develop ideal genes

Leon moved through the ruins of his village in silence, his bare feet pressing against the cold, ash-covered earth. The place that had once been filled with life—the chatter of merchants, the laughter of children, the comforting hum of a world moving forward—was now eerily still.

He stepped over the remnants of a broken cart, its wooden wheels half-buried in the dirt. A cooking pot lay overturned near the entrance of a collapsed home, its contents long since spilled and rotted away. Doors hung open, swinging slightly with the breeze, as if the village itself had been frozen mid-sentence, abandoned in an instant.

"Where is everyone?"

The silence gnawed at him. He had expected bodies, the aftermath of a massacre—but there were none. It was as if the entire village had simply vanished, leaving behind only destruction in its wake.

He wandered aimlessly, searching for any sign of life. A footprint in the dust, a flicker of movement, anything. But all he found was emptiness.

Then—

A sound.

Faint at first, carried by the wind, but distinct enough to set his instincts on fire. A voice.

Leon's body reacted before his mind did. His feet pounded against the earth as he sprinted toward the source, weaving between the remains of crumbling houses, dodging fallen beams and shattered stone. The sound grew clearer, laced with irritation and muttered curses.

He recognized that voice.

Bursting through the wreckage of what had once been the village's marketplace, he spotted a lone figure rummaging through the abandoned homes, tossing aside anything that wasn't of value. The sight made Leon's blood boil.

The bandit.

The same man who had cut off his hand, left him to die in the forest.

The thief straightened, his hands full of stolen goods, and frowned. Then his eyes landed on Leon, and his expression twisted into sheer bewilderment.

"Who the hell—?" He squinted. "Wait… why are you naked?"

Leon, only now realizing the state he was in, instinctively raised his hand to cover his face.

The bandit let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Shouldn't you be covering something else?"

Leon's fingers twitched, but he didn't let himself react. Instead, he lowered his hand and stepped forward. "What happened here?"

The bandit's smirk returned. "Why do you care? You're a dead man."

Before Leon could respond, the thief lunged, drawing his sword in one swift motion. The blade flashed in the dim light, cutting through the air with deadly precision.

But Leon didn't move.

His body reacted instinctively, his muscles coiling with unnatural speed. The moment the sword neared him, his hand shot out—faster than he thought possible—and caught the blade mid-swing.

Steel met flesh.

But his flesh didn't break.

The bandit's eyes widened in horror as Leon tightened his grip, his fingers bending the blade as if it were made of soft metal. With a single movement, he yanked the weapon from the man's grasp, crushing it effortlessly in his bare hand.

The bandit stumbled backward, his bravado crumbling into sheer panic. "W-Wait! Hold on! Please—don't kill me!"

Leon stepped closer, his voice steady. "Then start talking. What happened here? Where are the villagers?"

The thief swallowed hard. "A-All I know is—monsters attacked. They tore through the village, killed a bunch of soldiers. But the people—most of them didn't die."

Leon narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

The bandit shifted nervously. "Soldiers from the Security Council came. They… took the villagers. Gave them new homes somewhere else. Compensation, or whatever."

Leon's hands clenched into fists. "Where?"

"I don't know!" The man shook his head frantically. "The empire's huge, and the families got separated. If you wanna find out, you'll have to go to the Security Council headquarters in the capital."

The capital.

Leon exhaled through his nose, trying to steady his thoughts. He needed to get there.

But something still nagged at him.

"How long has it been?" he asked.

The bandit hesitated. "What?"

"Since we met," Leon clarified. "The last time you saw the masked boy."

The thief furrowed his brows. "Two weeks ago."

Two weeks.

Leon's pulse quickened. That couldn't be right. He had only just escaped the cocoon… hadn't he?

His voice dropped to a whisper. "How do I look to you?"

The bandit blinked, confusion flashing across his face. "What kind of question is that?"

"Answer me."

The man hesitated for a long moment before finally muttering, "…Good. You look… good."

Leon stared at him, his thoughts racing. He could feel it—something had changed. He had survived something no human should have survived. His body was different. Stronger. Faster. He had regrown his hand. And now, even this bandit—who had last seen him wounded, masked, and dying—looked at him as if he were someone else entirely.

His fingers curled at his sides.

"What… happened to me?"

He let out a slow breath. There was no time to dwell on it. His family was out there, somewhere, scattered across the empire. He needed answers.

And he would find them in the capital.

Without another word, Leon turned away from the cowering thief and began walking toward the road that would take him to the heart of the empire—toward the truth of what he had become.