Chapter Text
It's been almost a month since I defeated Flamefrags, becoming the strongest player on Unstable, but now I'm completely bored, having nothing left to do on the server.
Not really sure what to do, I made my way to the nearest stronghold. Maybe paying a visit to my friends is going to clear my mind and give me an insight into what my next move is.
I entered the portal, just to be greeted with the familiar coldness of the End, the closest thing I have to a home on this server. I greeted my friend MinuteTech as he guided me towards my best friend, who was occupied reading some books that looked plain and boring.
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“Bro, I'm actually like bored now. Like, I actually have nothing to do.” Eggchan looked at Wemmbu for a couple of seconds before responding, “I mean, you can just get a real life, go fishing or something.”
Eggchan could see the annoyance in his friend’s eyes, so he decided not to elaborate on his suggestion.
“No? Okay, sorry, soooo… why don't you just, like, go under a false identity, bro?” That idea seemed to actually perk up Wemmbu’s interest. “Like what?”
“I mean, like, you know how we couldn't identify anyone in the invisible mafia? Why don't you just go invisible? No one will know.” Wemmbu considered the idea for a second. “Yeah, no, that won't work.”
Wemmbu continued to sort through all of the shulker boxes they had lying around the floor of the library, but that one suggestion Egg had made kept nagging at him, he began to think about other alternatives to the false identity thing, and that's when he remembered all those times he played jokes on people mimicking their voices when he was younger.
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One detail about Wemmbu that no one knows is what kind of demon he truly is. Most people assume he belongs to the typical demon species known to inhabit the Nether, but in reality, he is a mimic—an demon species original to the End itself. Mimics are rare shapeshifters that survive by blending in with others, perfectly copying appearances and behaviors.
What most players don’t realize is that mimics aren't like paranormal beings, they're demons naturally drawn to playing pranks on people, often with a darker, more unsettling edge. Because of this reputation, Wemmbu has never told anyone about this, he hasn’t even told Eggchan the truth about his species, feeling quietly ashamed of what mimics are known for. But now he can finally put to use this burden of an ability that's been with him since the day he was born.
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“Egg?” I spoke up to my friend without looking at him, only to get no answer. I turned my head in his direction and saw that he was actually sleeping on top of a shulker box. He looked peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb that peace, after everything that's happened he must be pretty tired of my things.
I left the library to look for a mirror, finding one in the next room. I looked in the mirror just to see my reflection looking back - Long violet hair frames my face, and dark obsidian horns curve from my head, faint zig zag patterns glowing along them. My pale skin only makes the Violet stand out more. Void-like eyes stare back at me, black and bottomless, their pink crosshair pupils sharp and unwavering, always precise.
My tiara sits where it belongs, and the cloak falls perfectly over my shoulders. Calm, composed, unmistakable. I was never meant to blend in with normal players.
Maybe this is going to be the last time I see my own reflection for a long while. I’m sacrificing what I am for a new start. I reach out to my power and begin to change myself, starting with my hair—pulling the color from it, turning violet into black, I decided on making it short despite my personal preferences. Each strand that shortens feels like a loss.
My eyes change next, shifting to a deep purple, the same shade my hair once was, my pupils sharpening into a cat-like shape. I barely recognize the stare looking back at me.
I hesitate before continuing, because this part hurts more than I expect. The horns don’t disappear gently. Pressure builds behind my temples as they dissolve, pain blooming until I have to steady myself. When they’re gone, my head feels wrong—too light, unbalanced, like something essential was torn away. My tail follows with a dull, hollow ache along my spine, the sudden loss throwing my sense of balance off entirely.
My wings are next. I force myself not to dwell on it, reminding myself I have an elytra, that it won’t be so terrible. Still, my back feels empty without them.
Then my face begins to change. Slowly. Cruelly. The sharp lines soften, my jaw easing, my cheekbones dulling just enough to lose their edge. Even the smallest details aren’t spared. The beauty marks beneath my eyes shift and fade, breaking apart until they no longer sit where they used to- until it was like they never existed- In their place, a new beauty mark forms besides my mouth, unfamiliar but deliberate. My teeth sharpen to resemble a cat's, just enough to remind me that I’m not entirely harmless.
The imbalance lingers, wrong and unsettling, so I make one last adjustment. I give myself cat ears and a tail—not just to steady the unfamiliar lightness of my body, but because cats have always been my favorite. Familiar. Grounding. Something I can hold onto.
When I finally look at my reflection again, the face staring back at me isn’t forgettable—but it isn’t as handsome as it once was, either. The elegance is dulled, reshaped into something quieter, more restrained
And now the only thing that’s left of myself is my clothing. The familiar weight of the fabric grounds me in a way my reflection no longer can. The cloak still settles over my shoulders like it always has, the tiara still rests against my hair, untouched by everything I’ve changed. It’s unsettling how something so simple can carry more of me than my own face.
And even that won’t last.
I know I’ll have to get rid of it too—fold it, hide it in my ender chest, replace it, erase the last unmistakable trace of who I was. The thought lingers heavier than I expect. Once it’s gone, there won’t be anything left to tie me to the version of myself I’m leaving behind for now. No horns, no wings, no familiar features. Not even the clothes that once made me feel like Wemmbu.
