My mental finger stops and I feel my largely immobile snake features scrunch up. I mean, technically it was an option, but I never felt particularly strongly about it. Honestly, I should have just just left the Lunge/Leap out of the contest in the first place. The immense disappointment I feel confirms that, no, this is not the right choice.

  Discarding the option and running through it again I continue using the method that I've developed over the years to ferret out my subconscious yearnings that often help me come to a better decision than my conscious mind alone can manage. Things like this, flipping a coin, rolling a die, all have been great for helping my gut instincts that have been built up over eons of evolution make their voices known. I can honestly say that the results aren't always the best outcome, but they are always something I'm happy with. Some would argue that one should stick to making the most optimal choices in everything regardless of one's personal feelings, but following only the most optimal choice leads to shit like slavery and purges.

  I'll take my less than perfect but far more human method thank you very much.

  Wolfram/Respiring? It's certainly less of a visceral reaction, but I still find myself waffling on it, certain that there's a better option to pick from out of the set. I toss the mix aside and run it once again landing on Wolfram/Flexibility.

  Really? I'd kind of held onto the mutation out of the hope that down the line I could mix it with my prehensile tail to let it better act as a hand. The best this pairing would offer me would maybe be streamlining my armored form to be easier to move in, which hardly sounds revolutionary. Still as I sit here with my mental finger option I feel a bit of quiet satisfaction coming from my gut. That and a roaring annoyance that I haven't fed it despite there being food right there! Well too bad guts! I am a civilized snake and I don't eat food raw! Not even things that are supposed to be eaten raw, at least this apocalypse has wiped out that abomination that people call sushi.

  Before my various body parts can start picking fights with my brain again I poke the system to get the fusion out of the way.

  –Confirm Fusion of: Flexibility E & Wolfram C?–

  –Fusion will result in: D Mutagen–

  Yes! Again who comes in here and selects 'no'!?

  –Fusing–

  –Received: Spring Steel Mutagen D: Your metallic hide is mixed with a flexible and strong metal that greatly reduces its weight, increasing speed and flexibility without sacrificing toughness.–

  Ooh, spring steel! That's a really high end metal, I'm surprised the system has such advanced composites on its listin- Christ on Harley!

  I'd somehow forgotten about the horrible flesh bubbling sensation of mutations being added to my body and was being given an unpleasant reminder. It started from the base of my neck and flowed quickly down my spine before the sensation of churning, bubbling fluid flowing between my skin before gathering at the base of my scales. Somehow at that point it got worse as it felt like the bits of flesh inside each scale were swelling and shoving against the inside of the armored body parts. My mind flashed to those odd dreams of my fingernails falling out as I hear my scales cracking and splitting, but it was worse than that. The best comparison I could come to for the sensation was suddenly becoming aware of every hair on your body as someone starts tugging on them while feeling them actively and aggressively growing. The fact it didn't hurt but was more of a phantom sensation echoing on the other side of the swirling numbness of a sleeping limb only compounded it because my skin was asleep!

  "Joe?" Damian called out, voice tinted with concern, "You okay? You're kind of, shedding?"

  I grunt giving myself the best shake I can manage, feeling as several of my heavy tungsten scales clatter off the stone of the church parking lot. "Fused mutations. Forgot how it feels." At least the sensation was largely over now, the bubbling numbness dying down and leaving me with just the annoyance of my old cracked open scales clinging to whatever my new ones were.

  "Feeling better now?" Damian asked, rotating his head to let both of his compound eye clusters view me while keeping an eye on the intake ports of the charcoal kiln.

  Actually, yeah I was! I feel amazing in fact! Give myself a small slither and twirl, I'm amazed at how much easier it is to move around. I must have dropped several tons of armor weight with this fusion! I've still got a fair bit of that motion drift as the inertia of my multi-ton body fights my efforts to either start moving or stop, but it is way more manageable now. My metal scales are even a couple shades lighter than the dark grey they were before giving me a bit of shine as they are currently completely free of all the various nastiness I've accumulated. Even my tail blade seems to have gotten in on a bit of the action, having a fair bit more flex to it despite still being about four inches thick. A couple quick practice slashes with the thing has it all but singing through the air and handling far easier than it used to, I might actually be able to wield it like a proper sword rather than a sword shaped cudgel.

