Wraithscale.

The illustration alone left me gobsmacked. I had braced myself for something dark and brooding—naturally, given the shadowy theme—but a silver-scaled dragon? That, I didn’t see coming. Its scales shimmered, some almost appearing distorted, as if teetering on the edge of reality, ready to slip away entirely.

The creature itself was more serpentine, unnervingly sinuous. Jagged ivory horns spiraled upward, faint trails of distortion spiraling with them, as if they too might vanish at any moment. Crimson slitted eyes glared out from its elegant, predatory visage, and the wide maw promised anything but mercy. It was an exquisite nightmare—precisely the sort of thing you’d prefer not to bump into in the dead of night.

...

I liked it.

Flipping the page, I devoured the description.

An evolution specialized in maintaining stability while interfacing with the 4th dimension. A predator adapted to exist within the shadowed echoes of the world.

Stat Enhancements (Per Level): +3 Willpower, +6 Intelligence, +3 Durability, +6 Strength

New Organ:

Dimensional Lamina – A thin, vascularized membrane interwoven with the existing Mana Conduit Vasculature. Composed of advanced filaments, this organ vibrates the user’s molecular structure to match the resonant frequency of the 4th dimension, ensuring stability for dimensional interaction.

* Energy Source: Charges with dark mana. Consumed to sustain frequency alignment.

* Failure Condition: Forced ejection occurs upon depletion of charge.

New Ability:

Distortion Cloak – Generates a passive distortion field while the Dimensional Lamina is active in the 4th dimension. Blends the user’s presence into the ambient shadows, granting stealth from 4th-dimensional entities.

Unlocks Dark Affinity.

Mana Core Upgrade: Intermediate Mana Core – Enhances mana storage capacity.

Supplemental Core: Wraith Heart – An auxiliary core designed exclusively for dark mana, significantly increasing its dark mana storage capacity.

Once again, I found myself pausing, taking a deliberate breath as my brain replayed the absurdity of what I’d just read, connecting dots with incredulous zeal. These options—honestly, what was going on with them? Each one was utterly ridiculous. Granted, they were Stage 4 choices, so it stood to reason they'd be showstoppers. Stage 4 monsters weren’t exactly tea-and-biscuits material.

But still—an organ that would grant me full access to the 4th dimension? Moments of near invincibility against practically everything, provided my foe wasn’t packing light magic? And even if they were, what could they possibly do against me? The sheer audacity of it all left me momentarily stunned.

Yet, there was a niggling little detail that gnawed at me—the mention of entities lurking about in this dimension. Surely, they could pose a threat to me, no? Or was I being overly cautious? I gave my head a shake. Even factoring in the limitations, this option outshone the rest. It wasn’t just about standing out; it was about unlocking a completely new combat style.

More than that, this was my ticket to survival when I woke up. Still, my eyes couldn’t help but linger on the other tomes in the gilded section. Each one was its own marvel. The Thunder option—brimming with agility, enhanced perception, reflexes, and, naturally, lightning magic. The Hunger option—letting me temporarily swipe traits from monsters, like some cheeky evolutionary magpie. And the Poison option—versatile enough to cook up effects that could make even alchemists weep.

And then there was the Wraith option, which didn’t just dabble—it granted direct access to an entirely separate dimension, one haunted by actual ghosts. The sheer scope of possibilities, the creative combat applications—it all felt maddeningly unfair. Choosing one over the others felt like picking a favourite star in the night sky.

But this wasn’t just about indulgence—my survival hung in the balance, and I also had to think long-term. This would form the foundation, the bedrock for future evolutions. And as much as the others tempted me, Wraithscale stood head and shoulders above the rest. I could do lightning magic without first—I already had a whiff of hunger evolutions—and I had a sneaking suspicion the Macro-Trophic Sac’s next upgrades would be equally absurd. As for poisons, I could whip up my own concoctions once I returned to civilization.

The one thing I wouldn’t be able to do? Access this dimension in full. And that sealed it.

I drew a steadying breath, my decision clear as crystal. There was no real contest here—one choice towered over the rest.

With resolute determination, I reached for the tome and turned towards my doppelganger. She was already brewing a potion, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Of course, she’d figured it out already—how could she not?

With a thud that made several neatly arranged vials shudder, I slammed the tome onto her desk. One vial wobbled dangerously, teetering on the brink before an unseen force steadied it and nudged it back into place. My doppelganger, her slitted eyes narrowing in mock irritation, looked up at me.

