The twin planets spin in his mind, one a brutal, vibrant world of primal titans, the other a slow-burning engine of cultivation. A creator. A god. The thought is a heady mix of terror and exhilaration. He leans back, the physical sensation of his desk chair a distant anchor to a reality that feels increasingly flimsy. His gaze drifts from the glowing System panel to the window.
Outside, a full moon hangs in a sky of deep indigo, its pale light silvering the leaves of the oak tree in his backyard. The digital clock on his desk glows with red numerals: 11:47 PM. A whole day, gone. Swallowed by eons of cosmic creation. A wave of exhaustion, deep and bone-heavy, washes over him. He is still just a teenager who got zapped by a power surge.
He focuses on the temporal controls for both Genesis-01 and Aethelgard, dragging the sliders down to a near-complete stop. He cannot leave them running unattended. He pushes his chair back, the scrape of its wheels on the hardwood floor sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet house. He does not bother changing, just falls face-first onto his bed, the universe in his head fading to black.
Sunlight, warm and insistent, cuts through his eyelids. Jaxon groans, rolling over. Morning. For a moment, he lies there, caught in the simple reality of a sunbeam slanting across his bedroom floor. Then the memory of it all rushes back, the panels, the planets, the dinosaurs. He bolt upright, his heart thumping. The System panel shimmers into existence before him, a familiar and welcome sight. He bypasses the world views and goes straight to the CREATION SHOP. His eyes flick to the top right corner.
GP: 25.
He blinks. Then he blinks again. Twenty-five. He went to sleep with ten. Where did the extra fifteen come from?
System, report on Genesis Point balance change.
The shop interface dissolves, replaced by a clean, new window titled DAILY GENESIS REPORT. It displays two entries.
PLANET: Genesis-01
RANK: Bronze Tier
LIFE LEVEL: Thriving (Complex Reptilian)
GP GENERATED: +10
PLANET: Aethelgard
RANK: Copper Tier
LIFE LEVEL: Nascent (Multicellular)
GP GENERATED: +5
Below the entries, a simple text box provides an explanation.
SYSTEM NOTE: Worlds that sustain life passively generate Genesis Points. The amount is calculated once per 24-hour cycle (Creator Time) and is based on Planetary Rank and the complexity of the dominant biosphere.
A slow grin spreads across Jaxon's face. Passive income. A cosmic dividend paid out for his work. The System is not just a tool; it is a self-sustaining engine. He now has a steady, if small, stream of creative fuel.
The smell of coffee and frying bacon drifts up from downstairs, pulling him fully into the waking world. He dismisses the panel and swings his legs out of bed. His stomach rumbles, a very human, very mundane demand. He pulls on a clean t-shirt and heads downstairs.
His mom, Marissa, stands at the stove, flipping pancakes. His dad, Daniel, sits at the kitchen island, a tablet propped against the fruit bowl, his brow furrowed as he reads the news.
Marissa turns as he enters, her spatula held mid-air. Her face softens with relief, though a trace of worry still pinches the corners of her eyes.
"Well, look who's alive. I was about to send a search party. How are you feeling?"
Daniel lowers his tablet, his gaze sharp and appraising. "You slept for nearly twelve hours straight, son. We were starting to get worried."
Jaxon pulls open the refrigerator, the cool air a welcome shock. He grabs the carton of orange juice.
"I'm feeling a lot better today. Actually feel… normal."
He pours a glass, the simple act feeling strangely significant.
"Might even be able to go out tomorrow. Hang out with Liam and the guys, if that's cool."
His parents exchange a quick, silent look. It is a language he knows well, a rapid-fire conversation of raised eyebrows and subtle nods.
"No headaches?" Marissa asks, sliding a plate stacked with pancakes onto the island in front of him. "No dizziness? You're sure?"
He shakes his head, grabbing the syrup bottle.
"Nope. All good. Just starving."
He floods the pancakes with a thick layer of maple syrup. His dad sets the tablet down, giving Jaxon his full attention.
"That's good to hear, Jax. Really. But you're taking it easy today. Doctor's orders. That means no computer, and I mean it."
The last pancake, drenched in a sticky pool of syrup, vanishes. Jaxon pushes the plate away, a feeling of deep satisfaction settling in his stomach. He stands, rinses his plate in the sink, and places it in the dishwasher with a quiet clink.
"Alright, I'm gonna go lay down for a bit. Rest up, like you said."
Marissa turns from the sink, her hands dripping with soapy water. Her expression is a mixture of relief and lingering suspicion.
"Okay, honey. Holler if you need anything."
His dad looks up from his tablet, his eyes narrowed slightly over the rim. "And stay off that computer, Jax. I'll know."
Jaxon just gives a slight nod and heads for the stairs, the weight of his parents' concern a tangible thing on his shoulders. He closes his bedroom door, the soft click of the latch a signal that separates his two worlds. He does not go to the computer. He keeps his promise. Instead, he flops face-down onto his bed, the comforter cool against his cheek.
