Ethan had no choice.
Sixty years had passed in the great sandbox, and still, no hero had emerged to save the world. The orthodox witches were on the brink of extinction. He couldn't afford to wait any longer.
Fortunately, "Future Skywhale" was exactly the kind of person Ethan had been searching for. Calm, rational, and obsessed with research—he was the embodiment of the ideal orthodox wizard Ethan had always envisioned.
As for that other lunatic with terrifying talent… Ethan didn't even want to think about him. The guy was a walking disaster.
"This world," Ethan murmured, "began with the Era of the Three Witches, but the next era should be one of Alchemy. Only then can it become a true magical civilization. Give me knowledge, and I can move the world! True mages aren't just spell-flingers—they're truth seekers, driven by research and alchemy. If you're just tossing fireballs, aren't you just a glorified hedge wizard?"
And this world-ending crisis? The perfect excuse to open the gates between worlds and invite an otherworldly traveler.
Ethan smiled faintly. Who would've thought that the hero of the third era… would be a visitor from another world?
What kind of waves would a 21st-century scientific genius cause in this magical world of his orchard? What alchemical lifeforms would he create? Or would he die the moment he logged into the sandbox?
---
Meanwhile, in a private villa...
Future Skywhale had no idea that a certain shameless creator god was plotting his recruitment behind the scenes.
After thanking the maid who delivered his food, he put on his VR headset. The screen went dark.
> "Please evolve your eyes."
This time, he had chosen to reset his character, starting over as a single-celled organism.
A renowned leader in science and tech, Future Skywhale had reached the pinnacle of success. But life had grown stale. As a high-profile CEO admired by millions, few knew that in private... he was a hardcore gamer. And a massive whale at that.
He spent lavishly on games—skins, mods, everything. Dignity? Optional.
Ordinary games no longer impressed him. But this one? It blew his mind. It felt real. Too real. Curious, he contacted experts across fields and discovered the game's staggering scientific consistency—it mimicked reality down to the molecules.
He gathered top scientists from different disciplines and formed a private research team.
Soon, he had in hand a document titled:
> "Conjectures on Biological Engines: An Evolutionary Roadmap"
"I'm going to evolve into a bio-engine and unlock an achievement. Should be fun," he muttered.
Who else would drop a fortune on hiring world-class professors… just for an online game?
He spent ten hours evolving his new species.
Eventually, a green slime emerged.
It had no limbs, no torso—just a gelatinous blob with wide eyes, a mouth, and a lone ahoge (a springy tentacle) waving atop its head. Despite its simplicity, it was ridiculously cute—something that looked straight out of a pet sim game.
It was the brainchild of professionals—both efficient and adorable.
"Bro, I'm finally done," he said to Akinas Speedster, beside him. "Can you give me a lift home?"
Movement was tough in slime form. Akinas laughed and gestured to his mount: a grotesquely majestic Pallbearer Chicken.
"Amazing!" he grinned. "You look just like a classic slime from RPGs. You should name it... 'Starting Chicken.'"
Future Skywhale winced. "Seriously? You and your terrible names."
Still, he smiled. "I'm not that amazing. You created the Pallbearer Chicken solo. I just hired a team of professors."
Akinas Speedster, despite being a bit of a troll, was a true genius in evolutionary theory. Even Future Skywhale's own professors had tried recruiting him.
Unfortunately, Akinas was completely addicted to the game and refused any offers.
As for Future Skywhale, evolution wasn't his domain. He specialized in mechanics, microchips, and complex machine design—fields that had helped him build an industrial empire.
"Want me to load you into the wooden car you made?" Akinas asked.
"Yeah, do it."
Crowds of players gathered around them, watching eagerly.
"Whoa, is this going to be the next achievement?"
"It's so cute!"
"This game just keeps surprising me…"
The bio-car had a crude wooden body, but what stood out was the slime-powered turbine, designed to be spun by tentacles.
Whrrrrr!
The Slime began spinning the turbine with its ahoge.
It didn't need to think—just spin. Like a minimalist biological engine, optimized for output.
Boom!
The car began to move.
Akinas, behind the wheel, squealed with excitement. "Bossman, you're a genius! Let's go! I'm doing a 360 drift!"
The Slime, of course, handled the power. Akinas drove.
"Second gear!"
The ahoge spun faster.
"Third gear!!"
The car picked up speed, drifting in beautiful arcs.
Forums lit up with posts:
Haruko Loves to Learn: "Voice-activated cars? This slime engine's ahead of modern tech!"
Hands Off: "Gasoline is dead. Meat-fueled, eco-friendly engines FTW!"
Cerebral Bluff: "Didn't he want to become a Skywhale? Now he's just making Teslas out of Jell-O."
Cute Girl Who Wants to Evolve into a Dragon: "That muscular ahoge... 10x hotter than any gym bro. I'm in love. (?)"
The community exploded.
A living bio-car that could outperform modern tech? This game's freedom was insane. No wonder it attracted so many specialists.
Suddenly, a system notice appeared:
> [Global Announcement: Congratulations to Player "Future Skywhale." His bio-engine has displayed exceptional potential and earned an achievement reward.]
It worked.
He stopped spinning the turbine, and the car rolled to a stop.
Then, three options appeared:
1. Make the slime his starting race.
2. Receive a permanent game account.
3. Begin a second life.
The crowd held their breath, watching.
Future Skywhale barely hesitated. He'd known his answer all along.
Sure, the first option was convenient, but unnecessary. Terrain changes in this game were permanent. Even if he died, his creations could persist in the world's ecosystem as NPC species.
"Unlike the Pallbearer Chicken, this slime has only one function," he muttered. "It can't even move on its own. Not a great choice for a starting race."
The second option—account permanence—was attractive to regular players. But he didn't need it. With his skills, he wasn't afraid of being deleted.
His gaze settled on the third option: Start a second life.
"A second life, huh?" he whispered.
The words struck a chord.
He'd seen this option on Akinas' stream once and had instantly known—it was what he wanted. He had already conquered his real life. Everything now felt… dull.
"I hope you give me a surprise," he whispered to the game itself.
And without another word, he chose the third option.