As I ran outside with Hera and the other kids, the sudden brightness of the sun blinded me for a few seconds, forcing me to pause and recollect myself. Though I couldn’t control my body, I felt everything happening to me as if I were both a participant and an observer.
When my vision cleared, I saw a sprawling field ahead. The other kids had already started moving, sprinting toward the forest, their hands still bound together. Something about the forest felt wrong—its towering trees and the shadows within seemed to pulse with malevolent energy.
Hera stayed close by my side as we entered, but I noticed others disappearing into the dense fog that had begun to roll in. No one slowed down, even as exhaustion gripped us. It felt as though stopping would mean certain death.
Eventually, Hera and I had to stop to catch our breath, but the pause was brief. We soon started jogging again, though my lungs burned with every step.
"I... I can’t keep up," I gasped, feeling my strength wane.
"Don’t stop, Dax! You can’t give up here!" Hera urged, trying to pull me along, her grip firm despite her exhaustion.
"Just... leave me. I’ll catch up later," I wheezed, shoving her away gently as I sank to the ground, utterly spent.
Tears welled in her eyes as she bit her lip. Without another word, she turned and ran ahead, leaving me behind. I could only sit there, gasping for air, unable to move.
***
Hours passed as I rested before mustering the strength to continue through the foggy forest. It was strange—no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall this place. I didn’t remember ever setting foot here, nor had the map the old man Hen gave me mentioned such a forest.
Where am I?
As I pondered this, young Dax suddenly stopped and hid behind a tree. Confused, I couldn’t tell why. I didn’t hear or sense anything unusual. Then, from the fog, a deer emerged.
At first glance, it seemed like any other deer, but as it drew closer, the sight of its antlers froze me. Impaled on its jagged horns were the limp bodies of children, their lifeless forms swaying with each step the creature took.
What kind of sick monsters are behind this? Entertainment at the expense of children?
I tried to probe my memories for answers, but something stopped me. It was as if my mind had locked away this part of my past, shielding me from a horror too immense to face.
What could have been so terrifying that I would choose to bury it?
The deer passed by, oblivious to Dax’s trembling form. The boy didn’t move, didn’t even breathe until the monster disappeared into the mist. Only then did he resume his desperate trek through the forest, weaving between trees and staying low to the ground.
The deeper we went, the worse it became. The forest felt alive with danger. I saw monsters lurking in the fog, their twisted shapes illuminated briefly by the dim light filtering through the canopy. Scattered among the roots and undergrowth were the bodies of other children who hadn’t been as lucky.
Yet, somehow, Dax survived—more by luck than skill.
Time wasn’t on our side, though. I knew he had less than four hours left before the 24-hour deadline. And being "eliminated" was a fate worse than death—of that, I was certain.
As I pushed forward, a sudden, chittering sound snapped me back to the present. A centipede the size of a small tree burst from the underbrush, its glossy, segmented body glinting in the faint light. It lunged at me with terrifying speed.
I managed to dodge at the last second, my instincts screaming at me to move. The centipede’s claws swiped past me, but not without consequence—a sharp sting on my arm made my heart sink.
Paralysis poison.
I could feel it already, spreading slowly through my veins. It would take time to reach my brain, but adrenaline surged through me, giving me a fleeting window to act.
First, I had to deal with the centipede.
Dax darted between the trees, weaving in frantic zigzags as the centipede relentlessly pursued him. It was a desperate game of cat and mouse, with each step demanding every ounce of his strength and focus.
Then, he spotted an opportunity. Without hesitation, Dax scrambled up a tree, his small body moving with a speed and agility that even my older self would envy. The centipede didn’t stop—it followed him, its segmented body coiling as it climbed.
High in the tree’s crown, where the branches were thick and twisted, Dax found his advantage. The centipede’s movements became sluggish, its large frame unsuited for the confined space. Dax broke off a sturdy branch, gripping it tightly as he prepared to strike.
