[ Discover a suitable host… ]
A faint voice stirred across the endless void, drifting through the emptiness with an eerie calm that made the silent darkness feel suddenly alive.
The formless awareness floating in this infinite space reacted instinctively.
It did not remember its nature, its shape, or its origin, yet its consciousness tightened, as if something deep inside recognized that the quiet eternity around it had just been disturbed.
'Who's speaking? Who's here?' the consciousness asked itself, startled by how strange and unfamiliar the simple act of noticing something felt.
For longer than it could comprehend, the void had been nothing but a vast dark expanse without sound or movement.
It had existed within that emptiness for so long that even the concept of time had become meaningless.
The sudden presence of a voice felt almost unreal, like hearing a memory it never knew it had.
The voice returned, steady and mechanical.
[ Host has been confirmed… ]
The consciousness reached out instinctively. It did not know how it was reaching, but it clung desperately to the sensation of contact, afraid the sound would disappear if it didn't respond quickly enough.
'Can you hear me? I am here. I can hear you. Please…'
A faint tremble lingered beneath its mental plea, a fragile hope shaped by ages of isolation.
But the voice continued without pause, as if it were merely reciting a sequence of lines.
[ Start Assimilation… ]
[ Demiurge Engine assimilating… 1% ]
A subtle pulse rippled through the void.
The consciousness had felt nothing for an eternity, yet this sensation touched it directly—like a faint current brushing against its awareness.
[ 2%… 10%… 25% ]
The consciousness called again, but with less strength than before.
'Please… notice me…'
It wanted to believe its voice mattered, even if only a little, but a slow acceptance sank in as the mechanical progression continued without the slightest change.
Isolation had been its only companion for so long that this brief stimulation felt overwhelming, even if the voice refused to acknowledge it.
The quiet returned as the assimilation progressed.
[ 76%… 87%… 99% ]
A strange heaviness settled into the consciousness, almost like a tired sigh.
'That was more interesting than anything I have experienced in ages,' it thought to itself, a faint hint of humor mixing with resignation.
It had hoped for too much in too little time, and though the disappointment was familiar, it felt softer than usual.
As the final number approached, the consciousness whispered something small and gentle into the void, not knowing if it mattered to anything or anyone.
'It was nice hearing you…'
The thought faded, and the emptiness prepared to swallow it once more. But before the stillness could reclaim everything, another voice emerged—one completely unlike the mechanical one.
This voice was ancient, deep, and carried a sense of boundless age and weary understanding.
"Ho. It actually survives." The tone held faint surprise, as if discovering something rare.
"You have endured suffering that should not be endured. I hope your next existence treats you kindly."
The voice faded, leaving only the faint warmth of its presence behind.
…
A completely different world flooded into existence around the consciousness.
Heavy footsteps thundered against rough stone. Harsh, uneven breaths filled the air, blending with the desperate rhythm of fear-driven gasps.
Torchfire flickered along a narrow dungeon corridor as three young adventurers sprinted with every ounce of strength they had left. Their armor rattled, their weapons clattered, and their faces twisted with exhaustion.
"Ha… fuck. W–We really triggered a trap room on the first floor," the brown-haired youth in steel armor shouted through ragged breaths. His entire body trembled as he carried an unconscious friend slung over his shoulder.
"I–I'm sorry, George. It was my fault. If I didn't chase that goblin, we wouldn't be running like this," the black-haired youth said, guilt and panic mixing in his trembling voice. He struggled to keep their unconscious companion steady on the opposite shoulder, refusing to let him slip.
George forced out a tight breath and shook his head.
"Riley, it isn't just you. I was the one who messed up our preparations. I should have checked every room. I put us in this mess."
His eyes flickered to the limp face of the youth he carried. "Steve… hold on…"
The corridor suddenly screamed with danger.
A sharp whistling sound cut through the air before a wooden arrow shattered against the wall beside them.
"!!"
Both George and Riley flinched, staring at the broken arrow on the floor. A cold chill sharpened their expressions instantly.
"Run!" George barked.
They did not need to look back to know what chased them. Multiple quick, uneven footsteps slapped against the stone behind them. Small creatures with green skin, twisted limbs, and feral eyes rushed after them with weapons fashioned from bone and rusted metal.
Goblins. They were fast, vicious, and hungry.
The youths forced their legs to move faster, dragging their beaten bodies forward even as their muscles screamed in protest. Fear kept them moving. Fear was the only strength left.
Stopping meant dying. Slowing down meant dying.
As they rounded the next corner, another strange sound joined the chaos.
Blop. Blop.
A wet, rhythmic noise echoed from the path ahead. A gray, jelly-like creature hopped into view.
A slime. One of the weakest monsters in the dungeon, harmless and barely intelligent.
George narrowed his eyes in frustration.
"Move!" he snapped, lifting his leg and kicking the slime aside without slowing.
Blop!
The slime bounced off the floor and rolled into a side corridor, landing with a soft wobble. It remained still, as if silently watching the adventurers flee while the goblins raced after them.
Its simple body jiggled once before the corridor fell silent again.
But something else awakened inside that small gray form.
The surface of the slime flickered and warped repeatedly. Its body shifted from a blob to a rock, then to a chest, then to a smooth, solid form before returning to its natural shape.
The distortion felt unnatural, like something deep inside was adjusting to a new reality.
[ You have received a physical attack ]
[ Physical damage nullified ]
The consciousness inside the slime stirred with surprise.
'That voice… you're still here?'
More importantly, it realized something even more shocking.
This was not the void.
This time it felt something—a texture, a surface beneath its body. It felt vibrations travel through it when it shifted. It felt the subtle movement of its mass as it hopped in place.
'I am not in the void. I can feel something solid. I can… move.' A tremor of excitement ran through its thoughts. Hope flickered back to life.
'Wait… does this mean… I have a body?'
The excitement dimmed slightly when it noticed something else.
'I don't have hands… or feet… or eyes. But I can hop. I can hear vibrations. I can sense things around me. So… what exactly am I now?'
Before it could spiral into confusion, glowing text appeared inside its mind.
[ Name: Deus ]
[ Title: The Man Who Overcame Fate ]
[ Species: Mimic (Slime-Type Variant) ]
[ Power: Tier 0 ]
[ Skills: Bite, Mimic, Pocket Dimension, Absolute Assimilation ]
Core Skills:
Bite (Rank 1)
A simple bite attack that corresponds to base strength.
[ Proficiency: 6.7% ]
Mimic (Rank 1)
Transform your body to resemble any inanimate object you have observed, as long as its mass and volume match your own form. This ability only changes appearance and texture.
[ Proficiency: 0.5% ]
Pocket Dimension (Rank 2)
A personal extradimensional storage space. Capacity is one meter by one meter by one meter. Living beings cannot be stored. Time inside moves extremely slowly.
[ Capacity: 1 out of 1 cubic meter ]
Absolute Assimilation (EX Rank)
A sealed legendary ability. Fragmented system information suggests the capability to absorb the form, essence, memory, and conceptual identity of a target. All advanced functions are currently locked.
[ Status: Partially Locked ]
The consciousness quickly understood.
"So, I become a mimic… and I have a name…"