The icy notification wasn't from a wrist device—it burned directly into Han Sen's consciousness. He stared at the last piece of charred insect meat in his palm. The familiar stench of rust and decay filled his nostrils, stirring no hunger. Only dread.
*<< Consumed: Black Carapace Beetle Flesh. Genes +0. >>*
The emotionless voice in his skull shattered his last shred of hope. What churned in his gut wasn't hunger. It was despair, gnawing at his bones.
<< HAN SEN >>
<< Status: Unevolved >>
<< Tier: Null >>
<< Lifespan: 200 Units >>
<< Evolution Requirement: 100 Standard Gene Points >>
<< Current Genes: 79 >>
<< Soul Beasts: None >>
Seventy-nine genes. A chasm separating him from becoming an Evolved. Three months. Three damned months in this hellhole called "God's Sanctuary," scraping by like bottom-feeding vermin. Killing the weakest creatures—Black Carapace Beetles—their flesh once fueling his hope. One gene point, then two… painstakingly clawing his way up. Now? The fuel had run dry. Thirty beetles straight. Not a single +1.
God's Sanctuary? Han Sen's cracked lips twisted into something closer to a grimace than a smile. Over a century ago, humanity flung open spatial gateways, dreaming of stars. Instead, they found this. A primal graveyard where technology came to die. Here, assault rifles were worse than clubs. Nukes? Dumb iron. Humanity, once apex predators, were now just… prey.
Survival meant one thing: kill the native beasts, consume their flesh, and evolve through some twisted, non-scientific alchemy. Buy more lifespan. The promise of near-immortality fueled an endless stream of desperate souls. Forgotten martial arts became vital blades here. Mystical "Soul Beasts"—spirits of the slain—became the ultimate edge, granting armor, weapons, even bestial transformations.
None of that belonged to Han Sen.
At sixteen, his rite of passage was this: a dog-eared copy of the Foundation Body Tempering Manual (public school edition), zero credits, and entry into the Sanctuary. Advanced alloy weapons? Fantasy. A powerful Soul Beast? The price would choke him. All he had was a worn dagger and a body pushed to 79 gene points after three months of eating beetle meat.
He'd nearly hunted the local weaklings to extinction. Killing more was wasted breath. Stronger beasts? Last time he'd tried a Bronze Fang—barely a Tier Zero creature—its claws almost spilled his guts. Healing stole thirty precious lifespan units.
Was this it? Gamble his dwindling life on a sliver of hope for one more gene point? Han Sen's gaze swept the shadowed ravine. The gurgling stream reflected nothing but gloom. His knuckles whitened on the dagger's grip. A suicidal spark flickered in his eyes. Bronze Fang. Find it. End this—
A searing flash of gold ripped through the grey.
At the water's edge, something impossibly bright clawed onto the bank. Not the dull black of common beetles. This… was the size of a basketball. Its entire body gleamed like hammered gold. Thick plates flowed like liquid metal. Faceted eyes, twin shards of topaz, glinted with cold, alien intelligence under the murky light. Utterly silent. Utterly out of place in this grimy ravine. Radiating an unsettling, ancient aura.
Han Sen's heart seized. Every muscle locked. Hunter's stillness. Black Carapaces were nearly blind. They hunted by sound. He became stone, breath held, eyes riveted on the impossible creature.
The Golden Beetle shuffled forward, oblivious. Straight towards the boulder where he hid. Closer… close enough to see the intricate whorls etched into its golden plates.
Opportunity. Desperate instinct screamed louder than fear.
As the first gold-tipped leg brushed the rock's edge—Han Sen struck. His left hand slammed down, pinning the slick, impossibly hard shell like a vise. His right hand blurred. The dagger became a streak of lethal silver.
Thwick! Thwick! Thwick! Thwick! Thwick! Thwick!
Six impacts, a single breath. Six shimmering legs severed clean.
The Golden Beetle thrashed, rolling instinctively. Exposing the vulnerable underbelly. A thin, pale seam—its only weakness. Han Sen's eyes narrowed, hawk-sharp. The waiting dagger plunged deep into the seam. His wrist twisted savagely.
The beetle's convulsions ceased instantly.
Silence flooded the ravine, broken only by Han Sen's ragged gasps and the water's whisper. Before he could even process the kill, a voice unlike any other detonated in his mind. Ancient. Resonant. Cold as starlight.
<< HUNT COMPLETE: SACRED BLOOD CREATURE - GOLDEN CARAPACE >>
<< SOUL BEAST ACQUIRED: GOLDEN CARAPACE >>
*<< CONSUME FLESH TO ABSORB: 0-10 SACRED GENES >>*
"Sacred… Blood Creature?"
"Sacred… Genes?"
Han Sen's pupils dilated. He stared, transfixed, at the corpse shimmering with faint gold light on the damp stone. Tremors of shock—and wild, disbelieving elation—raced through the hand still clenched white-knuckled around his bloody dagger.