CHAPTER 206: CHAPTER 207: GENESIS REBIRTH

After Death abandoned him to the void, Atlas did not falter. There was no frantic clawing at the edges of existence, no desperate pleas echoing into the silence, no futile grasping for the last threads of breath. Instead, he simply... was. A stillness enveloped him, vast and absolute, swallowing thought itself into its boundless depths.

No heartbeat thrummed in his chest.

No pain gnawed at his bones.

Only the white remained—the infinite expanse, pristine and unmarred, like a canvas poised before the first daring stroke of creation.

The void sprawled endlessly around him, a realm where time frayed into meaningless strands and space curled inward like a serpent devouring its own tail. Direction lost all relevance—up and down dissolved into a dream of gravity long forgotten.

He drifted in a sea of raw potential, where the rules that governed reality were mere whispers, fragile and easily dismissed. The air—if it could be called that—carried no warmth or chill, only a faint, otherworldly hum, a vibration so subtle it felt like the ghost of a melody sung by the universe in its infancy.

And within that formless abyss, he embraced it—not as an end, but as a beginning, a chrysalis for evolution. A pulse stirred deep within him, a low, resonant hum that wove through memories not wholly his own—fragments of ancient power, of serpents and trees and hearts that defied the gods. The instant he breathed the words into his soul—I will become more—the void quivered, as if acknowledging his resolve.

And then—

"{...Hello there, my avatar. Did you miss me?}"

The voice slipped through the emptiness, slick and cold as oil spreading across glass, inevitable as the tide.

Atlas blinked slowly, a deliberate motion despite his lack of a corporeal body. His essence was neither flesh nor soul, but something caught between, and yet he knew that voice—the timbre, the arrogance, the weight of it.

"...It’s been a while," he rasped, his voice rough and hollow, echoing in the absence of lungs. "What’s your game now, Guide? You killed the Dreaming. Planning to take on Death next? I’d love to see how that pans out."

The Guide’s chuckle grated through the void, a sound like stars being ground to dust between unseen teeth.

"{...Tempting, I’ll admit. But no. I can’t force my way in anymore. Your will—ugh—it’s too damn strong. Stronger than mine, maybe. And trust me, I loathe that. Even at my full strength... I can’t possess you now.}"

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken tension.

Atlas crossed his arms—or imagined he did—his form floating in the void’s stillness. The Guide had always carried himself like a prophet playing at godhood, his words dripping with self-assured grandeur. But now, there was a crack in that façade, a hint of something almost... mortal.

"So..." Atlas tilted his head, his tone casual but edged with suspicion, "why drop by?"

"{Because of your choice, of course.}"

Atlas went still, the words sinking into him like stones into a quiet pond.

"{You want to evolve.}" The Guide’s voice turned bitter, a sour note threading through the cold. "{And I’m here to stop you. There’s a reason there are no High Humans.}"

Atlas narrowed his eyes at the featureless expanse above, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

The Guide laughed, a dry, brittle sound that echoed faintly.

"{High elves? Sure. High demons? Naturally. High giants, high dwarves—yes, yes, why not? But High Humans? ...umm..Never.}"

A slow rhythm pulsed through Atlas’s chest—not a heartbeat, but its shadow, a memory of life stirring anew.

"...Yeah," he murmured, his gaze distant, lost in the white. "Why is that?"

"{Because ...High Humans are a precipice. A catastrophe in waiting. They disrupt the balance of the collateral world. They break things—rules, threads, time itself. In ages past, they’ve unraveled entire timelines, toppled civilizations into ash, and even splintered the dominion of the gods. They’re not just powerful—they’re unpredictable. And the world can’t survive that kind of chaos.....see, straight answers.}"

Atlas didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stared upwards into the blank infinity of the void. He inhaled slowly, then exhaled, the motion feeling weighty, as though gravity bent to accommodate his presence alone. Even in this nothingness, breath felt heavy—a tether.

"...I thought you thrived on imbalance," he said, his voice low and probing. "Wasn’t that why you shattered the Dreaming? To let chaos loose?"

Silence fell—not the empty quiet of the void, but a pregnant pause, heavy with contemplation. It was a silence Atlas had never heard from the Guide before, one that suggested genuine thought, reluctant and raw.

"...Hello?" Atlas pressed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Guide? You still there?"

Then—

"{...Actually... you’ve got a point.}"

Atlas arched an eyebrow, surprised by the admission.

"{I destroyed the Dreaming not for chaos’s sake... but to force growth. To jolt the world out of its endless sleepwalk through prophecy and stagnation. I wanted infinity—for every being, not just the gods or the fated few. But High Humans... they don’t just grow. They consume. They take and take until nothing remains.}"

Atlas scratched at his head, his fingers phasing through the illusion of his scalp. "Right. And I’m supposed to follow that logic?"

