The euphoria of the SGS activation and the victory over the copper-toothed beast was a potent, heady brew. Han Sen stood over the fallen creature, his golden armor gleaming with an otherworldly light, the bronze short-sword—a manifestation of his new beast soul—feeling like a natural extension of his arm. The raw power coursing through him was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the helplessness he'd felt moments before his transmigration and the grinding poverty that had defined his life on Eryndor.
He took a deep, steadying breath, the air of God's Sanctuary filling his lungs. It was cold, clean, and carried the faint, metallic scent of the beast's blood. He needed to be methodical. Power was nothing without control, and a single misstep in this world could be fatal. The novel had hammered that lesson home repeatedly.
His first task was harvest. He knelt beside the copper-toothed beast, his armored fingers tracing the coarse, grey fur. The transformation back to his base form was a simple mental command; the golden aurum dissolved into motes of light, leaving him in his patched leathers once more. He needed to feel the work, to understand the texture and substance of this world with his own hands, not through a layer of divine power.
Using the now-reverted, chipped dagger, he began the gruesome but necessary work of butchering the carcass. The novel's Han Sen had done this a thousand times, and the body's muscle memory took over. His hands moved with a practiced efficiency that his Eryndorian mind found both fascinating and slightly horrifying. He carved away large sections of lean, dark meat, wrapping them in broad leaves he found by the creek to keep them fresh. This was food. This was sustenance. On Eryndor, his meals had been synthesized protein slabs and nutrient paste. This was visceral, primal.
He saved the two massive bronze incisors, prying them from the jaw with some effort. They were heavy, cold, and surprisingly sharp. In the shelters, such materials could be traded or fashioned into better tools. Finally, he cut out the beast's heart, a dense, muscular organ that was said to sometimes hold a concentrated essence. He ate it raw, forcing down the iron-rich, coppery taste. The SGS's monotone voice confirmed his expectations.
[Heart of primitive copper-toothed beast eaten. Zero geno points gained.]
He was maxed out. Ninety-nine primitive geno points. He was on the very cusp of evolution, a single step away from a transformation that would redefine his very being. The anticipation was a physical ache. But the sacred-blood beetle promised more.
He turned his attention back to the magnificent golden corpse. This was a treasure trove. He approached it with a sense of reverence that the common creatures hadn't inspired. Every part of it was valuable. He carefully severed the six golden claws, each one a beautifully crafted weapon of nature. Then, he began the painstaking process of prying apart the upper and lower sections of the glorious carapace. It was difficult work, even with the beast's natural weakness exploited; the shell was incredibly resilient. Swe beaded on his forehead by the time he had the two great plates separated, along with the softer, connective tissue exposed.
The meat within was unlike anything he'd seen. It was streaked with fine threads of gold, shimmering even in the dim, opalescent light of the sanctuary sky. It had a firm, almost crystalline texture and a sweet, metallic aroma. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, not just for sustenance but for the experience. This was a luxury few in the sanctuary would ever know.
And with each mouthful, the resonant, authoritative voice of the SGS spoke in his mind, a litany of triumph.
"Flesh of sacred-blood black beetle eaten. One sacred geno point gained."
A wave of warmth, far more intense and purer than the energy from the primitive creatures, flooded his system. It felt like drinking liquid sunlight. His cells sang with it.
"Flesh of sacred-blood black beetle eaten. One sacred geno point gained."
Another wave. His senses, already heightened from the armor, sharpened further for a fleeting moment. The colors of the world seemed more vivid, the sounds more distinct.
"Flesh of sacred-blood black beetle eaten. One sacred geno point gained."
He continued until he could eat no more, until the magnificent creature was reduced to a hollowed-out shell and a pile of gleaming bones. Seven times the voice spoke. Seven sacred geno points now resided within him, a hidden reservoir of potential that would ensure his evolution was not just a step forward, but a monumental leap. On the forums, they had theorized that a mere ten sacred geno points could create an evolver strong enough to dominate a beginner shelter. He was almost there from a single kill.