I stand there a moment longer, letting the fabric rest against me while it still can, knowing it’s the last thing I’m allowing myself to keep—only for now.
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Everything feels weird now, leaving this room no longer as myself. I make my way back, my new fluffy tail swishing behind me just to test how different it feels. Eggchan is exactly where I left him, sleeping as if nothing has happened. I move to wake him up, having forgotten for a moment about my new appearance.
“Egg?” I say as I reach out and touch his shoulder.
He stirs at first, groaning, then jolts awake startled. He blinks a few times, clearly disoriented, rubbing at his eyes. “Wemmbu, bro—” he starts, then stops. His gaze sharpens slightly as he actually looks at me.
He sits up slightly, frowning. “Huh… wait a minute.” His eyes scan me—my new hair, and my new ears, the unfamiliar silhouette. “Who are you?”
There’s a pause, uncomfortable and heavy. He squints, tilting his head like he’s trying to force the pieces together. “Did you… come here to steal something?”
Only then does he groan again, stretching with a wince. “Man, why didn’t you wake me up sooner? My whole body hurts.”
His eyes flick back to me, still unsure. “Seriously though… where’s Wemmbu?”
“I’m Wemmbu.” I say it confidently, like that should immediately solve everything. It doesn’t. Eggchan just stares at me, eyes half-open, clearly not believing me. My tail swishes once behind me, completely betraying me.
“It’s me, I swear bro” I add quickly. “Same guy. Same voice. And same clothes for now.”
He squints. “Okay, cool, because for a second I thought I got taken hostage again.”
“Nope. Just me,” I say. “I did a little rebrand.”
Eggchan groans and rubs his face. “Bro, you can’t just say ‘I’m Wemmbu’ when you’re standing there looking like a whole new player.”
I gesture at myself. “Look, short story. I got a new look. That means a fresh start. Don’t worry too much about it.”
His eyes drift to my ears. Then my tail. Then back to my face. “So… cat?”
“Cat-hybrid.”
He sighs and leans back against the shulker box. “Man. I wake up sore, confused, and the first thing I see is my best friend has turned into some random ass chungie.”
“First of all, rude. Second of all, temporary.”
Eggchan snorts. “Yeah, okay. As long as you’re still you.”
“My appearance doesn't change anything,” I say.
He pauses, then looks at me again, Eggchan stays quiet for a few seconds, longer than usual. He doesn’t look half-asleep or joking anymore; instead, he watches me with an uncomfortable sharpness, like something about me just doesn’t sit right.
“Wemmbu…” he says slowly. “People don’t just wake up one day and decide to change species and literally everything about themselves.”
It’s not a joke. It’s a statement—almost an accusation.
He stands up fully, stretching once before slowly circling me, studying me from every angle. His eyes linger, the new cat characteristics, the unfamiliar shape of my face.
“This isn’t just a haircut, not even fake accessories. And it’s definitely not a potion effect,” he continues. “If this world works the way it’s always worked, then something like this doesn’t happen just because someone felt like starting a new life.”
My tail flicks faintly behind me before I can stop it—a nervous tic that gives me away, one Egg notices instantly, no matter how much I try to hide it
“It wasn’t an impulsive decision,” I say finally. “And it’s not something I learned how to do recently.”
Eggchan frowns. “Then explain how it happened. Because as far as I know, you are just a normal demon.”
I look at the angel in front of me properly this time. Really look at him. And for the first time, I understand that half-truths won’t be enough, he can see right through them.
“I’ve always been able to do it,” I admit. “Change, Adjust and Imitate.”
His expression tightens. “Always… as in how always?”
“Even before we met.”
That makes him stop.
“That means—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “No. Don’t tell me that this whole time—”
“No,” I interrupt quickly. “I never faked anything with you. Neither with anyone else.”
He exhales, rubbing his face. “Then tell me what you are. Because whatever you did… it isn’t something a nether born demon can do.”
I force myself to meet his eyes.
“I’m a mimic.”
The word lands heavily between us.
Eggchan doesn’t respond right away. He just stares, like he’s waiting for me to laugh, to say it’s another one of my jokes. I don’t.
“…Great,” he says at last, letting out a dry laugh with no humor in it. “This is how I find out my friend is part off a rare end-born species.”
“Bro I didn’t tell you before,” I say quietly. “Not because I didn’t trust you. But because… mimics don’t exactly have a good reputation.”
“And now they do?” he asks.
“There was never a ‘right moment,’” I admit. “But I needed a new start. To stop others from recognising me. And this was the only way I could think of.”
Eggchan studies me again, this time with something different in his eyes. Not fear. Not rejection. Just caution.
“Fine…. You’re still you,” he says slowly. “But bro, next time, warn me before you do something stupid like this.”
My tail flicks again, nervous.
“I’ll try, but I don't promise anything.”
He drops back onto the shulker box with a sigh. “Man… this is gonna take a while to get accustomed to.”
Egg paused for a second too long again. I tensed thinking Eggchan was gonna ask more questions
“But wait, what will happen to Wemmbu?”