3:56… 3:55… 3:54.
The glowing numbers pulsed in the air before Ethan, each tick a drumbeat hammering his ribs. His breath came ragged; the asphalt bit into his palms where he'd fallen.
All around him, the city was collapsing. People writhed on the ground, screams stacking until they became a single, endless wail. Some clutched their heads, eyes wide with terror as if they saw the same visions he had. Others convulsed until their skin split, bones breaking under their own weight. Every few seconds, a timer winked red — and another nightmare was born.
The god-voice still rang in his skull, terrible and serene.
> "Your world has become a playground for the gods. Choose your path, mortal, and we will carve your destiny. Refuse, and you will be unmade."
Across the street, something moved. Once it had been a man.
Now its ribs jutted outward like knives, jaw split in half, eyes milk-white. Foam and blood hung from its chin as it shrieked — a sound of metal and hunger.
The mutant lunged.
Ethan rolled, asphalt shredding his sleeves, sparks kicking where its claws scraped the pavement. He scrambled backward, heart jackhammering.
3:40… 3:39… 3:38.
The five burning sigils still blazed in his mind: Gene-Warden. Titan-Blood. Neural Savant. Venom-Born. Phase-Strider.
Each pulsed like a heartbeat. Each promised survival and damnation in equal measure.
Which one kept him alive? Which one kept him human?
A woman's scream tore the air.
Ethan turned just as her countdown hit zero. Her spine arched, bones cracking outward, fingers stretching into hooked talons. When the spasms ended, what rose to its feet was no longer her.
Two monsters now. Both staring at him.
3:20… 3:19… 3:18.
Choose! his mind screamed.
Titan-Blood meant strength; Phase-Strider meant escape; Venom-Born meant destruction; Neural Savant meant cold logic.
But none of them were him.
He'd spent his life stitching people back together, pulling strangers out of wrecks, begging the dying to hold on.
If he stopped being the one who saved, then what was the point of surviving?
3:00… 2:59… 2:58.
The first mutant charged.
Ethan's body decided before his fear could. He slammed his will toward the emerald flame.
[Path Selected: Gene-Warden]
Agony — pure and bright — tore through him.
His veins lit emerald, fire racing beneath his skin. His chest expanded as if new lungs were being carved inside him. His heart thundered, each beat a hammer strike forging him anew. Green light flooded his flesh, racing down his arms until his hands burned like molten glass.
He screamed — a raw, wordless sound — and thought he would split apart like the others. But instead of tearing, he sealed. Skin knit tighter, cleaner. Blood coursed with heat and light, alive with something not entirely his own.
The countdown vanished.
The mutant struck.
Claws raked his forearm — pain white-hot — then stopped. The wound closed beneath the creature's gaze, muscle threading together, skin smoothing over in seconds. His sleeve hung in tatters; the flesh beneath gleamed unbroken.
The monster hesitated, nostrils flaring, confused.
Ethan's hands moved before thought. He thrust them forward.
A burst of green light detonated from his palms. It struck the mutant square in the chest, hissing like acid. Steam rose. Flesh charred black. The creature stumbled back shrieking, its roar echoing off concrete walls.
Ethan staggered upright, chest heaving. The world swam, every nerve screaming, yet underneath the pain pulsed something fierce and new.
Strength. Life. Power.
The second mutant shrieked and bounded forward.
He turned and ran.
Not the terrified scramble of before — a sprint powered by something larger than muscle. His strides devoured the street. Air filled his lungs like pure oxygen. He vaulted a collapsed sign, slid across a car hood slick with blood, ducked into an alley.
Behind him, claws scraped stone. Roars chased him through the narrow dark.
He pushed harder. Every heartbeat fueled him, green fire licking at the edges of his vision. The world blurred. He could almost feel the pulse of other lives around him — flickers of essence — but he had no idea how to touch them yet.
At last he skidded to a stop in the alley's depths, pressing against cold brick. His hands glowed faintly, trembling.
He lifted one, staring at the smooth skin where claws had opened him minutes ago. Perfect. Whole.
A laugh tried to escape him and broke halfway out. "What the hell did you do to me?"
The answer came like smoke curling through bone.
> "You have chosen your path, Gene-Warden. Your blood is remade. Your destiny carved. Now walk it… or die upon it."
Ethan pressed his back to the wall, forcing air into his lungs. The city beyond the alley screamed and burned. Somewhere, glass shattered. Somewhere else, a child cried for a name that no one would answer.
The world had ended in minutes.
And he was still alive.
But he knew — deep in that new, furious heartbeat — this was only the beginning.