Pinned by the branches, the centipede struggled to maneuver. Taking the chance, Dax leaped behind the creature and plunged the broken branch into a vulnerable spot near its segmented joints. The makeshift weapon didn’t pierce deeply but was enough to enrage the beast.
The centipede thrashed wildly, dislodging itself from the branches in its fury. Dax didn’t wait to see the outcome. He leaped from the tree, landing hard on the forest floor and sprinting away without looking back.
Behind him, the centipede crashed to the ground, momentarily stunned by its fall. It flailed, trying to regain its footing, but the delay brought Dax just enough time to vanish into the thick fog.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The centipede eventually stopped chasing Dax and began retreating. Seeing an opportunity, Dax leaped down from the tree and landed directly behind it. With all his remaining strength, he drove the broken branch into the creature's soft joint where its exoskeleton segments connected. The branch didn’t pierce deeply but was enough to send the centipede into a frenzy.
Dax quickly jumped to the ground, but as the centipede twisted and turned to pursue him, the branch lodged in its body snagged on a low-hanging tree limb. The sudden halt threw the centipede backward with a violent force, slamming its face into the ground.
Wasting no time, Dax disappeared into the dense fog while the centipede flailed, momentarily stunned. By the time it recovered and began searching for him, he was already long gone.
However, Dax's condition was rapidly deteriorating. The strenuous effort of jumping between branches and the flood of adrenaline in his system only accelerated the spread of the paralysis poison. His entire arm was now numb, and the creeping sensation was moving toward his chest.
He had no idea how much time had passed, but his vision began to blur. The forest seemed endless, and his body felt like it was shutting down. Yet, hope remained—a flickering determination to escape. And then, as if by some miracle, the dense wall of trees began to thin, revealing an open clearing ahead.
He stumbled forward and saw the other children gathered there. Among them was Hera, her face lighting up the moment she spotted him. Relief washed over him, but deep down, the older Dax knew the truth he wouldn’t make it.
The poison had spread fully through his body. Each step felt like an eternity, his movements slower and weaker. Yet, somehow, he kept going, inching closer to the finish line.
Then it happened.
Beep!
Beep!
Beep!
The timer had expired.
Dax collapsed to the ground, the sound of the beeping reverberating in his ears. His vision dimmed.
A man in a white coat emerged from the crowd of children. His expression was cold, clinical. “Time’s up, kids. As for this unlucky one, take him away,” he said, motioning to a nearby guard.
The guard moved to lift Dax’s limp body, but Hera stepped forward, arms outstretched. “He made it! He reached the finish line! Why are you taking him?!” she shouted, her small frame trembling with defiance.
The guard paused and turned to the white-coated man.
The man’s lips curled into a sneer. “Do you know what I despise most, Test Subject 031? Useless people.”
With those words, the man strode toward Hera, his imposing presence casting a shadow over her.
“But I’ll make you a deal, as I’m feeling generous today,” the white-coated man said, crouching down to meet Hera’s eyes.
Hera, uncertain but desperate, nodded slowly, signaling her willingness to hear the offer.
“You can exchange places with him. If you do, I’ll let him live for another day,” the man said, a wide, sadistic grin spreading across his face. Though I couldn’t see his features—my vision clouded as though a fog obscured his appearance—his voice carried a cruel, taunting tone.
Hera froze, her small frame trembling. The words struck her like a blow, yet guilt began to gnaw at her. She remembered how she had abandoned Dax earlier, leaving him to fend for himself. Somehow, against all odds, he had made it this far, suffering because of her decision.
Her eyes filled with tears, and her lips quivered. It was her fault. If she hadn’t left him behind, they might have made it here together, unharmed.
Finally, after a long, agonizing moment, Hera nodded.
“Good, good, good, very good.” the man said, each repetition dripping with mockery. He straightened, pulling a sleek pistol from his coat. He pointed it directly at Hera’s forehead.
Bang!
***
The gunshot shattered the dream.
I awoke gasping, my chest heaving as guilt clawed its way into my heart, gnawing at me from within. Tears blurred my vision, and my thoughts spiraled into chaos. The memory—fragmented, disjointed, incomplete—left a hollow ache deep inside me.
