---
Chapter 5: The Gene Imprint Trials
Adrian's heart thumped in his chest as he stepped into the next arena. The Gene Imprint Trials were infamous among cadets—a test not of raw power, but of understanding, creativity, and adaptability under pressure. His palms were damp, but his mind raced faster than his body could move.
Alright, Adrian, he thought, flexing his fingers. Today isn't about surviving. Today is about proving I can think like a real genetic fighter.
The arena stretched infinitely before him, glowing with bio-luminescent circuits and shifting terrain, almost alive. Each step hummed with energy, a subtle reminder that the arena itself was a sentient evaluator. He looked over at Amy, who stood calmly to his side, her silver hair shimmering under the ambient light. She gave a slight nod. Adrian knew she had already calculated at least half the variables in the room.
The first challenge appeared as a holographic panel, projecting a series of genetic puzzles. Cadets had to recombine simulated DNA strands in real-time to stabilize hypothetical mutations before the arena deployed adaptive predators. Adrian squinted at the projections. He remembered his past experiments—animal genetics, ant strength formulas, and hybrid fusion techniques. A grin spread across his face.
Let's see how fast my brain can work, he muttered. Fingers moving faster than thought, he rearranged gene sequences, adjusted nucleotide patterns, and stabilized mutations. A mechanical bird swooped down from above, sensing cadets' focus. Adrian leapt instinctively, twisting mid-air to avoid its razor-sharp talons. The bird landed gracefully, scanning him with an ocular implant.
Typical mechanoid predator. Predictable, he thought. He activated a small kinetic shield, absorbing the bird's scanning pulse, then sent a subtle energy ripple through the ground to distract it. The bird tilted its head, hesitated, then flew off.
"Not bad for a rookie," Amy whispered, though Adrian caught a teasing lilt in her tone. "But don't get cocky."
A laugh escaped him. "Rookie? You act like I don't spend half my life experimenting in my gene lab. I'll have you know my adaptations are already… evolving." He flexed subtly, feeling minor genetic tweaks respond to his neural commands.
Suddenly, the arena shifted again, forming a mountainous terrain filled with magma fissures and volatile plasma streams. He and Amy had to cross it while solving a sequence of gene fusion puzzles projected mid-air. Every misstep could mean instant disqualification—or worse, simulated lethal feedback.
Adrian darted across a glowing bridge, mentally calculating the pressure points on the bridge, the heat output, and the plasma surge velocity. His hands flew, tapping holographic DNA strands and combining them in sequences optimized for heat resistance and rapid muscle adaptation. A molten construct lunged at him. He sidestepped, barely avoiding the searing strike, then used a gene-stabilized tendon boost to vault over the obstacle, landing gracefully behind a plasma pillar.
Amy was already several meters ahead, her movements precise, calculating, yet fluid. Adrian couldn't help but marvel. I have to catch up, or I'll look like a complete amateur. He gritted his teeth and pushed his body further, activating his ant-inspired musculature enhancements. Each stride compressed and released kinetic energy like a spring.
Suddenly, a new wave of holographic predators emerged: hybridized species combining traits of Strikerians, Gravimorphs, and Blorvians. Each one required a distinct strategy. Adrian instinctively analyzed their behavior patterns:
Strikorian hybrid: fast, aerial, precise strikes. Solution: anticipate trajectory, counter with kinetic pulses.
Graviblorvian hybrid: chaotic, ground-based force. Solution: lure into plasma stream, use environment against them.
Solarium mech: energy projections, area control. Solution: disrupt visual sensors, apply adaptive reflex counter.
Adrian moved like a shadow, his actions weaving between instinct, calculation, and improvisation. He could feel his gene enhancements responding to his neural commands, tiny improvements in reflex speed and spatial awareness.
He glanced at Amy. She had already subdued two predators, her gene manipulations precise, her movements elegant. She cast him a look. Catch up, her eyes seemed to say. Adrian grinned, pushing harder, weaving through the volatile terrain, his mind calculating hundreds of permutations for every move.
Time seemed elastic. Seconds stretched, then snapped. The arena pulsed, projecting another challenge: a large void filled with shifting holographic constructs representing complex gene sequences. Failure to solve them accurately would trigger simulated feedback strong enough to disorient any cadet.
Adrian's eyes narrowed. This is it. Focus. His hands moved with surgical precision, combining sequences based on prior experiments—animal musculature, hybrid adaptations, microscopic chemical adjustments for strength and speed. Every adjustment resonated in the arena, subtly shaping the virtual predators and obstacles.
Finally, he stepped back, breathless but triumphant. The arena pulsed in acknowledgment. Amy approached, a rare genuine smile on her face. "You're… improving." She didn't need to say more.
Master Orvin's voice echoed from above: "Cadets, the Gene Imprint Trials are complete. Those who have adapted with intelligence and creativity have passed the first phase. Tomorrow, you face the Adaptive Combat Gauntlet, where your ability to predict, improvise, and survive will be tested against cadets of higher gene ranks—and unknown variables."
Adrian swallowed hard. His body was exhausted, but his mind was already racing, envisioning every possible strategy. The hidden power of Void X remained dormant, yet every small adaptation, every minor triumph, brought him closer to awakening it.
As night fell, the bioluminescent circuits of the arena dimmed, and the cadets returned to their quarters. Adrian lay awake, replaying every calculation, every dodged strike, and every successful sequence in his mind. He knew the real test was still ahead, and the universe—or rather, the multiverse—was only beginning to notice him.
---