Morning came without warmth.
A dull, grey light seeped through the cracks in the walls, dragging Sohan out of his thoughts. His body ached with a dull, throbbing intensity a lingering backlash from the previous night when he had forced his Gene Control Technique beyond its limits.
He sat in the silence, staring at his palms. His eyes were no longer those of a desperate scavenger; they were calm, focused, and analytical.
"I can't rush this," he muttered, his voice raspy.
Last night had been a harsh teacher. It proved that while his mind possessed the advanced knowledge to manipulate genes, his current vessel was a fragile bottleneck. If he pushed that hard again, he wouldn't evolve; he would simply break.
Sohan stood up slowly. His legs trembled, threatening to give out, but he forced them into stability. "Weak body, zero resources," he mused, looking around his cramped quarters. "But I have the one thing they don't: the map."
Others in these slums struggled blindly, like animals in a maze. Sohan was the only one who knew the exit.
A heavy knock rattled the door.
"Get out if you're still alive!" Kadar's voice boomed from the alley.
Sohan stepped out into the biting morning air. The alley was already a hive of desperate activity people arguing over rusted scraps, others sharpening jagged tools with grim determination. Survival waited for no one.
Kadar stood by the wall, arms crossed over his thick chest. He looked Sohan up and down with a hint of surprise. "You're up. Good. You're coming with us again."
Sohan gave a sharp nod. This time, the fear was gone.
As the group gathered, the same familiar faces appeared, accompanied by the same dismissive sneers.
"Still breathing, kid?" one mocked.
"Barely," another added, laughing.
Sohan ignored them entirely. Instead, he watched. He analyzed the way they walked, the rhythm of their breathing, and the gaps in their awareness. They rely on raw strength, he thought, but they lack precision. That is my opening.
They moved out toward the ruins, following the same broken paths they had walked a dozen times before. But to Sohan, the world looked different today. He noticed the way the dust settled, the echo of footsteps against hollow concrete, and the subtle mistakes his companions made the way they left their flanks exposed, the way they scanned only for obvious threats.
When they reached the designated ruin, the group fanned out to scavenge. Sohan didn't rush. He slowed his breathing, leaned against a pillar, and closed his eyes.
Focus.
The faint sensation returned unstable and flickering like a dying candle, but it was there. The flow. He couldn't "see" it yet, but he could feel the pulse of the environment. He opened his eyes. The debris was no longer just trash; it was a tactical landscape.
Scratch.
Sohan froze. His gaze shifted toward a dark, shadow-drenched corner.
A Scrap Rat. It was a pathetic creature thin, mangy, but possessed of lightning-fast reflexes and claws that carried filth and fever. To an evolved human, it was a nuisance. To Sohan's current body, it was a predator.
"Don't rush," he whispered to himself.
He gripped a discarded metal rod, his knuckles white. The rat lunged, a blur of grey fur and teeth. Sohan didn't try to outrun it. Instead, he stepped inches to the left predicting the creature's arc before it even left the ground.
Thud.
The rod connected, but it wasn't a clean hit. The rat screeched, twisting in mid air to lunge again. Sohan reacted instantly. He pulled back, letting the creature's momentum carry it past him, and struck a second time with everything he had.
Crack.
The creature hit the floor and went still. Silence reclaimed the corner of the ruin.
Sohan stood over it, chest heaving. "I did it." It hadn't been luck. It hadn't been a desperate swing. It was control.
As he looked at the carcass, he felt a familiar stir in his chest. The Gene Stone pulsed. He crouched down, placing a hand on the warm fur of the rat. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind.
The world faded. In the darkness of his vision, he saw a spark a tiny, flickering gene fragment within the creature. Instead of letting it dissipate into the air, Sohan acted as a conductor. He guided the energy with surgical care, drawing it into his own palm.
A gentle warmth spread through his arm. There was no backlash this time. No agony. Just a clean, perfect absorption.
Sohan opened his eyes and a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Success."
From the shadows of a nearby archway, one of the scavengers watched him, eyes wide with confusion. "He… he killed it? Just like that?"
Sohan didn't look back. He didn't care about their confusion or their mockery. For the first time since he had woken up in this hellhole, he wasn't just surviving. He was progressing.
"Even the smallest step," he whispered, "can change the course of destiny."