With his mimic capabilities, he had been able to walk like a man without problems. He could use Humanoid from then on, but he still hesitated, as that part of the dungeon had been full of monsters. He had been stampeded by the thought of where to side. The humans? Or monsters? Well, he still had time, by the way.
He grabbed a backpack he had looted from dead adventurers and a sword.
"Onwards!" he shouted.
He also went to find armor and boots. Then came the time to cover his face—but his chest, his head, had been too large!
'Well, the adventurers would find it odd at first, but will they accept a chest as a helmet? They would not, right? And so I devised a plan. I will make my head protrude from the chest and open the lid, which I'll put on the back. With it, I will put on a helm. Easy, right?'
He went to grab the strap of his backpack and ended up looking like a kid in armor. Quite nice—but he had been fast!
He went to find the exit of the cave, but as he traveled, he saw mana cores. His mouth salivated at the sight.
"Wait? Mana cores are the food of mimics? I hope I'm an omnivore though," he resigned himself from being picky and ate a bunch of them.
Munching and munching, then gulping it down.
[Analyze skill activated]
[That is called mana stones]
[It could affect your Stats and growth]
Upon knowing that, he ate all the mana stones he could find. And also, all the plants in the cave.
[Blood herb was eaten]
[Blood herb can be made into Health potions]
[Spirit herb was eaten]
[Spirit herb can be made into Mana potions]
[Energy herb was eaten]
[Energy herb can be made into Stamina potions]
"Nice!"
Munch munch munch munch.
He also ate all the metals in the dungeon, making him synthesize them all.
[Iron was consumed]
[Steel was consumed]
[Pouring out mana to the metals]
[Iron became Demonic Iron]
[Steel became Demonic Steel]
"Oh! Nice nice nice nice. I could make something like this?" he had been contemplating.
He immediately headed north and noticed rustling while walking through the forest.
"Hmmm? Who's it?" he asked.
Skrie! Shree! Shriek!
"Oh? A company," Rolan said as he drew his sword.
The thing was, he had not been a fighter and was only playing along. He couldn't even swing a weapon properly.
"Come at me!" he summoned all his courage and tried his best to survive.
The goblins—green-skinned monsters—appeared. "Hello, I am a monster too, remember? We are of the same species."
Kra! Shree!
They roared as they attacked him.
"Oh, they attacked! So this is a different novel, I see. I expected things… I think I now know which side to choose," Rolan muttered.
"One, two, three, four, five, six—too much. I need to run!"
He immediately ran as they chased him. Clunking metals echoed as he fled. They all thought he was a coward—but he wasn't. Still, it was evident on their faces that they were the hunters and not the hunted.
Some were gleeful, others excited to stab him to death, and a few just wanted to play with his carcass as they butchered it.
He was attacked from behind, and he closed the distance. He jabbed a goblin in the eyes and then slashed with his sword.
Swosh!
A head flew.
Others tried to block his path, and he kicked them in the face, sending them flying.
Pow!
"Haha! Take that!"
He was attacked by several more from the front, but he kicked their groins and stomped on their feet. What a brutal way to fight!
Rolan played dirty. He grabbed dirt and threw it into their eyes. Spare the formalities—he needed to live.
He immediately ran and saw more goblins incoming. He grabbed one by the neck and smashed it into a leaping goblin that had tried to stab him—making their own comrade the victim.
He continued running north, only to be intercepted by a larger goblin village camp.
"Damn it! More of them? Well, I'mma send you all to hell!"
Oraaaaaahhhh!!!
He grabbed torches and burned the village, making the goblins shriek in chaos. Other goblins arrived and saw their camp in flames.
Rolan immediately greeted them with a grin, and they were infuriated—especially when he laughed while their camp burned.
"Hahahah! Good for you all, little fellas! Enjoy the view of your burning camp! I'll splash more dirt in your eyes!"
He slashed and culled more enemies by throwing dirt into their faces. He danced through them like a battle performer while their eyes were shut. Until their deaths.
Slash! Swosh! Swish!
Heads flew, and limbs rolled in the dirt. Tears welled up in the eyes of his victims as they felt nothing but pain. They had been whelps once, proud warriors of their goblin tribe—but this was a slap to their experience.
All was lost in a second. Their eyes had been filled with dirt.
It was sickening—for them. Some even vomited right in front of Rolan.
But Rolan was merciful. He wasn't a psychopath either. It was simply the law of the strong preying on the weak—the natural law of the jungle.
Rolan saw them disintegrate, and mana cores were left behind. It was a blinding fact—he could have a snack at the moment.
"Wow, mana cores? They had those?" he jolted.
He immediately picked them up one by one and munched on them. He ate his fill with a salivating mouth.
Munch munch munch.
Like the Mimic he was, he slowly grew stronger with each mana core he consumed. And it was still just the beginning! He would become stronger as the time passes by and with every man's core, he will have greater mana well and mana molecules.
He sat down on the dirt, chewing contentedly, it was tasteless by the way and he ate there as he watched the goblin village burn to ashes.