The syringe slipped from Marcus's fingers, clattering against the sterile laboratory floor.
Blood—his blood—spread across the white tiles in a crimson pool that seemed to mock his life's work. The specimen on the dissection table, a grotesque fusion of human and beast tissue, twitched once before falling still. Another failure. His three-hundredth failure.
"Subject 300... rejected the bonding sequence," Marcus whispered, his voice barely audible over the alarms blaring through the facility. His hands trembled as he stared at them—wrinkled, liver-spotted, the hands of a seventy-year-old man who'd sacrificed everything for an impossible dream.
The laboratory door exploded inward. Armed security flooded in, their weapons trained on him.
"Dr. Vail! Step away from the specimen!"
Marcus laughed—a dry, bitter sound. Fifty years. Fifty years of research into human evolution, into transcending the limitations of flesh. And what did he have to show for it? A lab full of corpses and a warrant for crimes against humanity.
"You don't understand," he said, stumbling backward against the examination table. His vision blurred. "Humans are... incomplete. Fragile. We need to evolve—"
The gunshot echoed through the lab.
Pain exploded through Marcus's chest. He looked down, almost curious, as blood bloomed across his white coat. His legs gave out, and he collapsed beside his failed creation.
*Ironic,* he thought as darkness closed in. *I spent my life trying to transcend death, and here I die like any common animal.*
The world went black.
---
**THEN—**
Marcus jerked awake, gasping.
His hands flew to his chest, searching for the wound. Nothing. Smooth skin beneath soft cotton. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he stared at his hands—
Young hands. Smooth, unwrinkled, sixteen-year-old hands.
"What the hell?"
Marcus sat up, heart hammering. He was in a bedroom—*his* bedroom, but not the one from his previous life. Posters of heroes covered the walls: Radiant Dawn with her golden wings spread wide, Titan Force crushing a tank beneath his fist, Celestial Judge pointing his blade at the heavens. A desk cluttered with homework. A closet full of a teenager's clothes.
And on the nightstand, a calendar showed the date: March 15th, 2145.
"Impossible." Marcus's voice cracked—a teenager's voice. "I died in 2155. I was seventy years old. I—"
Memories crashed over him like a tidal wave. Two sets of memories, two lives trying to occupy the same mind. In one, he was Dr. Marcus Vail, the disgraced scientist obsessed with human evolution. In the other, he was Marcus Vail, sixteen years old, about to attend his Awakening Ceremony today—the day every teenager either gained superpowers or remained among the powerless twenty percent.
Marcus grabbed his head, teeth clenched against the mental assault. Fragments of both lives collided and merged. His previous life's knowledge—fifty years of genetic research, bio-engineering, evolutionary science—all of it integrating with his teenage brain.
When the pain finally subsided, Marcus stood on shaking legs and walked to the mirror.
A young face stared back at him. Sharp features, dark hair, grey eyes that held far too much knowledge for their apparent age. This was his body from ten years ago, before his obsession consumed him, before the experiments that would eventually lead to his death.
"I've been given a second chance," Marcus whispered. A smile slowly spread across his face—cold, calculating. "No. Not just a second chance. This time, I have knowledge of what's to come. I know which heroes will rise. Which villains will fall. I know what works and what fails."
A knock at his door made him turn.
"Marcus?" His mother's voice, tentative and worried. "Are you ready? The Awakening Ceremony starts in an hour. Your father and I... we're heading downstairs."
Helen Vail. C-rank hero, call-sign "Shimmer." Ability to create weak light constructs. And his father, David Vail, another C-rank with minor super-strength. Both barely made enough to keep the family comfortable, both desperate for their son to awaken something—anything—that might elevate the family's standing.
In his previous life, Marcus never awakened. He'd been part of the twenty percent, the powerless "Nulls" that society pitied and ignored. It drove him to science, to seeking evolution through artificial means rather than supernatural awakening.
"I'll be down in a minute, Mom."
Marcus heard her footsteps retreat. He turned back to the mirror, studying his reflection with new understanding.
What would he awaken this time? Would the timeline change? Or was he always meant to be powerless, his previous life's trajectory inevitable?