"Rude," she said flatly, pouring a bubbling mixture into a violet flask. I could’ve sworn an eye bobbed to the surface before sinking back down.

I shrugged with all the nonchalance of a cat knocking a glass off a table. "Sorry about that."

Her eyebrows arched, unimpressed. "Your tone’s about as apologetic as a storm." She sidled aside to make room at the desk. “Why not come brew something with me instead of pitching a tantrum?"

“Pitching a tantrum? Please,” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “I’m far too dignified a dragon for that.” But my gaze betrayed me, drawn to the vials of peculiar chemicals, swirling in their glass prisons. Then a sharp thought cut through the moment—a reminder of the danger waiting outside.

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“This is supposed to be a sanctuary,” my doppelganger said, reading me like an open book. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she ground something into a fine powder. “Come on. Don’t overthink it. You know as well as I do—alchemy’s the balm for your soul.”

I didn’t move, and with a sigh, she abandoned her task. Approaching me, she took my hands in hers. The heels she wore gave her just enough height to look down at me—an odd sensation, given she was me. Her eerie twin-like face hovered close, her breath warm against my skin.

Only then did I notice her eyes weren’t slitted blue anymore; they gleamed a deep, unsettling red. She lifted my chin, locking her gaze with mine. “Let it go,” she said softly. “The world outside, the problems, the peril—it’s all irrelevant here. Nothing can touch you in this place. This is your moment. A sanctuary the system gave you. Let it immerse you again.”

Before I could protest, she grinned and tugged me towards the workstation. “Come on, let’s concoct something absolutely lethal! And bonus points—we won’t even pass out from the fumes this time!” She winked, sticking her tongue out and flashing a thumbs-up.

For reasons beyond me, I felt lighter. My tension slipped away, replaced by a stupid grin. Before I knew it, I was elbow-deep in questionable alchemy, mixing who-knows-what with far too much enthusiasm. She was right—alchemy was the balm for my soul.

Then, with an almost theatrical flourish, she brought out three jars filled with... were those bloody organs?

“What are those for?!” I asked.

She blinked at me as if I’d just asked whether dragons breathe fire. “Your reward from earlier. One extra-rare organ for your evolution, miss scatterbrain.”

Oh. Ohhh. That was a thing, wasn’t it?

“Well then,” she said, stepping back with a flourish. “Pick one.”

Squinting, I leaned closer to read the labels.

The first jar held something resembling tangled fungal threads, pale and faintly glowing.

[Spectral Mycelium Network]

[Description: A lattice of mana-reactive filaments integrated within the user's nervous system.]

Functionality: Enables real-time feedback on dimensional disturbances, including specter movements and weaknesses within dimensional fabric.

Healing Protocol: Allows the user to draw and convert residual energy from the 4th dimension into regenerative power, facilitating recovery.

Hoh. Definitely tied to the evolution. My gaze slid reluctantly to the next jar.

[Planar Resonance Core]

[Description: A crystalline organ embedded centrally within the user, designed for dimensional energy conversion.]

Energy Conversion: Extracts residual energy from the 4th dimension and transforms it into usable mana.

Passive Mana Regeneration: While present in 4th dimension, steadily replenishes the user's mana reserves.

The last jar contained something... unsettlingly beautiful.

[Dimensional Convergence Tendrils]

[Description: Two pairs of semi-ethereal tentacles extending from mana-reactive nodules along the user’s spinal or shoulder regions.]

Dual-Plane Functionality: Operates simultaneously in the 4th dimension and the 3D plane.

Combat and Manipulation: While the user remains intangible within the 4th dimension, tendrils can interact with objects or enemies in the 3D plane, enabling strikes and grappling.

I cast a dejected glance at my doppelgänger, my expression dripping with defeat. “Really? I can only pick one?”

She shrugged, utterly unbothered.

I let out a sigh, leaning back. “Brilliant. Another bloody impossible decision. I swear, I’m done. Every single one of these is valuable, no matter what I pick.” Gesturing grandly, I declared, “Each one’s a rare organ, too—probably bursting with juicy upgrades. Just do it for me, yeah? Spare me the agony of choosing!”

Her face settled into an infuriating mix of amusement and exasperation as she set a suspiciously heart-shaped jar on the table. “Oh no no no no no. This delightful mess is yours alone. Don’t try to foist it off on me just because you can’t handle the options. Your evolution, your headache.”

