[Start]
Ivan Rukovski, in the morning, headed to the airport for his flight. The air was crisp, hinting at the impending arrival of winter, and he could see his breath misting in front of him as he walked. People bustled about, their faces reflecting a mixture of excitement and anxiety, the soft hum of conversation punctuated by the occasional clattering of luggage wheels on the tiled floor. Ivan felt a familiar churn in his stomach — a mixture of anticipation and dread, unknowingly mirroring the chaos of his thoughts.
While on the airplane, two hours into the journey, he was having a little sleep. The whirring of the engines provided a comforting drone, and the cabin lights pulsed dimly like a heartbeat. In his sleep, he had some flashbacks.
[Main]
Ivan Rukovski, coming from a poor family, was raised well enough to be granted admission into the army after his graduation in 1984. He remembered the scent of the grass beneath his bare feet and the weight of his mother's hands on his shoulders, her voice echoing in his ears, pushing him to pursue a better life.
He didn't have any issues during his childhood and remained interested in golf and gambling, the sun shining bright as he swung clubs, the thrill of the game contrasting with moments spent at smoky underground tables filled with nervous laughter and hushed whispers. One could say he is a bold character.
During the Cold War (1947-1991), he was hired to work for the KGB in 1989, and he was still there at that time. The tension of the era wrapped around him like a thick fog, every encounter a high-stakes gamble, each piece of information a potential game-changer. He got married in 1994, but unfortunately, his wife cheated on him six years later. She flirted with the neighbor while her husband was on missions, the betrayal festering like an untreated wound that he could never quite shake.
As for those missions, he traveled from country to country, gathering valuable information to help his country guard against suspicious attacks or advanced technologies. The bitter wind of foreign lands pierced through him as he navigated their streets, always on edge, acutely aware of the eyes watching him, waiting for his slip-up.
Now, he was living alone and did not want to get married anytime soon. Recently, before going to the USA, he discovered that he had a five-year-old child from what could be called a "One-Night Stand at a Bar" with a woman he didn't remember from the Philippines. The weight of this revelation settled heavily on his chest, guilt curling tightly around his heart like a serpent.
The mother had died, and the kid was put in an orphanage. A vivid flash of the child's face danced in his mind, a ghost of what could have been, and he felt an ache deep within, thinking it was his fault. That strain twisted his stomach in knots, but Ivan resolved to track that kid down in the Philippines and raise him after his return to Russia.
Meanwhile, another priest named Leonardo Grantis (age 50, short snow-white hair) in Italy was turning his beliefs into pragmatic science. The air around him was thick with anticipation as he mysteriously searched for eternity with the help of alchemy thanks to the gears he received from his assistant named Jupiter (or Jove, the king of the gods in Italian mythology) (age 50, with Zeus's appearance). The night wrapped around him, shadows flickering as streetlights buzzed, illuminating his path like a divine sign.
One day, while walking on a secluded street in Madrid at night, he was circled by some thugs who tried to assault him and take the money in the box he was carrying with his left hand, along with a long cross (sized like a sword) that hung on his back. The alley was dimly lit, the scent of trash mingling with the cold night air, and the thugs moved like predators stalking their prey, their whispers laced with malice.
The thugs thought he was an easy target for that night. The priest started to put the box down on the ground and took his long cross, his fingers tightening around the familiar wood. He began lecturing them about youngsters nowadays wanting things easily without putting in effort; his voice echoed off the brick walls, sharp and incisive.
They snickered at him, their laughter harsh and mocking. In the blink of an eye, he pulled a sword from his cross and sliced one of the thugs, who had been laughing at him. The thug cried out in pain, the sound slicing through the air like a knife, and the smell of blood mingled with the salty tang of sweat and fear.
The priest then added, "God does not like the weaklings! Nature itself selects for the strongest species!" All the thugs were angry about his action; some of them had knives while others had sticks, their shouts mingling with the distant sirens of the city.
The priest successfully dodged each of their attacks with martial arts style while slicing their chests, leaving cross-shaped wounds on their bodies. He moved fluidly, grace and ferocity intertwined, his anger fueling every strike. He cut all their arms, and they all cried out, begging for their lives, the desperation in their eyes igniting a spark of twisted satisfaction in him.
The priest asked if God existed, and they looked at each other and replied yes, fear creeping into their voices. "Then if He exists, He will block my next actions, right?" asked Leonardo. They were crying and begging for their lives, but he sliced all their throats to silence them and not wake up the neighborhood. The wet sound of flesh meeting steel resonated in the stillness of the night, a chilling reminder of his power.
