Sohan didn't sleep that night. It wasn't because he couldn't, but because his mind simply refused to rest.
He sat in the corner of the dim room, knees pulled tight against his chest. His eyes were half-lidded, staring into the nothingness of the dark as fragments of a life that wasn't his surfaced with crystalline clarity. The piece of bread he'd scavenged was long gone, and while hunger lingered as a dull ache in his stomach, it was no longer his primary concern.
"This world…" he muttered under his breath, "runs on genes."
The knowledge from his previous life—the story he had lived and breathed—began to align with his current reality. Humanity had discovered a gateway to the Sanctuaries: mysterious dimensions filled with creatures that defied Earth's biological laws. They weren't just monsters; they were living reservoirs of evolution.
Sohan's fingers tightened against his shins. "When you kill a creature, you can absorb its genes."
It sounded simple, but the reality was a brutal hierarchy: Ordinary, Primitive, Mutant, and Sacred-blood. Each level was a mountain higher than the last, and each required a greater risk of death. But the true trap wasn't just the danger; it was the cap. Everyone had a limit. Once a human absorbed a set number of genes at a certain level, they stopped growing. They became stagnant unless they could survive the transition to the next Sanctuary.
"That's where most people fail," Sohan exhaled, his head leaning back against the cold, damp wall. "And that's where the randomness kills them."
In this world, luck was the ultimate dictator. Killing a creature didn't guarantee a gene. Obtaining a Beast Soul was a miracle. Most people stayed weak because the world gave them nothing but scraps and bad odds.
Sohan closed his eyes.
Deep within him, a faint sensation stirred. It was warm and subtle, like a subterranean stream flowing beneath his skin. His eyes snapped open.
"There it is."
The Gene Stone. It wasn't a physical object he could touch, but a presence—a dormant power waiting for a master. He raised his hand slowly, focusing every ounce of his will on his palm. At first, there was nothing. Then, a shift occurred. He felt invisible threads moving beneath his skin. His breathing slowed as his concentration sharpened into a needle point. He wasn't just feeling his pulse; he was feeling the very structure of his existence.
Genes.
For a fleeting second, the darkness of the room was replaced by a flash of light—a complex, glowing pattern that made up his DNA.
Then came the agony.
Sohan gasped as a violent tremor racked his body. The vision shattered instantly. The flow of energy turned into a jagged blade, cutting him from the inside. He collapsed forward, catching himself on the floor just before his head hit the boards. Sweat poured down his face, and his breath came in ragged, uneven bursts.
"Too soon," he wheezed, his muscles twitching in protest.
His body was still a fragile vessel, and his control was far from stable. But as he lay there on the cold floor, a slow, dangerous smile formed on his lips. That brief glimpse was enough. It changed everything.
Others in this world were gamblers, relying on the roll of the dice and the mercy of the Sanctuaries. But Sohan had just seen the dice. He had felt the mechanics of the game.
"I can see it," he whispered, pushing himself back up against the wall. "I can control it."
Even if it was only for a moment, that sliver of control was an advantage no one else on this planet possessed. If he could master the Gene Stone, he wouldn't just grow stronger—he would choose exactly how he evolved.
Outside, the slums remained as they always were: cold, unforgiving, and stagnant. But inside that broken room, the air felt different. The world hadn't changed, but the man within it had.
"In a world ruled by luck," Sohan said, his eyes gleaming with a cold, predatory light, "I will create certainty."