What sat in front of me had uneven edges, straps in the wrong place, and was larger on one end than the other. It looked more like a child's idea of a chest than the actual physical item.

I'd learned quick that the more a 'treasure chest' looked like a bad knockoff Picasso, the hungrier it was.

I hadn't been in this dungeon dimension for very many days— but it wasn't a hard lesson; avoid anything that even hinted at being a wonky chest because it had a 100% probability of trying to kill and eat you.

This, though? This was such a pathetic attempt at a 'chest' that I actually felt a little bad for the thing. I'd been tricked by several very good fakes so far. Compared to those...

Man. This was an embarrassment.

As I'd come to expect by now, I felt the chest watching me after staring at it for a couple minutes. It was that feeling I kept getting in random encounters, like I'd forgotten something important that was going to get me in deep trouble.

Every mimic chest so far had felt the same, a deep-seated dread in my chest and stomach. This poor little guy felt like the Temu version of the Wish version of that.

I drained the last of my rabbit stew as I watched it. Every few minutes the smaller end— the one where none of the lines could quite square properly— shivered a bit, like it was cold and couldn't get warm. I knew it was an enemy. I knew it would kill me and eat me in the blink of an eye, if I let it.

But, I mean, the thing was pathetic. It was the worst mimic I'd seen yet.

I realized I was full two bites into the sodden remains of my bread bowl. I kinda stared at it for a moment, then looked at the crappy excuse for a chest.

"Hey." I said, addressing it directly like it was a person. "Chest. You hungry?"

It shivered hard, once, then went completely still.

I held up my mushy soup remains. "I'm not coming closer, but I'll toss this to you. It's not as tasty as me, but beggars can't be choosers."

The wonky chest shivered again, harder this time. Then the lid cracked open to reveal a long red tongue and a set of carnivorous teeth.

I took that as a yes and lobbed the bread bowl underhand. It sailed across and the chest leapt up, snapping it out of the air like a dog with a ball.

"Hah!" I said, surprised. "Good catch, mimic. You eat well now. No trying to devour me."

It tilted forward twice as it chewed noisily. The movement was weirdly translatable as a nod.

I turned away and walked on, trying to find the way forward to better treasure and more powerful enemies. This particular dungeon hadn't yet yielded much loot, but from the state of it no adventurer had been through here in at least several years. That boded well for a real prize or three by the time I cleared it out.

I was in need of a better weapon— my water wand had slowly been developing cracks over the last week and I wasn't sure how long it would hold up. I had a backup air wand, but its stats and durability weren't nearly as good.

From behind me came thumping.

I looked back. The mimic had grown horrible appendages that looked like scaled-up chunky bird legs. It was following me.

"Hey." I said. "What the fuck, man? I feed you and you stalk me? Uncool."

The chest sat down at once, legs folding up into nothing. It looked less like a joke now -- it had evened out its size from one end to the other and the woodgrain no longer looked like a mad child on crack had drawn it on.

Great. Smashing. I had just given one of my main predators better stats and a leg up on eating me. Fantastic.

It cracked its lid and belched loudly.

"Yeah, nice try, buddy." I hefted my wand. "I don't wanna have to, but I will use this." I sent a glob of magically-charged water spinning through the air to splash to its side to demonstrate. My wand promptly cracked in two.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, dropping the pieces to the ground. "Mother of fuck, my good wand!" Frustrated, I stomped the useless remains.

The mimic rumbled. I looked at it sharpish, wondering if I had time to dive into my bag for my shitty air wand before it attacked.

Then it tipped forward, making sounds like a cat coughing up a hairball. I watched, perplexed, until--

It coughed and heaved one last time and spat a darkly glowing wand onto the ground. There was a delicate feminine hand still attached. Ragged bits of gangrenous skin hung off the wrist.

I stared at the mimic. The mimic stared at me.

It stood up, its legs growing again out from underneath it. It pushed the hand holding the wand forward, then retreated and sat back down.

I stared at the wand in the dead hand. Sweat ran down my back.

That was an arcane wand. Self-repairable. Infinite use, provided you took care of it and didn't get dead -- the problem its previous owner had obviously been unable to avoid.

I stooped down, keeping my eyes trained on the mimic the entire time, and picked it up, trying not to touch the severed hand around it more than I had to for prying the rigored fingers off.

I tossed the hand back and the damn mimic caught it again, just like my bread bowl.

“… The Fuck?!”