I clenched my fists, trembling under the overwhelming weight of emotions. Who was she? The question rang in my mind, unanswered. I couldn’t even recall her face, her name, or her voice. It was as though my past had been locked away, buried beneath layers of mental barriers.
“Tell me! Let me remember!” I screamed internally, the plea echoing uselessly in the dark corners of my mind.
Somehow, my recent transformation into a higher lifeform had fractured these barriers, revealing glimpses of a past I had long forgotten—or deliberately hidden. But this memory, broken as it was, only tormented me further.
I slammed my fists into the ground, again and again. Each impact left small craters in the earth, the force shaking my body. I didn’t care about the pain. I didn’t care about the blood dripping from my knuckles or the bones that ached with every strike.
The guilt refused to subside.
Deep down, I knew the truth. She hadn’t died.
But that only made the emotions more complicated. The memory had ended abruptly. What happened after? Where did she go?
No answers came. Only silence.
Exhausted, I slumped to the ground, staring blankly at the sky above. My chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, and pain coursed through my body—especially my bruised, bleeding fists.
But something else stirred inside me. My spiritual energy, wild and uncontrollable, surged through my body at incredible speed. Before my thoughts could even form, the energy seemed to act on its own, moving with a will of its own.
Did my subconscious command it?
Most likely. But what truly caught me off guard was how effortlessly I could now manipulate spiritual energy. I could release it, gather it back, and reconvert it into a usable form within my body. More astonishingly, my spiritual energy capacity had expanded significantly.
Could it be? Most creatures begin sensing and controlling spiritual energy only in the Elite realm, yet I had been doing so much earlier. That likely explains this rapid increase in capacity.
Even the system, advanced as it seemed, didn’t fully understand the workings of this world. I began recalling the books I’d read. Were they truly insights from the system, or had the system simply gathered and distributed knowledge authored by others?
Most likely the latter.
If that’s the case, then there could be countless unknown ways to expand one’s spiritual energy capacity—methods so rare or dangerous that few lived to share their secrets.
As I mulled over these thoughts, a new system message materialized before me.
***
[Confirmed: Gene Cap Potion (Elite) consumed.]
[Gene cap raised by 50 points. All existing genes consumed.]
[Note: Only monster flesh of Elite grade or higher can now raise the user's gene capacity due to potion side effects.]
***
My lips curled into a satisfied smile. My new gene capacity was 250—a staggering number. For most, the maximum gene cap was 150, even after a grueling effort. I now had a cap nearly double that. And if I managed to consume a Champion-level potion, I could push it even higher.
But the thrill of my newfound potential quickly faded as a harsh reality dawned on me.
It had cost 2 gold coins to max out my current genes. How much would it take to fill a capacity of 250?
The calculation made my knees weak.
0.1 kilograms of Elite-grade monster flesh cost 1 gold coin. That tiny amount granted a single gene point.
To reach the full 250, I’d need 250 gold coins.
The sheer number was crushing.
Even if I hunted and sold Champion-level monsters, the system’s rewards wouldn’t be enough. From what I’d seen, I’d need to kill at least six or seven of them to gather the required funds.
It felt impossible.
My smile faded entirely.
There had to be another way—a method beyond conventional means.
I couldn’t rely solely on the system or the marketplace to achieve my goals.
I would have to find that hidden path, no matter the cost.
Soon, I recalled the professions. Becoming a blacksmith wasn’t an option for me, but perhaps an alchemist could be. I could sell potions—items that were incredibly expensive to buy but could grant temporary boosts to strength and speed.
However, the thought of becoming an alchemist felt like a distant dream. To start, I’d need to buy the basics—alchemy knowledge—that would cost around 40 gold coins.
Lying on the ground, I just stared at that number, feeling a deep despair. How could I ever accumulate such a sum? And that wasn’t even considering the materials required, which the system would not provide in infinite supply.
This world felt unbearably cruel.