"With the Tyranis' technology, this will be easy," the Hive Mind replied calmly.
"However, they won't be able to level up by killing monsters like in Earth's MMORPGs."
Felix nodded.
That was obvious—this wasn't a real game.
He had no intention of building a grind-heavy system based on slaughter and experience points. What he wanted was closer to Minecraft—a true sandbox. Freedom to explore. Freedom to build. Freedom to evolve.
A game of creation.
Something like Spore, or even Mole Manor, where players could farm, adapt, and live peacefully. No endless combat. No kill-to-grow nonsense.
He planned to set the cell division rate at ten thousand units. Every player would start as a single spore, then evolve freely into whatever species they desired. Cell division, birth, growth, aging, death—every phase would be under their control.
A complete life-cycle simulation.
One full playthrough of Spore Evolution would last several days. With luck, a few players might surprise him—creating lifeforms even he hadn't anticipated.
This was only a side project. A spur-of-the-moment idea. It wouldn't take much effort, and his main attention would remain on the primary sandbox.
Players wouldn't have access to that greater world. Instead, they'd be confined to a smaller, sealed ecosystem.
He couldn't allow them to mingle with the native species. Without combat-based leveling, they'd always be weaker anyway.
Train like the natives?
Felix snorted.
As if I have the time to babysit all of you.
Since this miniature sandbox would serve as a cradle for new species, he gave it a name:
Land of Genesis.
From there, he would personally select the most promising species—the ones with true evolutionary potential—and transplant them into the larger sandbox.
It was the perfect way to reseed the world after the Great Flood and the fall of Sumerian civilization.
He couldn't let the Bugapes monopolize intelligence.
One sentient race was never enough.
This world needed diversity.
As for monetization?
Felix wasn't interested.
He had only one goal—to cure his cancer.
"How long will it take to set up?" he asked.
"Approximately three days," the Hive Mind replied. "We'll use existing VR technology as the medium."
"VR?" Felix blinked. "Seriously?"
VR movies were fine, but every VR game he'd tried had been terrible.
Still, if the Hive Mind said it would work, he wasn't about to argue. The Tyranis had once evolved their minds to unimaginable heights—creating a civilization that dwarfed modern science.
"Alright," Felix said. "I'll start building the new sandbox. That'll be the setting for Spore Evolution."
His body was far stronger than before.
"A thirty-square-meter patch, right in front of my door," he muttered, swinging his hoe.
"This way, if any of you get annoying, I can just step on you on my way out."
While the Hive Mind prepared the network and backend systems, Felix focused on the physical work.
"I've really turned into a farmer," he sighed.
With practiced motions, he shaped a new sandbox—thirty square meters of carefully sculpted terrain. Drawing on past experience, he recreated varied elevations and subtle environmental cues to encourage adaptation and exploration.
When he finished, he grabbed the flamethrower and burned the area clean—plants, insects, everything reduced to ash.
This time, his strengthened body made the work easy. A day and a half later, he was coated in blackened mud and sweat. He headed inside for a long shower.
Meanwhile…
Chen Wenshan, a veteran gamer and lifelong Steam addict, had just rage-quit Sekiro for the third time that week.
"Absolute nonsense," he muttered, flexing his aching fingers as he scrolled through the indie game section. Maybe—maybe—there was a hidden gem buried in the trash.
Huh?
Spore Evolution – Closed Beta
A VR Simulation Game
Casual. Evolution. Limitless Possibilities.
The #1 Choice for Creative Gamers!
Ethan scoffed. "Another scam."
Limitless possibilities? Starting as spores?
Who did they think they were—Civilization VII?
Even Civ started you off with tribes, not microscopic life. And VR?
"Yeah right. VR games are just milking cows, stacking blocks, or pretending to be livestock."
Still, curiosity won.
He downloaded it.
43 GB?!
"What did they put in here—the genome of every organism on Earth?"
After the painfully long download, he registered an account under the name Akinas Speedster and slipped on his old VR headset—the one he usually used for movies.
To his surprise, the title screen was… good. Clean. Polished.
A single prompt floated before him:
Do you wish to begin your evolution?
He clicked Yes.
Darkness swallowed him.
It felt like sinking into a deep ocean.
"What the hell?" he muttered. "I can feel my body… I'm swimming?"
His mind reeled.
Was this next-generation tech? Direct sensory input? Full-dive VR?
What Chen Wenshan didn't know was this:
His soul had been digitized and uploaded into a spore—floating quietly in Felix's yard.
Inside the Land of Genesis.
Felix had no idea how the technology worked—and honestly, he didn't care.
"It's pitch black," Chen Wenshan. "Am I blind?"
Then a message appeared:
You are currently a spore.
Please evolve eyes to gain vision.
"…???"
Evolve eyes?
Ethan froze.
This wasn't a casual sim game.
This was more brutal than Sekiro.