After opening the notification, several choices appeared before me, each more tempting than the last. I couldn’t help but let out a hideous, hissing laugh as I scanned through the options. The sheer power contained within these choices was intoxicating—each one an incredible opportunity, more thrilling than I had anticipated. The possibilities seemed endless, and for the first time in a while, I felt a dark excitement welling up inside me.

Serpent Scales

Description: Dark, glistening scales cover portions of the body, akin to a demonic serpent.

Bonus: Reduces incoming magical damage by 15%. When an enemy casts a spell within a 10-foot radius, a portion of the magic is absorbed, restoring a small amount of the user’s mana.

Infernal Wings

Description: Charred, leathery wings sprout from the back, allowing limited flight and mobility.

Bonus: Increases movement speed by 10%, and when airborne, damage taken from projectiles is reduced by 20%. The user can glide over short distances, avoiding ground-based traps or attacks.

Horns of the Abyss

Description: Black, twisted horns sprout from the user's forehead, pulsing with dark energy.

Bonus: Increases magical damage dealt by the user by 15%. Each strike with magic is imbued with demonic power, bypasing through enemy defenses.

Tail of the Infernal Serpent

Description: A sleek, whip-like tail grows from the base of the spine, ending in a spiked tip that drips with venom.

Bonus: Increases attack range and grants a tail attack that poisons enemies, reducing their movement speed and dealing damage over time.

Eyes of the Netherfiend

Description: The character’s eyes become fiery pits of darkness, capable of seeing through illusions and detecting hidden threats.

Bonus: Increases perception and accuracy by 10%. Can see through magical concealment or illusions, making the user harder to deceive.

Fangs of the Abyssal Predator

Description: Elongated, razor-sharp fangs that glint with dark energy. When bared, they radiate a menacing aura.

Bonus: Increases physical damage by 10%. Additionally, successful bite attacks siphon a small amount of health from enemies, restoring the user while leaving behind corruption that makes healing harder.

Claws of the Hellhound

Description: Long, black claws grow from the user's fingers, exuding a hellish heat.

Bonus: Increases physical attack speed by 10% and adds fire damage to melee attacks. The claws sear flesh on contact.

Some of the options were truly incredible—Horns, Wings, and Scales stood out as powerful enhancements. The others were decent, but not as tempting. The one involving eyes? I could achieve that on my own once I leveled up my skill to a higher tier. As for the claws, I already had Imp claws, so choosing that would just be an upgrade, but that option comes to a detriment to me since I need to bleed my foes to make the most out of my powers.

I weighed each option carefully, my mind racing with the possibilities of how each would transform me further into something far more powerful than before. But before I could delve further into my choices, another system message interrupted my thoughts.

Due to your magical affinities and the Seal of Two Sins, it may mutate and adapt to better suit your unique power after choosing an option. The changes will vary depending on the selected choice. Listing influences by highest strength to lowest:

Blood: 95% chance of influence. Ice: 50%. Space: 42%. Special Mutation: 25% chance to combine two random affinities. True Mutation: 5% chance to fuse all three affinities, creating an unholy mutation.

I read over the list, feeling the weight of these odds. Blood would almost certainly shape whatever I chose, but the potential for a rare combination or even a true mutation stirred a dark thrill within me. Each affinity promised something unique, but the true mutation—a twisted fusion of all three—was what truly enticed me. The mere 5% chance of achieving something so chaotic and powerful made my next decision even more crucial.

Scales seemed like the best option for me. Not only did it offer damage reduction from magic, but it didn’t specify any exclusions, meaning it could potentially block all types of magic. On top of that, it granted me the ability to steal mana from spells that hit me. With the combination of resistances and mana absorption, I could mitigate damage while replenishing my own power—so long as I had some resistance to the magic being cast.

The only other option that came close to my mind was the Horns. Bypassing an enemy’s defenses and dealing more damage was always a solid advantage. The boost to magical damage was another draw. With that, my blood magic would hit even harder, and I could enhance the potency of any spells I created.

