Limitless Evolution As a Snake

My scales went slack against the cold ground, my tiny heart hammering so fast the beats blurred into a single sustained vibration. The luxury pet delusion is officially dead. There is no reptile show. There is no wealthy owner coming to save me. I am at the bottom of a real food chain.

Right, wait, who’s talking? And what the hell is an absolute weapon? What does that mean?”

[System: I thought you were going to get crushed by the local wildlife just then. Proper miracle you didn’t, mate, you’re an absolute legend. Or at least, you managed to not get flattened like a tube of toothpaste by some massive Orc on his smoke break. I’m the Indulgence System. Your cosmic god. Think of me like your tax accountant, except instead of money, I’m auditing every single gene in your dodgy little DNA test tube. And unlike your last tax bloke, I’m not ripping you blind; I actually know what the hell I’m doing.]

An Orc? I blink my silver eyes.

My glitched brain instantly fires off a random spark of memory, like... green skin? Big fangs?

[System: Yeah nah yeah, spot on. Though down here in the slums, they mostly do heavy lifting or debt collection. The surface world is basically your old modern setup, just with more pointy ears and scales. Elves running tech startups, Dragonkin pulling double shifts at pawbucks, the usual shit. But you don’t need to worry about the surface yet, you tiny red string. You’re currently at the absolute bottom of the underground food chain.]

Hey, watch it. I’ll have you know I am a premium exotic pet with retail value I say internally.

A rough, digital scoff echoes in my head.

[System: Oh mate, you’re an exotic specimen all right. Let’s pull up your actual data before you get any more ideas about your pedigree.]

Ding.

The blue screen shifts, populating a new set of text lines.

[STATUS PANEL]

Name: Matthew Vane (Matt)

Current Form: Red-backed Parrot Snake (Hatchling)

Rank: F

Indulgence Points (IP): 5

Current Skills:

[Slither (Rank F)] — You can move forward. Barely. Mostly resembles a slug having a seizure.

[Hiss (Rank F] — Make a scary noise. Effective against highly sensitive dust bunnies.

[Baby Seal Slap (Rank F)] — Raise your upper body and slam downward with the devastating force of a dropped pudding. Deals 0.01 damage but makes nearby loose change vibrate ominously.

I stare blankly at the screen. Red-backed parrot snake? Rank F?

And what do you mean, baby seal slap? That was hard to do!

[System: Yeah cunt, keep telling yourself that, you ankle biter. You hit Rank F because you managed to survive yeeting yourself off that top shelf. Bloody hell, miracles do happen. There are many ways of getting points, like eating or winning a fight, which give you Experience (EXP). You can dump that EXP directly into upgrading your pathetic skills, or you can hoard it to buy Evolution Points (EP).]

And what do the Indulgence Points do?

[System: Ah, good question, you blood ripper, that’s the good stuff. IP is the currency for the Indulgence Tree. It lets you buy skills, unique traits, and items. Why ’Indulgence’? Because in your past life, Matt, my boy, you were the epitome of a human wall. You lived a life so profoundly boring and safe that you never indulged in *anything*. You never took a risk, never tried to be anything but average. I, for one, found it depressing, honestly.]

The text boxes flicker, and the deadpan Australian accent in my head takes on a slightly smug, teasing tone.

[System: Although I gotta give credit where credit’s due fucker. When I cleared your soul’s hard drive, I had to sift through the search history on your phone screen. Your taste in porn? Holy hell, mate. Absolute culture peak. Some top-tier shit, highly depraved 2D degenerate shit right there. The System absorbed that data too, by the way. Proper connoisseur.]

Yeah? And? Everyone’s got a vice. Good on the System for getting an education. So what? Who cares?

The blue screen goes entirely static for a three-second interval. The Aussie voice returns, sounding completely thrown off and deeply disappointed.

[System: ...Wait, really? No screaming? No, begging me to delete it? You’re just... completely fine with an all-powerful entity knowing you liked elf-on-catgirl corporate boardroom roleplay?]

