A Few Moments Earlier
"Shoot!"
The moment Isla gave the order, chaos erupted.
Laser rounds tore through the air, streaking like fragmented lightning, the lab flashing with bursts of white-hot intensity. The deafening hum of charged plasma drowned out every other sound—except for the rapid, desperate footfalls of scientists scrambling for cover.
The leader of the genetic department and his companions lunged behind barriers, pressing their backs against cold steel walls.
Their instincts—honed by years of calculated survival—screamed a singular command.
Protect yourself. Observe. Plan.
It was second nature to them now.
From their vantage point, they watched, their eyes locked onto Kevin—moving with impossible precision, dodging not with desperation, but indifference.
Not a single shot connected.
Not even close.
And in that moment, they understood.
Kevin wasn't merely avoiding attacks.
He was playing with them.
A sickening realization seeped into the leader's mind.
"Are you all seeing this?"
Seven voices crackled in his ear.
"Yes." ×7
A pause.
Then—
"Uh… boss?"
The hesitant voice cut through the static, uncertainty coiling around every syllable.
"What?"
"Do we… really have to fight him?"
A sharp inhale.
"He killed our third strongest with one move," the scientist whispered. "Fighting him is suicide."
The leader closed his eyes for a fraction too long.
"I know." His admission was raw and quiet—faced with undeniable truth.
"But we don't have a choice."
Silence stretched between them—thick, suffocating, loaded with unspoken fear.
Then—
"Why?" ×7
The question felt heavier than the chaos surrounding them.
The answer came just as heavy.
"His Highness wants Isla alive before he arrives."
"Her value is undeniable in all future experiments, even this monster in front of us is the result of her experiment."
The weight of the words pressed into their consciousness.
An order.
A reality.
A death sentence if they failed.
Because failing meant something worse than death.
And no one dared to speak.
They all knew it.
Disobedience wasn't an option.
Escape wasn't an option.
The leader felt their hesitation. Their silent dread twisting between them.
He couldn't afford their morale to break—not now.
"Listen," his voice steadied, forcing control into his tone. "We will not engage Kevin directly. We get Isla out. That's it. Think of this as a mission."
Another beat of silence.
Then—
"Understood." ×7
Not out of trust.
But out of fear.
Fear of Kevin.
But more than that—fear of their leader.
Because their leader wasn't just ruthless.
He was insane.
A psychopath in command.
"Number 7—transform. Get Isla out."
"Okay."
"Everyone, move toward the exit. No commotion."
"Understood." ×6
Meanwhile—On the Ground Floor
Isla's fingers hammered the call button.
Again.
And again.
Her desperation mounted with every failed attempt.
Her master had to answer.
He had to come for her.
She needed to hear his voice.
Needed assurance.
Needed anything.
Nothing.
No response.
Only the cold, deafening silence of abandonment.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out everything except her own rising panic.
Then—
"Head Researcher Isla, come with me."
The voice slithered through the air beside her ear—thin, subdued, unnatural.
Cold dread wrapped around her spine, freezing her in place.
Her breath hitched.
Her body stiffened.
Her head snapped toward the sound.
Nothing.
"W-Who?"
Her voice trembled—a whisper, barely audible over the storm of chaos raging behind her.
No answer.
But something shifted—something unseen, yet deeply felt.
Something not human.
Then—it materialized before her eyes.
Not in an instant, not abruptly—but slowly.
As if space itself had bent to its presence.
His skin shimmered—liquid bronze, ever-changing, shifting in hue as if responding to unseen emotions. His eyes—never settled—one locked onto Isla, unblinking, while the other flicked toward unseen movements in the shadows.
His fingers—elongated, webbed, built not for human interaction but for something else entirely—climbing, hunting, surviving.
A creature born from science.
A being meant for war.
Isla knew who he was.
Number 7.
The twisted outcome of inhuman experimentation, the product of genetic insanity, of a group who had tried to force evolution through science alone.
The crazy ones.
The scientists who believed that humans could absorb the traits of animals—if they manipulated genes just enough, forced mutations just slightly more.
A research project drenched in blood.
Thousands had died.
Thousands of humans and animals.
And yet—here he stood.
Proof of their madness.
Before she could say anything, Number 7 repeated:
"Head Researcher Isla, you have to come with me."
Present
The moment Isla and the genetic research team raced for the exit, the voice cut through the air, ringing sharp, mocking, and unnervingly amused.