  "Yeah," I heave a satisfied sigh, "I don't think I realized how much that heavy carapace was weighing on me. I feel like I just came home after a long hiking trip and stripped off my backpack and heavy clothing before collapsing on the couch. It's really nice."

  "Is sacrificing that defense going to be an issue?" Matilda asked, "You do seem to depend on throwing your weight around in a fight."

  "The mutagen says I'm not sacrificing any defense for the reduced weight," I offer her tilt of my head in a snaky shrug, "As for the weight, well my Leaps might not be quiet as explosive, but I think I'll be a lot more capable of fighting than merely thrashing about like I've been doing up until now. Having better control of my movements again will be nice." Speaking of control, "Pass me one of those uncooked pigs, that mutation seems to have made me even hungrier and I don't feel like waiting anymore."

  The first pig cooked quickly letting me swallow it down without regret, they really did still taste a lot like pork. I barely managed to get the second cooked before I felt that almost painful wrung out sensation akin to dehydration overtake me. The boarilla was still a lot pinker than I tended to like my meat, but I was without any sauce and still ferociously hungry so I swallowed it down as well. I eyed the rest of the already gutted pile of dead arguably sapient monsters and was sorely tempted to snag a couple more, raw or no. Thankfully, with two already down I was able to exert enough control to hold myself back for the couple hours it would take me to properly recharge. Becoming a more literal monster doesn't mean I can let standards slip.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  "You two think you'll be without me for a bit?" I ask my friends.

  "Yeah, I remember what you wanted me to do." Damian states.

  "You heading somewhere Joe?" Matilda asks, fluttering atop my head.

  "Thought I might mingle a bit with people while I recharge and the food cooks," I admitted, "Maybe go and pick up our stuff from Agatha and let her know that we're all fine."

  "Oh, I already let her know." Matilda dismissed.

  "When?" I asked, "How? I somehow doubt she understands semaphore better than I do."

  "Oh she doesn't, not at all." Matilda chortles, "She does however read just fine, especially with the moon as full as it is. Charcoal is a perfectly serviceable writing utensil, even if my penmanship has suffered from the change."

  "You can get your little moths to write messages for you?" I asked with interest, filing away that little nugget of information for later.

  "Indeed," she preens, "I've been having to do so frequently, as most people don't seem to know semaphore or Morse code yet."

  "I didn't think you knew Morse code," I tap out 'the eck?' on the ground over the next few seconds.

  Matilda's chortle grows into a full laugh, "I don't really. I still need to have a cheat sheet to hand to use it. Plus it takes so long to get complex messages across. I'm also having to learn stenography at the same time to try and keep messages brief, which of course means teaching other people stenography, semaphore, and Morse code to keep things clear."

  "You sure you aren't just a bee with moth wings Matilda?" Damian inquires with a mirthful chuckle.

  "Going to end up needing a moth whisperer in every town just to keep you from having to write everything out," I joke.

  "Probably more like four or five to let them work in shifts and keep communication between scouting and hunting teams," she grumbles, "I'm playing middle woman with about fifteen towns at this point and that doesn't even include the moths I'm using as sentries and scouts. Honestly I feel like I'm even busier than a bee."

  Both me and Damian share a worried glance.

  "How are you feeling about managing all of that?" I inquire gently.

  "How are you managing all of that?" Damian asks, flabbergasted.

  "I'm managing," she flutters her wings in a small shrug as she cleans her antenna, "It's nice to feel useful again, though it's a bit frustrating keeping it all running. I'm getting better at it. It will get even easier once more people start grasping semaphore and I can relay things quickly."

  "You are getting enough rest aren't you?" Just the thought of managing all of that sounded exhausting to me and I know for a fact I'm better than most at juggling that level of logistical nonsense.

