.

”The leg is gone,” he said through his teeth. ”Take the pole.”

The coffer’s two chosen feet left Voss.

One planted under the loose litter pole. The other struck behind Lye’s sound knee. Voss dropped to the shelf on one hip as his support vanished. Four habitual feet continued marching toward him.

”Not me,” Voss gasped. His shortened hook caught the nearest shell ankle at three notches. ”The man currently attached to his leg.”

Two of the four feet kicked Lye’s sound boot back onto stone. The other two tangled beneath Voss and stopped being useful in a more personal way.

Ada crawled clear of Dane’s ferrule. Blood from Kril’s cheek had reached the water, and every black surface in the drain smelled awake.

From the far wedge came Hest’s chin-turn.

Click.

Her curved rake swept toward Orsa at the same height that had once pulled an adult from an eel.

Orsa dropped the broken pole and turned her healthy hip. The curve missed her ribs, caught the binding below her wrapped left knee, and ripped the leg out from under her.

She hit the moving platform on one shoulder. The rake continued toward the drain with her knee trapped behind it.

Kril crossed one blade to cut the wet grip. Marda lowered her wedge on the perfected stroke. Its outer corner drove between Kril and Hest, knocking his sheath aside before steel reached the silt.

Orsa seized the rake shaft with both hands. ”Marda.”

Marda’s wet right hand completed the next perfect curve.

The far wedge lifted Hest and Orsa together. Hest released the rake with her right hand, kept the fixed left grip, and stepped onto the shaft. Her weight drove the curve deeper behind Orsa’s knee.

Dane opened.

He flattened his lower mouth across the near wedge and raised the upper row toward the black sleeve as it surfaced between two torn roots. The route pulsed over his tongue, cold outside and warm within, armored in mineral rings that cracked against his teeth.

Hest’s platform threw her.

Her rake tore free of Orsa’s leg. The shaft struck Dane’s upper rim. Hest swung under it, crossed the gap, and landed with her left hip inside his open mouth.

One wet thigh lay over his lower teeth. Her ribs passed beneath the upper row. The back of her neck filled the last open span.

Her pulse beat between his rows. The upper teeth lowered one grain before Dane stopped them.

Hest planted a bare foot on his tongue. Her rake hook caught Orsa’s broken pole and flung it away from the exposed root.

Dane held every tooth apart.

Her foot drove off his tongue. Her shin scraped the living lower rim, then her weight struck the far wedge beside Marda. The black sleeve recoiled between Dane’s open teeth. One half-torn gray root cinched around his near guide and dragged his sound rail toward the drain.

The wedge under Buk’s litter climbed again.

Vera abandoned the snapped warning line. Her right hand found Dane’s rear guide; her left stayed pinned against her side. ”The sleeve is under your upper row. Hest is clear. Marda is not.”

Dane kept the mouth open.

”Marda has the shaft,” Vera said. ”She’s crossing the far point.”

The returned stroke held the wedge level. Hest’s rake scraped the maintenance lip, followed by Marda’s full weight.

The black sleeve pulled harder.

Serrick kicked his polished wedge through the near track. He used the side of his boot, never his hands. Stone screamed and the third platform stopped half a body lower than the others.

Its inner tooth bit a gray root.

Kril drove both sheathed blades against the next broad heel. ”It wants one beat. Give it the ugly one.”

Brant turned his head away from the drain’s shared cadence and picked one scrape out of the water beat. ”Voss’s side is late. Let it stay late. Lye, your platform returns after the scrape, not the water.”

”Then someone else gets the line,” Lye said. ”I have one foot and Buk.”

Ada took the guide from his hips and wrapped it around the fixed litter support. Lye kept both forearms under Buk’s loose pole. The coffer’s chosen feet lifted with him while its four habits braced Voss by accident and refused to leave.

The near platform slammed down past both men while four wedge points reached the drain at four heights.

The third gray root tore under Serrick’s stone. The fourth peeled around Kril’s delayed heel, stretched across a tooth, and burst. Gray flesh slapped the side of Dane’s open mouth. He kept the hinge wide as Orsa dragged herself upright on the healthy leg.

Warm blood ran from the binding below her left knee and tapped the moving stone. The joint still held straight. She retrieved the broken pole from the passing wedge, jammed its split end beneath the fifth tooth, and leaned from her hip.

The wood came apart in her hands.

Half fell into the drain. The other half remained under the tooth long enough to make it arrive wrong.

The fifth root ripped from the black sleeve. Cords inside it snapped separately and whipped the platform and Orsa’s forearms with slime.

”They’re at the slit,” Vera said. ”Marda’s hand is still turning. Hest has her wrist against the rake.”

Two bodies backed deeper into the slit.

The last two platforms tried to meet.

The coffer’s chosen feet knocked beneath Lye’s litter pole. Voss heard them and said, ”The fools can have me. Give him the clever ones.”

He released his hook from the shell ankle.

Four habitual feet collapsed under his ribs. The chosen pair stepped apart beneath Buk’s pole and forced the sixth platform’s outer heel down through the side line.

Its point rose while the fifth fell.

The last gray root caught between them and held. One end stripped out of the drain wall in a spray of black grit. The other stretched from the sleeve like a tendon pulled from a joint. The wedges went on moving. Fiber separated from fiber until the remaining cord was narrow enough for Kril’s blade.

Kril cut once, and the black sleeve came free.

It struck Dane’s tongue and thrashed. Mineral rings split its skin from within. The open end fastened around his lower row and tried to drink him into the route it had served.

Every tooth in Dane rose.

Vera’s right hand left the guide. ”Both women reached the slit. They’re clear of your teeth.”

Dane closed.

One bite shattered the mineral rings. Dane shifted pressure and crushed the warm black cord beneath them. Bitter older water burst against his palate, carrying gray pulp, rotten reed, and the copper taste of something that had digested human work for years.

His throat pulled. Dane shoved the pulp forward with his tongue.

Orsa hooked the shredded end with what remained of her pole. Kril cut the wet fibers from outside Dane’s teeth. Together they dragged the sleeve onto the dry shelf while it continued to contract.

Serrick rolled one polished wedge over it with his boot.

Voss’s coffer put both chosen feet on the stone.

Black cartilage flattened. The sleeve split lengthwise and spilled six pale root-stumps that curled once in the air, then stopped.

The drain tried to inhale.

Nothing moved.

One wedge ground to a halt. The others struck their drowned tracks without finding the shared pull. They settled at six different angles, ordinary stone around a hole that no longer refused anything.

Water draining from the crushed sleeve ran downhill and stayed there. No gray film climbed back toward a hand, line, or tool.

Ada checked Dane before she checked herself. Her fingers followed the ferrule bridge, rod one, and both edges of the split.

”Home. Seated. Same width.” She pressed one palm to the scrape beneath Orsa’s left knee. ”You opened skin, not the joint. Sit before I improve the injury myself.”

Orsa remained standing on her right leg.

”Hest is backing in,” Vera said. ”Marda’s one body deep. Her right hand hasn’t stopped.”

Orsa said her name once.

Marda stepped backward and disappeared from the opening.

Hest’s retreat scraped deeper. A small neck joint shifted somewhere beyond Dane’s reach.

Click.

The third route stayed dead.

”Dry crescent beyond the wedges,” Orsa said. She put the broken stump of her pole toward it.

Water struck from above before the wood reached stone.

A new sluice opened somewhere past the crescent. The first cold sheet struck the far maintenance lip where Marda had vanished. The second poured between the dead wedges and rose over the crushed sleeve without waking it.

Torven was flooding the only path forward.