The Infinite Genesis System

Chapter 4: T.I.G.S: Destiny Really Is Completely Blind

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"Not every dream dies in silence. Some are celebrated. Some are buried before the world. And some refuse to stay dead."

_Chronicle of the World Scar:- Chapter 4_

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To become a Vessel had been the ultimate dream shared by every child born beneath the skies of Elyndra.

The World Scar had changed everything. Beyond its endless reality-fractures lay worlds overflowing with unimaginable danger—monsters beyond comprehension, treasures beyond measure, and power beyond reason. Every expedition into those alien frontiers demanded blood and sacrifice. Every new world claimed thousands of lives.

Yet humanity continued moving forward. One world. Then another. Again... and again. Generation after generation.

Every child grew up hearing the exact same stories—tales of legendary Vessels who crossed through the Genesis Gates into the World Scar, returned carrying immense fortunes, founded Great Houses, protected Dominions, or gave their lives so mankind could survive just one more day.

To become a Vessel wasn't simply a profession. It was glory. Freedom. Purpose. Hope.

And so, every year, every small village, every sprawling city, and every Dominion across Elyndra waited for a single day: Awakening Day. The day dreams were born... and just as many were shattered forever.

Today, Ashvale Village waited alongside the rest of the world.

The ceremony had finally reached its home stretch. The enormous parchment inside the instructor's hands had grown noticeably lighter, with only a handful of names remaining near the ragged bottom edge.

The instructor exhaled quietly. Hours of shouting names across the acoustic arena had left even a seasoned Vessel slightly exhausted. Still, his posture remained firm, and his voice never faltered as he lifted the scroll once more.

"...Finn Lymson von Hart!"

The arena settled into a brief hush.

Finn swallowed. Very loudly.

"...Lex."

Kalexi looked sideways at his friend. "...Hm?"

"...Why are my legs shaking like leaves?"

Kalexi folded his arms, looking down at Finn's knees. "They've finally realized who they're attached to."

Finn stared at him. "...That is not helping."

"You'll be fine, man."

"...Easy for you to say!"

Kalexi grinned. "I haven't gone down there yet."

Finn pointed an accusing finger at his face. "...See? I told you!"

The nearby academy students couldn't help laughing at the display. Even the instructor, partially hidden behind the enormous scroll, fought to keep a straight face.

Finn inhaled deeply, slapping his own cheeks. "...Right. One step at a time."

He marched toward the stone stairs leading to the Genesis Altar... carrying all the confidence of a man walking straight toward his own execution block.

Halfway down the platform, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, aggressively massaged his forehead, then turned back to face the altar. "...If I embarrass myself down here—"

Kalexi cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs: "I'LL LAUGH BEFORE ANYONE ELSE CAN!"

"...TRAITOR!!" Finn bellowed back.

Laughter swept across the lower stands. Even Headmaster Marcus's strict lips twitched slightly from the high balcony.

Finn sighed dramatically before continuing his long march toward the monumental crystal. "...Please... just give me something. Anything."

The laughter slowly faded as silence returned to the Grand Arena. Thousands of eyes tracked his final steps. His trembling fingers slowly reached toward the cool, translucent surface of the crystal.

He touched it.

Nothing happened. One heartbeat. Two. Three.

Finn's face drained of all color. "N-No... Did I fail...?"

Then.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!!

A sudden surge of deep bronze light erupted from the Genesis Altar!

The entire arena trembled violently. The marble beneath everyone's feet vibrated as a powerful gust of wind exploded outward, whipping colorful banners through the air. Sharp gasps erupted from every direction.

The bronze radiance intensified, swirling, condensing, and violently compressing into a single point directly before Finn. Inside the blinding light, a heavy silhouette slowly emerged.

The crowd collectively held its breath.

Then.

COO! COO! KAA! KAA!

A loud, piercing screech echoed throughout the entire arena.

The crowd fell silent once again. Something... had aggressively announced its arrival from within the bronze light.

THOOM.

THOOM.

Heavy, solid footsteps reverberated across the marble platform. Even the dignified representatives of the Great Houses leaned forward in their VIP seats with sudden interest.