As he was cleaning the last of the meat from the interior of the lower shell, his dagger struck something hard with a clear clink that was utterly out of place. Frowning, he used the tip of the blade to scrape away the remaining tendrils of golden flesh.
There, nestled in a protective cavity near where the creature's core might have been, was an object that stole his breath.
It was a crystal, about the size of the last joint of his thumb. It was perfectly opaque, the color of deepest space, yet it seemed to hold a universe within. Millions of tiny, pinprick lights shimmered in its depths, not reflecting the sanctuary's light but generating their own, faint and ancient. It was neither warm nor cold to the touch, but it hummed with a low, profound energy that vibrated through the bones of his hand.
Han Sen held it up to the strange sky, utterly mesmerized.
"This… this wasn't in the description," he whispered to himself, his fanboy knowledge failing him. The original novel had Han Sen find a black crystal, but it was later, and its description was vaguer, more mundane. This was different. This felt… significant. Nexus-Web theories flooded his mind: Catalyst for mutation… Key to a hidden dungeon… Core of the SGS itself… None felt certain, but all spoke of its potential. Had this crystal been the source of the beetle's sacred-blood status? Was it a natural occurrence or something placed there?
He didn't know. But the hum against his palm felt like destiny. He carefully wrapped it in a scrap of leather and tucked it into the most secure pouch on his belt. This was a mystery to be solved later.
His arms full of incredible spoils—the golden shell plates, the claws, the bundled meat—he began the trek toward Steel Armor Shelter. The weight was substantial, a tangible reminder of his fortune. As he walked, he practiced summoning and dismissing his beast souls. The golden armor would flash over him for a few seconds, its power a comforting surge, before he let it fade, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention until he understood the social landscape.
The rocky valley gradually gave way to more traveled paths. He began to pass other hunters—solitary figures or small groups, all armed, all watchful. And then the whispers started.
He caught snippets of conversation carried on the wind, conversations that died as he approached.
"…is that who I think it is?" "Yeah,the Ass Freak." "Where'd he get all that?Looks like gold…" "Probably stole it.Wouldn't put it past him." "Keep your distance.You don't want Qin Xuan seeing you with him."
Han Sen's steps slowed. The moniker hit him like a physical blow, dragging the reality of his situation crashing down upon his SGS-fueled high. Ass Freak. In his excitement over transmigration and cheat codes, he'd almost managed to forget the most infamous, humiliating part of the original Han Sen's backstory.
Three months ago, green and terrified, the original Han Sen had seen a magnificent white wolf-like creature with a single spiraling horn, its back turned to him outside the shelter gates. In a panic, thinking it a monster about to charge, he had done the only thing he could think of: he'd lunged forward and stabbed it with his cheap dagger.
It hadn't been a monster. It had been Qin Xuan, one of the strongest and most respected hunters in Steel Armor Shelter, using a powerful shape-shifting beast soul. He had stabbed the esteemed Miss Qin… in the rear end.
The nickname "Ass Freak" had been instantaneous and permanent. But worse than the ridicule was Qin Xuan's decree: anyone who associated with Han Sen was her enemy. In a world where survival depended on alliances and reputation, it was a social death sentence. The original Han Sen had become a pariah, forced to grind alone on the weakest creatures, which explained his painfully slow progress.
Now, he was carrying that burden. The hunters he passed didn't see a transmigrated soul with a cheat system; they saw the clumsy, foolish Ass Freak who had offended a powerhouse. Their glances were a mix of mockery, pity, and cold avoidance.
He kept his head down, the glorious golden shell feeling suddenly heavier, a beacon that marked him as a target for more than just ridicule. If they knew its true value…
The gates of Steel Armor Shelter came into view, a formidable structure of thick timber and rough-hewn stone, built into the side of a cliff face. Hunters moved in and out, their faces grim and focused. As he approached the entrance, a path cleared before him. Not out of respect, but out of a desire to not be seen near him.
And then she was there.