I sensed Vorthan approaching and decided to address him. "Vorthan," I said, my voice echoing through the chamber, "I'm in the process of selecting a new demonic trait but am torn between two choices."

The little demon hesitated as I continued, my cold eyes fixed on him. "I've narrowed it down to Scales and Horns. Scales offer reduced magic damage and allow me to steal a portion of mana from those attacks. Meanwhile, Horns would increase my magical damage and allow me to bypass defenses. I suspect that means all defenses, including resistance skills. But... since I haven’t encountered anything with resistance to blood magic, I don’t think I need that just yet." My claws tapped against the throne in a slow rhythm as I awaited his response. I could feel his unease under my gaze as he processed the options.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

As Vorthan mulled it over, I turned inward, weighing the choice carefully for the long run. What would give me the greatest advantage as I grew stronger? Scales still felt like the right option. In theory, it would likely scale with my existing resistances, amplifying their effects. While I could be wrong, the chances of that seemed slim.

From what I had pieced together, the system operated on synergy. Skills of a similar nature boosted one another rather than conflicting—like instruments in a band, their harmony creating something far more powerful when played together. This logic reassured me that Scales would provide a greater payoff in the end, offering not only defense but a strategic edge in combat.

But then again, I couldn’t ignore the potential of the Horns. It made me wonder—what if there were skills that could further strengthen the offensive capabilities of my existing abilities? Skills like Lesser Blood Sacrifice and Sanguine Surge could be amplified, making each strike deadlier. And then there were curses—skills that weakened enemies and debuffed their attributes. The Horns would magnify the effects of these as well, giving me an edge that was more than just raw power—it would cripple those who dared to stand against me.

Both Scales and Horns were incredible passive enhancements, each offering something vital to my growth. One would fortify my defenses, allowing me to endure and absorb magical energy, while the other would sharpen my offenses, bypassing defenses and striking at the very essence of my enemies. The decision weighed heavily on me. Either way, it would shape the path ahead.

If I had a coin, I might have been tempted to flip it and leave the decision to chance. But I quickly crushed that thought. Never would I rely on something as fickle as luck to shape my future. If I want to survive—no if I want to thrive—then I must take control of my own fate. Action, not reaction, would determine my path. I felt disgusted and angry by even having a thought like that.

Leaving this decision to chance would mean weakness, and I am anything but weak. The scales or the horns could empower me, but it would be my will that determines which path to take, not a random flip of a coin.

Seeing Vorthan open his mouth to speak, I paused my thinking and planning what I should do, listening carefully.

"Horns may be powerful, Master, no doubt about that," he began, his tone steady but tinged with an odd eagerness. "But you can always develop skills that mimic the benefits they offer. You’ll eventually unlock a better version of them in the next tier-up. Plus, I can teach you skills passed down from the Arch Demon of Blood, ones that can enhance your offensive prowess far beyond what the Horns provide at this stage."

His words made sense, though I kept my expression unreadable as I mulled them over. He wasn’t done, though. With a brighter, almost chipper tone, he added, "Scales, on the other hand, are something special. They grant a level of magical resistance and mana absorption that’s almost impossible to achieve unless you’ve spent years being hit by spells—or have extraordinary control over mana itself. And, to be honest, it’s rare for a Tier 2 demonic trait to even receive the option of Scales. That alone makes it an opportunity you may not see again."

Vorthan’s tone suggested he was pleased with himself, almost proud to offer me advice that, by his standards, was genuinely helpful. His words resonated, though they did little to sway the cold weight of my decision-making. Still, they confirmed what I already knew—Scales had the potential to be a game-changer.

Even so, I felt the truth in Vorthan's words, though I masked it with cold indifference. The connection between us seemed to strengthen with each passing moment, his admiration feeding into the bond we shared. I could feel it growing, almost pulsating with his feelings toward me. It was something I would need to explore later—a potential tool for better control over him and the others.

I shoved the thought aside for now, focusing on the task at hand. I made my decision and selected Serpent Scales.

The instant I confirmed the choice, agony hit me. It was as if my very soul were burning, set ablaze from the inside. My muscles tightened, my teeth grinding against each other as I fought to remain conscious. The sheer intensity of it threatened to overwhelm me, but I clung to my will, refusing to fall.

