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

Dorrin stood before the blood dried on the chair pieces; halfway straight, his second knee shook until Ada’s hand beneath his elbow helped him find the rest of the bend.

”That bend is yours,” she said. ”Keep it working or sit.”

Varnish-colored fluid soaked the sleeve that had once been chair grain before Dorrin could answer. ”It works better when no one stares.”

North of the dead door leaf, Harl’s test boot broke the salt. Down he dropped onto both hands while white slabs rattled below him.

”Shelf under his heel,” Vera said. ”Another lower. Black rib at the bottom.”

Harl lowered both boots. ”Miss the rib and the crack keeps your leg. Far wall has holds.”

Lye and Serrick lashed cloth, medicine, Kril’s shortened guide, and Ada’s loose travel pieces above Dane’s open Wagon bed. Every edge remained visible.

Dorrin looked at the bundle. ”Why does that get the wagon?”

”It won’t bleed into his mouth,” Ada said.

He glanced at Dane’s teeth. ”Walking, then.”

Istra set one contact at the lip, dried blood black on her lower LEFT plates. ”Your seed has room for more than gear.”

”The bed carries gear. Dorrin walks,” Vera said.

”Seeds make room for meat.”

Hest went down first, rake trapped in her fixed LEFT grip. Marda took the other wall at her own pace. Between them, Dorrin lowered his right boot to the first shelf and felt for the next with his left.

”Left heel has stone. I’m taking the weight.”

He moved both feet onto the second shelf.

A latch clicked beneath him.

Wood burst through the salt wall. A narrow frame rose between Dorrin and Ada, its leaf opening under his heels and throwing him toward Dane.

Dorrin caught the leaf with both hands. Splinters entered the blood-dotted skin across his palms.

”My hands still close. Pull the coat.”

Marda seized his coat with her healthy left hand. The leaf kept lifting.

Dane’s Wagon bed warmed. His sound-side wall curled toward Dorrin’s ribs before he moved it. Grain stroked the torn coat, finding his weight; beneath the bed, saliva ran across Dane’s wounded tongue.

He slammed the wall flat and turned his sound wheel away.

Pain kicked through the late wheel. The gear bundle slid, caught between Lye’s good thigh and Serrick’s right boot and shoulder. Dorrin dropped onto the black rib instead of Dane’s bed.

With his weight gone, the leaf opened too far. Its low root tore through salt in three wet pops, and the frame fell with its latch warped away from the jamb.

Ada reached Dorrin on the rib. He closed each bloody finger for her without releasing the wall.

”Near shelf is leaving,” Harl called. ”Get the next pair down before it goes.”

Lye descended on the sound leg and recovered with his shortened LEFT step. Serrick came sideways behind him, both injured hands dry against his chest while his shoulder kept the sliding gear high.

Hest cleared the rib with one rake draw. Her chin clicked; Marda waited past the trained beat before moving Dorrin’s hand to the far wall.

The coffer climbed down beneath Buk’s external litter. Its two awake feet chose separate notches. Four habitual legs scraped backward toward the dead supper room.

Buk struck them with his intact broom. ”Quick foot takes Buk’s head. Slow foot takes the rear. Four old idiots stop going home.”

They stopped at four different times.

The litter reached the black rib. A second latch answered beneath the broom.

This frame split the rib lengthwise. Its leaf opened flat along the floor and swept three habitual feet sideways, yawing Buk toward Dane.

Buk jammed the broom head in the lower hinge. ”Quick foot, stone. Slow foot, kick the leaf.”

The awake feet answered apart. One caught the remaining rib; the other slowed the leaf.

Both litter poles crossed Dane’s bed. The visible gear settled between his low walls. Those walls tightened around blanket and broom, then climbed toward the warm body holding them. Buk’s pulse pressed through the poles. Dane’s mouth opened a grain.

He folded the sound-side cargo rib flat.

The lash slipped free. Dane tipped the empty bed away while Lye, Serrick, and Harl caught the visible bundle between thigh, shoulder, boot, and both of Harl’s hands. Salt ground into the sound wheel; crooked balance burned through the old RIGHT split.