The moment he is still, the System panel blooms in his vision, a welcome secret in the quiet room. He dismisses the daily report and brings up the CREATION SHOP. Twenty-five Genesis Points. A small fortune compared to yesterday's nothing. A search filter appears, and he sets the maximum cost to 25 GP. The list of universal constants and stellar phenomena vanishes, replaced by a much shorter, more specialized menu. He scrolls through the options, his curiosity piqued.
First on the list is a simple, practical upgrade.
[PLANETARY SENSOR SUITE - MINOR]
COST: 15 GP
DESCRIPTION: A package of basic metaphysical sensors to install on a single celestial body. Passively monitors and logs key data streams: atmospheric composition, geological activity, biosphere complexity, and ambient Essence levels. Provides creator alerts for significant evolutionary or geological events.
It is a quality-of-life tool. Useful, but not exciting. It would save him the trouble of manually checking in on his planets. He keeps scrolling.
[BLUEPRINT: BASIC PHOTOSYNTHESIS]
COST: 10 GP
DESCRIPTION: A verified and optimized genetic blueprint for a cellular organelle capable of converting stellar radiation into biological energy. Includes protocols for chlorophyll production and carbon fixation. A foundational component for all plant life.
He thinks of Aethelgard's barren continents. This would be a massive shortcut, saving him days, maybe weeks, of painstaking biological design. It is a solid, practical choice.
The next item is more aggressive, a tool of direct intervention.
[GENETIC CATALYST - MUTATION]
COST: 20 GP
DESCRIPTION: A single-use injection of chaotic energy into a planet's biosphere. Dramatically increases the rate of random genetic mutation for one full evolutionary cycle (approx. 1 million years). Results are unpredictable and can range from rapid species diversification to mass extinction events. High risk, high reward.
Jaxon pictures the lumbering reptilian beasts of Genesis-01. What sort of monsters would this unleash? The temptation is a physical pull, a desire to shake the box and see what comes out. But the risk… an extinction event would set his passive income back to zero.
He moves on, his eyes catching on a far more esoteric option.
[ESSENCE NODE - MINOR]
COST: 15 GP
DESCRIPTION: Creates a small, artificial nexus point on an existing leyline network. The node actively gathers and condenses ambient Essence, raising a small area's conduit rank by one sub-tier (e.g., from Mid-Copper to High-Copper). Can be used to cultivate specific resources or create a focal point of power.
This offers a more granular level of control. He could use it on Aethelgard to create a perfect spot to grow a specific spiritual herb, once he designs one. He could drop it into one of Genesis-01's jungles and watch what happens when the native beasts get a power boost.
Then he sees one that makes him stop. It costs every point he has.
[LESSER WORLD SPIRIT]
COST: 25 GP
DESCRIPTION: Seeds a single planetary body with a nascent, non-sentient consciousness. This spirit will instinctively manage and optimize the world's Essence flows, geological stability, and biosphere, subtly guiding them toward a state of greater harmony and power. Greatly accelerates a world's progression toward a higher rank. Cannot be installed on worlds with existing sentient life.
A planetary manager. An AI for his world. He could install it on Aethelgard and let it handle the tedious parts of cultivation development. Or he could give Genesis-01 a guiding hand, a way to tame its wild, chaotic growth. The idea is powerful, a huge leap forward. It would be like hiring a co-founder for his universe.
He reads over the descriptions again. Each item offers a tantalizing path forward. A shortcut here, a power-up there. He could buy the Photosynthesis Blueprint and the Sensor Suite and still have enough for a coffee. He could gamble on the Genetic Catalyst, or make a long-term investment in an Essence Node. Or he could spend everything on the World Spirit, putting all his eggs in one planetary basket.
He looks at the 25 GP in the corner of the panel. It felt like a fortune a minute ago. Now, it feels like pocket change. These are all useful tools, but they are incremental improvements. Minor tweaks. The World Spirit is the only game-changer on the list, but it would leave him broke, unable to react if something unexpected happened.
He thinks of the GATE, its cost a distant, mountainous 100 GP. He thinks of the more expensive lifeform templates, the advanced laws of physics, the tools that could shape entire galaxies. Twenty-five points is a start, not a destination.
He dismisses the shop. The panel vanishes, leaving him alone in the quiet of his room. He is not going to spend anything. Not yet. His passive income is his greatest asset right now. It is slow, but it is steady. Patience. A creator needs patience. For now, he will just watch his worlds grow.
With a conscious thought, Jaxon dismisses his quiet bedroom and plunges his awareness into the cosmos. He summons the control panel for Aethelgard, its holographic representation of a blue and brown world spinning silently before him. Genesis-01 is a beautiful, chaotic explosion of life, a wild garden he is content to watch grow. Aethelgard is different. Aethelgard is a project.
He locates the temporal slider and pushes it forward. Not to the frantic pace of Genesis-01's development, but to a steady, accelerated flow. Decades flicker by in a second. Centuries melt away. He pushes his perspective down, through the thin, engineered atmosphere, through the miles of cold, dark water, to the abyssal plains where he first seeded life.
