Darkness.
That was the last thing Sohan remembered.
Not peace. Not light. Just… darkness swallowing everything.
A sharp screech of metal.
Blinding headlights.
The sound of his own breath—ragged, desperate.
Then—
Nothing.
"…still breathing."
"…barely."
"…leave him, he's not worth it."
Voices.
Faint. Distant. Like echoes underwater.
Sohan frowned. Voices?
His mind struggled to catch up. He tried to move, but his body felt like stone—heavy, unresponsive. A dull pain throbbed behind his eyes.
I… died, didn't I?
That was his last memory. A road. A truck. No time to react.
So why—
A sudden rush of cold air hit his skin.
Sohan's eyes snapped open.
The world was wrong.
Gone were the familiar streets, the chaotic traffic, the endless noise of the city he once knew. Instead, a cracked ceiling loomed above him—grey, stained, and barely holding together.
The smell hit him next.
Damp. Rust. Rot.
He was lying on something rough—fabric, thin and worn. A blanket? No… more like a piece of cloth barely pretending to be one.
Sohan forced himself upright.
Pain shot through his body.
"Ah—!"
He clenched his teeth, breathing hard. His body… wasn't right. It felt weaker. Thinner.
Smaller.
His hands trembled as he lifted them in front of his face.
Not his hands.
Too bony. Too pale. Covered in faint bruises and scars.
"…What is this…?"
Fragments of memory surged into his mind—
Hunger.
Cold nights.
Running.
Begging.
Beatings.
Sohan froze.
"These memories…"
They weren't his.
But they felt real.
The door creaked open.
A man peeked inside, his eyes scanning the room with disinterest. "Oh. You're awake."
Sohan looked up, still disoriented. "Where… am I?"
The man snorted. "Where else? Slum Sector C."
Slum…?
The words echoed strangely in his head.
"You passed out yesterday," the man continued. "Thought you were dead. Would've saved us the trouble."
Sohan stared at him, trying to process everything.
"Trouble…?"
"Yeah. Dead weight isn't useful here."
The man turned to leave, then paused. "If you can stand, get out. No free food."
The door slammed shut.
Silence returned.
Sohan sat there, unmoving.
Slum Sector.
Orphan.
Hunger.
A strange world.
His heart began to race.
"No way…"
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain, and staggered toward a broken mirror leaning against the wall.
A boy stared back at him.
Thin. Hollow eyes. Maybe sixteen… or younger.
Not him.
Not the Sohan who had lived a normal life.
"…I've been reborn."
The words felt unreal, yet undeniable.
Then it hit him.
Not just the body.
Not just the memories.
But the world.
The buildings outside—metallic, layered, unnatural. The faint hum in the air. The way everything felt… advanced.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Sohan's breath caught.
"…This world…"
Images flashed through his mind—stories he had once read obsessively. A universe where humans entered mysterious sanctuaries, hunted creatures, and evolved by absorbing their genes.
A world where strength was everything.
A world where the weak were nothing.
His lips parted slowly.
"…This is the world of Super Gene."
For a moment, fear gripped him.
This wasn't a safe place. People died here. Easily. Meaninglessly.
The weak were crushed. The strong ruled everything.
And right now—
He was weak.
Very weak.
Sohan clenched his fists.
"No…"
Fear faded.
In its place, something else rose.
Determination.
If this really was that world…
Then he knew things others didn't.
Hidden opportunities. Secret growth paths. The rules of survival.
A chance.
A real chance.
He looked down at his fragile body, then back at the mirror.
"This time…"
His voice was low, steady.
"I won't die like that again."
Outside, distant voices echoed. People shouting. Arguing. Living.
Somewhere far away, a strange energy pulsed faintly—unseen, but real.
A calling.
Sohan's eyes narrowed.
"The Sanctuaries…"
He remembered everything.
And that meant—
His story had just begun.
Far beyond the slums, in a place he couldn't yet reach…
Something ancient stirred.
Two paths had been set into motion.
One already chosen.
The other—
Had just awakened.
Sohan stepped toward the door.
Weak.
Hungry.
Alone.
But no longer helpless.
"In this world… I will rise."