Then, it stepped out.

A collective gasp swept through the stands. Before Finn stood a creature unlike anything anyone had imagined.

Roughly five feet tall, it possessed the broad, muscular build of a lean ape, its wiry muscles wrapped beneath rugged, stone-like skin. Small crystal formations protruded from its chest, while molten amber veins pulsed beneath its rocky shoulders like flowing magma. Its unusually long arms nearly brushed the white floor, and jagged crystal spikes lined its thick forearms. Behind it, a heavy, long tail swayed lazily from side to side.

The strange creature slowly lifted its heavy head, its glowing amber eyes settling directly on Finn.

COO! COO! KAA! KAA!

The ancient, resonant voice of the Genesis Altar echoed across the stadium fields.

《GENESIS CONFIRMED》

[NAME]: Cruel Monekay

[CLASSIFICATION]: Common Genesis

A wave of confused murmurs immediately swept through the audience.

"...Wait... so that's what shook the entire arena?"

"I thought something gigantic and terrifying was about to appear!"

"Me too! With a tremor like that, I was expecting at least an Elite Genesis..."

"...Not a Common monkey."

Finn blinked, standing completely still. "..."

He scratched the back of his head, staring blankly at the strange stone ape before him. "...It... it feels... odd." He took a small step closer. "Looking at you... it's like there's something deep inside you that I just can't understand yet."

He laughed awkwardly, throwing his hands up. "...Well, it's not like I can return you or ask for an exchange now, right?"

The Cruel Monekay quietly stared back at him. Then, it slowly reached out one of its massive, stone-crusted hands and gently rested its heavy palm against Finn's chest.

For a brief, fleeting moment... Finn felt something. Something incredibly deep, ancient, and wildly untamed. But it vanished back into the void before he could grasp it.

Finn blinked, shaking his head. "...Guess I'm starting to have those weird daydreams Kalexi is always blabbering about."

Chuckling softly to himself, he wrapped his fingers around the creature's massive hand. "...We're all we've got now, buddy."

The Monekay stared for another second. Then, without warning—it lunged forward and pulled Finn into an overwhelmingly tight, rib-crushing hug.

"ACK—! HEY! STOP THAT! ...WE'RE OUTSIDE IN PUBLIC!"

The entire arena exploded into roaring laughter. Even several stern nobles couldn't suppress amused smiles as they watched Finn struggle helplessly inside the suffocating embrace of his own newly awakened Genesis.

After a few more affectionate, bone-cracking squeezes, the creature loosened its grip. Its heavy body dissolved into countless glowing bronze particles before flowing rapidly toward the back of Finn's right hand. A intricate, glowing Genesis Mark slowly materialized upon his skin.

The contract had officially been formed.

Kalexi immediately clapped loudly from the student stands. "There he is!"

Finn walked back toward his friend, rubbing his sore, bruised ribs. The second he reached , he raised a finger and pointed accusingly at Kalexi. "...You're buying the pastries after this."

Kalexi blinked. "...How did I lose that bet?"

Finn folded his arms proudly, displaying the mark on his hand. "I have a monkey, Lex. ...That's how you lost."

Kalexi stared at him for a quiet moment, then slowly nodded. "...Fair point."

Beside them, Daren stared quietly down at the stage. "...A Common Genesis..."

Kalexi glanced toward his father. "Is that... bad?"

Daren kept his eyes locked on Finn's newly formed Genesis Mark. "...I don't know. From what we've seen on the surface... it appears entirely ordinary." He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "...But something about that creature makes me doubt my own judgment."

He shook his head softly, a warm smile returning to his face. "...Still, the Genesis Altar has never lied. Being a Common Genesis simply means it has a strict possibility of growing."

Kalexi smiled back as Finn proudly admired the glowing brand on his skin. "... I see."

Daren nodded firmly..

More names followed in rapid succession, and the ceremony steadily approached its absolute conclusion.

The instructor had long since grown exhausted. Even as an experienced Vessel, standing in one place for hours while managing hundreds of energetic candidates was a draining task.

One by one... dreams found physical shape. Others quietly vanished into the dirt.