He assured them not to worry as he would carry their sins, claiming he was the criminal, and so their so-called God would bring them to Heaven instead of Hell. "Hallelujah!" he exclaimed, cutting off their heads, leaving their bodies lying on the ground in a bloodbath that pooled like dark ink on the cobblestones.
With his left hand, a circular tattoo started to glow (he was already an S rank, <4S>). In the center of the palm of his hand, a mini black hole began to form, and he directed his hand toward the bodies, which started to react like a vacuum cleaner, drawing everything in, erasing the evidence of his actions like a whisper in a storm.
A minute later, the street was clean as if nothing had happened, the only reminder of the grisly scene being the wet sheen of the pavement. The priest headed to the forest where he built his wooden house, as he liked to breathe the fresh air of nature. The trees loomed tall against the night sky, the wind rustling through the leaves, creating a symphony of whispers just for him.
And that night was his daily routine as any other days:
- In the morning, he went to the city to buy some groceries. The vibrant market buzzed with life, the rich aroma of spices mingling with the sweet scent of fresh produce. Some pedestrians saw him as a fool since he walked with the cross hung on his back, their sidelong glances filled with judgment, but strangely, kids were attracted to him, sometimes giving him the sweets he bought at shops.
Some parents scolded their kids for approaching him. In Leonardo's eyes, it was simply because humans are weak, as they are driven by nothing but fear, which he despised the most. He watched their world with disdain, muttering, "That's the fault of religion… religion made humans weak."
He shook his head, his brows knitting together, fury rising as he thought, "Religion taught you not to harm your neighbor, to forgive someone who offended you, and that everything happens for a reason in God's plan… what a lot of crap." The bitterness of his thoughts lingered like a sour taste at the back of his throat. "Because of that stupid belief, they think they will be saved from their miserable existence on this planet, as if God cares about human beings when, in the eyes of God, we are on the same level as bugs. God does not give any priority to species; humans themselves think they are worthy, and that is a huge flaw of arrogance!" he muttered, his heart heavy with contempt.
- At night, he did patrols, trapping thugs and thieves with his box filled with cash or killing anyone who did not meet his standards. The streets transformed under the flickering lights into a hunting ground, shadows masking his movements as he stalked the unwary.
- During the bright days, when he was in the forest, he sometimes hunted small prey like rabbits or birds or went fishing in the river. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves accompanied him, a stark contrast to the violent life he led. He made a cabana lab for his scientific research, searching for a way to achieve the eternity of the soul by transferring the mind into another body, and he also trained in the forest, his body moving with the raw power of nature.
One day, lying on a tree branch near his cabana, he read a philosophy book that reminded him of his past before receiving the package. The feel of the pages under his hands grounded him, a connection to a life before chaos ensued. Back then, he was a priest like any other priest, faithful to God's words in the Bible. He preached in a church in a village assigned to him by the Vatican and had a house near that village, using his car. The laughter of children playing in the streets filled his memory with warmth.
He received an invitation from the system but ignored it. Days later, the system warned him, but he thought it was just a young soul fooling around with a prank. Unfortunately, one day, while he was alone in the priest's room behind the church, a girl entered out of nowhere and then fainted. Her presence shattered the stillness, and he rushed to her to see what was going on and carried her to the sofa.
Moments later, she pretended to be unconscious and undressed herself while holding the left hand of the priest between her thighs, crying loudly that she was being raped. Her cries resonated through the village near the church, echoing off the walls and sinking deep into his psyche.
The priest asked her to let him go, but she refused, and they were pulling each other in a struggle, fear and confusion wrestling in the air. An accomplice entered and took a snapshot, and some villagers came in to witness the situation, seeing the girl crying. That day was a red flag for him, a dark turning point that marked a metamorphosis in his life.
He was expelled from the Vatican, and according to the law, as the girl's accomplice took proof with a photo, he had to spend nine months in prison plus a fine of 18,000 euros to the victim. While in prison, he reflected on his belief in God day after day until he became resentful, muttering in the damp solitude, "God does not like weaklings; why should we pray to God when it's a human like himself who put him in jail?"
"God has nothing to do with this; we don't need to pray to Him," his thoughts grated against the silence like nails on a chalkboard. Months later, he was released from prison and headed home, the air outside feeling foreign, filled with the stench of betrayal and lost faith.