Hest hooked the second frame’s near root. Marda set her left shoulder against the far stile after Hest’s chin click had passed.

”Pull yours,” Marda said. ”I’ll ruin mine.”

Low rake force and a high late shove twisted the frame. Buk’s awake feet carried the litter clear while the broom barred all four returning habits. The near root tore; the far stile split; the door rolled into the leg-catching crack and jammed open.

The rib narrowed beneath them.

On the far wall, Dorrin’s right hand began to slide. ”Right hand is going. I still have the left.”

Orsa laid the spine of her moss knife above his knuckles. ”Move your right hand to the flat above mine.”

He changed his grip and pulled his own knee onto the ledge. Behind him, Lye drove the recovered bundle upward from his good leg; Serrick passed it by shoulder and forearm without opening either hand.

Dane reached the far wall empty. Istra climbed beside him on six contacts, three on each face of the crack. Her last gold band stayed a dull thread.

The far lip clicked.

”Frame across the exit,” Vera said. ”Leaf dropping at Istra.”

The third door drove out of the wall. Its leaf cut through Istra’s six-point hold and caught the open LEFT seam where flesh joined plate. Five contacts bit deeper. The sixth scored varnish while the jamb pressed her toward Dane’s teeth.

Kril worked one sheathed blade under the low corner from his right hip, keeping the raw LEFT shoulder clear. Brant pressed a boot to the wall.

”Closes on the third grind,” he said. ”Next one.”

The leaf tore Istra’s old seam. Blood struck Dane’s front grain.

Hunger traced the soft line above her plates and the hard pulse under her ribs. Coffin warmth rose inside Dane, broad enough to settle her fused body and hold it still. His tongue lifted toward the blood.

He crushed it against his own mouth floor.

Sound-side Door grain rose from Dane’s occupied edge and met the falling leaf. It carried only wood. Air stayed open above it.

The third grind drove pressure across his old RIGHT split and salt-scarred rail. Blood filled his mouth. He spread his teeth while Coffin warmth tried to rise around Istra’s lower plates, then forced that depth flat.

”The sixth contact is free. Istra has the far lip,” Vera said.

Istra ripped it out with a strip of door skin attached and planted it on the far lip. All six contacts hauled her upward; the gold thread never brightened.

The damaged rib cracked behind her.

Dorrin, already on the upper ledge, locked one bloody hand around a salt horn. ”Floor under Buk is moving.”

Buk struck the quick foot; it climbed. The slow foot lifted the rear while his broom blocked four habitual returns. ”The work is forward now, you four.”

Hest and Marda took separate sides of the third frame’s exposed root. Lye sent the last gear loop up on his right arm, his short LEFT recovery stopping at the edge. Serrick caught it with shoulder and chin. Harl pulled it onto the road.

”Every living body is clear of the leaf,” Vera said.

Dane folded the Door grain and turned his bleeding mouth into the salt wall.

Hest pulled low. Marda shoved high. Istra drove two contacts against the upper stile while Harl took the other side. The frame tore sideways, split at the hinge, and fell across the first two doors. Three leaves lay open with no standing jamb among them.

Buk counted six coffer contacts on solid salt before lowering his broom.

Dane climbed empty under his own slow wheels. Harl kept a palm at the high side; Ada guarded the ferrule without lifting him. The gear stayed in living hands until the road leveled.

Ada checked the old split. ”Same width. Mouth opened the old wounds.”

Dorrin sat when she said his name. Both splintered hands still flexed over his knees.

Istra faced Vera on six contacts, blood drying along the old LEFT seam. ”The rule that kept bodies off his bed. His?”

”His.”

Her contacts turned north. ”Then seed was too small. Dangerous person.”

No one answered for Dane.

Beyond the next salt shoulder, the road bent north. Vera looked past it and stopped.

”Low shed by the bend,” she said. ”Black-gold seam along the floor.”

Istra’s six contacts stopped one after another.