With every passing minute, the atmosphere in the arena grew noticeably heavier. Everyone could feel it—the end was moments away.

Kalexi had stopped joking around entirely. The easy, playful smile that usually rested on his face had vanished, replaced by a quiet, serious solemnity. Even Finn had fallen completely silent, standing beside him.

The two friends simply watched as one teenager after another walked down toward the Genesis Altar... each returning with a completely different reality. Some were smiling so brightly they looked ready to burst into tears of pure joy. Others couldn't stop crying from heartbreak. Some simply stared blankly at their empty hands, unable to process what fate had decided for them.

Kalexi watched every single one of them. Every successful Awakening made his own heart beat faster. Every failed Awakening tightened a cold knot deep inside his stomach.

He knew... his turn was next.

High above the arena, the old man dressed in plain, unassuming gray robes remained quietly seated among the honored VIP guests.

This time, his attention wasn't on the Genesis Altar, nor on Cedric, nor even on Kalexi.

Instead, his sharp gaze lingered entirely on Finn.

"...Interesting," his weathered eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "The lingering spatial resonance... No. It couldn't be...."

The strange thought vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Only then did his gaze slowly drift back toward Kalexi standing in the student rows. He studied the young man in silence.

"...Still ordinary," he murmured quietly to himself, a faint, cryptic smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "...Good. The quieter a seed is planted... the louder the tree grows."

Beside him, a sharp representative from a Great House turned and frowned. "Pardon me, sir? Did you say something?"

The old man blinked, looking completely innocent, as though he had only just realized he spoke aloud. "...Did I say something?"

The representative hesitated, inspecting the plain old man. "...No. Perhaps I simply imagined it."

The old man smiled gently. "...Must've been talking to myself in my old age." With that, he turned his attention back down to the field.

Down below, the instructor quietly wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He let out a long, slow breath before scanning the quiet arena once more.

He dropped his eyes back to the bottom of the long parchment scroll. Only three names remained.

A tired, genuine smile spread across his face. At last... the long ceremony was at its end.

The grand arena had grown so quiet that the faint, distant chirping of birds could be heard from beyond the academy walls. Everyone present knew what that tired smile on the instructor's face meant—only a handful of dreams remained to be decided.

The instructor slowly traced his finger down the final section of the parchment, stopping on the next line. He inhaled deeply, then called out, his voice echoing cleanly throughout the entire stadium:

"...Kalexi Rowan."

For Kalexi... everything stopped.

The wind. The light murmurs of the crowd. The distant rustle of banners. Even the rhythmic beating of his own heart seemed to vanish into absolute nothingness. It was as though time itself had frozen solid.

"..."

"...Me." The single word barely escaped his dry lips.

Beside him, Daren smiled softly. "Yes... my son."

His father's gentle, grounding voice shattered the strange, suffocating silence surrounding him. Sound rushed back into his ears all at once.

Kalexi blinked rapidly. "...Huh..." He turned his head toward Daren.

His father simply looked down at him. There was no grand, theatrical speech. No dramatic, booming encouragement. Only... that same steady smile Kalexi had known his entire life—warm, unshakeable, and fatherly.

Daren reached out with his weathered hands and quietly straightened the collar of Kalexi's academy uniform, smoothing down the fabric.

"The world already has a Cedric Valerius," Daren said softly, meeting his eyes. "It already has a Luna Ashborne. It already has countless powerful Vessels."

Kalexi listened in complete silence.

Daren finished adjusting his collar, resting both hands firmly on his son's shoulders. "But... the world has never had... my son."

Kalexi felt a sudden, sharp tightness in his throat. "...Dad..."

Daren gently placed his palm over Kalexi's chest, right over his beating heart. "No matter what happens down on that stage today... nothing that altar gives... or refuses to give... will ever decide who you truly are."

For a single heartbeat, everything else in the world disappeared—the cheering thousands, the towering stadium, even the ancient Genesis Altar itself. Only those words remained anchored in his mind.

Kalexi let out a quiet, breathless laugh, blinking away the sudden warmth gathering in his eyes. "...You're seriously going to make me cry before I even get down there."

