Professor Aldric had taught Monster Studies for thirty years, a tenure long enough to witness every flavour of student ego.

He knew the overconfident ones, the nervous ones, and the ones who tuned out the second they felt they had grasped the basics. This year’s batch was a perfect mirror of the last.

He stood at the front of the lecture hall, chalk in hand. Before him sat two hundred students, each only a single tunnel run away from becoming a registered Crusader. Most were barely listening.

"The Crusade does not forgive arrogance," he said. "Every year, I watch fresh Crusaders perish in their first run because they underestimated the threat in front of them."

A few students shifted in their seats, but the majority remained slumped.

He tapped the board to reveal a diagram of a slime, simple and round.

"Slimes. You know them as the weakest race in the Crusade and the first kill for most of you." He paused for emphasis. "But rare variations exist. Never forget that."

He advanced the slide. The next diagram displayed a human form. If not for the vacant soulless eyes, the figure could be easily considered human.

"The Mimic Slime. A one in a million anomaly. It copies the appearance of anything it devours to lure prey within reach. It might be a fallen companion calling your name or a wounded child in a dark corner. By the time you realize the truth, it has already claimed you."

He scanned the room. Not a single face showed concern.

"But Professor, Mimics are the weakest of the weak. Even a shift in room temperature can kill one. They went extinct years ago." Brian, a Runner from the winter batch, laughed loudly.

"Even if one managed to eat someone, it only copies their appearance. You don’t seriously think any of us would be killed by a mimic, do you?"

Brian clutched his chest in a display of mock terror, prompting the entire class to explode into laughter.

Atlantis Academy was the premier Crusader institution on Earth. Every student here possessed a Trait of C rank or higher.

They were powerful, most of them, and they had spent weeks honing abilities that made them feel like gods among men.

What could a slime do against that? It could wear a face, and that was all.

Near the back, a student was already scrolling through his phone.

Aldric set the chalk down and sighed. There was nothing more he could do. Deep down, a small, cynical part of his mind agreed with them.

* * *

Ayla had been born only an hour ago. For a slime to possess a name was bizarre, and she was just as confused as anyone else might be.

She knew with absolute certainty that none of her siblings had names. Perhaps it was because she was smarter, or perhaps it was simply the nature of being a Mimic.

While her brothers and sisters bobbed aimlessly out of their hidden den only to be devoured by the two legged creatures known as goblins, Ayla remained still.

Even as hunger threatened to seize control of her body, she held back by sheer will. Only when the last of her kin had been consumed did the goblins finally depart.

Ayla waited in the shadows for another hour before she began to move, gliding slowly across the dark floor of the lower tunnels.

Her body was small and pale, a faintly glowing blob no larger than a goblin fist. The tunnels were silent, and she had found nothing to eat for a very long time.

Then, she saw the light.

It was golden and soft, bleeding through the cracks in the tunnel ceiling as if something had broken open above. She stopped.

Light meant something, though she was not sure what. It was different from the darkness, and that difference pulled at her.

She moved toward it.

The light originated from a human, or at least something shaped like one. It leaned against the tunnel wall, the golden glow radiating from its skin and hair.

The creature was injured. Ayla could tell by the way it sat, far too still and far too careful.

Ayla watched as the creature opened its eyes. They were gold, too.

It looked up at the ceiling and spoke. It had not seen her, its voice quiet and exhausted. To Ayla, the words were nothing but gibberish.

"I made it," the creature whispered. "They will not find me here."

A small, satisfied smile touched its lips.

"My Trait dies with me. No one else will ever hold it. I made sure of that."

The golden light flickered. The creature reached up to touch its own face gently, like someone saying a final goodbye.

"It cost everything. My soul. My name. All of it. But it is worth it. Better gone than stolen."

It let out a quiet laugh and allowed its hand to fall. Ayla processed none of this. She looked at the creature and thought of only one thing.

Food.

It was large, it smelled of warmth, and it was not moving. Every instinct she possessed pulled her forward, and she did not have the kind of mind that argued with instinct.

She began to move again, slow and soundless.

The goddess continued to smile at the ceiling, thinking of the faces of those who had betrayed her.

She imagined them searching for her Trait and finding nothing. There was peace in the thought that it would die here in the dark.

She did not notice the small, pale shape climbing the tunnel wall beside her. She did not notice it reach the side of her head. She noticed nothing until something thin and cold slipped into her ear.

The smile froze.

"What?"

The goddess tried to move her hand, but it was too slow. She had spent the last of her strength descending into the mortal realm.

Whatever was inside her was moving fast. She could not understand. Nothing in these tunnels should have been capable of this. It had to be a mistake.

It was not a mistake.

Ayla was simply hungry, and so she ate a brain.

Was it her fault that the brain belonged to a goddess? She did not care. Anyway, she liked the taste of a brain.