*It doesn't matter,* Marcus decided, straightening his shirt. *With my knowledge, even without powers, I can achieve everything I failed to accomplish before. And if I do awaken something...*
His smile widened.
*Then this world doesn't stand a chance.*
---
The Awakening Center stood in downtown Neo-Seattle like a gleaming cathedral to human evolution. The building's architecture was deliberately inspirational—soaring spires, walls of reinforced glass, and at its peak, a massive statue of the first person to ever awaken powers: Origin, whose mysterious ability to grant others their potential changed humanity forever.
Marcus walked through the entrance alongside his parents, ignoring their nervous chatter. Around him, other sixteen-year-olds buzzed with excitement and anxiety. Some prayed to whatever gods they believed in. Others boasted about what powers they hoped to manifest. Parents clutched their children's hands, equally desperate for a good awakening.
"The Vails?" A cheerful attendant checked her tablet. "Right this way, please. You're in Group Seven."
They were led to a waiting room where thirty other families sat. Marcus recognized several faces from school. Damien Cross, the quarterback who never shut up about how he'd awaken super-strength like his A-rank hero father. Jessica Park, quiet and studious, hoping for her family's traditional telekinesis. Others whose names Marcus couldn't remember—nameless faces that would fade into obscurity or die in the coming conflicts.
"Marcus Vail!" another attendant called.
His mother squeezed his hand. His father gave an encouraging nod. Marcus felt nothing but contempt for their anxious hope. They were weak, satisfied with their mediocre ranks, content to be society's worker bees. Even if he awakened something powerful, he would never tell them. They didn't deserve to know.
"Good luck, sweetie," Helen whispered.
Marcus walked alone into the Awakening Chamber.
The room was circular, walls covered in strange runic patterns that pulsed with soft blue light. In the center stood a crystalline pillar, three meters tall, its surface swirling with rainbow colors. The Awakening Pillar—technology reverse-engineered from Origin's own power signature, capable of catalyzing the awakening process.
An official in a white coat stood beside it. "Marcus Vail, born March 15th, 2129. Sixteen years old today. Parents are registered heroes. Ready to proceed?"
"Yes."
"Place both hands on the pillar and clear your mind. The process typically takes thirty seconds. You'll feel a warmth spreading through your body, and then either your power will manifest, or..." The official's expression softened with practiced sympathy. "Or nothing will happen. If you're among the twenty percent, know that you can still contribute to—"
"I understand. Let's proceed."
Marcus placed his palms against the crystal. It was cool to the touch, almost alive with the energy thrumming through it. He closed his eyes.
*Clear your mind,* the official had said. Marcus did the opposite. He focused his will, his desires, his knowledge from fifty years of research. In his previous life, he'd spent decades trying to artificially create what others were given naturally. He understood the awakening process on a molecular level—the way specific genetic markers activated, how the mysterious energy called "Essence" bonded with human DNA.
*If I'm truly back in time,* Marcus thought, *if this is real, then grant me the power I need. Not to be a hero. Not to save people. Give me the power to evolve humanity itself, whether they want it or not.*
The warmth came suddenly, spreading from his palms throughout his body. But it wasn't the gentle warmth the official described. This was heat—searing, consuming heat that made Marcus grit his teeth. The crystal flared brilliant red.
"What—" The official stumbled back. "That's not—the color shouldn't—"
Pain. Every cell in Marcus's body screamed as something fundamental changed. His DNA unraveled and rewove itself. His Essence awakened not like a gentle sunrise but like a supernova. The crystal pillar cracked.
And then, flooding into his mind like a gift from something ancient and terrible:
**[PRIMORDIAL MONSTER GENESIS - AWAKENED]**
Knowledge poured into Marcus's consciousness. He understood immediately what he'd been granted, and his previous life's expertise allowed him to grasp the true scope in an instant.
Monster Creation. Not summoning. Not taming. *Creation*.
The power to take raw materials—organic matter, energy, even conceptual elements—and forge new life. Life that would be absolutely loyal to him. Life that could be designed, evolved, optimized. Life that could transcend the limitations of natural evolution.
