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Chapter 11: The Architect of Genes
In the dim light of the subterranean lab, Adrian stood before his workstation — a cluster of mismatched consoles scavenged from scrapyards and forgotten research stations. The air smelled of ozone, metal, and chemical decay. The flickering holograms reflected off his tired eyes, turning the deep blue of his irises into mirrors of silent obsession.
His bank balance read: 4,205 credits. Barely enough to feed himself, let alone fuel the monstrous ambition that clawed inside him.
But tonight wasn't about money. It was about proof.
He muttered to himself, fingers tapping over the table as he aligned gene cartridges, splicing cells in a tube no wider than a needle.
> "A man with nothing," he whispered, "is dangerous because he's willing to risk everything."
He inserted the first vial into the synthesizer — a crimson-tinted sample labeled DB-147: Dung Beetle Genome.
"The strongest lifter in nature," he mused, eyes sharp. "Carries over fourteen hundred times its weight… Let's see if your molecular density structure can merge with a human's cellular lattice."
The machine hissed. A faint, electric-blue mist seeped into the air. Adrian's breath hitched — not in fear, but fascination.
The second sample followed — Tiger Beetle Compound — movement genes so rapid that signal transmission bordered on teleportation.
"Four hundred miles per hour at this scale," he muttered, aligning the protein coils, "Let's make that 0.8 human seconds per reflex loop."
He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, then opened the next vial — a translucent serum labeled I.J.F., the Immortal Jellyfish Factor.
He smiled darkly. "Reverse aging, endless cell renewal… If I can stabilize the telomere decay rate, this might actually work."
The next three came from forbidden sources: Tardigrade, Starfish, and Cockroach DNA strands. Each one represented something essential — survival, regeneration, and pure resilience.
When he got to the Octopus Neural Stem, he hesitated.
This one was special — far more volatile than the others. The neural reactivity of cephalopods was off the charts, their neurons capable of independent thought across limbs.
> "Eight brains, one consciousness… Imagine applying that level of parallel processing to a human nervous system…"
He clenched his jaw and grinned.
> "Let's find out."
The synthesizer hummed louder, lights flickering across the chamber. Adrian entered a new command string:
[Fusion Prototype: Variant-01A "Insecta–Aqua Hybrid Integration"]
He stepped back, arms folded, watching as the strands began to spin — red, gold, and azure threads intertwining like a living aurora inside the pod.
Each strand pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Minutes became hours.
The temperature dropped. Condensation rolled down the walls like tears.
Suddenly, a crack formed across the containment glass.
Adrian's eyes widened.
> "No, no, no—stabilize!"
The machine screamed — a sound of metal groaning under the pressure of creation.
Adrian slammed the override switch. Sparks flew, and the pod hissed open, releasing a wave of bio-mist that filled the chamber.
He coughed, waving it off, but then froze.
Floating before him was a shape.
Half-formed. Half-alive.
The hybrid mass pulsed with life — strands of iridescent fiber crawling like veins, mimicking spider silk, insect carapace, and translucent jelly tissue all at once.
> "It worked… partially."
He reached out. The mass quivered, reacting to his touch — its surface morphing, sensing his bio-signature.
Then, suddenly, pain — a sharp stab through his palm.
The hybrid latched on.
He screamed.
The pain wasn't physical — it was molecular. His blood ignited. His mind erupted in data, millions of lines of code, biology and chaos. He saw the microscopic — cell walls, amino chains, protein locks.
The hybrid wasn't dying… it was adapting to him.
He collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, veins glowing faint blue.
> "Dammit… I underestimated the fusion latency…"
He dragged himself to the terminal, inputting rapid commands. The display flickered:
[Synchronization Detected: Gene Cycle – Stage 1 Initiated]
> "No way… The Void X responded to this?"
The pod's shattered remains pulsed again — the residue of the hybrid coalescing into motes of light. They streamed into his body like particles of living dust. His muscles tensed, bones cracked, but he didn't stop it.
> "Don't… fight it… control it…"
His vision blurred. He saw flickers — images that weren't his: a beetle lifting mountains of sand, a jellyfish reborn under moonlight, a cockroach crawling through flame.
Every instinct screamed to shut it down.
But another voice whispered — the same one that had followed him from his past life, calm and daring:
> "Come on, Adrian. You wanted power that defied gods. You wanted to rewrite the limits of biology. This is it."
He steadied his breathing.
The pain faded.
When he opened his eyes, the world felt different — sharper. He could hear the pulse of water running in the pipes below the floor. He could see microdust patterns swirl like galaxies.
He clenched his fist, and the floor cracked slightly beneath him.
> "So… this is Stage One."
He stood, half-smiling, half in disbelief.
He wasn't a monster. Not yet.
But his blood carried the legacy of Earth's most indestructible beings.
And deep inside, the Void X Gene stirred — reacting to its new companions.
For the first time, it pulsed not in chaos, but in harmony.
Adrian laughed, quietly. "The universe builds perfection through failure… Then let me fail again."
He turned toward the computer and began drafting new calculations.
To upgrade, he would need purer materials — not insects, but beasts. Creatures that defied planetary evolution.
And that meant one thing.
He'd have to go out there himself — into the gene black zones, where monsters were born, and laws of biology no longer applied.
As he packed his equipment, a sudden tremor rocked the lab. The pod remnants on the floor began to glow again — brighter this time, vibrating with power.
Adrian froze.
> "What the— I shut it down—"
The light flared, forming a pulse that swallowed the room in silence.
Then, the wall exploded outward.
Smoke, sparks, silence.
And in the haze, a single voice — metallic, distorted, not human — whispered from the debris:
> "Synchronization complete. Evolution protocol… continuing."
Adrian's eyes widened.
His creation wasn't done.
The pod was evolving — on its own.
He staggered back, heartbeat accelerating, staring as the hybrid's remnants assembled into something vaguely humanoid. Its surface shimmered like liquid glass, mirroring his every move.
> "No…" Adrian whispered. "You're… copying me?"
The creature tilted its head. Its voice came again — a mimicry of his own.
> "I am you."
And before he could react, it lunged.
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