He sat on the couch, and a message appeared on his phone: "What do you think now? Your so-called God didn't help, and He never helped humans. It's an illusion to think He could do something." The words pulsed like a heartbeat, resonating within the void where his beliefs once resided.
At that moment, the priest fully agreed and accepted the package. He completed quests and sought to enjoy his life after years of restraining from impure thoughts. He wanted to taste the so-called "deprivation" that the Bible despised.
He went to clubs, danced, drank alcohol, tried cigarettes for the first time, and hooked up with prostitutes, reveling in the thrill of his new freedom, having sex in motels around the city with the rest of the money he had. The nights blurred into a swirling mass of neon lights, lazy laughter, and whispered promises.
Finally, to clear his mind, he went to the nearest forest to build his house and live alone. Once he reached rank, he gained the vacuum cleaner ability in his left hand, an unsettling yet empowering gift.
The thought of that woman who framed him still lingered in his mind, memories of her face flashing like a warning light, and he wanted to track her down along with her accomplice. Eventually, he found her late at night in a secluded area of a street and raped her for real, the darkness echoing his rage.
She begged and cried, but he sliced her throat with his sword to silence her, telling her, "You were faking last time; now this is real. The frame you made against me is real now."
He cut her thighs, the ones that had once held his hand back then, and finally told her, "Thank you for opening my eyes to the illusion of God's will... If you are not able to be cruel, you will end up being the victim of someone who is cruel; that's the law of nature."
He stabbed her in the heart, and blood splashed on the ground, dark and rich like spilled ink. Then he rid himself of her using the vacuum cleaner once he was done. It was his first crime, and he felt no guilt, as for him, God did not exist, making it futile to restrain his will.
Meanwhile, in South Korea, during a panoramic view of Seoul, a girl named Tifany Moon (age 20, long black hair, mixed-race skin = dad: Asian + mum: American, from a wealthy family) was attending a chemistry course at the university in the morning, even though she didn't understand that field; however, it was pleasant for her to be there. The classroom buzzed with the soft murmur of students, and the aroma of coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the musty scent of books.
She did not need a university degree since she was already rich, the weight of this freedom hanging heavy in the air like a secret she couldn't quite grasp. In the afternoon, around 5 PM, she left the university in her car, the city lights glittering like stars on earth, and headed to her nearby apartment.
She had already had a year with her gears on and was at level <15A> rank, with her assistant Haetae (age 25, short brown hair styled like a lion's mane, serving as her guardian). Taking the elevator to the 4th floor of the building, her heart raced with anticipation as she glanced around, feeling the walls echo with her dreams.
Then she took a bath while ordering fried potatoes and chicken online, the warm water enveloping her like a comforting embrace, washing away the stress of the day. It had also been a year since she was free from her overprotective parents.
While eating her order on the couch in the living room with the TV turned on for news, she used a social dating app to find someone to hang out with, her fingers dancing across the screen, hopeful for connection. She was a huge fan of Maria in the USA and followed her on Instagram, her heart swelling with pride over her idol's achievements.
It was, in fact, thanks to Maria that she mustered the courage to defy her dad and finally left home, the taste of freedom still lingering on her tongue as she told her father (age 50 years, from Korea) not to control her life, as he had forced her since childhood to be an idol, the pressure suffocating and relentless.
Along with the "tragic incident" that occurred that same day at the hands of her father. Suddenly, those flashbacks surfaced again, reminding her of her youth when her parents spoiled her, nestled against the warm glow of memories that felt both comforting and suffocating.
Her father, a prominent businessman, was raising her to be an idol, while her mother (age 40 years, black hair, from the USA) couldn't help but follow her husband's wishes, as she had married him mostly because of his wealth. After she finished high school while also living the idol life for her father's business, she felt a flicker of despair.
Upon turning 18, she was forced to enter the modeling industry, where he had a partnership, despite her own will. The light of the cameras flashing in her face burned bright, but the warmth it promised felt distant and unreachable. He told her, "Women do not need to pursue studies that far; all you have to do is marry another rich man."
She despised hearing it, a deep-rooted anger boiling within her. But she followed his orders and watched Maria on social media during her breaks, feeling envious of that streamer who lived freely and did whatever she wanted—this is how she had the thought to escape her dad as well. It simmered in her mind, a quiet rebellion growing stronger each day.
