Limitless Evolution As a Snake

The shark was large enough to make every expensive thing in the quarry look like something a child had left in the bath.

Its flank had caught against the net, and the collection line held it close to the service structure. Each attempt to turn dragged another piece of machinery sideways while the crew scrambled to secure their platform.

That gave us an opening. It also gave me a very personal reason to care, because my leased machine stood within the area currently being rearranged by an angry prehistoric mouth.

”I wasn’t paying a damage bill because some NPC tried fishing with a repossession crane.”

Lyra looked from me to the shark. ”Then explain what we can release before you become part of its lunch.”

[System: She’s asking for a plan, mate, not a speech about being built different. Your current build fits comfortably between two of that thing’s bloody teeth.]

I had noticed the dental situation without your professional assessment.

The operator pointed out the net’s service release. A small pin kept the lever from opening under ordinary load, but the line had pulled tight enough that he couldn’t reach it from his protected position.

Bridget repeated his explanation to the worker at the second control. Lyra and I moved along the flooded maintenance side through its ordinary water access, staying at the depth our current bodies could handle.

She moved beside me using the abilities she shared while keeping her own shape. I didn’t have to turn her into a snake to enjoy the sight of her refusing to let me be the only idiot near an enormous predator.

The pin entered my three-meter range once we reached the support bracket. I held clear space beside my tail, used Mine Now on that single nonliving object, and brought its weight against the bracket rather than dropping it onto Lyra.

She signaled the operator. He pulled the freed lever, and Bridget called the second worker through the release sequence while the shark supplied all the muscle we didn’t possess.

The net opened in a rush. I flattened close to the service wall as the animal’s tail moved past, avoiding a demonstration of how little my opinion mattered to several tons of fish.

Lyra stayed beside me until the water settled, then pointed toward the access we had used. We returned through the normal route instead of opening a portal between water and air and pretending pressure would politely ignore it.

[System: Look at that, champ. You’ve saved a giant shark because you were worried about the rental deposit, and somebody’s already filming you like you invented compassion.]

They could film the side without the bandage, if they intended to be useful.

The public event camera had captured enough of the rescue to make my private motive irrelevant. In the viewing room, someone shouted that I had called the creature to defend the sea.

I hadn’t called anything except several rude names, but the commentator repeated the claim before accuracy could interfere with entertainment.

The foreman tried telling his workers we had stolen the pin. Lyra held it up and asked whether he wanted it returned before or after explaining the unmarked collection net.

The worker nearest him laughed, then pretended it had been a cough.

Lyra checked my sore side after the climb back into the dry section. I told her the damage was mostly to my confidence, and she replied that we could afford to lose a little of that. Then she kissed me where the scales weren’t tender, making the nearest worker suddenly interested in a very ordinary piece of railing.

Bridget checked that everyone could leave the damaged platform. Once the immediate problem was contained, we took the service boat back toward the club with the evidence copied and my leased machine secured in the yard.

The shark followed at a distance.

At first I called that coincidence. Then it surfaced beside the boat and pushed an old propeller toward the hull with enough care that even Old Mate stopped making predictions about our deaths.

”I believed we had received a present, although I couldn’t promise the giver understood our storage situation.”

Bridget studied the dripping metal. ”Her teeth are crooked, her posture is terrible, and she brought you something that would destroy the kitchen.”

Lyra laughed so hard she had to grip the boat rail.

”The propeller meant nothing, sweetheart. I hadn’t encouraged this, and I was willing to explain that without sounding even more guilty.”

”You were doing wonderfully,” Bridget said. ”Keep explaining while she fetches the rest of the ship.”

[System: Say something nice, mate. She’s made an effort, and unlike most of your family, the gift isn’t currently asking for your account password.]

I wasn’t accepting a romantic obligation from a fish because it had found a metal fan.

I thanked the shark aloud anyway, keeping my voice calm and my body inside the boat. It circled once, then followed again when we resumed moving.

Lyra rested a hand against my neck while Bridget recorded the distance between the animal and the vessel. Nobody assumed that one helpful encounter made the shark safe around customers.

Cherry answered our call from the club. When she saw the shape following us through Bridget’s camera, she asked whether Dazza knew we were looking at other disasters.

I told her that was a hurtful way to describe an unexpected public-relations opportunity.

She put the call on for Lukas, who immediately suggested naming the propeller after the commentator. The medic took his phone away before the idea could develop into employment.

By the time we reached the club district, the shark had become the main subject on the event feed. Viewers were calling me a sea prophet, and booking inquiries arrived faster than I could decide how much of the lie I wanted to encourage.

Then the enormous shape stopped outside Udder the Sea’s VIP window, pressed the propeller gently against the exterior ledge, and waited while every customer inside turned to see what had come home with me.