Limitless Evolution As a Snake

That I picked ’fish’ from a menu as a joke and somehow ended up looking like a god someone painted while drunk.

My tail’s the best part, though. It used to be a glorified phone charger cable with just enough grip for a kebab skewer. Now it’s a goddamn battering ram. The red smoke coiling off the tip looks like it could cut glass. The upgrade potential is making my brain itch in all the right ways.

I swing it out slow, watching the tip drag through the air, and the koi pattern just fades out into smoke near the end, black bleeding into red bleeding into nothing, like someone dragged a wet paintbrush across the last foot of me and just let it smear.

I look like art.

[System: You look like a fish tank had a baby with a switchblade.]

That’s what I said. Art.

I flick my tongue out without thinking- forked, familiar, the one part of me that hasn’t changed even though everything else has been through a full renovation. It’s weirdly comforting. Like finding your childhood toy in the middle of a house you don’t recognise anymore.

Side fins don’t show unless I’m flying, though, right?

[System: Yeah. Flight mode only, don’t get greedy.]

I wasn’t being greedy. I was being thorough.

[System: Sure you were, mate.]

I flex my coils, feel the fins along my spine ripple in response like they’re syncing up with the wings, and for a second the whole reflection just looks powerful in a way that makes my upper coils go tight. Not gym-bro powerful. Not roided-out action figure powerful. Something sleeker, something that looks like it was built instead of grown.

I let the smoke curl up from my tail first, testing it. My reflection dissolves at the edges into drifting red-black wisps, and I feel a dangerous hum in my chest. The minotaur’s hammer that nearly killed me would probably just pass right through me now. ”I could just disappear,” I mutter, thinking about all the walls I could just... ghost through. ”Right now. Just turn to mist and vanish.”

[System: And do what, exactly? Haunt the fridge?]

”Haunt the fridge is an option, yeah.”

A grin spreads across my face, full and stupid. Red, white, black, steel-plated, smoke-tailed, bat-winged nightmare fuel. This isn’t just the prettiest paint job I’ve ever worn—it’s an upgrade to a whole new weight class. I’m practically untouchable.

This upgrade, this evolution, is truly ten out of ten, no notes.

[System: I’ve got several notes actually.]

Nobody asked.

[System: nobody ever asks how I am though.]

Sorry, Old Mate, how are you?

[System: Haha, thanks ya wanker. I’m great.]

But then the panic creeps in, slow at first, like water finding a crack in the floor.

Okay but hang on, people are gonna see this. Like actual people, with their eyes. I’ve gone from mildly cursed snake guy to full dragon-fish-snake hybrid overnight; that’s not subtle, that’s not a haircut, that’s a whole different person wearing my face.

[System: Relax.]

Relax? Old mate, I’ve got fins now, fins! What am I supposed to say, oh yeah, these are new, no big deal, still the same guy who owes the horse girl people money and can’t cook rice properly?

[System: You still smell the same, mate.]

That stops me for a second. That’s your reassurance? I smell the same?

[System: Yeah. Scent’s the real ID card down here; skin’s just decoration. Nobody’s out here squinting at your fins going, wait a minute, is that Matt? They’re gonna get a whiff of you and go, yep, that’s the kebab bloke, smells like anxiety and bad decisions, same as always.]

I glance back at the mirror. He’s got a point. Down here, everyone smells like something they regret. But still. The smoke curls off my tail, the fins twitch, and the guy staring back looks like he eats people who smell like bad decisions for breakfast.

Still feels like a lot to just... explain away.

[System: You’ve been banging on about evolution since day one. Everyone already thinks you’re some weird cunt anomaly running around with cheat mods. This just looks like you finally spent your money on cosmetics.]

Cosmetics?

[System: Skin upgrade. Fancy scales the premium battle pass skin, basically, the shit your uncles have.]

So people are gonna think I’m some try-hard who blew all his cash on looking cool instead of getting actually strong?

[System: Pretty much, yeah.]

I look at myself for a second, turning over, and honestly it’s not the worst outcome. Better than people screaming and running, better than getting dragged off to some lab for dissection, better than becoming the Undercity’s new most-wanted cryptid.

So worst case, everyone just thinks I’m a massive wanker who spent his hard-earned money making himself look cool.

[System: Deadset. That’s the whole worst-case scenario, mate; you’ve survived worse press, and let’s be fair, everyone already thinks that.]

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and the fins along my spine settle down like they can feel the tension leaving too. Okay, okay, I can work with wanker. Wanker I can survive.

[System: Wanker’s basically your brand at this point.]

Rude, but fair.

I turn back to the mirror, ripple the muscles along my dorsal ridge, feel the fins shift against my ribs like they’re settling into their pockets for the night. Still me under all this red and white and steel-shine, still the same idiot who talks to a system voice in his head like it’s a mate down the pub.

Right. I say, mostly to myself. Time to go find out how many people scream when they see this beautiful, majestic koi snake in the air.

[System: That’s the spirit.]

Luckily Cherry’s still curled up under the blankets, warm and soft and smelling like sleep, and honestly the smart move here is to just get back in there and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist for another few hours.

But I don’t do the smart move. Never have.