Hey, neat. Dungeon spiders are afraid of acid. Convenient.

It was satisfying as hell to throw purple-orange globs and watch them scatter in retreat. It was even more satisfying when the mimic started vomiting purple waves of acid at them. I never knew the screams of my enemies could make me feel so warm and fuzzy.

Between the two of us the spiders were forced to retreat. Hundreds of bodies clustered around their fallen mother, most taking the opportunity to rip chunks out of her body even now. The mimic and I herded them closer and closer in, piling them atop her corpse.

Then, it struck.

Its body tilted forward, lid opening and unhinging. It drove itself towards them at an angle, scooping them into its maw like it had done with the chimera’s altar of gold. In minutes, the only ones left alive were a few stragglers who were wise enough to turn and flee.

I watched, feeling vindicated. Once the mimic finished with the young ones, it fell upon the mother spider’s half-eaten corpse, gulping it down in huge bites.

Soon, we were alone. The only sign a battle had happened was the acid slowly evaporating off the floor.

“Bro.” I said aloud, eyeing the mimic. Part of me wanted to dissolve in panicked screaming and crying from what I’d just been through, but I had better things to focus on.

I held up my right hand. “Hey. You. My chest. Let’s talk about this fucking wand.”

The mimic’s attention focused in on me. I decided to just go for it: “did you eat everything in my storage unit?!”

Emotion rolled out of it. Amusement, contrition, affirmation.

“You little shit!” I fumed. “Those fucking seeds were like a grand! Each!”

It opened its lid and belched loudly, unconcerned.

“So my rations are gone.” I said. ”My seed crates are gone. You fucking ate them.” I thought for a moment. “And my backup air wand, which— WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE.” I stared at it, increasingly furious. “I asked you for a wand in the last dungeon and you ignored me!”

Amusement wafted off of it.

“What the fuck, man!?”

It considered me for a moment, then made hacking noises.

“No.” I said. “Oh no. You cannot get out of this by just—”

It spit my air wand onto the floor.

“—giving me back my wand.” I finished, weary. “Okay? You can’t just appease me—”

It turned and started walking away.

“I’m talking to you!” I yelled across the empty space. The mimic was about thirty feet away and getting farther, utterly unconcerned with me.

I stood there, watching it leave me behind. If I refused to move, if I refused to follow it, would it just leave me here in the dungeon?

Fuck. I didn’t really want to find that out.

—

Following after the chest was weird. Following meant trusting it to lead. Trusting it meant believing it wasn’t leading me to some Godforsaken place to do God-knows-what.

That meant admitting to myself that—

Nah. Nevermind.

Anyway.

This dungeon was… nice. Too nice. As I’d followed the walls had slowly turned from rough sparkling granite to the type of smooth polished stone I’d expect to see on the countertops of some millionaire’s kitchen. The enemies were… yeah.

If I hadn’t had the mimic with me, I doubt I’d still be alive; even with the arcane wand.

If I hadn’t had the mimic with me, I doubt I’d ever be here at all.

That was something I was willing to admit to myself: this place was much better quality than any dungeon I’d ever had the doorway open for me.

Ahead, the chest paused. The heavy thumps of its feet dropped off into silence. I slowed down as I caught up, trying to figure out what had made it stop.

It stood motionless, staring at the wall.

I walked up behind it, stopping a few feet away. After a moment of staring I realized what I was looking at: an arcane chest.

The mimic grew a hand and nudged the dark glowing mass. It looked like petrified wood, swirls of purple so dark it was almost black atop a lighter purple surface. The straps and hinges looked welded on, so that it was all one piece. I doubted it could open.

… What the fuck?

I knew about arcane weapons, of course. Spend five minutes in Hooham’s tavern and they were bound to come up, usually from someone boasting about how they’d found one and then lost it. But an arcane chest… ?

The mimic cracked its lid. It moved up in front of the arcane chest and gently drew it into its arms, then swung its lid open and slowly hoisted it into its mouth.

I watched, transfixed. I’d never seen the mimic eat like this— it was all aggro, all the time. Except now it wasn’t. Now it seemed… gentle. Reverent, almost.

The arcane chest disappeared into the mimic chest’s mouth. It shut its lid quietly and shuddered, trembling all over. Then it went still as it rested a single hand on the ground where the arcane chest had been, three fingers splayed apart.

“... Buddy?” I asked quietly, half-consciously reaching out to it with my free hand. It felt wrong to talk louder, like I was disturbing something sacred.

There was a deeper meaning here, something I didn’t understand.

It turned at my voice, cracking its lid again and baring its teeth at me in a snarl.

“Whoa.” I said, snatching my hand back. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay! You just seemed…” I trailed off, unsure. I didn’t know what it had seemed. It just… wasn’t acting at all how I expected.

It moved back from me, away from the wall, into the dungeon corridor. I could feel its apprehension— and underneath that, an ocean of deep-seated rage.

And then the emotions changed and closed off, leaving me feeling jarred and disoriented. It broadcasted scorn, and derision, and then nothing at all.

It turned and thumped away down the corridor, leaving me standing silent behind it.

Alone.