King Baalrek observes the behavior of the young Infernal Princess with attention, his gaze fixed not only on her movements but on the flickers of emotion that pass across her face.

The group of Jacob Cloud, Iskara Drazhal, and the others has met the first monsters, but the creatures, just at the Advanced Platinum Rank, have been easily dispatched.

King Baalrek wishes he still had a chin to gently scratch it while he examines Jacob Cloud's actions.

He's a smart kid, but he's clueless around women. His instincts for politics can be as sharp as one imagines them, but then he clearly has trouble with basic things.

The Infernal King is actually unsure whether his contribution here would help Jacob Cloud or not. Sometimes, he thinks, it's just better to let the wheel of fate spin on its own.

Every time he interferes, he risks pulling at threads that should not be touched, and he knows too well how the world punishes meddling hands.

Interventions might damage his Karma, King Baalrek ponders.

So, he observes as Jacob wipes sweat off his forehead after engaging some Shadow Spiders.

* * *

"They're pretty tough for Platinum Ranked monsters," Orrivane says with a casual remark.

"Elites," Nimirea comments laconically. "And we're here for Shadow Mimics, Jacob?"

Jacob nods toward the half-Elf.

"Shadow Mimics, plural?" Iskara asks.

"That's what your aunt said," Jacob comments. "She mentioned that the Dungeon has Shadow Mimics at Intermediate Diamond Rank--as strong as the Dungeon Boss. And with this being an Elite Dungeon... I imagine they're going to be pretty strong."

Everyone looks at Jacob because he's the Guide.

He's the one who asked them to come.

Well, aside from Nimirea, who sort of forces herself into the group. But everyone else, they come because of Jacob.

Even Iskara has come here because of Jacob. She doesn't show it, but her steps always stay near his. It's easy to think that, at least for her, it's about her aunt, Veythra. But truth be told, even her royal aunt has less sway on her than Jacob. Not that she would ever publicly admit to that.

A new monster appears.

A Shadow Steel Spider, level 380.

Jacob is still wielding Black Flame, his strongest sword, while black and red veins snake around his skin. Then he steps forward using the first step of Mephistus. The shadows in the Long Shadows Grotto—the same ones that make everything pitch black—make the ground uneven.

However, both of Jacob's skills activate in response: Quake Balance and Greater Fault Line Instinct.

Quake Balance makes Jacob much harder to trip, and it even applies to the oily consistency of the shadows that cover the cavern. The Shadow Steel Spiders have very sharp extremities that allow them to anchor themselves in the shadows and not slip.

It's harder for the group to display their full combat potential while trying not to trip. Yet Jacob can locate the most unstable parts of the shadows thanks to Greater Fault Line Instinct, and Quake Balance gives him a much higher threshold for equilibrium and balance than everybody else there.

He activates Web of Withering, anchoring the Shadow Steel Spider to the ground. Before the monster can do anything, Jacob pierces its carapace with his black sword and kills it.

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They resume walking, and Jacob takes care of the weaker monsters since he needs the levels.

Nimirea voices some thoughts.

"How come you're only this strong?" she asks.

"Excuse me?" Jacob replies.

"I don't mean this to offend or humiliate you. But you're part of the Ten Champions—the Generation of Legends. The Trial, I heard, was a display of pure strength, no?"

"Well," Jacob says, "I don't exactly pass the Trial in a straightforward way. I'm not that strong, admittedly," he continues. "But I'm very…" He pauses, looking for a word.

"Resourceful," Orrivane suggests.

"I like resourceful," Jacob nods.

Nimirea keeps looking at Jacob as they continue, and soon she can't help but ask another question.

"What kind of Skill lets you see so easily through the grotto?"

"Trade secret," Jacob replies, not missing a beat.

"Interesting," Nimirea says, almost with a cryptic look on her face.

"Is it?" Jacob replies. "I don't think there's anything that interesting."

"It's even interesting that you try to sell yourself short, Jacob Cloud," Nimirea says.

"It's not that I sell myself short," Jacob replies, looking around with the Grimoire still active. "It's just that every Champion is impressive. There's nothing interesting in a Champion who's not that strong. If anything, it's surprising I'm the only one like that."

"I suppose that is a good point," Nimirea mutters.

The group moves forward through the black grotto with more shadows gathering all around. Distinguishing shadows and terrain is almost impossible. They can do that for barely a few feet in front of them, but that's about it. Beyond that range, it's impossible to tell what's what.

And it's not just the terrain that feels weird. The air itself seems to become… oily.

There's a faint sound of dripping water that unnerves the group.

Even though they're Champions and Champion-adjacent in terms of power, this is still an Elite Dungeon where they expect to meet Shadow Mimics.

Jacob, who has faced a Shadow Mimic before, knows just how strong they can be. And, this time, the Shadow Mimics are going to be stronger than him.

They'll most certainly copy either Orrivane or Iskara, Jacob thinks. And in both cases, we'll have to swarm the Mimic and kill it as fast as possible. Hopefully, they won't come at us more than once at the time.

Suddenly, the sound of the dripping water seems to become rhythmic—but in an unnatural way. Then, it picks up speed.

Jacob lowers his sword slightly, sensing something off.

The shadows around them begin to shift. At first, it's small—a ripple, like the surface of water when a drop falls in. Then, from the walls and floor, the darkness thickens and slides toward the center of the chamber. It gathers into pools of black fog, swirling and pressing together until they start to take shape.

"Stay close!" Jacob shouts, already able to see what's happening thanks to the Grimoire. "There's ten of them! Be ready to fight with all you've got! All of it!"

Ten silhouettes rise from the ground. They are tall, slim, and familiar. The fog thins just enough for faces to show.

Iskara's faces.

Each shadow wears her form—her red skin, her hair, her armor, her posture—but their eyes are blank, empty holes where light should be. The air chills as the last of them finishes forming, and all ten turn their heads in perfect sync toward the real Iskara.

Their bodies move like smoke. When one takes a step, its legs dissolve for a second before reforming.

"These bastards are evolved forms!" Nimirea hisses.

"They're what?!" Jacob has never heard of that but immediately analyzes one more in depth with the Grimoire.

[Analysis Completed.]

[Deep Shadow Mimic - Lv. 520]

[Deep Shadow Mimic: a monster that has been nourished by an environment rich in shadows and that has developed several abilities independent on his capacity to copy their opponents.]

Their movements are smooth, too smooth, like puppets pulled by invisible strings. The faint gleam of black steel flashes in their hands as long claws, much longer than Iskara's, take shape from the shadows.

For a moment, no one breathes.

The grotto itself seems to tighten, as though the stone is holding its breath too.

Then the first mimic tilts its head. The others follow. Ten copies of the same motion. Ten perfect echoes of one person.

A sound runs through the dark, a whisper made of metal and smoke, like the air tearing open. The mimics spread out, circling the group.

Their feet don't make a sound when they touch the shadowed floor.

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