And most importantly, knowledge whispered to him by the power itself: with enough resources, enough sacrifice, he could transform *anything* into a monster. Even humans.
*Perfect,* Marcus thought, barely suppressing his euphoria. *Absolutely perfect.*
"Young man? Young man, are you alright?" The official approached cautiously, eyeing the cracked pillar. "What did you awaken? The readings are... unusual."
Marcus opened his eyes and made his decision in an instant.
His power was too valuable, too dangerous to reveal. In a society where powers determined everything—status, career, survival—monster creation would mark him as a villain immediately. He'd be monitored, restricted, possibly imprisoned "for public safety." Heroes with beast-taming or summoning abilities were acceptable. Monster creation was not.
"Nothing," Marcus said flatly, stepping away from the pillar. "I didn't awaken anything."
"But the readings—the pillar cracked—"
"Equipment malfunction," Marcus interrupted, his voice perfectly level. "It happens. I'm part of the twenty percent. A Null."
The official frowned, checking her instruments. The readings were indeed chaotic, but without Marcus manifesting any visible power, what could she say? Sometimes the pillars did malfunction. Sometimes the readings were false positives.
"I... I'll need to run a verification test—"
"Run whatever tests you want. I didn't awaken." Marcus met her eyes, and something in his gaze made her step back. "I'd like to return to my parents now. They'll be disappointed enough without you giving them false hope."
The official hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Of course. I'm sorry for your... I'll note the malfunction in your file. You can return to—"
Marcus was already walking toward the exit.
In the waiting room, his parents' faces fell the moment they saw his expression. They'd hoped, prayed, invested everything in the possibility that their son might elevate the family. And now, seeing him return with empty eyes and no demonstration of power, their dreams crumbled.
"Marcus..." Helen's voice broke.
"I didn't awaken anything, Mom. I'm a Null."
David's jaw clenched. "The tests could be wrong. Sometimes it takes a few days for—"
"I'm powerless, Dad." Marcus kept his voice flat, emotionless. Inside, he was calculating. Planning. "It's fine. I'll contribute to society in other ways."
The lie came easily. He felt nothing watching their disappointment, their shame. They were obstacles, nothing more. Weak-willed fools who couldn't see beyond society's narrow definitions of power.
Around them, other families celebrated or mourned. Damien Cross had awakened A-rank super-strength, and his father was already calling hero agencies. Jessica Park manifested telekinesis, weeping with joy. Three others in their group were confirmed Nulls, slumped in their chairs with shattered dreams.
"Let's go home," David said quietly, shame evident in every word.
They drove in silence. His parents exchanged worried glances, occasionally looking at Marcus like he was something broken. He stared out the window, watching the city pass by—a city that would one day burn at his hands.
*They think I'm worthless now,* Marcus thought, amused. *They'll never know what I truly awakened. No one will. Not until it's far too late.*
Back in his room, door locked, curtains drawn, Marcus held out his hand.
"Create," he whispered.
Shadows coalesced in his palm. He'd fed the ability a single hair plucked from his head—nothing more than a trace of organic material. What formed was tiny, barely visible: a black speck no larger than a flea.
But Marcus's eyes, enhanced by his awakening, could see it clearly. A microscopic creature with six legs, compound eyes, and a hunger that radiated through their connection. His first monster. Crude, weak, powerless.
But it was his. Utterly and completely.
"You're just the beginning," Marcus told his creation. The tiny monster chirped, understanding flowing between creator and creation. "I have ten years of knowledge. I know what's coming. I know where resources are hidden, which villains to hunt, which heroes will die in the coming conflicts. This time, I won't waste fifty years. This time, I'll evolve humanity the right way."
The monster crawled up his arm and burrowed into his skin, merging with him.
Marcus smiled in the darkness.
"This time, I'll succeed. And everyone—heroes, villains, all of humanity—will evolve into something greater. Whether they want to or not."
Outside his window, Neo-Seattle glittered with the lights of a society that believed itself safe, believed the age of heroes had brought peace and order.
They had no idea that their extinction had just awakened.
---