Chương 5: Gene Assimilation

For the record, Nero had never even seen someone assimilate a gene. So when it came to sitting in a lotus position to supposedly 'assimilate' it within himself, he was very much going by what he'd heard in a tale from priestess Sofia. In it, their ancestors and the gene Assimilation practitioners among them tended to climb the tallest tree, mound, or mountain after eating a stomach full of monster organs.

They would then sit at the highest point they could find, settle into a lotus position, and breathe in the fresh air of their surroundings while imagining the beast bestowing its genetics upon them as a mark of respect for being defeated fairly in battle. That way, the beast's genes assimilated with them, each one enhancing its corresponding attribute by one percent. Working with Red Rats, he'd learned that the one-percent part of the tale was indeed true.

Time to see if the rest holds up, or if it's just wishful fantasy. He continued breathing in and out deeply, picturing the rats approaching him on two feet, handing him their genes in the form of broken teeth, then departing. He still felt like kicking the one rat that had bitten him twice, but seeing as they'd so peacefully handed over their genes, he let that impulse go. His focus shifted to his stomach next; he felt slightly warmer after the imagining ended.

It was similar to the sensation of accidentally swallowing a hair with his food. The heat intensified with each passing second until Nero had to clutch his stomach in discomfort.

"What's happening?" he muttered to no one in particular.

"Have I angered those bastard genes instead? Are they protesting?" That could well be true. Not only had he killed them all in brutal fashion, he'd even imagined them handing their genes to their killer as some kind of prize. If their positions were reversed, he'd have certainly protested until the killer died of vomiting and stomach pain. But thankfully, these rats weren't like that, and as the pain gradually subsided, it left a notice in its place. [Genetic Protest eased, genetic assimilation completed.] [Number of assimilated genes: 10x] Nero's body eased in relief. He lay back down on the branches again.

"To think it would actually work…" he said, still dazed. He supposed he shouldn't have doubted his ancestors, and with the notice above, he understood why this step was necessary—though only on the surface. Genetic protest—he hadn't heard the term before. Then again, he'd barely interacted with the only person who held that kind of information back at Red Rats: the captain. Even picturing the man's face sent shivers down his spine. If he could, he'd have beaten that ugly mug into the ground.

"Maybe I will, once I've gathered enough genes." After all, each gene raised part of his base attributes by one percent.

"Status," he whispered, and the familiar blue hologram appeared.

Status Name: Nero Race: Human Core Stage: Dormant Base Attributes STR: 10 (+3) DEX: 6 (+2) CON: 10 SPE: 14 (+5) INT: 9 WIS: 11 CHA: 3 LUCK: 1 Assimilated Primitive Gene: (10/1000) Unassimilated Genes: N/A Gene Talent: N/A Beast Soul: N/A Gene Fragments: N/A His eyes swept across the base attributes before landing on luck.

"One? Seriously?" Not only that, but his charisma sat at a mere three.

"No wonder even my juniors at Red Rats never bothered listening when I spoke!" And from what he knew of genes, obtaining luck or charisma-enhancing ones was hard. They were by far the scarcest type, after talent genes. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Genes were generally divided into five tiers of rarity. Tier one covered the most common genes, like strength, speed, and constitution.

Tier two held the rarer dexterity, intelligence, and wisdom genes, and tier three contained luck and charisma. Tier four held the talent genes, and as for tier five, he had no knowledge of what lay there at all. Nero studied his attributes, examining the spread of his base stats. He was clearly suited toward a lean, agile adventurer archetype—something like an assassin.

"But given my high constitution, becoming a light warrior could work too." And while his strong wisdom and intelligence stats opened the door to a mage path, he had zero magical gene talents to make proper use of them. Still, pursuing any adventuring archetype meant expenses—buying a sword, a set of armor offering more protection than his leather corsair alone, and picking up some martial arts scrolls. All told, he'd need to spend at least a full gold crown just to get started.

He shook his head at the thought; the sheer scale of the expense only made him feel poorer.

"Still, even if I can't afford the necessary gear right now, this information alone is pretty valuable." His stats essentially told him not to gamble on unnecessary risks, and that speed was his greatest advantage—meaning he should avoid crowded areas and anywhere that restricted movement. Also, starting with primitive genes might not have been such a bad thing.

If he'd instead been compatible with prehistoric genes—a tier above primitive—he'd have had to deal with Rank D dungeons, and wouldn't have been able to assimilate the lower-tier primitive genes to boost his base attributes. Believe it or not, from what he'd heard, those compatible with genes above primitive weren't necessarily much stronger than the average person. For instance, rumor had it that the owner's son at Red Rats had been born with prehistoric genetic compatibility.

