"You want me to eat that grumpy guard? And how can you know- no, actually whatever you are I can understand you being able to see into the future a bit. But why eat him at all? And, well I don't think he'll pass as easy as soup anyway." While Kenji hadn't spoken his other fear, he was also subtly worried about his easy-going reaction. To think that boy who squealed to find a spider, could now speak of cannibalism without nary a blink?

"Remember, while you have a corpse you will have the power to perfectly replicate it. Such is the power of your species of Mimic. The memories, the skills, the abilities and the stats will all be yours. Leaving the corpse behind will lose you that ability, but you'll gain the option of taking a new corpse in its place."

Thump. Something hit the ground hard in the hallway, Kenji tentatively put down his soup and stared wide-eyed at the door.

"One last thing, your progression. Like the other seventeen evil souls, you can improve any stat or skill by mastering it. Accomplishing difficult feats, expanding your comprehension, and training hard, provides the most experience points in that order. But each of you will have a unique way to level your special components. For you, that means evolution, to handle more bodies or new skills entirely. To do so you must scout out heroes for me, to fulfil the obligations of the class 'Hero Scout'. Your job is then to grow their grade as much as you can, and when you leave them to their own devices you will gain XP based on how far they have come. Understand?"

"I-I understand." Kenji turned away, thinking fast, mind turning blank as he saw his reflection in the mirror.

He looked like a tiny old man with flickering green eyes, wearing a street urchin's black scraps for clothing, and had a mound bulging out the back of his neck. At that moment it hit him, was he really that old guy in the mirror? That mimic...was that him?

Where was the chin mother used to say was so manly? Or the hair he had always worried would recede in his younger years, like his father?

"Kenji, the man has died. The Holy Knight that rules this keep is definitely hero material, and one of your rivals is out to get him. You don't have much time," the woman spoke with neat tones all in order as if she couldn't see the red liquid spilling out from below the door. As if she didn't address a sixteen-year-old that looked like he was six hundred.

Kenji stole a deep breath. Then another. And a third.

"Leave it to me."

Kenji strode to the door and pulled it open, the quiet guard now forever silent as blood gushed from beneath his helm. No visible wound, not even a dent in well-maintained iron plate. As if the attacker had ignored the large man's defences completely.

Casting his hands wide, Kenji pushed them against the corpse, his cloth, his chains and his everything else melting as he pulled himself over the body and had it sink down into a little space within. When all was done only the blood remained. About two-thirds of his internal space was now filled up with the body, his weapons and his armour.

"Sorry Mr Guard, I didn't know things would go this way," Kenji whispered, reformed into an especially bow backed elder. The weight of the death-haunted him far more than any video game in the past. This...it just didn't feel like an NPC death, this felt like the gurgling corpse of a man. Of someone who once had life in his eyes, and dreams in his heart.

"You can store other stuff in there of course, like this cane," she said. Handing him the cane, Kenji's bulging back became easier to move around. Quickly he slid the cane into his chest, vanishing wherever everything else had gone.

"But space is limited without fulfilling your special missions. Now, morph into the guard quickly, or else when I release this serving girl she'll think you killed him."

Kenji shook his arms, concentrated, and looked up at her one last time.

"Is it going to hurt?"

She smiled down at him, "No, it won't hurt. So hurry."

"What's your name?" Kenji said, absolutely not so he could buy time. Not in the slightest. Kenji just couldn't help being a gentleman was all.

"I don't have one."

"Well, you can call me Kenji. Mind if I call you Noir? You remind me of the cool detectives from-"

"Kenji, hurry." Noir snapped, her cheeks ever so softly blushing scarlet.

With a sharp breath, Kenji focused, his body twisting, changing, and in rapid bursts, transformed into a fully geared guardsmen. Memories flooded him of a quiet family and a life filled with solemn duty. His arms and legs slowly adjusting to their own muscle-memory, and were filled with the endless days of training, while the list of the guard's favourite fighting moves snuggled their way into Kenji's head.

So to arrived a song the guard had heard last night at the tavern. The tune was quite catchy, and as it had been stuck in the guard's head for the last two days, and now it was stuck in Kenji's head too.

"Mm mMMMm m." Kenji said confused, as he towered over Noir, shocked to find the man had no tongue. No wonder he had been so quiet, and here Kenji had mistaken him for being a dick. Silently, Kenji clasped the man's hands together and offered him a prayer in apology.

Noir laughed like tinkling silver chimes. Kenji shot her an annoyed look, not knowing what was so funny about his situation.

"See you around, Kenji," she said, her eyes rolling back into her head as she collapsed on the floor.

Kenji didn't wait for her to get up, he was already stumbling down the hallway. It took a few steps to get used to having power in his legs again, more strength than he ever had in his previous life either. Each bound pushed his grin wider, even as the sorrow within his heart deepened. With the slightest rasp, Kenji's blade was pulled free, oiled and shined. Whoever had slit Mr Guard's throat, Kenji would make them regret it. With Mr Guard's steel no less.

But Arthur, the kind boyish knight. He at least Kenji swore to save.

"MMM MmmM" Kenji said, his heroic statement no doubt something that would have been remembered for a thousand years should it have actually been spoken with a tongue. No matter, he would just have to show them his conviction instead.