The hydrothermal vents are no longer isolated islands of activity. They are the blazing capital cities of a burgeoning deep-sea empire. The Worms of Qi, once simple, gelatinous creatures, have diversified. Some have grown larger, burrowing into the sulfur-rich sediment, their bodies pulsing with a soft internal light as they refine the planet's energy. Their constant, inefficient excretion of pure Qi has fundamentally altered the water around them. A visible shimmer, a faint distortion in the crushing darkness, marks the boundaries of these energy-rich oases.
New life thrives within these zones. Crystalline structures, like fragile, bioluminescent coral, grow in intricate forests on the volcanic rock. They do not feed on matter, but directly on the ambient Qi, their delicate branches glowing with a steady blue-white light. Small, arrow-fast predators, descendants of the same primordial cell line, hunt the worms. Their bodies are sleek and translucent, their only solid feature a dense, dark nodule in their core where they store the Qi harvested from their prey, using it for bursts of impossible speed.
He watches as a colony of the Qi-coral develops a new trait. It releases spores, tiny motes of life that drift on the abyssal currents. Most of them die in the cold, energy-barren darkness between the vent fields. But some land, and if they find even a trace of a Meridian Line seeping energy from the planet's crust, they take root. The deep ocean floor, once a uniform desert, is slowly being connected by a faint, glowing network of life.
The real drama, however, is happening far above. A mutation. A random, beautiful accident in a Cultivatus cell drifting in the upper layers of the ocean. The organelle for chemosynthesis, for drawing energy from sulfur, twists. It reconfigures. It learns to see the sun.
This new organism, a simple, single-celled algae, has the best of both worlds. Its Spirit Root still draws in the raw Heaven and Earth Energy from the water, its Qi Core still refines it, but now it has a second, more powerful source of fuel: the star itself. It multiplies with explosive speed, creating vast green blooms in the sunlit surface waters.
Jaxon follows the tide as it pushes one of these massive blooms against a barren, volcanic coastline. The waves crash against black, jagged rock, leaving a slick green film behind as the water recedes. Most of it dries and dies under the alien sun. But in the shaded, perpetually damp crevices, it clings. It survives.
A sharp, clean chime echoes in his mind, and a familiar panel slides into his view.
[SYSTEM ALERT: AETHELGARD]
[Objective 'Terrestrial Photosynthetic Life' has been achieved. First species has made landfall.]
Jaxon's focus narrows, his perspective diving from orbit to the rocky shoreline in an instant. He zooms in on a patch of wet, black stone, the image magnifying until he can see the individual cells. They are a simple, slimy layer of green, absorbing sunlight and sipping moisture from the sea spray. He watches as they form thicker mats, a living carpet conquering its first square inch of a new continent.
He feels a surge of satisfaction. The planet is learning. But it is learning too slowly. He requests a blueprint of the new organism. The system complies, rendering a complex three-dimensional schematic of the algae cell.
[SPECIES: Cultivatus-Photosynthetica-001]
He analyzes its traits. It has the core components he designed: the Spirit Root, the Qi Core. It has the new, naturally evolved photosynthesizing organelle, which the System labels a 'Sol-Cell'. He examines the energy flow. The cell uses sunlight for rapid growth and reproduction, while the refined Qi is stored internally, a dense power source used for cellular repair and to survive the cold nights. It is efficient. It hoards its power, wasting nothing. A perfect survival machine.
An imperfect tool for his grand design.
He opens a second window, pulling up the master blueprint for the deep-sea Worm of Qi. He isolates the genetic code for its unique Emergent Trait: Environmental Bio-Refinement. He highlights the sequences that control the inefficient, overflowing Qi Core, the ones that create the excretory pore that leaks pure energy into the world. He copies the entire block of code.
Then, he opens the Blueprint Assembly for Cultivatus-Photosynthetica-001. The raw genetic script of the algae unspools before him. With the precision of a surgeon, he begins to edit. He deletes the code for its efficient, internal Qi storage. He carefully pastes the worm's code into the algae's genome. The System flashes with warnings of genetic instability and metabolic stress. He ignores them, manually adjusting protein chains and reinforcing cellular structures to handle the new function.
He does not give it an excretory pore. Instead, he links the Qi-releasing function to the organism's cell wall and its root-like filaments. He is designing a plant that will not just grow on the land. He is designing a plant that will bleed pure energy into the soil, transforming barren rock into a fertile bed of spiritual power. A plant that will release faint traces of Qi into the very air with every pulse of its metabolism.
He runs the simulation. The modified cell glows, its new systems integrating. It absorbs light. It refines Qi. And it leaks. A soft, golden aura of pure energy radiates from it, enriching a small, virtual space around it.
[BLUEPRINT MODIFICATION COMPLETE. SAVE NEW BLUEPRINT AS Cultivator's Grass?]
He confirms the name. This is no longer just life. It is infrastructure.