The weak are destined to be trampled underfoot. This truth is as constant as the stars. The world rewards the strong and discards those who lack the will to dominate. In that truth, I found purpose. Life's cruelty had shaped me, and I had felt enough of it to know I would never be on the receiving end again.
When the message appeared on my phone, I knew it wasn't a prank. It was an opportunity. "Do you want to evolve? Your world is a lie. Step into the Genesis Beyond." Vague, yet clear enough. This was an offer for those who sought more, for those willing to seize what others couldn't. The weak would hesitate, question it, dismiss it. I didn't. My finger moved, clicking the link without a second thought.
The screen went dark. The world I knew vanished into an endless void of white.
I stood there, weightless in a space of nothingness. No sound, no ground, no sky—just an infinite, empty expanse. Existence itself had been stripped away, reduced to this bare reality. Powerless fools would panic, try to scream or struggle against this isolation. But I remained still. This was a test, and I had no intention of failing.
Then, the voice came. Cold, distant, mechanical. "Welcome to the Genesis Beyond, Ethan Renner. You have been chosen. Do you seek power?" Do I seek power? The question was laughable. Power is everything. Without power, one is nothing but a victim of fate. I didn't need to answer. My resolve spoke for itself.
"Prove your worth. Survive." The void collapsed, and I was thrown into a new reality.
The ruins of a once-great city rose around me. Smoke curled from broken buildings, and ash rained from the sky like a funeral shroud. The ground beneath my feet was cracked and scorched, the smell of burning flesh lingering in the air. This city had died, but death meant nothing to me. Only the living mattered, and even then, only the strong.
Survive for 48 hours. The voice had made the conditions clear. Survival was never guaranteed—only those who adapted to their circumstances would live. This place wasn't a battlefield; it was an opportunity. Others might see danger, but I saw potential. No allies, no tools, just me and my mind. I wasn't born strong, but I had sharpened my instincts through years of hardship. Observation, timing, patience—these were the real weapons.
Ahead, I spotted movement. Three figures ran through the wreckage, stumbling over debris, their faces contorted with fear. I slid behind a wall, my body blending into the shadows. They were too absorbed in their terror to notice me. Fools. In a world like this, fear only accelerates your death.
Then I saw it. The beast.
It was massive, its black scales gleaming like onyx as it moved through the rubble with unnatural speed. Its crimson eyes burned with a fierce hunger, but not the mindless hunger of an animal. This creature was aware. It understood the hunt, and it relished in it. The slowest of the three tripped, his foot catching on a piece of metal. He fell hard, and the beast was on him in an instant, ripping him apart before the scream could even leave his throat.
I watched from the shadows, unmoved. The weak fall. That is the way of things. The creature had no interest in me; it was satisfied with its prey, for now. As the others fled in desperation, I remained still. Let the beast do its work. The fewer survivors, the better.
Night fell quickly, as though the sun had simply given up on this world. The fires from the distant buildings cast an eerie glow, creating long, shifting shadows. I found shelter in the remains of a collapsed structure, a vantage point that allowed me to observe without being seen. The heat was oppressive, but discomfort was a small price to pay for survival.
Then it happened. A wave of nausea struck me, sudden and overpowering. My vision blurred, and the air around me seemed to warp, twisting in impossible directions. I dropped to one knee, struggling to maintain control. When I finally looked up, I was no longer in the city.
I stood in a place of mirrors. Infinite reflections surrounded me, each one showing a version of myself. But something was wrong. In each reflection, my eyes were darker, colder—almost as if they belonged to a different person. Or perhaps they showed what I truly was.
The voice returned, no longer distant, but echoing inside my mind. "You desire power, Ethan Renner. You are willing to do anything for it. But power is not just strength. It is control. The ability to see through illusion and create your own." The mirrors rippled, and I saw something more.
My reflection changed. I stood above the city, now engulfed in flames. The fires bowed to my will, twisting and raging at my command. And below me, the world crumbled, leaving nothing but dust and ash. The illusion shattered, and I returned to the city.
But something was different. I could feel it—an awareness just beneath the surface. The air itself seemed to bend to my will, responding to my thoughts. I raised my hand and concentrated. The shadows in front of me twisted and reformed, taking shape. Within seconds, I was staring at an illusion of myself, standing where I had just been.
I studied the image, satisfied with its precision. It looked real, solid, but it was nothing more than a trick of the light. A lie made tangible. I allowed the illusion to fade, watching as it dissolved into the darkness. This was the power I had been promised. The ability to manipulate perception, to twist reality itself to my advantage. The world is an illusion, and those who cannot see through it will be trapped by it. But now, I controlled the illusion.
The beast's roar echoed again in the distance. I didn't move. Let the others run, let them exhaust themselves in fear. The weak would fall, as they always do. My path was clear.
In this world, I would not just survive. I would dominate.