Mistress Frieren and Yet Another Mimic

“It’s no use, Frieren-sama! I can’t get any leverage!”

Every time Mistress Frieren had gotten stuck in a mimic before, the standard way to get her out had worked. Fern would get behind her, place her hands on her companion’s butt, and shove with all her might. That would force Frieren’s body into the mimic’s throat, cause it to gag, and spit her out.

This time, however, the enticing “chest” was at the end of a narrow corridor, facing the side wall; there was barely enough room for Frieren to stand in front of it, certainly not enough room for Fern to apply any force. She had tried a kinetic spell, but the force had been applied equally to Frieren and the mimic, so it hadn’t done any good. She had tried levitation, but the mimic wouldn’t budge from its place.

Frieren wasn’t in any immediate danger. While the mage had a weakness for any sort of container that looked like it could possibly contain a grimoire, she wasn’t stupid. Her clothes were spelled to protect her against its teeth, and another spell protected her against the monster’s acidic digestion. Her precautions would last for hours.

“Figure something out!” Frieren was shouting, but the sound was muffled by the mimic’s dense, fleshy body. “It’s dark and scary in here!”

“Just blow it up,” said Fern, crossing her arms. “That’s what you’d do if I weren’t here.”

Frieren’s tone took on a bit of a whine. “There might be a grimoire...