The forest was breathing.
Not with the wind, but with a low, pulsating vibration that coursed through the ancient trees like the echo of a distant heart. Fog clung to the soil in pale ribbons, sliding between roots and stones as if the earth itself exhaled through cracks too fine to see. In that suffocating stillness, something shifted—first imperceptibly, then with the weight of an awakening forced upon a body that had slept too long.
Philippe opened his eyes.
He expected the familiar glow of a monitor, the sterile light of his cramped workspace, or even the white blur of a hospital room. Instead, darkness pressed against him like a shroud. Not total darkness—shades. Layers. His new vision parsed the gloom the way a predator parses shadows: seeking warmth, movement, threat.
He froze.
His breathing… was wrong.
It rumbled. Heavy. Bestial.
He tried to sit upright. His spine did not respond the way a human spine should. His limbs dragged, scraped, and finally anchored themselves into the soil with a weight that startled him. Rough textures scratched beneath his palms—no, not palms. The surface felt armored, ridged, as if his hands had grown chitin plates instead of skin.
Philippe inhaled sharply. The air vibrated inside his chest with a deep resonance.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
He forced himself to look down. The dim forest light revealed the shape of an arm that was not his. Thick. Dark. Mottled with patterns resembling scorched stone. Fingers elongated into clawed talons. The muscles beneath the surface flexed with a power he had never possessed.
A cold wave of disbelief struck him.
This wasn't VR.
This wasn't a dream.
This was other.
He remembered the last thing before darkness: a flash of static across his laptop screen, a line of code that should not have existed in Eclipse Online, a diagnostic window that had opened by itself, and—
A sound like splitting metal.
A shockwave.
Then silence.
He tried to speak.
"What—"
The voice that came out was a growl so deep it rattled his ribs. He clamped his jaws shut instinctively and felt the sharpness of elongated canines scrape against each other.
Panic rose, but he suppressed it with force. Panic would not help him in a situation he did not understand.
A whisper chimed inside his skull.
[Origin Core has awakened.]
The words did not echo through the forest. They vibrated directly within his mind, steady and cold. A luminous panel flickered into existence before him—a translucent, purplish interface that pulsed with energy reminiscent of corrupted data.
He stared at it, stunned.
A system window.
But not one he recognized.
Eclipse Online's official UI had a structured, polished aesthetic. This… this was raw, unstable, almost organic in its display.
[Soul Transference: Complete]
[Body Host: Gorathian Prototype]
[Status: Weak / Aberrant / Unregistered Entity]
Philippe's breath stalled.
A Gorathian?
He knew the term.
Every veteran player did.
In Eclipse Online, Gorathians were an unused monster concept—scrapped during beta due to balancing issues. They existed only in fragments of the game's lore: an aborted race of subterranean aberrations, classified as "trash mobs" by the dev team.
They should not exist. Not in the final version.
Yet here he was.
A tremor traveled through the soil. Something moved—not far, but close enough that his sharpened senses caught it instantly. His new body reacted faster than his thoughts. Muscles tense. Claws ready. Vision focusing on heat trails weaving through the fog.
Movement… two shapes… small, skittish…
Goblins.
He recognized their silhouettes. The hunched posture, the frantic breathing, the low guttural chatter. Two of them were creeping toward him, clutching crude wooden spears.
Prey to most players.
Predators to low-tier monsters.
And he was, by all classifications, the lowest tier imaginable.
The goblins spotted him.
One recoiled, shouting something guttural. The other lunged forward, spear raised.
Philippe didn't think. Instinct seized him, raw and violent.
He sidestepped with a burst of inhuman speed, grabbed the goblin's throat with a clawed hand, and slammed it into a tree. The creature shrieked, dropping its spear as Philippe's grip tightened involuntarily.
The second goblin froze in fear.
Philippe could feel the pulse of the goblin's life beneath his claws. The sensation was sickeningly vivid. A single squeeze would crush its windpipe.
He hesitated.
Not because he feared killing a goblin—but because he feared wanting to.
Origin Core chimed again.
[Host instability detected.]
[Primal Instinct Level: High]
[Recommendation: Essence Assimilation for body stabilization.]
A new icon pulsed before his eyes.
A command.
A temptation.
[Assimilate Target?]
Philippe stared at the goblin he held pinned. Its wide, terrified eyes reflected his monstrous silhouette—horned, broad, armored, and unrecognizable.
His conscience recoiled.
His survival demanded otherwise.
"Yes," he growled.
The forest dimmed.
A tendril of dark energy burst from his arm and sank into the goblin's chest. The creature convulsed, shrieking, until its body dissolved into motes of dim green light. The sensation that washed into Philippe was overwhelming: strength, agility, savage instinct—all crude, but potent.
He staggered back, gasping at the surge.
[Essence Assimilation: Complete.]
[Minor Mutation Acquired: Enhanced Reflexes.]
[Stability Level: Improved.]
Philippe's claws trembled.
He had just killed a creature. Absorbed it.
Like a monster would.
The second goblin fled in terror. Philippe allowed it. The energy coursing inside him needed time to settle.
He forced himself to breathe, to analyze.
He needed shelter. Information. Safety.
The forest was alive with predators. Some he recognized from the game. Others… perhaps products of this world's divergence from the game's final build.
He moved deeper into the woods, guided by instinct and the Origin Core's subtle pings. His senses sharpened with every step: the odor of damp soil, the metallic scent of distant blood, the whisper of leaves disturbed by unseen creatures.
After an hour—though time felt distorted—he found a narrow cave entrance hidden behind a fallen tree. Thick roots formed a natural curtain, concealing the hollow beneath.
A den. Crude, but defensible.
He ducked inside. The space was small enough that his new form barely fit, but it offered cover and darkness—comfort for a creature of shadows.
He sat, claws resting on his knees, and finally let the weight of the situation settle.
He was no longer human.
He was trapped in a world where everything hunted his species.
And the system governing him was not the official one.
Someone—or something—had rewritten the rules.
The interface flickered again.
[Tutorial Tier Activated]
[Define Objective Path]
—Survival
—Evolution
—Dominion
—Annihilation
—Unknown (Locked)
Philippe's pulse quickened.
He selected Survival.
The system chimed.
[Path Confirmed: Survival → Evolution → Dominion]
A roadmap. Not just for living, but for rising.
He closed his eyes briefly, grounding himself in the reality he could no longer escape. If he was here, if he had been chosen—or forced—into this monstrous existence, then he would not collapse.
He would adapt.
Strategize.
Ascend.
Outside, the forest trembled as distant footsteps drew nearer. Adventurers? Monsters? He couldn't tell yet.
But he would be ready.
This world had rejected him the moment he awakened.
He intended to answer in kind.