I groaned, burying my head in my hands. “It’s not indecision if every choice feels like cutting off a wing!”

“Dramatic,” she deadpanned, picking up one of the jars and giving it a lazy swirl. “But here’s a thought—whatever you choose, you’ll still end up terrifying. Isn’t that a bit comforting?”

“Absolutely not!” I shot back, glaring at her. “Because I’ll always wonder what I missed! What if one of these is the game-changer, and I pass it up?”

She rolled her eyes. “Welcome to life. You’d think you’d be used to it by now, given the number of decisions you’ve already botched—er, made. It’s like shopping for tea: there’s always a blend you didn’t try, but that doesn’t make your Earl Grey any less satisfying.”

“This isn’t tea!” I jabbed a finger at the jars, my frustration spilling over. “That one,” I pointed at the Spectral Mycelium Network, “basically makes me a ghostly spider with a sixth sense for specters and self-healing. Phenomenal! Then there’s this—” I motioned to the Planar Resonance Core “—which would turn the fourth dimension into my personal mana battery. Tell me that’s not tempting! And those—” I waved wildly at the Dimensional Convergence Tendrils “—tentacles! Tentacles that can punch and strangle people across dimensions! You honestly expect me to casually pick between spider-ghost, mana reactor, and a spectral slap-boxer?!”

She blinked, her expression flat as a board. “Spectral slap-boxer? Really?”

“You know what I mean,” I grumbled, folding my arms. “And for the record, you’re supposed to be smarter than me. Why don’t you decide?”

She placed the jar down gently, folding her arms to mirror me. “Because I already know what I’d pick. But where’s the fun in that? You’ve got the brain power to weigh this out.”

I slumped against the table, staring glumly at the jars. “Fine. Let’s break this down like civilized dragons.”

“Progress!” she chimed, grinning.

I pointed to the Mycelium jar. “Creepy-cool, lets me sense and heal with dimensional energy. Amazing versatility.” I moved to the Resonance Core. “Mana battery! Top-tier resource management.” Finally, I pointed to the Tendrils. “Ghost tentacles! They can grab, punch, and possibly poke annoying people in two realms at once.”

“Truly, the dream,” she added, stifling a laugh.

I let out another groan, thwacking the table with enough force to rattle the jars. “Ugh! This is impossible. Why can’t I just grow all three?”

“Sadly, no,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Unless you’re planning to bribe the system with, I don’t know... metaphysical biscuits?”

I shot her a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Fine then. I choose none. I’ll evolve into a grumpy, indecisive dragon and live in a cave stuffed with nothing but regrets.”

“Sounds cozy,” she said with mock cheer, nudging me gently toward the jars. “Now, come on. Just pick already. You know I’m not doing it for you. This one’s all yours.”

“I hate this,” I muttered, scowling at the jars like they’d personally offended me. “Every time there’s a choice between good things, it’s like pulling teeth.” My fingers hovered indecisively, twitching between the jars in a spectral game of eeny-meeny-miny-moe.

Her grin widened. “Whatever you pick, when the inevitable regret comes, you can just blame me.”

“Oh, believe me, I plan to,” I retorted. “Deal!”

With a resigned sigh, I grabbed a jar, watching as her grin deepened. She knew exactly what I’d pick before I did, the smug git. I tipped the organ into the potion. It hissed and bubbled with an aroma so tantalizing it made my stomach rumble.

And just like that, my evolution potion was ready.

“Well,” she said, pushing the flask toward me, “it’ll be a while before we meet again.”

I stared at the potion, then at her. “What if I don’t want to go out there?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“I know.” I paused, grasping at something I couldn’t quite put into words. “What if I... brought you with me?”

It was a ridiculous notion. She wasn’t real—just a mirror of my own psyche. But she reminded me of everything I missed. Someone I could trust. Someone who could jabber on with me endlessly. Someone who wasn’t just a fleeting dream like Lotte. She was me, honed to perfection. And every time we parted, it left me with a gnawing sense of longing, as though I were leaving a piece of myself behind.

“Again, not how it works,” she said softly, her smile tinged with something almost wistful. Then, she pulled me into a hug, ruffling my head like I was some wayward hatchling. “You’re doing fine. Brilliant, actually. Just finish your level-ups and come back here soon, yeah?”

She pulled away, leaving me feeling oddly hollow. “Now, go on,” she added, her grin returning. “Your exp bag’s waiting just outside. Go kick his sorry arse!”