"Hey, take me with you! How will I play if you all leave?"
No one turned.
No one dared to look back.
They knew who it was.
Instead, the leader of the genetic department screamed, his voice tearing through the rain.
"RUN, you bitch!"
Isla didn't care.
She didn't flinch, didn't slow.
She moved, throwing her weight forward with everything she had.
Yet—despite her evolution, despite her enhanced physiology—she was falling behind.
She was the last among them.
Because despite being a fourth-level evolved superhuman, she had never trained—never fought, never prepared herself for anything beyond her research.
The only reason she evolved was to live longer, stay beautiful, and continue her work.
And now—all of that was worthless.
She pushed harder, breath ragged, heart hammering—but it wasn't enough.
The team burst through the exit, expecting escape—expecting anything but what they saw.
Then—
Open space.
No shelter.
No cover.
And worse—no way to flee.
The leader cursed, his breath sharp and frustrated.
"S#it."
He scanned the terrain, his mind racing, his pulse thrumming in his ears.
The rain had transformed the desert into a mess of shifting, unstable sludge—making it impossible for any vehicle to move through.
They were stranded.
"It looks like we have no other choice," he thought, but the words offered him no comfort.
Then—
Behind them.
A presence.
A shift in the air.
A monster stepping into their world.
Kevin(????) Crosses the Gate
Kevin stepped through, his movements slow, unhurried, and untouched by urgency.
The first thing he felt was the rain—cold, relentless, consuming.
Droplets struck his skin like tiny needles, clinging to his body, washing away blood both dried and fresh.
The desert—once dry, once merciless—had become surreal.
The scent of wet blood mingled with the sterile air still clinging to him, the remnants of carnage seeping into the storm.
And Kevin(????) smiled.
A slow, unsettling curve of his lips—as if savoring something unseen.
"He He… It looks like she is very happy for your awakening."
His voice carried through the rain—not to Isla, not to the scientists, but to someone else.
Something unseen.
Someone only he could sense.
Then—his voice softened, his eyes slipping closed for a moment.
"It's still not enough," he murmured. "Just a little more, and then he will be alright."
He exhaled—measuring something within himself, feeling it, calculating it.
Then, with eerie indifference, he ignored the furious downpour.
The rain clung to his body, washing away remnants of battle, cleansing him—resetting him.
A baptism in nature's fury.
A rebirth amidst the storm.
Then—his gaze shifted.
"Good thing I still have enough resources within reach."
His head turned—slowly, deliberately—toward the last group alive.
The Transformation Begins
Isla stumbled forward, her chest heaving, lungs burning—desperate to escape.
But behind her—the scientists stopped running.
They stood in front of her, protective and tense, their bodies rigid with determination.
Kevin watched them, taking slow steps forward, his grin widening with undisguised excitement.
"Why did you stop?"
His voice carried mild disappointment, as if the game had lost its thrill.
"I would have loved to catch each one of you, one by one."
The leader of the genetic department tensed, his gaze locking onto Kevin's.
"You may be strong, but there's no way you can defeat all of us together."
The words were firm, but his eyes betrayed him, lacking the conviction his voice tried to carry.
Kevin tilted his head, his expression sharpening in amusement.
"Oh, you better not disappoint me."
His grin widened.
The storm roared.
Then—
"Isla, run while we stop this monster!"
The leader's voice snapped through the chaos.
Isla didn't hesitate.
She turned and ran, pushing forward with everything she had—leaving them behind.
Behind her, she heard the order:
"Everyone, start transforming."
Then—
A shift.
A break in reality.
Their bodies changed.
One grew coarse, thick fur, the hairs bristling under the rain.
Another's bones twisted, horns pushing through their skin, curling upward.
Canines elongated, glistening under flashes of lightning.
They were no longer human.
Each one of the eight scientists had altered their genes, fusing their very existence with the DNA of their chosen animals.
And among them—only their leader retained his human shape.
Because he had experimented on himself twice.
Not just with one animal.
But two.
Both from the same species—monkeys.
He had pushed evolution beyond its limits, and yet, somehow, he remained the most human among them.
Kevin watched the transformation unfold, his expression shifting ever so slightly.
Surprise.
And then—pleasure.
His grin stretched impossibly wider.
"Finally," he breathed. "I will be able to truly entertain myself."