It was also a scheme from her father, who began to see his daughter as a woman little by little. That happened one day when he was drunk, returning home after having a party with his committee at work, while Tifany was sleeping on the sofa in the living room. The warm glow of the television cast eerie shadows across her face, ignorant of the storm brewing behind closed doors.
From a butt view, she wore a revealing short skirt and a simple t-shirt, making her appear appealing to him that day due to the alcohol. He gently approached and began to assault her. The fear gripped her like a vice, the betrayal cutting deeper than she thought possible.
Unfortunately, her mother was on a trip in the USA, and the mermaids weren't there as it was almost 11 PM. She attempted to fight back and cried out, asking him to regain his senses, but he kept caressing her, kissing and licking her neck, lifting her t-shirt to see her chest, sucking her breasts, and trying to remove her pants.
She could no longer resist and ended up crying, the tears streaming down her face tasting of salt and despair. After a few moments, as he realized she was not resisting anymore, he stopped undressing her and began to sober up a little. The moment hung heavy in the air, her heart racing as if it might burst.
In his thoughts, he sometimes visited clubs and hung out with call girls at hotels or motels, so that night, seeing Tifany appealingly sprawled on the sofa, his eyes glazed with alcohol, he mistook her for one of the hookers and thought he was actually in a hotel due to his intoxication, which awakened his instincts.
He stood up and sat on another sofa, confusion swirling in the haze of his mind. Tifany was afraid and crying, and hearing her whimpering, her dad told her, "Sorry, I thought I was in a hotel. Please don't tell your mother…" before falling deeply asleep, snoring like a beastly echo in the darkened living room.
That night, she packed her stuff in her room, every movement deliberate, each item a memory she'll carry with her. She washed up in a rush, the soap stinging her skin as if to wash away the lingering touch of her father. Wearing jeans and a solid jacket, she booked a hotel far from her house, her heart thumping wildly, hope mixed with fear.
She called a taxi driver to the hotel, but she was cautious of men and took a small knife from the kitchen and a taser, which her modeling company had given her for self-defense, constantly glaring at the driver's behavior, her instincts screaming at her to be alert.
She arrived at the destination and rested that night, though she had difficulty sleeping, thinking about her father's actions, the memories clawing at her mind like a thousand jagged knives.
The next morning, she received an invitation from the system and a message regarding what had occurred last night. The anxiety twisted in her stomach; she wondered how the sender could know when there had been no one home.
The message also told her she could change her life, and to convince her, the system said Maria had something special that changed her life. Hearing that last line piqued her curiosity the most. She accepted and received the package, her heart pounding with anticipation.
A few days later, she rented an apartment. Her room, however bare of comforts, radiated the promise of freedom. Her dad tried to call her, but she blocked him, the weight of his influence slipping from her shoulders, determined to take her fate into her own hands and change her previously ignorant personality in this world, following Maria's path as a model.
She completed quests and collected serums around with the help of her AI assistant, each success filling her with newfound strength until one day, a hollow resembling her father appeared in the basement parking lot of her building as she headed to get her car.
She was surprised by the apparition, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over her. The hollow (actual level <16B>) was 2.2 meters tall (her father was 1.8 meters) and was enveloped in a glowing green aura, a grotesque facsimile of the man who had both protected and hunted her.
The hollow approached and told her to go back, asking her to hold his hand. A sense of rage ignited within her; Tifany (actual level <15B>), in rage, refused, and the hollow became furious as well, the energy sparking like a live wire between them.
They fought fiercely with martial arts; Tifany, using her advanced customized knife and taser, trained instincts kicking in as she deployed them. Finally, she found an opportunity to stab the hollow in the chest, revealing the <
Thanks to the guidance of her AI, which suggested she use the taser to stun him for a few seconds, she managed to stab the <
Ultimately, she found another chance to stun him and removed the <
Coming out of her flashbacks, she finished eating her chicken; it was already 8 PM. The ticking clock marked the passage of time, and she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and put on her pajamas before heading to bed, the weight of the day resting on her eyelids.
While lying on her bed, she watched Maria's posts on social media in a 3D environment, the vibrancy brightening her spirits, also watching a bunch of Western movies, swiping and moving her hand to control the virtual environment, feeling alive in ways she had never known.
Meanwhile, with an overview of Tokyo's iconic images in Japan, another protagonist, Kanzaki Shinjoku (age 50, black long hair), was working on an ambitious project in his lab deep in his house at 1 AM, the clinical smell of chemicals filling the air as his mind raced with complex calculations, aiming to allow humans to procreate even when they are sterile.