Daren smirked mischievously. "You'd look absolutely terrible walking down those stairs with puffy eyes, fool."

Kalexi narrowed his eyes slightly. "...You planned that joke."

"I absolutely did."

"...You're unbelievable, Dad."

"So I've been told for forty years."

Kalexi stepped forward and pulled his father into a tight hug. Daren returned it without a second's hesitation, holding his son firmly. For that brief moment, the arena no longer existed—it was simply a father and his son.

Neither of them noticed several nearby parents watching the quiet moment with warm, respectful smiles. High above on the central balcony, even Headmaster Marcus found himself observing the interaction, his stern expression softening ever so slightly.

"...A good father," Marcus murmured softly under his breath.

Kalexi finally pulled away from the embrace, lightly tapping Daren on the arm. "Alright, Dad. It's getting embarrassing now. You're way too old for public affection."

Daren straightened his posture with exaggerated, aristocratic dignity. "Remind me never to do something like that for you again."

"Sure thing, Dad."

Finn rested both hands behind his head, grinning mischievously from the side. "Uncle Daren... my mom would've literally bowed to you after hearing a speech like that."

Daren rolled his eyes effortlessly. "Your mother actively encourages bad habits, Finn."

Finn burst out laughing. "I'll be sure to tell her you said that the second we get home!"

"Please don't. She'll stop sending over those apple pies."

Kalexi couldn't help laughing along. "Finn... you're actually insane."

"I accepted that reality years ago, Lex."

Even Daren found himself smiling, long since accustomed to Finn's antics.

Kalexi drew in one long, deep, stabilizing breath. Then, he turned away from his family and faced the stone stairs leading down to the Genesis Altar.

One step. Then another.

The white marble floor echoed softly beneath his boots. Every single footstep felt louder than the last. He could feel it—thousands of eyes tracking his slow descent. Some watched with idle curiosity, some with total indifference, and some had already decided that the poor boy from the tiny house on the edge of Ashvale would awaken nothing remarkable.

Kalexi ignored every single one of them.

His chaotic breathing gradually slowed into a calm rhythm. His father's words echoed quietly inside his heart: Nothing that altar gives... or refuses to give... will ever decide who you are.

By the time his boots touched the central stone of the arena, the surrounding world had faded into static. Only the towering Genesis Altar remained before him.

Standing at its base, Kalexi slowly raised his head.

The massive crystal towered over him like an ancient, silent monument that had witnessed three centuries of human hope... and human despair. Its translucent blue surface shimmered beneath the morning sun, while ancient, glowing runes drifted lazily within its depths like distant stars trapped beneath frozen water.

He couldn't explain why... but the closer he looked at the crystal, the deeper it seemed to stretch into infinity. Silent. Timeless. Mysterious. Almost... alive.

For the briefest fraction of a second—he thought he saw something. A massive, shadowy presence moving deep within the core of the crystal, silently watching him.

Kalexi blinked rapidly. Nothing. The crystal was still.

He let out a small, nervous laugh. "...Daydreaming again, Kalexi?" He smiled softly to himself. "...Well. Here goes nothing."

Slowly... he raised his right hand. His fingertips gently made contact with the cool crystal surface.

The Genesis Altar hummed—softly, curiously—as though acknowledging his presence.

Then... nothing.

One second passed. Two. Still nothing.

Three.

The crystal suddenly burst into a violent, brilliant flash of azure light! The sudden radiance was so intense that many spectators in the front rows were forced to shield their eyes!

Then... just as quickly as it had appeared... the light abruptly dimmed.

A faint, fragile glow flickered beneath the crystal surface. Once. Twice. It struggled desperately... like the weak flame of a tiny candle fighting against a raging tempest.

Then—it vanished completely. As though something massive from deep within had reached out and instantly snuffed it out.

Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.

The instructor frowned deeply. In all his years overseeing ceremonies, he had never seen the ancient monument behave in such an erratic manner.

Around the stadium, confused, restless murmurs slowly began to spread through the crowd.

High up in the central box, Headmaster Marcus narrowed his eyes into tight slits. Even with his vast knowledge of Vessel history, he couldn't comprehend what had just transpired.