The thought of True Mutation flashed in my mind. Focusing through the searing pain, I forced my will over my magical aptitudes, commanding them to meld. Blood, Ice, Space—all of them began to stir, but it was the blood that surged strongest. My power over blood was dominant, but I wasn’t content with that. I summoned my Pride and Wrath, fanning their flames to strengthen the weaker elements, trying to forge something greater, something that could transcend its parts.

My body rippled violently as the transformation took hold. Skin peeled away, revealing raw muscle and exposed nerves beneath. I would have recoiled at the grotesque sight had this been years ago. My younger self would have been horrified, likely sickened to the core by the visceral display, and the pain—this unimaginable pain—would have shattered me. I would have broken, would have begged for an end.

But that was no longer who I was. I was better... Stronger.

The agony that coursed through me now only fueled the fires of my determination. I could feel the scales beginning to form, though the pain made it difficult to focus. This was the price of strength. My body—my very soul—was being remade, and I would rise from this stronger than ever.

I would not bend. I would not break. I shall thrive. And I will have vengeance.

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Hours dragged by, the pain relentless, intensifying with every passing second. Yet I refused to yield. Every wave of agony that crashed over me was another hammer strike forging my will. I gritted my teeth and let the fire within my veins feed my resolve. The pain was nothing but fuel, something I could use.

"I will not break," I muttered through gritted teeth, my voice barely audible amidst the storm. "This power will be mine. It will be mine." Over and over, like a mantra, I repeated the words, grounding myself in their meaning, forcing the pain to serve me rather than consume me.

The storm of magic raged inside me, tearing at my essence, each element of my power—Blood, Ice, Space—clashing violently as they fought for dominance. Blood being the strongest inside me rampaged and devoured the rest. When I strengthened the others Blood would retreat and let the other two fight and try to drown them after they weakened. It was like a category 4 hurricane, twisting and turning, trying to tear me apart from within. But slowly, through sheer force of will, I bent them all to my control. Bit by bit, the chaos lessened as I imposed my will on the warring energies. My eyes bled as I forced my mind into overdrive and even tried to use Lesser Blood Sacrifice to strengthen my mind and will. It did help but It drained me more than it was worth so I decided against using it after a bit.

It wasn’t easy. Blood magic surged, as powerful and wild as ever, but Ice fought back with icy resolve, its chill contrasting with the burning of my soul. And then there was Space, elusive and unbound, always slipping from my grasp just as I thought I had control. But I pushed harder, letting my pride fuel me, forcing the three elements into alignment. I could feel the pressure building as if the magic was on the verge of creating something entirely new.

This was the True Mutation. It wasn’t just a combination of my magic; it was a transformation that would transcend the sum of its parts. I could feel the new power forming, still raw and untamed, but it was mine. I was shaping it with my will, forging it like a blade in the fire of my suffering.

My skin peeled and cracked, revealing not just raw flesh but something far more powerful. I could feel the Scales forming beneath the surface, dark and jagged, their texture imbued with the very essence of the magics I commanded. They shimmered faintly with the dark crimson of Blood, the icy blue of Ice, and the eerie shimmer of Space magic. It wasn’t just protection; it was a reflection of the raw power I was becoming.

The energies continued to clash, but now they were under my control. The storm was weakening, bending to my will. It wasn’t a perfect harmony—yet—but it was becoming something more, something greater. Something monstrous and magnificent.

"This power... will be mine." The words echoed in my mind, reverberating through my body as I finally began to feel the mutation solidify, the scales fully forming. They were cold to the touch, hard and unyielding, and yet they pulsed with the raw, chaotic power I had forged within me.

And then... the pain lessened, not because it was over, but because I had them bend to my will. The storm inside me calmed. I had tamed it. The mutation had taken hold, and it was mine.

I opened my eyes, staring at my new form, feeling the overwhelming surge of power ripple through me.

The Serpent Scales had fused with my magic, but they were not just scales. They were something... far more.