Humans noticed things last.
This was not because they were stupid—though some cosmic beings argued the point—but because humans had grown comfortable. Comfortable worlds bred dull senses, and dull senses missed the tremors that shook reality's bones.
But not all tremors could be ignored.
In a city several miles from Aurelius's battlefield-backyard, a man named Elias Rowen dropped his coffee.
It shattered on the pavement, brown liquid splashing across polished shoes that cost more than a month's rent. Normally, this would have been the most traumatic event of his morning.
Instead, Elias stared at his trembling hands.
"What the hell…" he whispered.
The air around him shimmered. Not visibly—at least not to anyone else—but Elias felt it, like pressure behind the eyes, like a thought trying to push its way into existence.
For a moment, the world slowed.
Cars crawled. Voices dulled. Time didn't stop, exactly—it hesitated.
And then a word appeared in his mind.
Choose.
Elias staggered backward. "Nope. Absolutely not. I did not sign up for voices in my head."
Across the city, a woman lifting her child felt the weight suddenly vanish, the child floating for half a second too long. A soldier woke from a nightmare knowing—knowing—how to bend force without touching it. A homeless man stared at the sky and laughed as stars rearranged themselves just for him.
The Evolution System stirred.
It hadn't done that in centuries.
Humans had once been terrifying. Not because they were strongest or fastest—but because they chose. They abandoned instincts, defied natural order, and carved paths that even gods found… inconvenient.
Then they forgot.
Now, something had reminded the universe of them.
Back in the backyard, Aurelius hovered low, unaware of the scale of what he had done. His wings hummed softly, tired in a way only reality-bending insects could understand.
"Lumulith," Aurelius said, "I feel… weird."
"That," Lumulith replied, gaze fixed on the horizon, "would be humanity waking up."
Aurelius blinked. "Wait—humans? I thought they gave up on evolution. Like… permanently."
"They did," Lumulith said. "They called it progress. They outsourced survival to comfort and traded choice for safety."
Aurelius winced. "Oof. That's harsh."
"It was effective," Lumulith said. "Until you happened."
Miles away, Elias Rowen stumbled into an alley, clutching his head as images flooded his mind—not memories, but possibilities.
He saw himself strong enough to tear steel, wise enough to command probability, ruthless enough to burn worlds—or gentle enough to heal them.
Paths branched endlessly.
He dropped to his knees.
"No," Elias whispered. "This isn't real."
[HUMAN – EVOLUTION POTENTIAL: DORMANT]
[STATUS: REAWAKENING]
Elias screamed.
Power surged through him, uncontrolled. The alley walls cracked. Glass shattered. A lamppost bent like soft clay.
"Oh no," Aurelius muttered, sensing the spike. "That one's definitely not practicing control."
Lumulith nodded. "Humans rarely do at first."
Back in the city, Elias gasped as the surge faded. He stared at his hands again—this time as faint light crawled beneath his skin like veins of starlight.
"What am I?" he whispered.
The universe answered softly:
You are late. But not too late.
Across the world, more humans felt it. Some panicked. Some rejoiced. Some immediately tried to punch reality in the face.
Most failed.
A few succeeded.
Aurelius watched distant lights flicker across the horizon like fireflies—each one a human awakening.
"Uh… Lumulith?" he asked carefully. "Is this my fault?"
Lumulith didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he said, "Yes."
Aurelius sagged midair. "Oh no."
"You shattered a limitation," Lumulith continued. "You proved that the Evolution System could be bent, not obeyed. Humans are excellent at bending things they believe are rules."
Aurelius buzzed nervously. "So… I accidentally restarted humanity?"
"You reminded them they could choose."
Somewhere far away, Elias stood shakily, staring at his glowing reflection in a broken window.
"I don't know what I am," he said aloud. "But I won't be powerless again."
The words echoed—not just in the alley, but across dimensions.
Lumulith's galaxy-eyes narrowed. "This is where it becomes dangerous, Aurelius."
"Because humans are strong?" Aurelius asked.
"Because humans are ambitious."
Aurelius looked at the glowing horizon, then at his tiny wings.
"Lesson ten," he muttered. "Never underestimate a species that just remembered it used to scare gods."
Above them all, the Evolution System recalculated.
Paths reopened.
Old wars stirred.
And humanity—long dormant—took its first step back toward becoming something the universe had once learned to fear.