  "Don't worry your little head over me dearie," Matilda pats my head, "I know how to take care of myself and my limits. Don't worry about me and go mingle amongst those you helped save. I don't doubt it will do you some good."

  Again, I shared a look with Damian, he seemed fairly nonplussed by the dismissal as well. Still he motioned for me to head on out and he'd keep poking at the old woman, or at least I think that's what he was saying with the dismissive wave and tapping tail. I head off and try to mingle with the people of the church.

  The interactions were something of a mixed bag. Everyone was polite and pleasant as could be expected, I even managed to get into a good discussion with a former model painter about several niche settings we both enjoyed, but I was obviously an outsider. These were people who'd been living together and had known, or at least been aware of, each other for years if not decades. We might all be Americans and fellow Texans, but I was not 'from here'. Heck, by some of the more conservative views I wasn't even 'from' Texas being only the second generation of my family to live in the area. While I was a welcomed guest, I was not a known presence who had deep roots in this place and that led to a level of distance.

  Compounding this feeling of distance was the fact that the first many of these people had seen of me had been me coated in blood and mud indulging the worst side of myself. I might be being the model 'nice young man' at the moment, but for all they knew I was a hair's breadth from becoming the cackling living threshing machine that killed more than two fifth of the siege forces on my own without suffering a point of damage. I seriously doubted that anything less than a solid week of saintly behavior would brush away that image in their eyes. Well depending on the Saint in question I suppose.

  I did eventually spot Anna wrapped tightly around a particularly annoyed looking flying squirrel, hugging him tightly with her little arms and her body as her victim glowered at the fire, radiating palpable waves of embarrassment. A bit curious, I headed over to investigate.

  "Do I need to find a room for you two?" I asked as a joke. Anna hissed in fright, her coils flexing causing her victim to squeak like a rubber toy. It was so adorable that despite my animal side going ballistic I couldn't help but smile.

  "Joe!? Don't sneak up on me you ass!" Anna frowned. She raised her tail as if to smack me but seemed to think better of it.

  "How did I sneak!? I still sound like someone dragging a laundromat's worth of quarters over gravel!" I demand in exasperation, "He going to be okay?"

  "Not at this rate," Markus wheezed grumpily.

  "Oh hush you," Anna shushed giving the trapped man a noogie, "Can't a big sister be happy that her baby brother is okay? Especially when he's become so big and strong?"

  "I'm not a baby! I'm legally an adult!" the squirrel groused, thrashing against his sister's coils, "I can legally drink dang it! Let go of me!"

  "But you're still so small and cute," Anna cooed, pinching his cheeks. Markus made a solid attempt to bite her but his sister was too quick. "and being so responsible too! I heard what people were saying about you here Markus and I'm just so happy to hear how you've been stepping up."

  "It's a lot easier to be responsible when it doesn't feel like the whole of society is fighting me," the poor man grumbled so softly I don't think I was supposed to have heard it. He tosses a suspicious glare my way and growls, "What do you want anyways you nutter? Come to watch my suffering?"

  "Only partially," my smile widens as he frowns, "Was also wanting to check up on you two, make sure you're getting enough to eat."

  "Got plenty to eat during the fight," the squirrel man huffed, reminding me of the dozen or so mouths on the inside of his wings.

  "How'd that come about?" I inquired wondering how the man had ended up with such a unique nightmare biology.

  "Started with something called patagium dentata which gave me a mouth per wing, then ended up getting slapped with 'extra mouths' multiple times while out hunting." Markus visibly seethes, "I sold most of them while evolving and my evolution ended up slapping them right back on."

  "Oft, that sucks," I commiserate, "I don't want to even run the numbers about how unlikely that is to happen. At least you've got it better than another couple of horror stories I've seen so far."

  "Hardly makes me feel better knowing others have gotten screwed over harder than I have."

  "Though," I pause remembering a detail of tomorrow that I might be able to exploit, "speaking of evolving. I do know something that would generate a ton of experience for everyone who participates fairly safely. As in, enough experience to guarantee anyone who hasn't hit their first evolution hits it. Think the people here and back at the park would be interested?"