[SYSTEM: nah mate, you’re still a single-serving snake, just in twelve convenient snack-sized portions. I’m the one who’s gotta manage your pathetic little multiverse of one-note horny thoughts. We are not the same]
Practical side of it’s actually stupid good too though, now that I think it through properly. Someone pulls a gun on me, tries to get a clean shot, and instead of one snake-shaped target coiled there like an idiot, I’m twelve separate five-inch problems scattering in twelve directions at once. Good luck aiming at that; good luck hitting any of it, any of me.
[SYSTEM: that’s the recon and survival angle, yeah, real solid; twelve bodies means twelve sets of eyes, twelve sets of ears; you could case a whole building in the time it’d normally take you to check one room]
Or the pit thing: say I’m cornered somewhere small, somewhere with no way out, and instead of panicking about it I just lean into it, turn the whole situation into a literal snake pit, twelve of me coiled up in the dark just waiting, and whoever sticks a hand in gets bit twelve separate times from twelve separate angles before they even register what happened.
[SYSTEM: bite bite bite mate, I love it, that’s some very nightmare fuel right there, ten out of ten, or should I say 12/12, haha chef’s kiss again.]
There’s genuinely no bad version of this skill, is there? It’s just options stacked on top of options.
No bad version, no downside I can find anywhere, so I lock it in right there without another second of thinking it over.
[SYSTEM: nice one mate, deducting 100 IP, don’t spend it all in one place, oh wait]
100 IP gone, just like that, and I feel it drain out of me like someone pulled a plug somewhere behind my ribs. I check the number after and wince a little.
36 IP left, rough. Feels like getting paid and immediately watching most of it vanish into rent and debt.
[SYSTEM: Congrats on the new skill though, seriously, decent pickup. Quick refresher since your memory’s about as reliable as a wet paper bag these days, here’s your main three]
[Miniature Multitude], the freshly unlocked one, the reason I’m now theoretically capable of becoming twelve angry noodles instead of one.
[Gaze of the Hypno-Noodle], the stare that turns brains to mush if I hold eye contact long enough.
[Surprise Soap-Bomb], still the funniest name for a skill I own, and also still disturbingly effective.
Solid lineup honestly. Feels like I’m building a real monster kit now instead of just winging every fight on vibes and venom.
[SYSTEM: oh oh shit, hang on, hang on, almost forgot, my bad, genuinely my bad this time]
Old Mate’s voice does that thing where it perks up out of nowhere, like he just remembered he left the stove on.
[SYSTEM: i owe you exp mate. from the refill. first time you ever topped up one of your girls properly, that’s a bonus as well, double exp on account of it being a first]
Sometimes I genuinely forget this whole thing runs like an actual game underneath all the horror and sewage smell. Numbers going up, bonus multipliers, refill mechanics- it’s giving very much video game energy for something that’s currently happening to my real actual life.
[SYSTEM: mate, if this was a game you wouldn’t be living in a sewer eating like shit for XP; you’d be on a couch somewhere with a controller and snacks. Don’t get it twisted]
Fair, that’s painfully fair.
[SYSTEM: anyway here you go, 2,000 exp.]
The number ticks up in front of me, slow and satisfying, like watching a bank balance refresh after payday.
19,000 out of 20,000. Only a thousand away from the next evolution. A single grand of exp separating me from whatever comes next.
What the hell, that’s way too close for comfort. Why can’t I just get that last little bit right now and be done with it?
[SYSTEM: nah mate, doesn’t work like that, rules are rules, no shortcuts on the last stretch, gotta earn every bit of it the normal way]
Of course. Of course it doesn’t work like that; why would anything about this system ever just be easy for once?
Anyway, whatever, a thousand exp is a thousand exp; I’ll get there eventually.
"Night, Old Mate," I say into the dark.
[SYSTEM: night mate, don’t let the bed bugs bite, oh wait, you are the bed bug, night]
I settle into the middle of the bed, coiling down between the two heat signatures already waiting there, and before I even get comfortable, both girls wiggle in from either side like a pair of burritos rolling toward the good filling.
Cherry presses in on my left, all nervous energy even in her sleep, tail curling loose around one of my dorsal coils.
Lyra takes the right without hesitation, settling her whole weight against my scales like she’s done it a hundred times, which I guess she basically has by now, if we’re rounding up.
Warm on both sides, safe in the middle, and for a guy who spent his first few weeks of existence hiding under a rock the size of a shoe, this is genuinely the best sleeping arrangement I could’ve asked for.
I don’t even remember drifting off; I just do.
Morning comes slow, light creeping in through the blinds, and I surface out of sleep still tangled up between the two of them. Cherry’s the first thing I see, horn stumps twitching even in her half-asleep state, face smushed into a pillow that smells like me apparently, because she’s got a fistful of my tail hugged against her chest like a body pillow.
I lift my head just enough to meet her eyes, holding the position. The slow, deliberate movement says everything: I remember exactly what happened last night, and so do you.
Her whole face goes red instantly, ears flattening, and she practically teleports out of the bed, blankets and all, muttering something about breakfast before she’s even out the door.
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