"{You don’t have to. You never did understand me, Avatar. That was... part of your charm.}"

Atlas sighed, the sound weary but tinged with amusement. He’d danced this dance before—the Guide’s cryptic sermons always preceded an attempt to seize control, to slip into his mind and body like a thief in the night. It was their pattern, their cycle.

But now? Now, that cycle was fracturing.

His body—or what remained of it—had become a crucible, forged by forces the Guide couldn’t have foreseen: a virus that defied prediction, relics that pulsed with forgotten power, seeds of creation, and sins that stained his soul. Yet through it all, the System endured, its cold, impartial voice a constant truth in the chaos.

"Imbalance... chaos... disorder..." Atlas muttered, his lips curling into a faint, defiant smile. ".....Nah. I’d win."

The Guide hesitated.

"{...What do you mean ’you’d win’?}"

Atlas’s smirk widened, sharp and unyielding.

"System, start evolving."

[Starting evolution...]

"{Motherf—}" The Guide’s snarl cut through the void, raw and furious. "{You didn’t even listen to a word I said, did you?!}"

"...Umm. No," Atlas admitted with a shrug, his tone light but unapologetic. "Oh, and by the way—I know why you’re here. Not to chat. You wanted to possess me again, take the wheel while I’m vulnerable. Sorry, Guide. Door’s locked. No knocking required."

The Guide’s voice deepened, ancient and dark, a shadow given sound.

"{You will regret this... I promise you that.}"

[60% complete...]

"Maybe I will," Atlas whispered, his voice softening, introspective. "Maybe I already am."

He let the silence stretch, a quiet rebellion, then spoke again, his tone hushed but firm:

"You told me I was the world’s error. That Fate would shatter me. That Death would call my name. That my ego and Arrogance is just..."

The void trembled, faint colors bleeding into its edges like ink seeping into water.

"...But don’t worry," he added, a flicker of resolve in his words. "I haven’t forgotten our deal."

A beat passed.

Then the Guide laughed—a genuine, crackling burst of amusement, like dry wood snapping in a fire.

"{Hahahaha... HAHAHA... Oh, this is new. Throwing my words back at me. Alright, Atlas. Atlas Von Roxweld...}"

His voice dropped, laced with an odd, begrudging pride.

"{Be the anomaly. Be the one and only high species of your kind. But heed this final warning: when you evolve, the world will feel it. All of it. The world, the gods, the very foundations will stare in shock. Because the impossible will have happened.}"

[99%...]

"That sounded way sketchier than it needed to," Atlas muttered, half to himself. "But I’ll take it."

[100% successful.]

His heart beat.

Not a timid thump. Not a fleeting flutter.

It pulsed.

The void fractured beneath him, splintering like crystal crushed underfoot, as his awareness slammed back into focus. Silver-gold light erupted through his veins, threading across his skin like rivers of molten starfire.

His bones snapped and reformed, denser, stronger, as if sculpted from the heart of a collapsing sun. The air around him warped, shimmering with heat and divine friction, reality buckling under the weight of his transformation.

[#&#&#&&# heart is resonating.]

[Jörmungandr’s blood is resonating.]

[Yggdrasil’s seed is resonating.]

His body rose, weightless yet impossibly dense, as if the void itself bent to cradle his presence. His skin blazed—not with the gentle glow of magic, but with the fierce, untamed radiance of creation itself: starlight drenched in moonfire, ancient yet newborn, a paradox made flesh.

Every fiber of his being roared with newness, yet bore the gravity of something eternal, a power that had slumbered since the dawn of time, now roused at last.

His mind whirled, not with disarray, but with crystalline clarity—as though he orbited his own rebirth, perceiving himself from every facet, every potential.

[Jörmungandr’s blood is now fully absorbed...]

[Mixing with the essence of Yggdrasil...]

[With the help of #$#### Heart...]

[New High Human Bloodline Created.]

[Host body compatible. Sync at 100%.]

[....Fairy Dust Plague detected.]

Atlas coughed, a single, sharp sound that sent a shockwave rippling outward, warping the fabric of the void. His breath carried the weight of galaxies, each exhale a testament to the force now surging within him.

Then the message arrived.

[Bloodline resonating.]

[Fairy Dust absorbed.]

[Debuffs removed.]

[Warning—Fairy Dust’s extreme extreme extreme mana concentration detected.]

[Mutation triggered.]

[High Human Bloodline... evolving further.]

"...You’ve got to be kidding," Atlas whispered, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very roots of existence.

{????...}

[1%... 5%... 20%... 100% complete.]

[High Human → Genesis Human Bloodline]

Then....The world screamed.

Not in terror, but in recognition.

[The World is Resonating.]

[The Gods felt your presence.]

[The Leviathans felt your presence.]

[Yggdrasil Tree felt your presence.]

[Jörmungandr felt your presence.]

[Fate felt your presence.]

[Death felt your presence.

.

.

.

.

.....Destiny felt your presence.]

[Congratulations. You are the first Genesis Species.]

"....."