I’m a red string living in a dystopian sewer gutter under a ruined market.

My pride died on a mechanical keyboard at 4:45 PM on a Tuesday. You can’t bully me with my own browser history; it doesn’t work.

[System: Bloody hell. I can’t tease you if you’re going to own it like that. You’re completely ruining my fun, and fuck, I was meant to be some sex goddess.]

Wait, what do you mean by ’goddess’? Are you going to answer that, or just ignore my question? Whatever, fuck it. Just explain how I stop being a shoelace.

The text screen snaps back to a crisp, glowing blue layout.

[System: Fine, spoilsport. Business time. See those Indulgence Points? That’s your currency. You get ’em for killing things, eating weird shit, and exploring. Oh, and for adult encounters, which I reckon you’ll be all over once you get legs.]

Hey! I am a respectable luxury reptile.

[System: Sure you are, mate. You spend that IP on Skills, or you can bank it as Evolution Points to fill your Evolution Bar. Get it, ye cunt?]

I process the information, my small crimson head tilting,

And when the bar fills up?

[System: That’s when the fun starts. You rank up from the pathetic F-Rank you are now, time freezes, and you pick one of three permanent evolution paths. It’s how you stop being a shoelace and start being a proper monster.]

The voice in my head shifts into a slightly chaotic, amused tone.

[System: But honestly, since you clearly don’t give a shit about standard rules and I’m bloody bored, I’m hoping we make unusual, random modifications when we hit those screens. Standard dragons are boring. Let’s make something fucked.]

Can I unlock any skills right now that don’t involve slamming face-first into the dirt?

[System: Let’s look at the shop... Oh, wow. You’re broke, mate. Absolutely fuck all, zero cash. Your budget options are:

[Aggressive Nuclear Implosion]

[Convince Predator You’re Stronger Than Them].

Kidding, I made those up. You have to tell me, but you are truly a top-tier predator. Very scary.]

Before I can launch a mental complaint at the dickhead in my vision, a loud scratching echoes from the dark tunnels.

My thermal radar spikes. A fast-moving orange blob, pulsing with an aggressive, predatory heat, is skittering straight toward my collapsed stall.

[System: Speak of the devil. Looks like a local resident wants a piece of you. Let’s review your combat options, shall we? You’ve got [Slither] [Hiss], and the ever-intimidating [Baby Seal Slap]. Don’t use them all at once, you absolute winner.]

The scratching gets louder.

Skritch-skritch-skritch.

A creature bursts from a rusted dumpster, a cockroach the size of a dinner plate, slick with grease, its mouth a pair of rusty staple removers. Its dead black eyes lock onto me.

Hey, cosmic uncle.

I yell mentally, my scales shivering.

The bug is looking at me like I’m a snack. What do I do?

[System: Three choices, you wanker. Slither away like a coward, hiss like a broken vape, or fight. Go on, show him why you’re a danger noodle. I’m rooting for the bug, though. I put ten dollars on it.]

The roach charges like a bullet made of spite. I have about half a second. Every thought I have dissolves except one: run.

SYSTEM??

[System: Too late to ask for help, you little fucker, Bite it!]

I lunge.

It completely sucks. I’m a snake who has never actually bitten anything before. My fangs slide right off its greasy armour, and I face-plant hard into the grimy stone floor, smashing my nose on a rock.

Ahhh, that hurt so much. Eh, gross.

The roach uses my back as a ramp, running over me like a skate park obstacle. I recoil, mentally and physically.

Fuck that.

[System: Right. Microscopic venom delivered. Basically, you just gave it a caffeine rush and pissed it off.]

The roach stops and turns around. It looks personally offended.

Great, I made it mad.

I project, scrambling backward.

What kind of world lets a bug hold a grudge?! Also, that was so nasty, I just bit a giant roach. My mouth is contaminated. I want to kill myself again.

[System: Oh, boo-hoo, cry me a river, you soft cock. You wanted a luxury pedigree; now you smell like a cheap takeaway shop. Heads up, the angry little shit is charging again!]