The memories were hitting him hard.
He had read it once—back on Earth. It was a popular web novel back then. One he started reading out of boredom. A novel filled with sanctuaries, beast souls, and gene points.
He looked down at the corpse in his hand. Then at the other beetles slowly crawling toward him.
"…Am I inside a novel right now?" he whispered to no one.
He let out a quiet sigh and shook his head.
"Guess this explains a lot."
More beetles shuffled toward him, their legs scraping over stone and leaf. They were slow, predictable. Nothing like a proper predator.
"Judging by how slow they are..." he muttered. "It's gotta be the First God's Sanctuary."
Without hesitation, he darted forward and smashed another one.
"Black Beetle killed. No beast soul gained. Eat the flesh of the Black Beetle to gain 0 to 10 Gen points randomly."
"Well, figures."
Kairos knew how rare beast souls were from what he remembered of the novel. And right now, he wasn't in any mood to get his hopes up.
His goal was simple now: survive, grow stronger, and—if this world worked anything like the one in the novel—maybe someday, find a way to build a life again.
Earth felt like a dream now. Distant. Gone.
If he couldn't go back, then he'd just make something out of this new reality.
His priority was to get stronger so he could face more powerful creatures head on.
He went back to killing. His body moved on instinct, dodging bites and claws, slipping through gaps, cracking shells wide open with precision. He was a one-man slaughterhouse, carving through the beetles without hesitation.
But not a single beast soul dropped.
After a few more minutes, the clearing was a mess of gore and glistening remains.
Kairos stood still, breathing slowly, wiping sweat from his brow.
"No beast soul, huh?" he said, eyeing the wreckage. "Guess it's not my lucky day."
Then his gaze shifted.
A little farther ahead, something caught his attention.
It was one of the larger beetles—its shell a blistering bronze, polished like armor. It stared at him with beady, hard eyes, crab-like claws clicking rhythmically.
It wasn't fast, but it was coming.
And it wasn't alone.
Five others followed—primitive black beetles, their steps heavier, more deliberate.
But what truly drew Kairos' gaze was the last one.
A silver beetle.
Its shell shimmered like quicksilver, smooth and unblemished. But unlike the others, it didn't charge or click its claws.
It simply watched.
Almost like it was… judging him.
Kairos narrowed his eyes.
"That one… is different."
"A mutant huh?" Kairos thought to himself.
He knew that even with all his refined techniques, his body was still human. He couldn't break through the bronze beetle's shell in one hit, let alone that silver one.
He had tried earlier—when crushing a primitive beetle—and it had resisted more than he expected.
So now, even with six threats in front of him… Kairos had to think.
Strategy. Precision.
And a bit of luck.
*1 hour later.*
About an hour had passed. The air in the forest felt still, save for the quiet crackling of a makeshift fire burning under a few stones and dried branches.
"Tastes... sweet, I guess?" Kairos muttered, chewing slowly as he tore into the flesh of the mutant black beetle.
He sat cross-legged on the forest floor, his expression calm but clearly exhausted. The last hour had been anything but easy.
His strategy had been simple, but effective—hit and run. Strike with everything he had, retreat before the beetles could respond, then loop around and do it again. He was relentless, his movements like flowing water, weaving in and out without pause. Not a single one of those primitive beasts even managed to land a hit on him.
Kairos repeated his routine until every one of the primitives had been hit at least once. Then, he did it again. And again. And again—until the last of them collapsed, their shells shattered and insides a mess.
As for the mutant beetle, it didn't go down so easily.
The fight had been longer, tenser. The silver shell it wore wasn't just for show. It was like steel wrapped in stone—resistant, unyielding. Kairos had to be careful. Every blow he landed sent a jolt up his arm, and by the time it was over, he could feel a dull ache in both palms and the bones beneath them.
Still, he won.
"Flesh of the black beetle eaten. One mutant geno point obtained."
The voice echoed in his mind.
"Flesh of the black beetle eaten. One mutant geno point obtained."
It repeated. Again, and again—six times in total—as Kairos devoured every bite of the mutant's meat.
"…Ah, fuck. Just six mutant geno points?" he muttered, eyebrows furrowed. "Guess my luck's really taking the day off."
He shook his head, then reached for one of the primitive beetles and placed it over the fire. The meat sizzled faintly, smoke rising into the leaves above.
After eating two primitive beetles and finishing off the mutant, Kairos finally felt full. His limbs relaxed a little, and the soreness in his hands became less noticeable.
"Too bad I didn't get a single beast soul from any of those things," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
He glanced at the leftover bodies. Most were ruined beyond recognition, but a couple still looked good enough to be preserved. With little hesitation, Kairos picked up two of the primitive beetles—both lifeless and heavy—and slung them over his shoulders.
Then, with nothing but instinct guiding him, he started walking in the direction that felt the most... right. The forest remained quiet, and so did he, his steps steady and purposeful.
"I guess it's time for me to find a shelter." Kairos said while moving forward.
Kairos didn't know what lay ahead. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he had direction—and strength to match it.