Alex stood frozen in his cramped apartment, heart pounding in the silence that followed the telepathic broadcast. His pulse echoed like war drums in his ears, but the world outside had gone eerily still—like the city itself was holding its breath.
Then it came.
A blinding burst of light, hot as the sun and yet silent as thought, shot down from the sky. It sliced through the concrete roof of his apartment, passed clean through steel beams, plywood, paint, insulation, and even the dusty ceiling fan without displacing a molecule. It phased through walls and furniture like a ghost on a mission—then plunged straight into his forehead.
It didn't burn. It didn't break. But it definitely wasn't gentle.
Alex's body jerked, his breath caught halfway in his chest. It felt like a thunderbolt had exploded in his frontal lobe. For a split second, he forgot how to breathe.
He staggered backward and grabbed the edge of his rickety dining table for support. His legs wobbled like soggy noodles. Yet he didn't scream. He didn't collapse. He simply stood there, blinking through the blue-white afterglow that still pulsed behind his eyes.
And then—just as suddenly—the voice returned. But it wasn't the deep, divine, all-powerful voice that had just interrupted global programming.
This one was... different.
"Connection established. Neural link confirmed. Host identified: Alexandre Cortero. Integrating Sentient Interface… please wait."
The voice was sterile and mechanical, yet sharp—like a digital assistant with a PhD in condescension.
"System initializing. Host identified. Preliminary scans complete. Physical trauma: extensive. Muscular integrity: compromised. Skeletal misalignment: 39%. Potential detected: high."
Alex blinked hard. "Wait—what?"
"I am a sentient, autonomous biomechanical intelligence. I possess independent cognition, immense energy storage, adaptive integration capabilities, and molecular restructuring functions."
"You… what now?"
"As of now, I am bonded to your cerebral cortex. I will aid your evolution, protect your biological integrity, and guide your advancement. However, system reboot in progress. Estimated time: 9 Earth-standard minutes."
Alex raised both hands and took a sarcastic breath. "Okay. Okay. Take a breath—oh wait, you don't breathe. Cool. Go on, Skynet."
"During this reboot phase, the host has access to the Primary Extraction Protocol. You may acquire biological abilities from your immediate environment. Engage any living entity—animal, beast, plant, or creature. Terminate the target, and the system will extract its unique evolutionary code. Upon completion, abilities will be fused into the host's DNA."
Alex's jaw dropped slightly. "Hold on. You're telling me I can kill something... and steal its evolutionary perks? Like... Pokémon meets Darwin?"
"Affirmative. Extraction Protocol active. Countdown initiated."
Suddenly, a glowing, blue interface bloomed across his vision like a futuristic heads-up display. At the top, a timer appeared:
09:00
Temporal ability window now open. Begin selective assimilation.
The numbers ticked down ominously.
Alex didn't move right away. He stood quietly, eyes flickering, mind processing. He wasn't panicking—at least not in the traditional sense. No screaming. No running. No flailing.
If anything, his mind was racing—but in that cold, calculated way that used to make his biology professors call him "dangerously brilliant."
He ran a hand down his face. "Okay. Think, Alex. Think."
He began to pace his room, each step dragging slightly thanks to the old limp. The right leg was still not the same—courtesy of that spinal injury. A constant reminder of how fragile biology could be.
But biology… was also adaptable.
He chuckled to himself, rubbing his chin. "Everyone out there is probably rushing to wrestle a dog, chase a monkey, or tackle a chicken in the backyard. Something big. Something dramatic."
He shook his head. "Amateurs."
Alex stopped near the window, peering at the street below. The power was out in half the city, but in the faint glow of backup generators, he could already imagine the chaos beginning. Neighbors screaming. Dogs barking. People sprinting into the night with flashlights and machetes like it was a discount apocalypse.
"But the apex species aren't always the ones with claws and fangs," he murmured.
His eyes scanned his tiny apartment. A rusty wall fan creaked above. The cracked floor tiles, the warped linoleum table, the moth-eaten curtains—none of it mattered now. It was no longer a space for sleeping and scraping by. It was now a battlefield. A laboratory. An evolutionary arena.
And Alex had an advantage.
He wasn't just a random guy with a high school diploma. He had been on the path to medicine once. He understood genetics. He knew how adaptation worked. Natural selection wasn't about strength—it was about survivability. Reproduction rate. Environmental mastery. Resilience.
His gaze dropped.
A cockroach scurried across the floor.
Then a housefly buzzed past his head and landed on the cracked edge of the rice cooker.
Alex didn't move. Didn't flinch.
"You little bastards have been around longer than the dinosaurs," he muttered. "No wings. No venom. No strength. Just pure efficiency."
He walked toward the fly slowly, his steps light. It zipped off before he even got close.
He grinned. "Evasive maneuvers. Fast reflexes. Short life cycle but global domination. Not bad."
Another cockroach darted behind the fridge.
"Indestructible armor. Survives radiation. Eats literally anything. Immune to embarrassment."
He squatted and eyed a tiny line of ants near the wall.
"Unmatched teamwork. Pheromone-based communication. Hyper-focused caste systems. Damn. Nature's little corporations."
The Sentient's voice interrupted his train of thought.
"Eight minutes 50 seconds remaining. Extraction opportunity optimal during reboot window. Suggest immediate biological engagement."
Alex waved his hand. "Hold your nanobot horses, Siri. I'm thinking."
"Correction: I am not Siri. I am an advanced biomechanical lifeform built by post-human rune master and engineer—"
"I was being sarcastic."
"...Understood."
Alex took a deep breath and stood back up.
"No need to panic. Let the others chase roosters and cats. I'll observe and analyze. When the time comes, I'll make a precise selection—something... evolutionary."
He tapped his temple. "Let's use this fancy brain while it still counts for something."
The digital clock in his vision ticked down to 08:45.
Alex didn't flinch.
Instead, he sat down on the edge of his creaky bed, cracked his knuckles, and looked around his apartment as if it were a jungle full of silent secrets.
"I'm not in a rush," he said aloud. "The last thing I want is to get stuck with pigeon DNA and end up craving breadcrumbs for the rest of my life."
He grinned to himself, half-amused, half-terrified.
This was it. The beginning of something colossal. Something wild. The world had cracked open like an egg, and out spilled magic, monsters, and evolution on steroids.
And he, Alexandre Cortero—former football prodigy, former part-time model, current call center agent, closet nerd—was suddenly standing at the brink of a brand new food chain.
And he intended to climb it.
Smartly.