Limitless Evolution As a Snake

She had long, silver hair cascading down her back, pointed ears twitching at the underground sewer noises, and she was holding a sleek, glowing recurve bow slung tightly over a considerably toned shoulder.

She was completely motionless, staring down at the glowing mushroom with intense, predatory focus.

Holy hell.

My snake jaw is slackening.

Old Mate... tell me you see that. The silver hair? The leather? The absolute peak character design? Forget the catgirls; this underworld is highly cultured.

[System: Aaaaand there it is. The degenerate brain cells have fired. Glad to see your core personality survived the reincarnation process, Matt. That right there is a subterranean archer. And guess what she’s doing? She’s using that mushroom as bait, waiting for something bigger than a worm to wander into her kill zone. You slither out there, and she’ll use you as a hair tie.]

The elf shifted slightly, adjusting her grip on the bow, and the subtle movement caused a piece of rusted metal to smack against the scaffolding.

I don’t know, old mate, might be kinda hot to be used as a hair tie.

My eyes completely locked onto the silver-haired archer as I wiggled my tiny red body a little closer inside the shadow of the pillar.

If I’m gonna get taken out by the local wildlife, there are worse ways to go. She could step on me, and I’d probably write a positive Yelp review about the experience.

[System: You are truly a pathetic creature, mate. Truly. She’s an F+ Rank hunter, but to you, she’s a raid boss. Pull your eyes off her tits for five seconds and look at the floorboards near the mushroom.]

Reluctantly, I tore my silver eyes away from the curved, supple mountains on the elf and looked down at the cracked pavement. My thermal radar suddenly picked up a faint, rhythmic pulsing beneath the concrete slabs right next to the purple shroom. Something was burrowing up from the deep dirt, drawn by the magical scent.

A slow, wicked thought formed in my dead man’s brain as I looked at the trap, the elf, and my newly acquired skill list.

Old mate?

A dark grin spread across my scales.

How fast did you say that Thermal Camouflage makes me fade out again?

[System: Sixty seconds, mate. With a five-minute cooldown. Why? You’re not seriously thinking of, oh, bloody hell. You are. Are you actually going to try to third-party for the shroom? You know what, fuck it, I like it.]

Before I could even formulate a witty comeback about maximising asset acquisition, the street decided to undergo some aggressive remodelling.

CRACK.

The concrete slabs right next to the purple mushroom exploded upward in a shower of dirt and ancient asphalt. I braced my frame against the base of the concrete pillar, expecting some multi-legged, chitinous horror from the deep to emerge.

Instead, out of the dust waddled a creature of absolute, unadulterated glory.

It had a massive, blunt, block-shaped head. It had short, stubby legs, a heavy, stout body the size of a golf cart, and a facial expression of profound, spiritual indifference.

It was a capybara.

Except it had completely succumbed to the underground sewer apocalypse. Its coarse brown fur was bristling with jagged, pulsing amethyst crystals, and its eyes were glowing with the exact same vibrant purple light as the Midnight Shroom. It looked like it had spent the last three decades surviving entirely on a diet of nuclear waste and lo-fi beats.

[System: Fuck me dead. Look at the size of that bastard. Crystal-Backed Capybara. Absolute unit. Usually pretty chill, but that one looks properly pissed off. And, uh... slightly radioactive.]

The giant, mutated capybara let out a deep, bass-heavy grunt that vibrated directly through my belly scales. Completely ignoring the concept of danger, its glowing purple eyes locked onto the Midnight Shroom. It took a slow, heavy step forward.

Up in the scaffolding, the dark elf archer snapped into action.

With a sharp intake of breath, she dropped down from the rusted iron beams, landing on the cracked asphalt in a flawless, low, three-point superhero pose. I swear, the laws of physics and tattered leather strings were putting in an absolute double shift just to survive the gravitational force of that landing. Her long silver hair whipped around her face, her emerald eyes locking onto the giant rodent.

Oh, mama

My inner monologue completely derailed. The form. The athletic grace. The absolute cinematic masterpiece of that landing.

I don’t care if I’m a red shoelace; I am a proud patron of the arts.

[System: Pull your tongue back in your mouth, ya absolute dog. You know what? Fuck it. Get the shroom, sort out the cappy somehow, and I’ll give you half the EXP you need for your first evolution. And because I’m feeling generous, an extra thousand if you manage to touch a tit. There you go. Side quest. Off you go, you wanker.]

Wait, really, bet.

The elf pulled the string of her recurve bow back to her ear, her remarkably toned shoulder muscles flexing as a glowing light shone, and she exhaled slowly, steadying her breath to steady her aim. With a faint whisper, the lime green energy arrow hummed softly as she released the string.

”Eat this, you fat rat!” she yelled, her voice a melodic, fierce chime that echoed through the dead street.

THWACK.

The energy arrow flew, trailing a streak of green light, and slammed directly into the capybara’s thick, amethyst-encrusted shoulder. An explosion of emerald sparks lit up the dark lane.

The mutated capybara stopped. It slowly turned its massive, blocky head toward the stunning dark elf. It didn’t look injured. It just looked incredibly pissed at her. It let out another low, rumbling grunt, shook its crystal-bristling fur, and suddenly charged, moving with the terrifying momentum of a furry, glowing brick wall.

”What the?! Why are you so fucking ROUND?!” the elf gasped, her pointed ears flattening against her silver hair as she frantically rolled backwards out of the way. The capybara ploughs straight through a rusted metal dumpster, flattening it like a soda can, before turning around to pursue her with relentless, slow-motion spite.

[System: Oi, why the fuck’s she got a bow? It’s 2126, mate. This is America. There are more guns than people. Bloody’ hell, check under a park bench, you’ll probably find an assault rifle.]