Though Ethan had gained beauty comparable to something out of legend, he didn't feel overjoyed. In fact, he felt a headache coming on.
"That girl, Mia... she's going to freak out when she sees me like this."
He groaned aloud. "Great. Now I'm going to get arrested and dissected like some freak in a lab. Can I change this? Can I modify my genes?" he asked the Mother Hive. "This... this face is too handsome."
His reflection was practically unrecognizable. The kind of man who'd get mobbed by fans just for stepping outside. With the build of a Greek sculpture and a face like something out of a fantasy epic, Ethan looked more like a fictional hero than someone from the real world.
He wanted to go back.
He had already been good-looking before, the kind of quietly attractive guy people might do a double-take for. It had been hard enough explaining that glow-up to Mia and the neighbors. They had only barely bought the "exercise and healthy eating" excuse. But this? This was beyond explanation.
"I don't want to end up in a government lab."
The Mother Hive spoke in its usual dispassionate tone:
"Would you like to assimilate Tyranis cells? As the Tyranis Lord and Creator, you are eligible to become a Tyranis Hero. You will gain control over your genetic structure."
"I'm already... a Tyranis Hero?"
That's what the entire Tyranis race dreamed of becoming. And Ethan had reached it without even realizing.
Before, his body had been too weak to endure the transformation. But now, with his health vastly improved, he could handle it.
He didn't hesitate long. The prospect of dying from cancer like some average mortal didn't appeal to him. Tyranis didn't fear death. They outgrew it.
"Integrate the Tyranis cells."
"Fusion begins," the Hive replied.
Then came the pain. Searing, full-body agony. He barely made it to his bed before collapsing and blacking out.
Three hours later, Ethan awoke coated in black, oily muck, like someone who'd rolled in sewage. After a long, scalding shower and clean clothes, he took inventory.
Something inside him felt... different.
Limitless.
"I'm a full Tyranis now," he whispered. "I can even force myself to die of old age just by speeding up cell division... Amazing." He flexed his fingers, awed by the energy crackling beneath his skin.
He closed his eyes, and his consciousness slipped into a dark space. There, the double helix of his DNA hovered—twisted, elegant, and partially rewritten.
Human DNA was mostly chaos: unused codes, old fragments, genetic junk. But his DNA now? Streamlined. Clean. Huge swathes of blank space ready to accept new information.
Only two genes were available to him at the moment: gorilla and termite.
The combination that created Gilgamesh.
But those didn't suit him. He was a farmer, not a warrior king. Peaceful days were enough for him—for now. His first goal was to fix the problem still eating away at him.
The cancer.
He concentrated.
"What the hell?" he whispered. "Final stage? I was just diagnosed with mid-stage stomach cancer last week!"
The Hive's voice responded evenly:
"Cancer cells are your body's own rogue cells. As your body strengthened, so did they."
Ethan stood there, stunned.
"You're telling me... getting stronger made the cancer stronger too?"
A chill passed over him.
If he'd absorbed just a little more feedback energy during the last extinction event, he might have died on the spot.
"No more extinction energy for now," he muttered. "I need to stay stable. And if those Bugapes start acting up again, I'm screwed—I won't be able to stop them."
He remembered Gilgamesh's final, desperate struggle. And now, he understood it.
The fear of death.
It was real. It was raw. And it had come for him, too.
"I'm running out of time. I need to make the next civilization in the sandbox evolve supernatural powers. That's the only hope I have left—find a power that can cure my cancer."
He glanced into the sandbox.
It was still bleak. Colorless. Dead.
The great flood had only spared one pair of each species, and they hadn't repopulated yet. Food was scarce, and the surviving Bugapes were struggling to rebuild.
But they'd changed.
They remembered the divine warning. They only hunted for food now, and spared life when they could. Some had even begun helping other species repopulate.
Meanwhile, new creatures—never before seen—had begun to sprout from the wild corners of the sandbox.
As he sat in the sunlit courtyard, picking at the breakfast Mia had dropped off, Ethan watched them through binoculars.
"Civilization's picking up again... but it's not fast enough. I don't know how long I've got."
He sighed deeply.
"Should I start a second sandbox? Create another Genesis from scratch?"
It was tempting.
New world. New species. New possibilities.
But building a sandbox took time—weeks, maybe more—and his current sandbox had already shown signs of supernatural development. He couldn't afford to start over now.
"I just need to trigger something. But what?"
Then, like a flash of lightning, an old memory surfaced.
"Intelligence is unpredictable. It creates deviations from normal evolutionary theory."
If intelligence could spark the unpredictable... maybe he didn't need to do it alone.
Maybe he could borrow other people's minds.
"Why do it all myself?" he murmured. "Why not... conscript help?"
And the idea took shape.
A game.
He remembered the old sandbox game Spore, where players shaped entire civilizations from microbes to space-faring empires.
He turned to the Hive Mind.
"If I build a second miniature world... could I turn it into an online game? A game where players can project their minds into the sandbox and help evolve new intelligent species?"