C2 CHAPTER2

"Master," were the first words spoken by the seven-star biochemical guard when he saw Sam.

In front of Sam stood an ordinary-looking man, resembling a real person, except for his lifeless eyes.

"I finally feel a little safer," Sam thought. Although the guard wasn't incredibly powerful, he could handle any low-level zombie threat. "From now on, you'll be known as... Uncle Moreels."

"Name: Uncle Moreels"

"Race: Cyborg"

"Level: Seven Stars Awakened"

"Master: Sam Moreels"

"Well, it's time to try the lottery," Sam said, eager for the possibilities the system offered.

"Ding! The lottery begins!"

With the system's familiar sound, an ethereal screen appeared before him. It was shaped like a roulette wheel, crowded with countless options.

Sam felt goosebumps. Each option on the wheel was an incredible item: Celestial Divine Sword, Colossal Divine Beast, Guardian...

However, the most daunting option was: keep trying!, which occupied a large portion of the wheel, making the odds of becoming incredibly powerful overnight quite slim.

With fingers crossed and high hopes, he gave the order to spin the wheel. As he watched the prizes rapidly change, he unconsciously began to bite his nails.

"Ding! Level-3 item obtained, Walnuts x 10: Consume to increase natural genes!"

Joy made him jump at Uncle Moreels's indifferent gaze. He had secured a level-3 item, superior to the pills he was selling, and he had ten of them.

It was common knowledge that after the awakening of human genes, they were classified into E, D, C, B, A, and S classes. The talent difference between genes essentially determined future potential.

For instance, it was extremely challenging for someone with class E to become Awakened. As for evolving with a higher level of talent... it was nearly impossible!

"My talent must be around D, maybe C..."

"Ding! The user's talent is: E-level loser, technically the bottom of the food chain."

"Haha," Sam chuckled. Did talent matter when he had the system? "Even this poor E-level guy has a system like you at his command," he said mockingly. Before the system could respond, he popped a walnut into his mouth.

After so much time eating food full of chemicals and preservatives, consuming so-called nutritious drinks and other culinary atrocities of this era, a natural flavor, almost forgotten, was a true delicacy for the palate.

"Ding! The host consumed the level-3 walnut. The natural genes leveled up from E to D+!"

"Five levels?" His shock was unmistakable. From E to D+, there was E, E+, D-, D...

As he savored the taste of the walnut and felt the excitement of a promising future, he was surprised again.

"Ding! The host has leveled up to 1-star Awakened!"

This was truly his lucky day. He had gained a guardian, acquired the walnuts, increased his genetic level, and become an Awakened.

...

In the city's illegal coliseum, Cyril contemplated his next fight. He was an underground fighter and usually quite skilled, but his next opponent was a five-star Awakened, one level above him.

His rival was known as The Savage. Just his name conjured images of how his opponents ended up. Although all fights in the coliseum were to the death, the method of killing was up to the fighter. The Savage had a thirty-five match winning streak, making him one of the most powerful at his level.

Due to his contract with The Twisted Arena, Cyril had no choice but to accept the battle, and possibly, his death.

As he stood awaiting his opponent, he began to hear the crowd chanting, "Savage, Savage, Savage." The public's hysteria was evident; they had come for a bloody spectacle.

With a leap, The Savage landed in front of his unfortunate opponent. He was at least a foot and a half taller, his arms as thick as Cyril's legs, and he wore superior leather armor.

"Rip his head off."

"Savage, break all his bones."

"Crush him."

There was no suspense for anyone; this fight was destined to be won by The Savage. The bets said so, but for the crowd, the entertainment lay in how he would do it. The anticipation of seeing blood and guts flying was the drug for all who frequented this place.

With a roar, the fight began, and before Cyril could make a move, a massive fist slammed into his chest, causing him to cry out in pain.

The Savage, with an ironic smile, watched his opponent writhe—a poor four-star Awakened doomed before him.

"I wonder where your brain will come out when I crush your head. Will it be through the eyes, the ears... maybe through the nose?" he taunted, a deranged smile spreading across his face.

When Cyril got up, he immediately stepped back, trying to devise a plan. But it was useless; he fell again from another blow, tasting the blood rising in his throat. He was on the brink of death, but he couldn't give up. Winning against such a beast seemed impossible.

As the thought of dying crossed his mind, Cyril reached into his pocket and pulled out what he had prepared for this day. Although he wasn't sure if it would help, it was better to die knowing he had tried everything than to die with regret.

"Strength Enhancing Pill!" With resignation, he swallowed the pill and charged directly at his opponent, ready for a fist-to-fist clash. To everyone's astonishment, this time both of them staggered back.

Seeing the Savage retreat, Cyril felt a rush of adrenaline. His fists now matched the strength of his rival's, and he still had one pill left. Without hesitation, he swallowed it.

The first pill had given him an additional 1,100 pounds of strength, enough to match the Savage, but it was temporary, and he had to make the most of it. The other was a Divine Speed Pill. Now, he felt lighter, his coordination remarkably improved, and the Savage's incoming punch seemed slow.

When the Savage, who had just thrown a punch with all his might, hit nothing but air, he felt cold sweat trickle down his back. Instinctively, he turned and threw another punch, but it missed again.

Cyril, mastering the speed from the pill, decided to attack strategically. He positioned himself right behind the Savage and struck him with all his might on the back of the head.

The Savage's vision darkened momentarily. He bit his lip until it bled and began attacking wildly around him. Despite this, the tide had turned. Now, it was the Savage who fell heavily, rising again with an increasingly faint roar, breathing heavily and bleeding from all visible orifices.

"Cyril, Cyril, Cyril, Cyril, Cyril!"

The cheers continued, the atmosphere unchanged, but the name of the hero had.

"Take him down, rip his head off."

"Make it worth losing my bet."

"You loser, you deserve to die for being trash. How can you lose to someone weaker?"

Even though the tide had turned, the crowd only craved blood. It didn't matter who died, as long as someone did.

Cyril, accustomed to this brutal environment, recalled the face of the peculiar vendor as he instinctively hammered his opponent's head. The Savage's blood mixed with his own, dripping down his face.

"1,000 bucks—what a loan shark," he thought. "But it was totally worth it!" he shouted, delivering the final blow with both fists, hammering down on The Savage's head. Now, it was just a shattered body, with lifeless eyes staring into the void.

The cracking sound snapped him back to reality as he saw pieces of brain oozing from what used to be The Savage's head. He felt no pity, no sorrow—only relief and joy for surviving once again in this place.