He received his package a few months ago and used it to advance in his research, bringing him closer to his external procreation project. His project could allow couples to get their baby from eggs, just as hens do, thanks to his assistant Oda (age 40, serving as his sage).
He heard the TV news in his virtual environment while working on the relationship between human and chicken DNA, manipulating it gently with needles under a microscope, the tension in the room palpable as he worked against time. The TV news, which was playing in the background, reported that Japan had been facing a decline in birth rates for years, with even worse predictions for the coming years due to the country being closed off to foreigners and the skyrocketing rent prices with low wages, worsening couples' reluctance to procreate.
Hearing that did not concern him, as he had been sterile from the beginning and had been unable to have children with his wife for years. It was a weight he carried in silence, burdening his heart like a chest full of unshed tears.
It was 1 PM already, and he went up to eat the food his wife prepared for him in the dining room, the scent of simmering vegetables and rice creeping through the door inviting him home. They both shared a meal, the warmth of companionship wrapping around them like a gentle embrace, but he felt guilty of not making his wife happy.
She replied that it did not matter as long as he was healthy and by her side; that's all she needed. Her unwavering support was a balm to his guilt. She often urged him to give up the project he was conducting in the basement. But he couldn't back down because after his dad died, he had been raised by his mother (who was now 80), the memory of her sacrifices fueling his resolve.
He had been hired at a biologist company at age 28, and when he was 30, his mother introduced him to a girl who was 25 back then, thanks to her connections with other parents. Kanzaki was still grateful to his mother for all her support and made sure to visit her in the retirement home twice a month. The warmth in his chest as he thought of her brought a smile to his face, a reminder of hope amidst the darkness of his ambitions.
A few days later, he was able to realize his project, creating his first child with his wife using their skin cells, which he transformed into sperm and ovum for fertilization. The sterile smell of scientific endeavor hung around him, heavy with the promise of change.
He forced the core that formed to develop into an egg for the baby to grow, and with this technique, women would not need to carry their babies; they would grow and hibernate in a cocoon, a revolutionary idea that gleamed in his mind like a beacon in the night.
With the success of his experiment, he shared his research results with the world, the thrill of accomplishment surging through him like electricity, and his government promoted this method to encourage couples by providing sponsorship for reproduction. Some countries criticized it as unethical, but for Japan, it was a matter of survival, the stakes never higher.
Meanwhile, in a panoramic view of Beijing, China, another protagonist named Li Zhang (age 30, long black hair) was presenting a new device in a room filled with shareholders, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. She spoke about slides on the screen, each word a carefully crafted argument designed to win their approval.
We could see charts and use cases for the device, a new smartphone with a battery that could last a month and a half. The room pulsed with anticipation, the shareholders hanging onto each word, eager for a glimpse of the future. She was the CEO of an electronics company called "Dayvice," and after wrapping up her pitch in front of foreign investors, she breathed a sigh of relief as the applause washed over her like a gentle tide.
She headed to her villa, her heart racing from the thrill of achievement. Li Zhang, by the way, was the daughter of a political member in the current government. He sponsored her studies in the USA when she was 23 in the marketing field, and she returned two years ago, the memories of her time abroad still fresh in her mind, a juxtaposition of freedom and obligation.
She received the gears, but since she got married a year ago and wanted to sponsor her husband, she passed the gears to him. The decision hung in the air like a bittersweet melody. He was an outstanding astrophysicist named Wu Chang (age 32).
Since her assistant told her she could pass the gears to another person, the trade-off would be that she would forget everything that occurred while she had the gears and wouldn't be able to interact unless wearing the bio-watch again. As tricky as this was, the couple used it to excel in their domains of expertise; her for marketing and him for astrophysics, their dreams intertwining in a dance of light.
This was the first instance of the gears being used in this manner; ultimately, she could realize the device, while her husband made the first transfer of protons that could potentially be the new teleportation method for humans in the future.
[End]
In the end, several other users worldwide received their gears; some collaborated with the government while others hid their gears for personal gains. The world was shifting beneath their feet, destinies rewriting themselves in the blink of an eye. Humanity was able to utilize all kinds of resources and energy efficiently, advancing to a [Type 1 Civilization] thanks to users who contributed to research worldwide.
However, this led to rising rivalries and wars among countries over natural resources, the peaceful facade cracking under pressure, and serums became increasingly rare as people fought one another for survival.