[Bip… Scanning host.]
The familiar mechanical tone echoed in Cain's mind, followed by silence as the A.I. Chip processed the request. Two minutes later, a translucent screen flickered into existence before his eyes—a projection visible only to him. Lines of blue light scrolled like streams of code until the results stabilized.
[Scan completed.
---
Name: Cain Laurifer
Stats:
* Strength: 0.8
* Vitality: 1.1
* Agility: 0.9
---
Note: The host presents multiple internal injuries. Two of the lower left ribs are fractured. Evidence of torn muscle tissue and minor internal bleeding. While not immediately life-threatening, further strain could worsen the condition.
Suggestion: Seek medical attention immediately.]
Cain's lips curved faintly, though not in amusement. The A.I. Chip's warnings were predictable. He had heard them too many times before. Every child was implanted with one during infancy—an indispensable tool for modern life, used for everything from data storage to navigation. But for all its convenience, its computational power was limited. It was a helper, not a savior.
And Cain had no money for hospitals.
He shook his head and dismissed the holographic screen with a thought. Medical technology in the capital could heal his wounds within minutes, but the cost was far beyond his reach. He barely earned enough for rent and food. Hospitals were luxuries for those born to power.
Instead, Cain opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle labeled Soldier Drugs. The pills inside rattled faintly. He swallowed two without hesitation.
A cooling warmth spread through his chest. The sharpness of his pain dulled to an ache, and the constriction in his ribs loosened. Relief washed over him.
"Father's Soldier Drugs…" he thought, exhaling softly. "Even at my level, they work wonders. But it makes sense. They were made for Wave Warriors, and I haven't even reached Level One."
He clenched the bottle for a moment, a shadow passing across his expression. His lack of talent was an old wound, one that no pill could numb. Still, Cain forced the thought aside. He had long since learned to bury bitterness beneath discipline.
Unable to exert himself further while his ribs mended, he let his gaze wander the small apartment until it landed on the bookshelf.
Three books rested there. Their covers were worn but carefully preserved, the pages free of dust or stains. The A.I. Chip had already digitized their contents, yet Cain still preferred reading the physical copies. The weight of paper, the scent of ink—it calmed him in ways a hologram never could.
The books were relics of his father's service in the Imperial Military Force: History of Godslayer Humankind, Introduction to Wave Cultivation, and Soldier Military Manual.
Cain reached for the first, the History of Godslayer Humankind. His fingers brushed the familiar cover, and for the first time since his confrontation at school, a small smile touched his lips.
---
Humans had not always lived in the stars. More than ten thousand years ago, our ancestors inhabited a small blue planet, the cradle of our species. For hundreds of thousands of years, it provided everything we needed. Its name had long since been erased from history, a deliberate forgetting. Now, it was known only as the Old World.
But the Old World had been poisoned—not by monsters, but by mankind itself. Greed, negligence, and unchecked ambition turned paradise into ruin. With oceans choked, air turned toxic, and soil barren, humanity teetered on extinction.
In their desperation, humanity's brightest minds sought salvation among the stars. Colonization fleets were designed to ferry a chosen few to distant planets. But such a path offered survival only for an elite fraction of the population.
Then came the man who changed everything.
A genius beyond comparison. Where others sought safety in space, he turned inward. He theorized, experimented, and eventually succeeded in opening a gateway—not to the stars, but to an entirely new dimension.
At first, humanity rejoiced. This new world, limitless and vast, could be reached by anyone. It promised survival for all, not just the privileged. Hope flared across the crumbling Old World.
That hope lasted less than a day.
The first expedition of soldiers and scientists crossed the portal to explore. Thirty minutes later, a nightmare followed them back. A creature—massive, alien, savage—slaughtered the expedition and rampaged through the Old World. Entire battalions perished before it was brought down at unimaginable cost.
Panic consumed humanity's leaders. Orders were given: shut down the portal, erase the research, bury the disaster. As for the genius who had opened the way, he was denounced as a sinner. From savior to pariah in less than a breath. Some demanded imprisonment. Others, execution.
But the man refused to yield.
To him, the creature was not just a calamity. It was proof. Proof of potential. Proof that power beyond imagination lay within that dimension. Before the politicians could chain him, he vanished—stepping alone into the portal.
Most believed him mad, doomed to perish within days. His name faded into obscurity.
Ten years later, on the eve of civilization's final collapse, he returned.
And he was no longer a mere man.
He strode out of the portal radiating might beyond comprehension. He flew unaided through the skies. He crushed tanks with his bare hands. He walked through explosions that could level cities without a scratch. He had endured a decade in that monstrous dimension and emerged transformed.
He brought with him a revelation: a force that permeated that dimension, a universal current he named Wave. With Wave, humanity could transcend weakness. They could wield elements, bend bodies to superhuman feats, and lengthen their lifespans.
It was both salvation and temptation. The dimension was a crucible filled with predators, yet within it lay the promise of immortality.
The masses, desperate and greedy, hailed the genius as a messiah. But humanity's rulers recoiled. They saw danger in this gift. How could governments control citizens who wielded the strength of armies? How could generals command soldiers who could crush tanks with a gesture?
They moved quickly to contain it. Harsh laws restricted access to the new dimension. Only the trusted elite were allowed to train in Wave. The rest of humanity was forced to wait, locked out of their salvation.
The genius, however, had not returned merely to beg permission. He had changed. Hardened. His patience for politics and cowardice had burned away in the fires of survival.
When he learned of the leaders' plans, he acted without hesitation.
In a single week, thousands of rulers, generals, and politicians perished. The halls of power were bathed in blood. No army could stand against him.
And when the smoke cleared, all of humanity bowed beneath one throne.
That massacre crowned him the Emperor of Humankind.