Chapter 312: Chapter 311: Genesis
Atlas felt it first in his bones—a tremor, subtle at first, crawling up from the soles of his feet into his chest, spiraling through every fiber of his being.
His body vibrated, not painfully, but insistently, like some colossal machine scanning, weighing, cataloging him.
He opened his eyes, expecting the world to tilt, but it was still the same: priests gathered like vultures. Yet everything felt... different.
[Analysing host.]
The words sliced into his mind with surgical precision. Every heartbeat, every synapse, every breath was measured, considered. Atlas did not flinch.
He could feel something ancient and impossible brushing against him, a presence older than gods, older than the memory of time itself.
[1%...3%...50%.....99%..100%]
Each number throbbed like a hammer against the walls of his skull. Time seemed to stretch and collapse, a pendulum swinging between inevitability and chaos.
[Analyze complete.]
Atlas exhaled, tasting the acrid tang of ozone and iron, a reminder that power came with cost.
[Host has evolved to Genesis Human.]
The words resonated deep in his chest, reverberating through his marrow. Genesis Human. The first. The archetype of humanity itself. A line thought broken after Adam, Eve, and Lilith—but now restored.
He felt it, the weight of history pressing against him. All humans born after Eve had been forged only through reproduction, fragile and mortal. Only the three had carried the original spark of creation within them. And now, the fourth—the host, Aiden, —carried it as well.
A pulse ran through him, thrumming with power, memory, and latent divinity. His mind conjured fragments of Eden: dust glinting in golden sunlight, the first breath of life, whispers of gods and mortals alike.
And then the visions of the infernal cliffs, Aurora’s screams, the fire licking the edges of her flesh. Pain sharpened his senses, but it no longer crushed him—it tempered him like steel.
The system scrolled further, enumerating his gifts, listing the inheritance of gods:
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Genesis Human Features
1. Strength & Durability – Muscles surged like molten iron. His bones, once brittle under chains and fire, were now near-unbreakable. Accelerated healing whispered promises of survival.
2. Flight & Speed – The wind itself felt sluggish beneath him. Supersonic reflexes, the ability to dodge bullets, meteors, energy blasts—Atlas could move faster than the eye, faster than thought.
3. Life Force & Creation – Energy flowed in spirals from his seed. He could mend the broken, create temporary life forms, or manipulate raw life energy into structures, weapons, even soldiers of pure light.
4. Beholder’s Sight (Unlocked) – Threads of fate shimmered before his mind’s eye. He saw alternate outcomes, potentialities branching infinitely. Meddling came at a cost—a cost he would weigh carefully.
5. Combat & Energy (Locked) – Shockwave punches, adaptive combat instincts inherited from the Genesis line, energy blasts that could rend mountains.
6. Mental & Spiritual Edge (Locked) – Enhanced intellect, insight, empathy, resistance to psychic and will-based attacks. Atlas felt the beginnings of wisdom that surpassed mere mortal understanding.
7. Symbolic Features (Locked) – The Halo of Adam glowed when he summoned power. Cycle of Rebirth: death would no longer weaken him but strengthen him, like fire refining steel.
Weaknesses: Emotional bonds could be exploited. Life-force overuse could harm him. Fate manipulation could invite catastrophic consequences.
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The system then revealed a new layer, crafted for his survival and potential:
Faith Points (FP): Earned through courage, good deeds, and belief; spent to perform miracles or enhance abilities.
Conviction Level (CL): Mastery of faith, unlocking stronger abilities.
Divine Gifts: Healing, protection, light-based attacks—all growing with CL.
Tests of Faith: Challenges that could reward or punish depending on his actions.
Corruption Meter (CM): Tracks doubt and despair; high CM weakens, low strengthens.
Ascension Milestones: Major faith achievements unlocking ultimate powers.
Moral Integration: Choices now directly impacted growth, power, and divine favor.
Minor Regeneration, Mana Recycle, Hyper-Androgenic Conversion – Practical abilities forged for survival.
Genesis Spark – Create Life – The power to breathe existence into nothingness.
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Atlas inhaled, tasting the metallic tang of power. His chest expanded; his lungs burned with new life.
He exhaled, and the tremor that had haunted him subsided, leaving a sharp, gleaming focus behind.
Golden eyes opened, igniting like twin suns in a darkening sky. He felt the priest nearby, spouting his hollow sermons, but Atlas no longer trembled.
He was no longer the weak, chained boy dragged to the cliff. He was the inheritor of the first humans. He was Genesis incarnate.
"Use skill: World Understanding."
The words were not a command but a whisper of destiny. Atlas felt the skill awaken, flooding through him.
[World Understanding used. Skill: Holy Body achieved.]
The power of Lara, the skills of the game, the strategies of survival—they were all his now. Resistance to divine artifacts, amplified healing, heightened awareness of the spiritual plane. Every skill he had ever wielded, every move he had learned, was accessible.
He felt the crown on his head, heavy and sharp, but not piercing. The agony it once inflicted was tempered, halved by his new body.
His body was no longer crushed under its weight but strengthened. Each spike and jewel now a conduit of power, a symbol of endurance.
"You will be holy today, Prophet. You will be holy." The priest’s voice reverberated like stone against stone.
Atlas did not answer. Silence was his weapon. As he already was. Inwardly, his dead eyes now glimmered with hope.
A storm brewed beneath his ribs, gnawing at his lungs, at his soul. He felt his power returning, and it was intoxicating, terrifying, and infinite.
He glimpsed Aurora from far away, chained and awaiting the infernal ritual. Her eyes, once filled with agony, now reflected hope—or was it recognition? She saw the change in him, the surge of golden light coiling beneath his skin, and she did not flinch.
Atlas’ lips curved into the faintest, almost cruel smile. Now... now things will be different. Very, very different.
The cross dragged him forward, the priests murmuring their liturgy, oblivious to the transformation underway.
Their words, once chains, now fell like petals in a storm. Every step forward was measured, deliberate; every breath, a drumbeat of what was to come.
The wind whipped at his hair. The scent of sulfur and smoke lingered from past repetitions.
His senses, sharpened to Genesis perfection, registered the faintest tremors in the cliff, the subtle vibrations of the temple stones, even the whispered prayers of the priests.
He was aware. Omniscient in part, yet still human in his fury.
He reached the edge of the cliff. Aurora’s form was poised in defiance, her chains glinting, but Atlas saw beyond them.
He saw the threads of fate weaving a tapestry of fire and ash—but he could also see the moments where intervention could shift the pattern.
In a way she should be dead by now. But no.
The priests raised their hands, preparing the ceremonial fire. Atlas’ golden eyes narrowed. He did not move. He did not act. He simply was.
Every instinct in him screamed: intervene. Yet the guide’s voice echoed, ancient and unwavering:
{{{{{Do not save her. Not yet. Fate is watching.}}}}}
Atlas’ chest heaved, golden light spilling across his body. His holy body.
[Fate is watching you.]
"Let that bitch watch..."