Limitless Evolution As a Snake

The pipes above Twawi market are a proper maze, and somehow I know every twist of it now, which is either impressive or really sad depending on how you look at it.

I slide through the crossroads where three tunnels meet, my little junction, my home base, my nothing.

Old mate, these pipes are starting to feel like home. That is not a good sign, right?

[System: Pull ya head in, it’s only been like four days mate, calm down.]

Feels like months down here. No sun, no clock, nothing but rust and drips and the occasional rat screaming somewhere far off. A guy loses track fast when the only light he gets is his own eyes doing something weird and glowy in the dark.

[System: I reckon you fucker, it’s only been four days. Yeah, go get some sleep, you’ll need it for tomorrow.]

That stops me mid-slither.

What, what is happening tomorrow?

[System: Who knows! I just like scaring ya.]

Great, uhh, okay then, thanks for nothing.

I find an old dog bed shoved up against the pipe wall, foam poking out one side, smells like an infestation of mites and something worse, and it is somehow the comfiest thing I have seen in ages. I coil up on it as if it’s the finest mattress money can buy and just like that I’m out cold.

—

Morning comes, or whatever passes for morning down here, and I know it only because the tunnels get loud. Skittering, dripping, some far-off clang of pipes settling.

[System: Rise and shine sleeping beauty, you’ve got shit to steal, bitches to harem and ankles to bite!]

I want a shower, I want a coffee. Hell, I even want a stupid muffin, one of those overpriced blueberry ones from the shop on the corner that I used to complain about buying. Never thought I’d miss a muffin this bad.

The little den I claimed is about three meters by three meters, rusted pipe walls curving up into shadow, and it sits right where three tunnels cross so I can watch every direction at once. My bed’s shoved in the corner where the metal is driest. Feels defensible, hopefully.

So I do the thing. I slither around the edges of my little kingdom, tongue flicking, leaving my scent along the rust and grime like I’m stamping a signature on it. Mine, mine and mine. Somewhere in the back of my head, a small pathetic voice goes, this is my yard now, and I hate that I understand the impulse.

God, I think, sliding along the pipe wall, I am acting like a dog. Not even a cool snake doing cool snake things. Just a dog marking a yard; maybe I should bark, like actually bark.

I even feel the ghost of a tail wag somewhere behind me, this phantom wiggle where a tail should be, and there’s nothing there, just smooth scale tapering to a point, and man do I miss having a tail to wag. Feels rude that my brain still thinks I’ve got one.

Once the marking ritual is done I flop back onto the dog bed like the world’s saddest beer bottle.

So how far away am I from the next evolution?

[System: Bit far off yet mate, but let’s have a squiz.]

A screen flickers up in my vision, all business now.

Name: Matthew Vane (Matt)

Current Form: The Glass Phantom Snake (Rank E)

Rank: E

Indulgence Points (IP): 45

EXP: 4,000 / 10,000

[System: We can turn IP into EXP if you want. Fair warning though, I got dibs on your next skill exchange. Not telling you when I’m cashing that in yet.]

Course you do

I’m staring at the numbers hanging in the dark as they owe me money.

Forty-five IP just sitting there. That’s kind of a lot, right, like that feels like it should buy me something nice.

Can I trade some of this for skills right now?

I’m already picturing something useful, something with a bit of bite to it.

[System: Yeah nah, you could, but I pick what you get. Wanna risk that? Could swap your fancy blood venom for something dumb like Drops The Soap. Your call mate.]

I take a breath and just let that sit there for a second.

Nope. Hard pass, don’t need a skill that sounds like a prison joke. Fine, different plan then. Can I turn twenty IP into EXP? How much would that even get me? Feels like a lot to give up.

[System: Lucky for you I’m in a good mood today, snake boy. Also, I still owe you EXP from that bloke you offed, forgot to hand it over.]

Oh yeah, that. Kind of slipped my mind with so much shit going on.

[System: Fair, that was a wild one. Love it though, proper messed up. Speaking of messed up, why do you still call me old mate? Names Daddy now, say it. Call me Daddy.]

No.

I let out a long sigh through nothing, since I don’t technically have lungs that work like that anymore, but the feeling is there.

So how much EXP for the kill, old mate?

[System: Boring answer, but 1k. Puts you at 5,000 out of 10,000.]

And the twenty IP?

[System: That gets you abouuuut 1.5k on top.]

Wait, why not 2k? That math is doing something weird.

[System: Makes sense to me. Shoulda said please, Daddy.]

No.

[System: Cool, enjoy your 1.5k then.]

I watch my EXP crawl toward that six thousand five hundred mark, twenty-five IP left sitting in my pocket like pocket lint. Feels good actually, watching a bar fill up even if the guy running the show is clearly a sadist with a keyboard.

Alright, what’s next on the agenda then, oh wise and totally-not-a-dad system?

[System: Alright, my little piece of Enoki mushroom, you need intel. Go scope out the locals, figure out what the politics are like in this era, what religion matters, all that boring stuff. Cause once you can walk on two feet, or eight, that stuff is gonna matter a lot more than you think.]