That kid, now a gold-rank warrior, still had to go adventuring alongside the previous captain and the upper echelons of Red Rats just to hunt monsters, gain combat experience, and collect the genes he needed. Nero had no father, no support crew like that. With a compatibility like his, he would've been doomed. Though being at the bottom also meant he had no clue what these "Beast Soul" and "Gene Fragments" even were.

"Guess I'll have to spend a pretty penny again—not just on an antidote, but on some manuals too." From somewhere below, he heard the familiar screech of rats. He perked up immediately and switched on his lantern. Sure enough, as the light spread, the shapes of the little creatures darting between bushes came into view.

"There's three of them," he said, licking his lips.

"Time to test out my increased strength, I suppose." Thankfully, none of them left behind any neon sparks as they ran, which meant he could go all out without worrying about poison. As he climbed down, the rats surrounded him just like before. Nero tightened his grip on the tree branch.

"Time for some more whack-a-mole!" Or whack-a-rat. …. At exactly five o'clock in the morning, Nero climbed back down from the treetop, his bag feeling full once again. The outside was still dark as usual, but with moonlight breaking through the clouds a little more, things didn't feel quite as pitch black. Nero set off on his journey home with all the loot he'd gathered. He'd eaten two of the three loaves of bread he'd brought, and the last of his three potions was nearly gone.

He couldn't afford to spend another hour in the forest. Still, he paused for a moment and looked back at the branch he'd used as a weapon all night—now split in two, broken from all the abuse it had endured.

"But fret not, my first sword. I'll always keep part of you as a memento." he said, turning the small piece of branch over in his hand. He tucked the wooden fragment into his bag before breaking into a run. Within ten minutes, he emerged from the forest into the open fields. Along the way, he heard the sounds of several beasts and birds, but thankfully none were aggressive or fast enough to catch him — especially now that his body felt noticeably lighter after assimilating five more genes.

"Status," he called out Status Name: Nero Race: Human Core Stage: Dormant Base Attributes STR: 11 (+4) DEX: 7 (+3) CON: 11 (+1) SPE: 16 (+7) INT: 9 WIS: 11 CHA: 3 LUCK: 1 Assimilated Primitive Gene: (15/1000) Unassimilated Genes: N/A Gene Talent: N/A Beast Soul: N/A Gene Fragments: N/A After the initial five rats, he'd killed five more through the night, butchering them and consuming their gene-rich organs. But it turned out his body had already begun adapting to the gene source.

That was the reason Red Rats never farmed just one species of rat dungeon exclusively. While they could sell the gene-rich organs to alchemists for a decent price, their bodies tended to adapt to the gene source—the creature the genes came from—fairly quickly.

After harvesting the initial ten genes from the first five grey essence rats, the yield had already dropped to five genes per five grey essence rats.

"If this keeps up, I'll only manage about five more primitive genes from this dungeon before the returns become negligible." That thought was discouraging, but he knew very little beyond the surface level about gene source adaptation. He continued his journey home.

"It'd do me good to buy some proper manuals on this subject." He simply didn't know much about these things. He'd worked at Red Rats as a plain harvester—plucking organs and valuable parts, handing them to the party's higher-ups, sleeping, then doing it all over again. He'd spent most of his six months there stuck in this same mundane cycle.

There were weeks where he barely interacted with anyone beyond his fellow harvesters, since most others were either busy at the frontlines or recovering with the medics in the back. And the chaotic environment of the dungeon wasn't exactly ideal for casual conversation or gathering information either. Still, putting it all together, his gains from this trip had been immense—far more than he'd ever expected. He'd assumed system access would only come once he awakened his dormant core.

But as it turned out, everything that scum of a captain had told him had been false all along. After winding through several alleyways, he re-entered the ever-active night bazaar, though the crowd was noticeably thinner this early in the morning. At around seven o'clock, most people were still asleep, and those out at the bazaar were mainly merchants trading fresh goods among themselves to sell later. He ignored most of them, heading straight for the adventurers' guild.

After a few more twists and turns—and a brief, unsettling trip through the underground tunnel where several bodies lay motionless from drugs—he emerged on the other side. The adventurers' guild sat about a kilometer into the night bazaar, surrounded only by the homes of guild staff and the wealthier, higher-ranking adventurers. Though in the seventh district of the first circle, it was common knowledge that no adventurer beyond the initial copper core resided here.

So, technically, these were the cream of the crop, in a desert without much crops. He spotted a guild staff member sweeping the ground in front of the guild's entrance. He walked over, greeted the old man, then stepped inside. There was a reason he'd rushed to reach the guild—so he wouldn't have to endure the arrogant bastard's jabs about his clothing or status.

But as it turned out, his luck really was stuck in the single digits, because quite a few of them were already there, eyeing the front desk with unusually intense focus.