She didn't need to be in her beast soul form to be imposing. Qin Xuan stood barring the gate, her arms crossed over a functional leather breastplate. She was tall, with her black hair tied back in a practical ponytail, and her eyes were the color of flint. Her gaze was not one of rage, but of pure, unadulterated contempt. It was far more intimidating.
"Ass Freak," she said, her voice flat and cold, cutting through the background noise of the shelter. It wasn't a shout; it was a statement of fact, and it made everyone within earshot fall silent.
Han Sen stopped, setting down his heavy load. He met her gaze, forcing his Eryndorian nerves to be steadied by the knowledge simmering in his mind. I know you, he thought. I know your story. You're ruthless, proud, but not inherently unjust.
"Qin Xuan," he replied, his voice calmer than he felt.
Her eyes flickered with surprise at his lack of cowering fear, then narrowed as they scanned the golden beetle parts at his feet. Her expression shifted from contempt to outright disbelief. "What is this? Where did you get this?" she demanded, taking a step forward. The crowd watched, a silent, eager audience. "Did you steal it? Have you fallen so low that you rob the dead now, on top of your other… proclivities?"
A few snickers erupted from the crowd. Han Sen felt his face grow warm, but he held his ground. "I didn't steal it. I killed it. A sacred-blood black beetle by the creek east of here."
A dead silence fell over the crowd, followed by a wave of disbelieving laughter.
"A sacred-blood? Him?" "The Ass Freak?He can barely kill a common beetle!" "He's lost his mind!"
Qin Xuan didn't laugh. Her flinty eyes bore into him, searching for a lie. "A sacred-blood creature. In the foothills. And you killed it alone." She made it sound like the most ridiculous fairy tale ever told. "With what? Your charming personality?"
"I got lucky," Han Sen said, which was the most truthful thing he could manage.
"You're a liar," she stated, her voice dropping to a dangerous low. "And a thief. That gear belongs to someone who actually deserves it. Hand it over. Now."
This was the crisis point. Fighting her was impossible. She was on the verge of evolution, packed with primitive and likely sacred geno points of her own, and a veteran of countless hunts. His SGS was new, untested. But yielding, giving up the spoils that were his key to power, was unthinkable.
His meta-knowledge provided the only possible exit. In the novel, the shelters had rules. Direct violence inside the gates was punished severely. But there were other ways to settle disputes.
"I'm not a thief," he said, his voice rising to carry over the muttering crowd. "And I won't hand over what's rightfully mine. If you doubt me, if you think I'm weak and unworthy, then there's a way to prove it. Not with accusations in the street, but with proof in the arena."
The crowd's muttering turned into a roar of excitement. The arena! This was better entertainment than they'd had in weeks.
Qin Xuan's lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. She looked him up and down, from his worn boots to his determined face. "The arena? You're challenging me? You think a single lucky kill makes you my equal?"
"I'm challenging your perception of me," Han Sen corrected, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Dawn tomorrow. If I win, you lift your decree. You leave me alone. If I lose… everything I have is yours." He gestured to the golden spoils.
The offer was so audacious it stunned the crowd into silence again. Qin Xuan stared at him, a new, calculating light in her eyes. The foolish, cowering Ass Freak was gone, replaced by… this. Someone with either a death wish or a secret.
"Fine," she said, the word crisp and final. "Dawn tomorrow. In the arena. Don't be late, Ass Freak. And don't even think about running." She turned on her heel and strode into the shelter, the crowd parting for her like water.
Han Sen was left standing there, surrounded by his treasure and the staring, mocking eyes of the hunters. He picked up his burdens again, his muscles straining, and walked through the gates.
He had until dawn. One night to go from 99 geno points to evolved. One night to plan how to fight a battle he was destined to lose. One night to turn the title of Ass Freak into a name to be respected.
He found a quiet, deserted corner of the shelter, away from the main thoroughfares, and dropped his load. The black crystal felt heavy in his pouch. The mutant beast was out there, howling in the distance. His path was clear. He had to hunt.