The instructor looked up at Marcus. Marcus looked down at the altar. Then, both men looked back at Kalexi standing motionless on the platform.

Confusion rippled through the audience like waves across still water.

The instructor swallowed hard, clearing his dry throat. Then... with visible reluctance and a heavy sigh, he lowered his eyes back to the scroll.

"...Kalexi Rowan. Failed Awakening."

The flat words fell across the arena like a heavy iron guillotine.

No cheers. No applause. No excited chatter. Only... silence.

Kalexi remained standing frozen before the altar. He didn't move an inch.

"..."

"...What?" The single whisper left his mouth.

The instructor's expression softened into deep pity. "I'm... truly sorry, son."

For several agonizing seconds, Kalexi simply stared at the dark, unresponsive surface of the crystal. Then... a small laugh escaped his chest—a quiet, broken, hollow laugh.

"...Good one," he muttered to himself, his voice shaking. "...I failed. What a absolute joke."

His eyes drifted down to his trembling, empty hands. A hot tear threatened to break past his lashes, but he aggressively blinked it away, forcing a tight, painful smile onto his face.

"No need to cry..." he whispered to himself, his chest aching with a raw, suffocating pressure.

"It's already happened... right?" He let out another shaky chuckle. "Dad wouldn't want you standing here crying, Kalexi."

Slowly... his fingers slipped away from the cold crystal surface.

Unresponsive. Dormant. Silent. The Genesis Altar stood exactly as it had before he stepped onto the platform—as though he had never touched it at all.

Around him, the world blurred as the suffocating silence finally broke.

"A failure!"

"He didn't even manage to manifest a Common Genesis!"

"What a shame... all that waiting for nothing."

"No Genesis..."

"...No Vessel."

The crowd erupted into a sea of endless, overlapping voices. Some people laughed openly, pointing from the upper tiers. Some mocked his background without restraint.

Others simply looked away with quiet, uncomfortable sympathy.

Everyone in Elyndra understood the harsh reality of a Failed Awakening. Life without becoming a Vessel was grueling. Yes, Vessels constantly risked their lives beyond the World Scar—they fought horrifying monsters, explored alien realms, and stood on the front lines whenever Rift Bridges tore open between worlds. Many never came home.

But they were also respected, honored, and immortalized. They stood at the absolute pinnacle of human advancement. To become a Vessel was a lifelong dream; to fail was to watch that dream crumble into dust before thousands of witnesses.

Over three centuries, people had come to view Failed Awakenings in only two ways: pity for the crushing loss of a dream... or cold contempt for someone deemed too weak to stand among humanity's defenders. And as always, the cruelest voices were the loudest.

Up in the stands, Daren remained standing where he was. He didn't shout back at the crowd. He didn't argue with the mocking spectators. He didn't rush down the stairs to comfort his son. He simply watched... waiting patiently, his steady eyes fixed entirely on Kalexi.

On the platform, Kalexi slowly forced a small, playful smile onto his face. "...Heh... I guess... I guess destiny really is completely blind."

His voice was quiet, almost lighthearted—yet somehow, it hurt far more than if he had broken down weeping on the spot.

He turned his back on the Genesis Altar and began the long walk back up the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of the entire arena was pressing down on his shoulders.

Behind his back... deep within the core of the monument... the Genesis Altar suddenly pulsed.

Just once.

A faint, almost imperceptible ripple of dark azure light flowed deep beneath the crystal before disappearing back into the abyss as quickly as it had appeared.

No one on the floor noticed it. Not the tired instructor. Not Headmaster Marcus. Not the representatives of the Great Houses. Not even Kalexi himself as he climbed the marble steps.

Only one person saw it.

High up in the VIP section, the old man dressed in plain gray robes froze. His pupils contracted into tiny pinpricks.

For the first time since the morning ceremony had begun, the calm, gentle smile completely vanished from his face. His weathered eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock.

"...Impossible," his whisper dissolved into the wind.

Yet his intense gaze never left the Genesis Altar—nor the quiet boy walking away from it. Not even for a single second.